{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_17034/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_17034","id":"gutenberg_17034","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17034","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's Myths, Fairy Tales, etc.","Fairy tales -- England"],"text":"E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Janet Blenkinship, and the Project\nGutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 17034-h.htm or 17034-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/3/17034/17034-h/17034-h.htm)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/3/17034/17034-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\n\nENGLISH FAIRY-TALES\n\nRetold by\n\nFLORA ANNIE STEEL\n\nIllustrated by Arthur Rackham\n\nFirst published by Macmillan & Co. 1918\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar at home (page 190).]\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n   ST. GEORGE OF MERRIE ENGLAND\n\n   THE STORY OF THE THREE BEARS\n\n   TOM-TIT-TOT\n\n   THE GOLDEN SNUFF-BOX\n\n   TATTERCOATS\n\n   THE THREE FEATHERS\n\n   LAZY JACK\n\n   JACK THE GIANT-KILLER\n\n   THE THREE SILLIES\n\n   THE GOLDEN BALL\n\n   THE TWO SISTERS\n\n   THE LAIDLY WORM\n\n   TITTY MOUSE AND TATTY MOUSE\n\n   JACK AND THE BEANSTALK\n\n   THE BLACK BULL OF NORROWAY\n\n   CATSKIN\n\n   THE THREE LITTLE PIGS\n\n   NIX NAUGHT NOTHING\n\n   MR. AND MRS. VINEGAR\n\n   THE TRUE HISTORY OF SIR THOMAS THUMB\n\n   HENNY-PENNY\n\n   THE THREE HEADS OF THE WELL\n\n   MR. FOX\n\n   DICK WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT\n\n   THE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG\n\n   THE WEE BANNOCK\n\n   HOW JACK WENT OUT TO SEEK HIS FORTUNE\n\n   THE BOGEY-BEAST\n\n   LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD\n\n   CHILDE ROWLAND\n\n   THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM\n\n   CAPORUSHES\n\n   THE BABES IN THE WOOD\n\n   THE RED ETTIN\n\n   THE FISH AND THE RING\n\n   LAWKAMERCYME\n\n   MASTER OF ALL MASTERS\n\n   MOLLY WHUPPIE AND THE DOUBLE-FACED GIANT\n\n   THE ASS, THE TABLE, AND THE STICK\n\n   THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END\n\n   THE ROSE TREE\n\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n   IN COLOUR\n\n\n      Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar at home\n\n      \"Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all up!\"\n\n      Tattercoats dancing while the gooseherd pipes\n\n      The giant Cormoran was the terror of all the country-side\n\n      Taking the keys of the castle, Jack unlocked all the doors\n\n      The giant Galligantua and the wicked old magician transform the\n      duke's daughter into a white hind\n\n      \"Tree of mine! O Tree of mine! Have you seen my naughty little\n      maid?\"\n\n      \"Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman\"\n\n      She went along, and went along, and went along\n\n      And that is the story of Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar\n\n      They thanked her and said good-bye, and she went on her journey\n\n      Many's the beating he had from the broomstick or the ladle\n\n      When Puss saw the rats and mice she didn't wait to be told\n\n      \"Well!\" she chuckled, \"I am in luck!\"\n\n      She sat down and plaited herself an overall of rushes and a cap\n      to match\n\n      The fisherman and his wife had no children, and they were just\n      longing for a baby\n\n\n   IN TEXT\n\n\n      Headpiece--St. George of Merrie England\n\n      When she came to St. George she started and laid her hand on\n      her heart\n\n      \"Somebody has been lying in my bed,--and here she is!\"\n\n      \"What is that you are singing, my good woman?\"\n\n      A small, little, black Thing with a long tail\n\n      Away That flew into the dark, and she never saw it no more\n\n      They brought the Castle of the golden pillars\n\n      Jack found it hard to hoist the donkey on his shoulders\n\n      \"Odds splutter hur nails!\" cried the giant, not to be outdone.\n      \"Hur can do that hurself!\"\n\n      \"Ah! Cousin Jack! Kind cousin Jack! This is heavy news indeed\"\n\n      Seated on a huge block of timber near the entrance to a dark\n      cave\n\n      On his way ... to be revenged\n\n      The country folk flying before him like chaff before the wind\n\n      Headpiece--The Three Sillies\n\n      Headpiece--The Golden Ball\n\n      He heard the bogles striving under the bed\n\n      Headpiece--The Laidly Worm\n\n      Tatty sat down and wept\n\n      As he spoke he drew out of his pocket five beans\n\n      Jack seized the axe and gave a great chop at the beanstalk\n\n      So he huffed and he puffed and he blew the house in\n\n      So he huffed and he puffed and he blew the house in\n\n      Well! he huffed and he puffed ... but he could _not_\n      blow the house down\n\n      At last he flew into a violent rage and flung his stick at the\n      bird\n\n      A spider one day attacked him\n\n      \"I will go first and you come after, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,\n      Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey\"\n\n      So she escaped\n\n      The thorns closed in around her so that she was all scratched\n      and torn\n\n      Dick finds that the streets of London are not paved with gold\n\n      Dick Whittington hears Bow Bells\n\n      The old woman and her pig\n\n      Headpiece--How Jack went out to seek his Fortune\n\n      They both met together upon Nottingham bridge\n\n      \"A vengeance on her!\" said they. \"We did not make our hedge\n      high enough\"\n\n      He took out the cheeses and rolled them down the hill\n\n      And they left the eel to drown\n\n      The hare ran on along the country way\n\n      A courtier came riding by, and he did ask what they were\n      seeking\n\n      Headpiece--Lawkamercyme\n\n      A funny-looking old gentleman engaged her and took her home\n\n      White-faced simminy has got a spark of hot cockalorum on its\n      tail\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Headpiece--St. George of Merrie England]\n\n\n\n\nST. GEORGE OF MERRIE ENGLAND\n\n\nIn the darksome depths of a thick forest lived Kalyb the fell\nenchantress. Terrible were her deeds, and few there were who had the\nhardihood to sound the brazen trumpet which hung over the iron gate that\nbarred the way to the Abode of Witchcraft. Terrible were the deeds of\nKalyb; but above all things she delighted in carrying off innocent\nnew-born babes, and putting them to death.\n\nAnd this, doubtless, she meant to be the fate of the infant son of the\nEarl of Coventry, who long long years ago was Lord High Steward of\nEngland. Certain it is that the babe's father being absent, and his\nmother dying at his birth, the wicked Kalyb, with spells and charms,\nmanaged to steal the child from his careless nurses.\n\nBut the babe was marked from the first for doughty deeds; for on his\nbreast was pictured the living image of a dragon, on his right hand was\na blood-red cross, and on his left leg showed the golden garter.\n\nAnd these signs so affected Kalyb, the fell enchantress, that she stayed\nher hand; and the child growing daily in beauty and stature, he became\nto her as the apple of her eye. Now, when twice seven years had passed\nthe boy began to thirst for honourable adventures, though the wicked\nenchantress wished to keep him as her own.\n\nBut he, seeking glory, utterly disdained so wicked a creature; thus she\nsought to bribe him. And one day, taking him by the hand, she led him to\na brazen castle and showed him six brave knights, prisoners therein.\nThen said she:\n\n\"Lo! These be the six champions of Christendom. Thou shalt be the\nseventh and thy name shall be St. George of Merrie England if thou wilt\nstay with me.\"\n\nBut he would not.\n\nThen she led him into a magnificent stable where stood seven of the most\nbeautiful steeds ever seen. \"Six of these,\" said she, \"belong to the six\nChampions. The seventh and the best, the swiftest and the most powerful\nin the world, whose name is Bayard, will I bestow on thee, if thou wilt\nstay with me.\"\n\nBut he would not.\n\nThen she took him to the armoury, and with her own hand buckled on a\ncorselet of purest steel, and laced on a helmet inlaid with gold. Then,\ntaking a mighty falchion, she gave it into his hand, and said: \"This\narmour which none can pierce, this sword called Ascalon, which will hew\nin sunder all it touches, are thine; surely now thou wilt stop with me?\"\n\nBut he would not.\n\nThen she bribed him with her own magic wand, thus giving him power over\nall things in that enchanted land, saying:\n\n\"Surely now wilt thou remain here?\"\n\nBut he, taking the wand, struck with it a mighty rock that stood by; and\nlo! it opened, and laid in view a wide cave garnished by the bodies of a\nvast number of innocent new-born infants whom the wicked enchantress had\nmurdered.\n\nThus, using her power, he bade the sorceress lead the way into the place\nof horror, and when she had entered, he raised the magic wand yet again,\nand smote the rock; and lo! it closed for ever, and the sorceress was\nleft to bellow forth her lamentable complaints to senseless stones.\n\nThus was St. George freed from the enchanted land, and taking with him\nthe six other champions of Christendom on their steeds, he mounted\nBayard and rode to the city of Coventry.\n\nHere for nine months they abode, exercising themselves in all feats of\narms. So when spring returned they set forth, as knights errant, to seek\nfor foreign adventure.\n\nAnd for thirty days and thirty nights they rode on, until, at the\nbeginning of a new month, they came to a great wide plain. Now in the\ncentre of this plain, where seven several ways met, there stood a great\nbrazen pillar, and here, with high heart and courage, they bade each\nother farewell, and each took a separate road.\n\nHence, St. George, on his charger Bayard, rode till he reached the\nseashore where lay a good ship bound for the land of Egypt. Taking\npassage in her, after long journeying he arrived in that land when the\nsilent wings of night were outspread, and darkness brooded on all\nthings. Here, coming to a poor hermitage, he begged a night's lodging,\non which the hermit replied:\n\n\"Sir Knight of Merrie England--for I see her arms graven on thy\nbreastplate--thou hast come hither in an ill time, when those alive are\nscarcely able to bury the dead by reason of the cruel destruction waged\nby a terrible dragon, who ranges up and down the country by day and by\nnight. If he have not an innocent maiden to devour each day, he sends a\nmortal plague amongst the people. And this has not ceased for twenty and\nfour years, so that there is left throughout the land but one maiden,\nthe beautiful Sabia, daughter to the King. And to-morrow must she die,\nunless some brave knight will slay the monster. To such will the King\ngive his daughter in marriage, and the crown of Egypt in due time.\"\n\n\"For crowns I care not,\" said St. George boldly, \"but the beauteous\nmaiden shall not die. I will slay the monster.\"\n\nSo, rising at dawn of day, he buckled on his armour, laced his helmet,\nand with the falchion Ascalon in his hand, bestrode Bayard, and rode\ninto the Valley of the Dragon. Now on the way he met a procession of old\nwomen weeping and wailing, and in their midst the most beauteous damsel\nhe had ever seen. Moved by compassion he dismounted, and bowing low\nbefore the lady entreated her to return to her father's palace, since he\nwas about to kill the dreaded dragon. Whereupon the beautiful Sabia,\nthanking him with smiles and tears, did as he requested, and he,\nre-mounting, rode on his emprise.\n\nNow, no sooner did the dragon catch sight of the brave Knight than its\nleathern throat sent out a sound more terrible than thunder, and\nweltering from its hideous den, it spread its burning wings and prepared\nto assail its foe.\n\nIts size and appearance might well have made the stoutest heart tremble.\nFrom shoulder to tail ran full forty feet, its body was covered with\nsilver scales, its belly was as gold, and through its flaming wings the\nblood ran thick and red.\n\nSo fierce was its onset, that at the very first encounter the Knight was\nnigh felled to the ground; but recovering himself he gave the dragon\nsuch a thrust with his spear that the latter shivered to a thousand\npieces; whereupon the furious monster smote him so violently with its\ntail that both horse and rider were overthrown.\n\nNow, by great good chance, St. George was flung under the shade of a\nflowering orange tree, whose fragrance hath this virtue in it, that no\npoisonous beast dare come within the compass of its branches. So there\nthe valiant knight had time to recover his senses, until with eager\ncourage he rose, and rushing to the combat, smote the burning dragon on\nhis burnished belly with his trusty sword Ascalon; and thereinafter\nspouted out such black venom, as, falling on the armour of the Knight,\nburst it in twain. And ill might it have fared with St. George of Merrie\nEngland but for the orange tree, which once again gave him shelter under\nits branches, where, seeing the issue of the fight was in the Hands of\nthe Most High, he knelt and prayed that such strength of body should be\ngiven him as would enable him to prevail. Then with a bold and\ncourageous heart, he advanced again, and smote the fiery dragon under\none of his flaming wings, so that the weapon pierced the heart, and all\nthe grass around turned crimson with the blood that flowed from the\ndying monster. So St. George of England cut off the dreadful head, and\nhanging it on a truncheon made of the spear which at the beginning of\nthe combat had shivered against the beast's scaly back, he mounted his\nsteed Bayard, and proceeded to the palace of the King.\n\nNow the King's name was Ptolemy, and when he saw that the dreaded dragon\nwas indeed slain, he gave orders for the city to be decorated. And he\nsent a golden chariot with wheels of ebony and cushions of silk to bring\nSt. George to the palace, and commanded a hundred nobles dressed in\ncrimson velvet, and mounted on milk-white steeds richly caparisoned, to\nescort him thither with all honour, while musicians walked before and\nafter, filling the air with sweetest sounds.\n\nNow the beautiful Sabia herself washed and dressed the weary Knight's\nwounds, and gave him in sign of betrothal a diamond ring of purest\nwater. Then, after he had been invested by the King with the golden\nspurs of knighthood and had been magnificently feasted, he retired to\nrest his weariness, while the beautiful Sabia from her balcony lulled\nhim to sleep with her golden lute.\n\nSo all seemed happiness; but alas! dark misfortune was at hand.\n\nAlmidor, the black King of Morocco, who had long wooed the Princess\nSabia in vain, without having the courage to defend her, seeing that the\nmaiden had given her whole heart to her champion, resolved to compass\nhis destruction.\n\nSo, going to King Ptolemy, he told him--what was perchance true--namely,\nthat the beauteous Sabia had promised St. George to become Christian,\nand follow him to England. Now the thought of this so enraged the King\nthat, forgetting his debt of honour, he determined on an act of basest\ntreachery.\n\nTelling St. George that his love and loyalty needed further trial, he\nentrusted him with a message to the King of Persia, and forbade him\neither to take with him his horse Bayard or his sword Ascalon; nor would\nhe even allow him to say farewell to his beloved Sabia.\n\nSt. George then set forth sorrowfully, and surmounting many dangers,\nreached the Court of the King of Persia in safety; but what was his\nanger to find that the secret missive he bore contained nothing but an\nearnest request to put the bearer of it to death. But he was helpless,\nand when sentence had been passed upon him, he was thrown into a loathly\ndungeon, clothed in base and servile weeds, and his arms strongly\nfettered up to iron bolts, while the roars of the two hungry lions who\nwere to devour him ere long, deafened his ears. Now his rage and fury at\nthis black treachery was such that it gave him strength, and with mighty\neffort he drew the staples that held his fetters; so being part free he\ntore his long locks of amber-coloured hair from his head and wound them\nround his arms instead of gauntlets. So prepared he rushed on the lions\nwhen they were let loose upon him, and thrusting his arms down their\nthroats choked them, and thereinafter tearing out their very hearts,\nheld them up in triumph to the gaolers who stood by trembling with fear.\n\nAfter this the King of Persia gave up the hopes of putting St. George to\ndeath, and, doubling the bars of the dungeon, left him to languish\ntherein. And there the unhappy Knight remained for seven long years, his\nthoughts full of his lost Princess; his only companions rats and mice\nand creeping worms, his only food and drink bread made of the coarsest\nbran and dirty water.\n\nAt last one day, in a dark corner of his dungeon, he found one of the\niron staples he had drawn in his rage and fury. It was half consumed\nwith rust, yet it was sufficient in his hands to open a passage through\nthe walls of his cell into the King's garden. It was the time of night\nwhen all things are silent; but St. George, listening, heard the voices\nof grooms in the stables; which, entering, he found two grooms\nfurnishing forth a horse against some business. Whereupon, taking the\nstaple with which he had redeemed himself from prison, he slew the\ngrooms, and mounting the palfrey rode boldly to the city gates, where he\ntold the watchman at the Bronze Tower that St. George having escaped\nfrom the dungeon, he was in hot pursuit of him. Whereupon the gates were\nthrown open, and St. George, clapping spurs to his horse, found himself\nsafe from pursuit before the first red beams of the sun shot up into the\nsky.\n\nNow, ere long, being most famished with hunger, he saw a tower set on a\nhigh cliff, and riding thitherward determined to ask for food. But as he\nneared the castle he saw a beauteous damsel in a blue and gold robe\nseated disconsolate at a window. Whereupon, dismounting, he called aloud\nto her:\n\n\"Lady! If thou hast sorrow of thine own, succour one also in distress,\nand give me, a Christian Knight, now almost famished, one meal's meat.\"\nTo which she replied quickly:\n\n\"Sir Knight! Fly quickly as thou canst, for my lord is a mighty giant, a\nfollower of Mahomed, who hath sworn to destroy all Christians.\"\n\nHearing this St. George laughed loud and long. \"Go tell him then, fair\ndame,\" he cried, \"that a Christian Knight waits at his door, and will\neither satisfy his wants within his castle or slay the owner thereof.\"\n\nNow the giant no sooner heard this valiant challenge than he rushed\nforth to the combat, armed with a hugeous crowbar of iron. He was a\nmonstrous giant, deformed, with a huge head, bristled like any boar's,\nwith hot, glaring eyes and a mouth equalling a tiger's. At first sight\nof him St. George gave himself up for lost, not so much for fear, but\nfor hunger and faintness of body. Still, commending himself to the Most\nHigh, he also rushed to the combat with such poor arms as he had, and\nwith many a regret for the loss of his magic sword Ascalon. So they\nfought till noon, when, just as the champion's strength was nigh\nfinished, the giant stumbled on the root of a tree, and St. George,\ntaking his chance, ran him through the mid-rib, so that he gasped and\ndied.\n\nAfter which St. George entered the tower; whereat the beautiful lady,\nfreed from her terrible lord, set before him all manner of delicacies\nand pure wine with which he sufficed his hunger, rested his weary body,\nand refreshed his horse.\n\nSo, leaving the tower in the hands of the grateful lady, he went on his\nway, coming ere long to the Enchanted Garden of the necromancer\nOrmadine, where, embedded in the living rock, he saw a magic sword, the\nlike of which for beauty he had never seen, the belt being beset with\njaspers and sapphire stones, while the pommel was a globe of the purest\nsilver chased in gold with these verses:\n\n  My magic will remain most firmly bound\n  Till that a knight from the far north be found\n  To pull this sword from out its bed of stone.\n  Lo! when he comes wise Ormadine must fall.\n  Farewell, my magic power, my spell, my all.\n\nSeeing this St. George put his hand to the hilt, thinking to essay\npulling it out by strength; but lo! he drew it out with as much ease as\nthough it had hung by a thread of untwisted silk. And immediately every\ndoor in the enchanted garden flew open, and the magician Ormadine\nappeared, his hair standing on end; and he, after kissing the hand of\nthe champion, led him to a cave where a young man wrapped in a sheet of\ngold lay sleeping, lulled by the songs of four beautiful maidens.\n\n\"The Knight whom thou seest here!\" said the necromancer in a hollow\nvoice, \"is none other than thy brother-in-arms, the Christian Champion\nSt. David of Wales. He also attempted to draw my sword but failed. Him\nhast thou delivered from my enchantments since they come to an end.\"\n\nNow, as he spoke, came such a rattling of the skies, such a lumbering of\nthe earth as never was, and in the twinkling of an eye the Enchanted\nGarden and all in it vanished from view, leaving the Champion of Wales,\nroused from his seven years' sleep, giving thanks to St. George, who\ngreeted his ancient comrade heartily.\n\nAfter this St. George of Merrie England travelled far and travelled\nfast, with many adventures by the way, to Egypt where he had left his\nbeloved Princess Sabia. But, learning to his great grief and horror from\nthe same hermit he had met on first landing, that, despite her denials,\nher father, King Ptolemy, had consented to Almidor the black King of\nMorocco carrying her off as one of his many wives, he turned his steps\ntowards Tripoli, the capital of Morocco; for he was determined at all\ncosts to gain a sight of the dear Princess from whom he had been so\ncruelly rent.\n\nTo this end he borrowed an old cloak of the hermit, and, disguised as a\nbeggar, gained admittance to the gate of the Women's Palace, where were\ngathered together on their knees many others, poor, frail, infirm.\n\nAnd when he asked them wherefore they knelt, they answered:\n\n\"Because good Queen Sabia succours us that we may pray for the safety of\nSt. George of England, to whom she gave her heart.\"\n\nNow when St. George heard this his own heart was like to break for very\njoy, and he could scarce keep on his knees when, lovely as ever, but\nwith her face pale and sad and wan from long distress, the Princess\nSabia appeared clothed in deep mourning.\n\nIn silence she handed an alms to each beggar in turn; but when she came\nto St. George she started and laid her hand on her heart. Then she said\nsoftly:\n\n\"Rise up, Sir Beggar! Thou art too like one who rescued me from death,\nfor it to be meet for thee to kneel before me!\"\n\nThen St. George rising, and bowing low, said quietly: \"Peerless lady!\nLo! I am that very knight to whom thou did'st condescend to give this.\"\n\nAnd with this he slipped the diamond ring she had given him on her\nfinger. But she looked not at it, but at him, with love in her eyes.\n\nThen he told her of her father's base treachery and Almidor's part in\nit, so that her anger grew hot and she cried:\n\n\"Waste no more time in talk. I remain no longer in this detested place.\nEre Almidor returns from hunting we shall have escaped.\"\n\n[Illustration: When she came to St. George she started and laid her\nhand on her heart]\n\nSo she led St. George to the armoury, where he found his trusty sword\nAscalon, and to the stable, where his swift steed Bayard stood ready\ncaparisoned.\n\nThen, when her brave Knight had mounted, and she, putting her foot on\nhis, had leapt like a bird behind him, St. George touched the proud\nbeast lightly with his spurs, and, like an arrow from a bow, Bayard\ncarried them together over city and plain, through woods and forests,\nacross rivers, and mountains, and valleys, until they reached the Land\nof Greece.\n\nAnd here they found the whole country in festivity over the marriage of\nthe King. Now amongst other entertainments was a grand tournament, the\nnews of which had spread through the world. And to it had come all the\nother Six Champions of Christendom; so St. George arriving made the\nSeventh. And many of the champions had with them the fair lady they had\nrescued. St. Denys of France brought beautiful Eglantine, St. James of\nSpain sweet Celestine, while noble Rosalind accompanied St. Anthony of\nItaly. St. David of Wales, after his seven years' sleep, came full of\neager desire for adventure. St. Patrick of Ireland, ever courteous,\nbrought all the six Swan-princesses who, in gratitude, had been seeking\ntheir deliverer St. Andrew of Scotland; since he, leaving all worldly\nthings, had chosen to fight for the faith.\n\nSo all these brave knights and fair ladies joined in the joyful\njousting, and each of the Seven Champions was in turn Chief Challenger\nfor a day.\n\nNow in the midst of all the merriment appeared a hundred heralds from a\nhundred different parts of the Paynim world, declaring war to the death\nagainst all Christians.\n\nWhereupon the Seven Champions agreed that each should return to his\nnative land to place his dearest lady in safety, and gather together an\narmy, and that six months later they should meet, and, joining as one\nlegion, go forth to fight for Christendom.\n\nAnd this was done. So, having chosen St. George as Chief General, they\nmarched on Tripoli with the cry:\n\n  \"For Christendom we fight,\n   For Christendom we die.\"\n\nHere the wicked Almidor fell in single combat with St. George, to the\ngreat delight of his subjects, who begged the Champion to be King in his\nstead. To this he consented, and, after he was crowned, the Christian\nhost went on towards Egypt where King Ptolemy, in despair of vanquishing\nsuch stalwart knights, threw himself down from the battlements of the\npalace and was killed. Whereupon, in recognition of the chivalry and\ncourtesy of the Christian Champions, the nobles offered the Crown to one\nof their number, and they with acclaim chose St. George of Merrie\nEngland.\n\nThence the Christian host journeyed to Persia, where a fearsome battle\nraged for seven days, during which two hundred thousand pagans were\nslain, beside many who were drowned in attempting to escape. Thus they\nwere compelled to yield, the Emperor himself happening into the hands of\nSt. George, and six other viceroys into the hands of the six other\nChampions.\n\nAnd these were most mercifully and honourably entreated after they had\npromised to govern Persia after Christian rules. Now the Emperor, having\na heart fraught with despite and tyranny, conspired against them, and\nengaged a wicked wizard named Osmond to so beguile six of the Champions\nthat they gave up fighting, and lived an easy slothful life. But St.\nGeorge would not be beguiled; neither would he consent to the\nenchantment of his brothers; and he so roused them that they never\nsheathed their swords nor unlocked their armour till the wicked Emperor\nand his viceroys were thrown into that very dungeon in which St. George\nhad languished for seven long years.\n\nWhereupon St. George took upon himself the government of Persia, and\ngave the six other Champions the six viceroyalties.\n\nSo, attired in a beautiful green robe, richly embroidered, over which\nwas flung a scarlet mantle bordered with white fur and decorated with\nornaments of pure gold, he took his seat on the throne which was\nsupported by elephants of translucent alabaster. And the Heralds at\narms, amid the shouting of the people, cried:\n\n\"Long live St. George of Merrie England, Emperor of Morocco, King of\nEgypt, and Sultan of Persia!\"\n\nNow, after that he had established good and just laws to such effect\nthat innumerable companies of pagans flocked to become Christians, St.\nGeorge, leaving the Government in the hands of his trusted counsellors,\ntook truce with the world and returned to England, where, at Coventry,\nhe lived for many years with the Egyptian Princess Sabia, who bore him\nthree stalwart sons. So here endeth the tale of St. George of Merrie\nEngland, first and greatest of the Seven Champions.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF THE THREE BEARS\n\n\nOnce upon a time there were three Bears, who lived together in a house\nof their own, in a wood. One of them was a Little Wee Bear, and one was\na Middle-sized Bear, and the other was a Great Big Bear. They had each a\nbowl for their porridge; a little bowl for the Little Wee Bear; and a\nmiddle-sized bowl for the Middle-sized Bear; and a great bowl for the\nGreat Big Bear. And they had each a chair to sit in; a little chair for\nthe Little Wee Bear; and a middle-sized chair for the Middle-sized Bear;\nand a great chair for the Great Big Bear. And they had each a bed to\nsleep in; a little bed for the Little Wee Bear; and a middle-sized bed\nfor the Middle-sized Bear; and a great bed for the Great Big Bear.\n\nOne day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast, and\npoured it into their porridge-bowls, they walked out into the wood while\nthe porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by\nbeginning too soon, for they were polite, well-brought-up Bears. And\nwhile they were away a little girl called Goldilocks, who lived at the\nother side of the wood and had been sent on an errand by her mother,\npassed by the house, and looked in at the window. And then she peeped in\nat the keyhole, for she was not at all a well-brought-up little girl.\nThen seeing nobody in the house she lifted the latch. The door was not\nfastened, because the Bears were good Bears, who did nobody any harm,\nand never suspected that anybody would harm them. So Goldilocks opened\nthe door and went in; and well pleased was she when she saw the porridge\non the table. If she had been a well-brought-up little girl she would\nhave waited till the Bears came home, and then, perhaps, they would have\nasked her to breakfast; for they were good Bears--a little rough or so,\nas the manner of Bears is, but for all that very good-natured and\nhospitable. But she was an impudent, rude little girl, and so she set\nabout helping herself.\n\nFirst she tasted the porridge of the Great Big Bear, and that was too\nhot for her. Next she tasted the porridge of the Middle-sized Bear, but\nthat was too cold for her. And then she went to the porridge of the\nLittle Wee Bear, and tasted it, and that was neither too hot nor too\ncold, but just right, and she liked it so well that she ate it all up,\nevery bit!\n\nThen Goldilocks, who was tired, for she had been catching butterflies\ninstead of running on her errand, sate down in the chair of the Great\nBig Bear, but that was too hard for her. And then she sate down in the\nchair of the Middle-sized Bear, and that was too soft for her. But when\nshe sat down in the chair of the Little Wee Bear, that was neither too\nhard nor too soft, but just right. So she seated herself in it, and\nthere she sate till the bottom of the chair came out, and down she came,\nplump upon the ground; and that made her very cross, for she was a\nbad-tempered little girl.\n\nNow, being determined to rest, Goldilocks went upstairs into the\nbedchamber in which the Three Bears slept. And first she lay down upon\nthe bed of the Great Big Bear, but that was too high at the head for\nher. And next she lay down upon the bed of the Middle-sized Bear, and\nthat was too high at the foot for her. And then she lay down upon the\nbed of the Little Wee Bear, and that was neither too high at the head\nnor at the foot, but just right. So she covered herself up comfortably,\nand lay there till she fell fast asleep.\n\nBy this time the Three Bears thought their porridge would be cool enough\nfor them to eat it properly; so they came home to breakfast. Now\ncareless Goldilocks had left the spoon of the Great Big Bear standing in\nhis porridge.\n\n                \"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!\"\n\nsaid the Great Big Bear in his great, rough, gruff voice.\n\nThen the Middle-sized Bear looked at his porridge and saw the spoon was\nstanding in it too.\n\n                \"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!\"\n\nsaid the Middle-sized Bear in his middle-sized voice.\n\nThen the Little Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the spoon in the\nporridge-bowl, but the porridge was all gone!\n\n      \"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE, AND HAS EATEN IT ALL UP!\"\n\nsaid the Little Wee Bear in his little wee voice.\n\nUpon this the Three Bears, seeing that some one had entered their house,\nand eaten up the Little Wee Bear's breakfast, began to look about them.\nNow the careless Goldilocks had not put the hard cushion straight when\nshe rose from the chair of the Great Big Bear.\n\n                \"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!\"\n\nsaid the Great Big Bear in his great, rough, gruff voice.\n\nAnd the careless Goldilocks had squatted down the soft cushion of the\nMiddle-sized Bear.\n\n                \"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!\"\n\nsaid the Middle-sized Bear in his middle-sized voice.\n\n      \"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR, AND HAS SATE THE BOTTOM\n       THROUGH!\"\n\nsaid the Little Wee Bear in his little wee voice.\n\nThen the Three Bears thought they had better make further search in case\nit was a burglar, so they went upstairs into their bedchamber. Now\nGoldilocks had pulled the pillow of the Great Big Bear out of its place.\n\n                \"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!\"\n\nsaid the Great Big Bear in his great, rough, gruff voice.\n\nAnd Goldilocks had pulled the bolster of the Middle-sized Bear out of\nits place.\n\n                \"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!\"\n\nsaid the Middle-sized Bear in his middle-sized voice.\n\nBut when the Little Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there was the\nbolster in its place!\n\nAnd the pillow was in its place upon the bolster!\n\nAnd upon the pillow----?\n\nThere was Goldilocks's yellow head--which was not in its place, for she\nhad no business there.\n\n      \"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED,--AND HERE SHE IS STILL!\"\n\nsaid the Little Wee Bear in his little wee voice.\n\n[Illustration: \"Somebody has been lying in my bed,--and here she is!\"]\n\nNow Goldilocks had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff voice of\nthe Great Big Bear; but she was so fast asleep that it was no more to\nher than the roaring of wind, or the rumbling of thunder. And she had\nheard the middle-sized voice of the Middle-sized Bear, but it was only\nas if she had heard some one speaking in a dream. But when she heard the\nlittle wee voice of the Little Wee Bear, it was so sharp, and so shrill,\nthat it awakened her at once. Up she started, and when she saw the Three\nBears on one side of the bed, she tumbled herself out at the other, and\nran to the window. Now the window was open, because the Bears, like\ngood, tidy Bears, as they were, always opened their bedchamber window\nwhen they got up in the morning. So naughty, frightened little\nGoldilocks jumped; and whether she broke her neck in the fall, or ran\ninto the wood and was lost there, or found her way out of the wood and\ngot whipped for being a bad girl and playing truant, no one can say. But\nthe Three Bears never saw anything more of her.\n\n[Illustration: \"Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all\nup!\"]\n\n\n\n\nTOM-TIT-TOT\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a woman and she baked five pies. But when\nthey came out of the oven they were over-baked, and the crust was far\ntoo hard to eat. So she said to her daughter:\n\n\"Daughter,\" says she, \"put them pies on to the shelf and leave 'em there\nawhile. Surely they'll come again in time.\"\n\nBy that, you know, she meant that they would become softer; but her\ndaughter said to herself, \"If Mother says the pies will come again, why\nshouldn't I eat these now?\" So, having good, young teeth, she set to\nwork and ate the lot, first and last.\n\nNow when supper-time came the woman said to her daughter, \"Go you and\nget one of the pies. They are sure to have come again by now.\"\n\nThen the girl went and looked, but of course there was nothing but the\nempty dishes.\n\nSo back she came and said, \"No, Mother, they ain't come again.\"\n\n\"Not one o' them?\" asked the mother, taken aback like.\n\n\"Not one o' them,\" says the daughter, quite confident.\n\n\"Well,\" says the mother, \"come again, or not come again, I will have one\nof them pies for my supper.\"\n\n\"But you can't,\" says the daughter. \"How can you if they ain't come? And\nthey ain't, as sure's sure.\"\n\n\"But I can,\" says the mother, getting angry. \"Go you at once, child, and\nbring me the best on them. My teeth must just tackle it.\"\n\n\"Best or worst is all one,\" answered the daughter, quite sulky, \"for\nI've ate the lot, so you can't have one till it comes again--so there!\"\n\nWell, the mother she bounced up to see; but half an eye told her there\nwas nothing save the empty dishes; so she was dished up herself and done\nfor.\n\nSo, having no supper, she sate her down on the doorstep, and, bringing\nout her distaff, began to spin. And as she span she sang:\n\n  \"My daughter ha' ate five pies to-day,\n   My daughter ha' ate five pies to-day,\n   My daughter ha' ate five pies to-day,\"\n\nfor, see you, she was quite flabbergasted and fair astonished.\n\nNow the King of that country happened to be coming down the street, and\nhe heard the song going on and on, but could not quite make out the\nwords. So he stopped his horse, and asked:\n\n\"What is that you are singing, my good woman?\"\n\n[Illustration: \"What is that you are singing, my good woman?\"]\n\nNow the mother, though horrified at her daughter's appetite, did not\nwant other folk, leastwise the King, to know about it, so she sang\ninstead:\n\n  \"My daughter ha' spun five skeins to-day,\n   My daughter ha' spun five skeins to-day,\n   My daughter ha' spun five skeins to-day.\"\n\n\"Five skeins!\" cried the King. \"By my garter and my crown, I never heard\ntell of any one who could do that! Look you here, I have been searching\nfor a maiden to wife, and your daughter who can spin five skeins a day\nis the very one for me. Only, mind you, though for eleven months of the\nyear she shall be Queen indeed, and have all she likes to eat, all the\ngowns she likes to get, all the company she likes to keep, and\neverything her heart desires, in the twelfth month she must set to work\nand spin five skeins a day, and if she does not she must die. Come! is\nit a bargain?\"\n\nSo the mother agreed. She thought what a grand marriage it was for her\ndaughter. And as for the five skeins? Time enough to bother about them\nwhen the year came round. There was many a slip between cup and lip,\nand, likely as not, the King would have forgotten all about it by then.\n\nAnyhow, her daughter would be Queen for eleven months. So they were\nmarried, and for eleven months the bride was happy as happy could be.\nShe had everything she liked to eat, and all the gowns she liked to get,\nall the company she cared to keep, and everything her heart desired. And\nher husband the King was kind as kind could be. But in the tenth month\nshe began to think of those five skeins and wonder if the King\nremembered. And in the eleventh month she began to dream about them as\nwell. But ne'er a word did the King, her husband, say about them; so she\nhoped he had forgotten.\n\nBut on the very last day of the eleventh month, the King, her husband,\nled her into a room she had never set eyes on before. It had one window,\nand there was nothing in it but a stool and a spinning-wheel.\n\n\"Now, my dear,\" he said quite kind like, \"you will be shut in here\nto-morrow morning with some victuals and some flax, and if by evening\nyou have not spun five skeins, your head will come off.\"\n\nWell she was fair frightened, for she had always been such a gatless\nthoughtless girl that she had never learnt to spin at all. So what she\nwas to do on the morrow she could not tell; for, see you, she had no one\nto help her; for, of course, now she was Queen, her mother didn't live\nnigh her. So she just locked the door of her room, sat down on a stool,\nand cried and cried and cried until her pretty eyes were all red.\n\nNow as she sate sobbing and crying she heard a queer little noise at the\nbottom of the door. At first she thought it was a mouse. Then she\nthought it must be something knocking.\n\nSo she upped and opened the door and what did she see? Why! a small,\nlittle, black Thing with a long tail that whisked round and round ever\nso fast.\n\n\"What are you crying for?\" said that Thing, making a bow, and twirling\nits tail so fast that she could scarcely see it.\n\n\"What's that to you?\" said she, shrinking a bit, for that Thing was very\nqueer like.\n\n\"Don't look at my tail if you're frightened,\" says That, smirking. \"Look\nat my toes. Ain't they beautiful?\"\n\nAnd sure enough That had on buckled shoes with high heels and big bows,\never so smart.\n\n[Illustration: A small, little, black Thing with a long tail]\n\nSo she kind of forgot about the tail, and wasn't so frightened, and\nwhen That asked her again why she was crying, she upped and said, \"It\nwon't do no good if I do.\"\n\n\"You don't know that,\" says That, twirling its tail faster and faster,\nand sticking out its toes. \"Come, tell me, there's a good girl.\"\n\n\"Well,\" says she, \"it can't do any harm if it doesn't do good.\" So she\ndried her pretty eyes and told That all about the pies, and the skeins,\nand everything from first to last.\n\nAnd then that little, black Thing nearly burst with laughing. \"If that\nis all, it's easy mended!\" it says. \"I'll come to your window every\nmorning, take the flax, and bring it back spun into five skeins at\nnight. Come! shall it be a bargain?\"\n\nNow she, for all she was so gatless and thoughtless, said, cautious\nlike:\n\n\"But what is your pay?\"\n\nThen That twirled its tail so fast you couldn't see it, and stuck out\nits beautiful toes, and smirked and looked out of the corners of its\neyes. \"I will give you three guesses every night to guess my name, and\nif you haven't guessed it before the month is up, why\"--and That twirled\nits tail faster and stuck out its toes further, and smirked and\nsniggered more than ever--\"you shall be mine, my beauty.\"\n\nThree guesses every night for a whole month! She felt sure she would be\nable for so much; and there was no other way out of the business, so she\njust said, \"Yes! I agree!\"\n\nAnd lor! how That twirled its tail, and bowed, and smirked, and stuck\nout its beautiful toes.\n\nWell, the very next day her husband led her to the strange room again,\nand there was the day's food, and a spinning-wheel and a great bundle of\nflax.\n\n\"There you are, my dear,\" says he as polite as polite. \"And remember! if\nthere are not five whole skeins to-night, I fear your head will come\noff!\"\n\nAt that she began to tremble, and after he had gone away and locked the\ndoor, she was just thinking of a good cry, when she heard a queer\nknocking at the window. She upped at once and opened it, and sure enough\nthere was the small, little, black Thing sitting on the window-ledge,\ndangling its beautiful toes and twirling its tail so that you could\nscarcely see it.\n\n\"Good-morning, my beauty,\" says That. \"Come! hand over the flax, sharp,\nthere's a good girl.\"\n\nSo she gave That the flax and shut the window and, you may be sure, ate\nher victuals, for, as you know, she had a good appetite, and the King,\nher husband, had promised to give her everything she liked to eat. So\nshe ate to her heart's content, and when evening came and she heard that\nqueer knocking at the window again, she upped and opened it, and there\nwas the small, little, black Thing with five spun skeins on his arm!\n\nAnd it twirled its tail faster than ever, and stuck out its beautiful\ntoes, and bowed and smirked and gave her the five skeins.\n\nThen That said, \"And now, my beauty, what is That's name?\"\n\nAnd she answered quite easy like:\n\n\"That is Bill.\"\n\n\"No, it ain't,\" says That, and twirled its tail.\n\n\"Then That is Ned,\" says she.\n\n\"No, it ain't,\" says That, and twirled its tail faster.\n\n\"Well,\" says she a bit more thoughtful, \"That is Mark.\"\n\n\"No, it ain't,\" says That, and laughs and laughs and laughs, and twirls\nits tail so as you couldn't see it, as away it flew.\n\nWell, when the King, her husband, came in, he was fine and pleased to\nsee the five skeins all ready for him, for he was fond of his pretty\nwife.\n\n\"I shall not have to order your head off, my dear,\" says he. \"And I hope\nall the other days will pass as happily.\" Then he said good-night and\nlocked the door and left her.\n\nBut next morning they brought her fresh flax and even more delicious\nfoods. And the small, little, black Thing came knocking at the window\nand stuck out its beautiful toes and twirled its tail faster and faster,\nand took away the bundle of flax and brought it back all spun into five\nskeins by evening.\n\nThen That made her guess three times what That's name was; but she could\nnot guess right, and That laughed and laughed and laughed as it flew\naway.\n\nNow every morning and evening the same thing happened, and every evening\nshe had her three guesses; but she never guessed right. And every day\nthe small, little, black Thing laughed louder and louder and smirked\nmore and more, and looked at her quite maliceful out of the corners of\nits eyes until she began to get frightened, and instead of eating all\nthe fine foods left for her, spent the day in trying to think of names\nto say. But she never hit upon the right one.\n\nSo it came to the last day of the month but one, and when the small,\nlittle, black Thing arrived in the evening with the five skeins of flax\nall ready spun, it could hardly say for smirking:\n\n\"Ain't you got That's name yet?\"\n\nSo says she--for she had been reading her Bible:\n\n\"Is That Nicodemus?\"\n\n\"No, it ain't,\" says That, and twirled its tail faster than you could\nsee.\n\n\"Is That Samuel?\" says she all of a flutter.\n\n\"No, it ain't, my beauty,\" chuckles That, looking maliceful.\n\n\"Well--is That Methuselah?\" says she, inclined to cry.\n\nThen That just fixes her with eyes like a coal a-fire, and says, \"No, it\nain't that neither, so there is only to-morrow night and then you'll be\nmine, my beauty.\"\n\nAnd away the small, little, black Thing flew, its tail twirling and\nwhisking so fast that you couldn't see it.\n\nWell, she felt so bad she couldn't even cry; but she heard the King, her\nhusband, coming to the door, so she made bold to be cheerful, and tried\nto smile when he said, \"Well done, wife! Five skeins again! I shall not\nhave to order your head off after all, my dear, of that I'm quite sure,\nso let us enjoy ourselves.\" Then he bade the servants bring supper, and\na stool for him to sit beside his Queen, and down they sat, lover-like,\nside by side.\n\nBut the poor Queen could eat nothing; she could not forget the small,\nlittle, black Thing. And the King hadn't eaten but a mouthful or two\nwhen he began to laugh, and he laughed so long and so loud that at last\nthe poor Queen, all lackadaisical as she was, said:\n\n\"Why do you laugh so?\"\n\n\"At something I saw to-day, my love,\" says the King. \"I was out\na-hunting, and by chance I came to a place I'd never been in before. It\nwas in a wood, and there was an old chalk-pit there, and out of the\nchalk-pit there came a queer kind of a sort of a humming, humming noise.\nSo I got off my hobby to see what made it, and went quite quiet to the\nedge of the pit and looked down. And what do you think I saw? The\nfunniest, queerest, smallest, little, black Thing you ever set eyes\nupon. And it had a little spinning-wheel and it was spinning away for\ndear life, but the wheel didn't go so fast as its tail, and that span\nround and round--_ho-ho-ha-ha!_--you never saw the like. And its little\nfeet had buckled shoes and bows on them, and they went up and down in a\ndesperate hurry. And all the time that small, little, black Thing kept\nbumming and booming away at these words:\n\n  \"Name me, name me not,\n   Who'll guess it's Tom-Tit-Tot.\"\n\nWell, when she heard these words the Queen nearly jumped out of her\nskin for joy; but she managed to say nothing, but ate her supper quite\ncomfortably.\n\nAnd she said no word when next morning the small, little, black Thing\ncame for the flax, though it looked so gleeful and maliceful that she\ncould hardly help laughing, knowing she had got the better of it. And\nwhen night came and she heard that knocking against the window-panes,\nshe put on a wry face, and opened the window slowly as if she was\nafraid. But that Thing was as bold as brass and came right inside,\ngrinning from ear to ear. And oh, my goodness! how That's tail was\ntwirling and whisking!\n\n\"Well, my beauty,\" says That, giving her the five skeins all ready spun,\n\"what's my name?\"\n\nThen she put down her lip, and says, tearful like,\n\"Is--is--That--Solomon?\"\n\n\"No, it ain't,\" laughs That, smirking out of the corner of That's eye.\nAnd the small, little, black Thing came further into the room.\n\nSo she tried again--and this time she seemed hardly able to speak for\nfright.\n\n\"Well--is That--Zebedee?\" she says.\n\n\"No, it ain't,\" cried the impet, full of glee. And it came quite close\nand stretched out its little black hands to her, and O-oh, ITS\nTAIL...!!!\n\n\"Take time, my beauty,\" says That, sort of jeering like, and its small,\nlittle, black eyes seemed to eat her up. \"Take time! Remember! next\nguess and you're mine!\" Well, she backed just a wee bit from it, for it\nwas just horrible to look at; but then she laughed out and pointed her\nfinger at it and said, says she:\n\n          \"Name me, name me not,\n          _Your_ name is\n               _Tom_\n                TIT\n               _TOT_.\"\n\nAnd you never heard such a shriek as that small, little, black Thing\ngave out. Its tail dropped down straight, its feet all crumpled up, and\naway That flew into the dark, and she never saw it no more.\n\nAnd she lived happy ever after with her husband, the King.\n\n[Illustration: Away That flew into the dark, and she never saw it no\nmore]\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN SNUFF-BOX\n\n\nOnce upon a time, and a very good time too, though it was not in my\ntime, nor your time, nor for the matter of that in any one's time, there\nlived a man and a woman who had one son called Jack, and he was just\nterribly fond of reading books. He read, and he read, and then, because\nhis parents lived in a lonely house in a lonely forest and he never saw\nany other folk but his father and his mother, he became quite crazy to\ngo out into the world and see charming princesses and the like.\n\nSo one day he told his mother he must be off, and she called him an\nair-brained addle-pate, but added that, as he was no use at home, he had\nbetter go seek his fortune. Then she asked him if he would rather take a\nsmall cake with her blessing to eat on his journey, or a large cake with\nher curse? Now Jack was a very hungry lad, so he just up and said:\n\n\"A big cake, if you please, 'm.\"\n\nSo his mother made a great big cake, and when he started she just off to\nthe top of the house and cast malisons on him, till he got out of\nsight. You see she had to do it, but after that she sate down and cried.\n\nWell, Jack hadn't gone far till he came to a field where his father was\nploughing. Now the goodman was dreadfully put out when he found his son\nwas going away, and still more so when he heard he had chosen his\nmother's malison. So he cast about what to do to put things straight,\nand at last he drew out of his pocket a little golden snuff-box, and\ngave it to the lad, saying:\n\n\"If ever you are in danger of sudden death you may open the box; but not\ntill then. It has been in our family for years and years; but, as we\nhave lived, father and son, quietly in the forest, none of us have ever\nbeen in need of help--perhaps you may.\"\n\nSo Jack pocketed the golden snuff-box and went on his way.\n\nNow, after a time, he grew very tired, and very hungry, for he had eaten\nhis big cake first thing, and night closed in on him so that he could\nscarce see his way.\n\nBut at last he came to a large house and begged board and lodging at the\nback door. Now Jack was a good-looking young fellow, so the maid-servant\nat once called him in to the fireside and gave him plenty good meat and\nbread and beer. And it so happened that while he was eating his supper\nthe master's gay young daughter came into the kitchen and saw him. So\nshe went to her father and said that there was the prettiest young\nfellow she had ever seen in the back kitchen, and that if her father\nloved her he would give the young man some employment. Now the\ngentleman of the house was exceedingly fond of his gay young daughter,\nand did not want to vex her; so he went into the back kitchen and\nquestioned Jack as to what he could do.\n\n\"Anything,\" said Jack gaily, meaning, of course, that he could do any\nfoolish bit of work about a house.\n\nBut the gentleman saw a way of pleasing his gay young daughter and\ngetting rid of the trouble of employing Jack; so he laughs and says, \"If\nyou can do anything, my good lad,\" says he, \"you had better do this. By\neight o'clock to-morrow morning you must have dug a lake four miles\nround in front of my mansion, and on it there must be floating a whole\nfleet of vessels. And they must range up in front of my mansion and fire\na salute of guns. And the very last shot must break the leg of the\nfour-post bed on which my daughter sleeps, for she is always late of a\nmorning!\"\n\nWell! Jack was terribly flabbergasted, but he faltered out:\n\n\"And if I don't do it?\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the master of the house quite calmly, \"your life will be\nthe forfeit.\"\n\nSo he bade the servants take Jack to a turret-room and lock the door on\nhim.\n\nWell! Jack sate on the side of his bed and tried to think things out,\nbut he felt as if he didn't know _b_ from a battledore, so he decided to\nthink no more, and after saying his prayers he lay down and went to\nsleep. And he did sleep! When he woke it was close on eight o'clock,\nand he had only time to fly to the window and look out, when the great\nclock on the tower began to whirr before it struck the hour. And there\nwas the lawn in front of the house all set with beds of roses and stocks\nand marigolds! Well! all of a sudden he remembered the little golden\nsnuff-box.\n\n\"I'm near enough to death,\" quoth he to himself, as he drew it out and\nopened it.\n\nAnd no sooner had he opened it than out hopped three funny little red\nmen in red night-caps, rubbing their eyes and yawning; for, see you,\nthey had been locked up in the box for years, and years, and years.\n\n\"What do you want, Master?\" they said between their yawns. But Jack\nheard that clock a-whirring and knew he hadn't a moment to lose, so he\njust gabbled off his orders. Then the clock began to strike, and the\nlittle men flew out of the window, and suddenly\n\n              Bang! bang! bang! bang! bang! bang!\n\nwent the guns, and the last one must have broken the leg of the\nfour-post bed, for there at the window was the gay young daughter in her\nnightcap, gazing with astonishment at the lake four miles round, with\nthe fleet of vessels floating on it!\n\nAnd so did Jack! He had never seen such a sight in his life, and he was\nquite sorry when the three little red men disturbed him by flying in at\nthe window and scrambling into the golden snuff-box.\n\n\"Give us a little more time when you want us next, Master,\" they said\nsulkily. Then they shut down the lid, and Jack could hear them yawning\ninside as they settled down to sleep.\n\nAs you may imagine, the master of the house was fair astonished, while\nas for the gay young daughter, she declared at once that she would never\nmarry any one else but the young man who could do such wonderful things;\nthe truth being that she and Jack had fallen in love with each other at\nfirst sight.\n\nBut her father was cautious. \"It is true, my dear,\" says he, \"that the\nyoung fellow seems a bully boy; but for aught we know it may be chance,\nnot skill, and he may have a broken feather in his wing. So we must try\nhim again.\"\n\nThen he said to Jack, \"My daughter must have a fine house to live in.\nTherefore by to-morrow morning at eight o'clock there must be a\nmagnificent castle standing on twelve golden pillars in the middle of\nthe lake, and there must be a church beside it. And all things must be\nready for the bride, and at eight o'clock precisely a peal of bells from\nthe church must ring out for the wedding. If not you will have to\nforfeit your life.\"\n\nThis time Jack intended to give the three little red men more time for\ntheir task; but what with having enjoyed himself so much all day, and\nhaving eaten so much good food, he overslept himself, so that the big\nclock on the tower was whirring before it struck eight when he woke,\nleapt out of bed, and rushed to the golden snuff-box. But he had\nforgotten where he had put it, and so the clock had _really_ begun to\nstrike before he found it under his pillow, opened it, and gabbled out\nhis orders. And then you never saw how the three little red men tumbled\nover each other and yawned and stretched and made haste all at one time,\nso that Jack thought his life would surely be forfeit. But just as the\nclock struck its last chime, out rang a peal of merry bells, and there\nwas the Castle standing on twelve golden pillars and a church beside it\nin the middle of the lake. And the Castle was all decorated for the\nwedding, and there were crowds and crowds of servants and retainers, all\ndressed in their Sunday best.\n\nNever had Jack seen such a sight before; neither had the gay young\ndaughter who, of course, was looking out of the next window in her\nnightcap. And she looked so pretty and so gay that Jack felt quite cross\nwhen he had to step back to let the three little red men fly to their\ngolden snuff-box. But they were far crosser than he was, and mumbled and\ngrumbled at the hustle, so that Jack was quite glad when they shut the\nbox down and began to snore.\n\nWell, of course, Jack and the gay young daughter were married, and were\nas happy as the day is long; and Jack had fine clothes to wear, fine\nfood to eat, fine servants to wait on him, and as many fine friends as\nhe liked.\n\nSo he was in luck; but he had yet to learn that a mother's malison is\nsure to bring misfortune some time or another.\n\nThus it happened that one day when he was going a-hunting with all the\nladies and gentlemen, Jack forgot to change the golden snuff-box (which\nhe always carried about with him for fear of accidents) from his\nwaistcoat pocket to that of his scarlet hunting-coat; so he left it\nbehind him. And what should happen but that the servant let it fall on\nthe ground when he was folding up the clothes, and the snuff-box flew\nopen and out popped the three little red men yawning and stretching.\n\nWell! when they found out that they hadn't really been summoned, and\nthat there was no fear of death, they were in a towering temper and said\nthey had a great mind to fly away with the Castle, golden pillars and\nall.\n\nOn hearing this the servant pricked up his ears.\n\n\"Could you do that?\" he asked.\n\n\"Could we?\" they said, and they laughed loud. \"Why, we can do anything.\"\n\nThen the servant said ever so sharp, \"Then move me this Castle and all\nit contains right away over the sea where the master can't disturb us.\"\n\nNow the little red men need not really have obeyed the order, but they\nwere so cross with Jack that hardly had the servant said the words\nbefore the task was done; so when the hunting-party came back, lo and\nbehold! the Castle, and the church, and the golden pillars had all\ndisappeared!\n\nAt first all the rest set upon Jack for being a knave and a cheat; and,\nin particular, his wife's father threatened to have at him for deceiving\nthe gay young daughter; but at last he agreed to let Jack have twelve\nmonths and a day to find the Castle and bring it back.\n\nSo off Jack starts on a good horse with some money in his pocket.\n\nAnd he travelled far and he travelled fast, and he travelled east and\nwest, north and south, over hills, and dales, and valleys, and\nmountains, and woods, and sheepwalks, but never a sign of the missing\ncastle did he see. Now at last he came to the palace of the King of all\nthe Mice in the Wide World. And there was a little mousie in a fine\nhauberk and a steel cap doing sentry at the front gate, and he was not\nfor letting Jack in until he had told his errand. And when Jack had told\nit, he passed him on to the next mouse sentry at the inner gate; so by\ndegrees he reached the King's chamber, where he sate surrounded by mice\ncourtiers.\n\nNow the King of the Mice received Jack very graciously, and said that he\nhimself knew nothing of the missing Castle, but, as he was King of all\nthe Mice in the whole world, it was possible that some of his subjects\nmight know more than he. So he ordered his chamberlain to command a\nGrand Assembly for the next morning, and in the meantime he entertained\nJack right royally.\n\nBut the next morning, though there were brown mice, and black mice, and\ngrey mice, and white mice, and piebald mice, from all parts of the\nworld, they all answered with one breath:\n\n\"If it please your Majesty, we have not seen the missing Castle.\"\n\nThen the King said, \"You must go and ask my elder brother the King of\nall the Frogs. He may be able to tell you. Leave your horse here and\ntake one of mine. It knows the way and will carry you safe.\"\n\nSo Jack set off on the King's horse, and as he passed the outer gate he\nsaw the little mouse sentry coming away, for its guard was up. Now Jack\nwas a kind-hearted lad, and he had saved some crumbs from his dinner in\norder to recompense the little sentry for his kindness. So he put his\nhand in his pocket and pulled out the crumbs.\n\n\"Here you are, mousekin,\" he said. \"That's for your trouble!\"\n\nThen the mouse thanked him kindly and asked if he would take him along\nto the King of the Frogs.\n\n\"Not I,\" says Jack. \"I should get into trouble with your King.\"\n\nBut the mousekin insisted. \"I may be of some use to you,\" it said. So it\nran up the horse's hind leg and up by its tail and hid in Jack's pocket.\nAnd the horse set off at a hard gallop, for it didn't half like the\nmouse running over it.\n\nSo at last Jack came to the palace of the King of all the Frogs, and\nthere at the front gate was a frog doing sentry in a fine coat of mail\nand a brass helmet. And the frog sentry was for not letting Jack in; but\nthe mouse called out that they came from the King of all the Mice and\nmust be let in without delay. So they were taken to the King's chamber,\nwhere he sate surrounded by frog courtiers in fine clothes; but alas!\nhe had heard nothing of the Castle on golden pillars, and though he\nsummoned all the frogs of all the world to a Grand Assembly next\nmorning, they all answered his question with:\n\n  \"_Kro kro, Kro kro_\"\n\nwhich every one knows stands for \"No\" in frog language.\n\nSo the King said to Jack, \"There remains but one thing. You must go and\nask my eldest brother, the King of all the Birds. His subjects are\nalways on the wing, so mayhap they have seen something. Leave the horse\nyou are riding here, and take one of mine. It knows the way, and will\ncarry you safe.\"\n\nSo Jack set off, and being a kind-hearted lad he gave the frog sentry,\nwhom he met coming away from his guard, some crumbs he had saved from\nhis dinner. And the frog asked leave to go with him, and when Jack\nrefused to take him he just gave one hop on to the stirrup, and a second\nhop on to the crupper, and the next hop he was in Jack's other pocket.\n\nThen the horse galloped away like lightning, for it didn't like the\nslimy frog coming down \"plop\" on its back.\n\nWell, after a time, Jack came to the palace of the King of all the\nBirds, and there at the front gate were a sparrow and a crow marching up\nand down with matchlocks on their shoulders. Now at this Jack laughed\nfit to split, and the mouse and the frog from his pockets called out:\n\n\"We come from the King! Sirrahs! Let us pass.\"\n\nSo that the sentries were right mazed, and let them pass in without more\nado.\n\nBut when they came to the King's chamber, where he sate surrounded by\nall manner of birds, tomtits, wrens, cormorants, turtle-doves, and the\nlike, the King said he was sorry, but he had no news of the missing\nCastle. And though he summoned all the birds of all the world to a Grand\nAssembly next morning, not one of them had seen or heard tell of it.\n\nSo Jack was quite disconsolate till the King said, \"But where is the\neagle? I don't see my eagle.\"\n\nThen the Chamberlain--he was a tomtit--stepped forward with a bow and\nsaid:\n\n\"May it please your Majesty he is late.\"\n\n\"Late?\" says the King in a fume. \"Summon him at once.\"\n\nSo two larks flew up into the sky till they couldn't be seen and sang\never so loud, till at last the eagle appeared all in a perspiration from\nhaving flown so fast.\n\nThen the King said, \"Sirrah! Have you seen a missing Castle that stands\nupon twelve pillars of gold?\"\n\nAnd the eagle blinked its eyes and said, \"May it please your Majesty\nthat is where I've been.\"\n\nThen everybody rejoiced exceedingly, and when the eagle had eaten a\nwhole calf so as to be strong enough for the journey, he spread his wide\nwings, on which Jack stood, with the mouse in one pocket and the frog in\nthe other, and started to obey the King's order to take the owner back\nto his missing Castle as quickly as possible.\n\nAnd they flew over land and they flew over sea, until at last in the far\ndistance they saw the Castle standing on its twelve golden pillars. But\nall the doors and windows were fast shut and barred, for, see you, the\nservant-master who had run away with it had gone out for the day\na-hunting, and he always bolted doors and windows while he was absent\nlest some one else should run away with it.\n\nThen Jack was puzzled to think how he should get hold of the golden\nsnuff-box, until the little mouse said:\n\n\"Let me fetch it. There is always a mouse-hole in every castle, so I am\nsure I shall be able to get in.\"\n\nSo it went off, and Jack waited on the eagle's wings in a fume; till at\nlast mousekin appeared.\n\n\"Have you got it?\" shouted Jack, and the little mousie cried:\n\n                             \"Yes!\"\n\nSo every one rejoiced exceedingly, and they set off back to the palace\nof the King of all the Birds, where Jack had left his horse; for now\nthat he had the golden snuff-box safe he knew he could get the Castle\nback whenever he chose to send the three little red men to fetch it. But\non the way over the sea, while Jack, who was dead tired with standing so\nlong, lay down between the eagle's wings and fell asleep, the mouse and\nthe eagle fell to quarrelling as to which of them had helped Jack the\nmost, and they quarrelled so much that at last they laid the case before\nthe frog. Then the frog, who made a very wise judge, said he must see\nthe whole affair from the very beginning; so the mouse brought out the\ngolden snuff-box from Jack's pocket, and began to relate where it had\nbeen found and all about it. Now, at that very moment Jack awoke, kicked\nout his leg, and plump went the golden snuff-box down to the very bottom\nof the sea!\n\n\"I thought my turn would come,\" said the frog, and went plump in after\nit.\n\nWell, they waited, and waited, and waited for three whole days and three\nwhole nights; but froggie never came up again, and they had just given\nhim up in despair when his nose showed above the water.\n\n\"Have you got it?\" they shouted.\n\n\"No!\" says he, with a great gasp.\n\n\"Then what do you want?\" they cried in a rage.\n\n\"My breath,\" says froggie, and with that he sinks down again.\n\nWell, they waited two days and two nights more, and at last up comes the\nlittle frog with the golden snuff-box in its mouth.\n\nThen they all rejoiced exceedingly, and the eagle flew ever so fast to\nthe palace of the King of the Birds.\n\nBut alas and alack-a-day! Jack's troubles were not ended; his mother's\nmalison was still bringing him ill-luck, for the King of the Birds flew\ninto a fearsome rage because Jack had not brought the Castle of the\ngolden pillars back with him. And he said that unless he saw it by eight\no'clock next morning Jack's head should come off as a cheat and a liar.\n\nThen Jack being close to death opened the golden snuff-box, and out\ntumbled the three little red men in their three little red caps. They\nhad recovered their tempers and were quite glad to be back with a master\nwho knew that they would only, as a rule, work under fear of death; for,\nsee you, the servant-master had been for ever disturbing their sleep\nwith opening the box to no purpose.\n\nSo before the clock struck eight next morning, there was the Castle on\nits twelve golden pillars, and the King of the Birds was fine and\npleased, and let Jack take his horse and ride to the palace of the King\nof the Frogs. But there exactly the same thing happened, and poor Jack\nhad to open the snuff-box again and order the Castle to come to the\npalace of the King of the Frogs. At this the little red men were a wee\nbit cross; but they said they supposed it could not be helped; so,\nthough they yawned, they brought the Castle all right, and Jack was\nallowed to take his horse and go to the palace of the King of all the\nMice in the World. But here the same thing happened, and the little red\nmen tumbled out of the golden snuff-box in a real rage, and said fellows\nmight as well have no sleep at all! However, they did as they were\nbidden; they brought the Castle of the golden pillars from the palace of\nthe King of the Frogs to the palace of the King of the Birds, and Jack\nwas allowed to take his own horse and ride home.\n\n[Illustration: They brought the Castle of the golden pillars]\n\nBut the year and a day which he had been allowed was almost gone, and\neven his gay young wife, after almost weeping her eyes out after her\nhandsome young husband, had given up Jack for lost; so every one was\nastounded to see him, and not over-pleased either to see him come\nwithout his Castle. Indeed his father-in-law swore with many oaths that\nif it were not in its proper place by eight o'clock next morning Jack's\nlife should be forfeit.\n\nNow this, of course, was exactly what Jack had wanted and intended from\nthe beginning; because when death was nigh he could open the golden\nsnuff-box and order about the little red men. But he had opened it so\noften of late and they had become so cross that he was in a stew what to\ndo; whether to give them time to show their temper, or to hustle them\nout of it. At last he decided to do half and half. So just as the hands\nof the clock were at five minutes to eight he opened the box, and\nstopped his ears!\n\nWell! you never heard such a yawning, and scolding, and threatening, and\nblustering. What did he mean by it? Why should he take four bites at one\ncherry? If he was always in fear of death why didn't he die and have\ndone with it?\n\nIn the midst of all this the tower clock began to whirr--\n\n\"Gentlemen!\" says Jack--he was really quaking with fear--\"do as you are\ntold.\"\n\n\"For the last time,\" they shrieked. \"We won't stay and serve a master\nwho thinks he is going to die every day.\"\n\nAnd with that they flew out of the window.\n\n                    _AND THEY NEVER CAME BACK._\n\nThe golden snuff-box remained empty for evermore.\n\nBut when Jack looked out of window there was the Castle in the middle of\nthe lake on its twelve golden pillars, and there was his young wife ever\nso pretty and gay in her nightcap looking out of the window too.\n\nSo they lived happily ever after.\n\n\n\n\nTATTERCOATS\n\n\nIn a great Palace by the sea there once dwelt a very rich old lord, who\nhad neither wife nor children living, only one little granddaughter,\nwhose face he had never seen in all her life. He hated her bitterly,\nbecause at her birth his favourite daughter died; and when the old nurse\nbrought him the baby he swore that it might live or die as it liked, but\nhe would never look on its face as long as it lived.\n\nSo he turned his back, and sat by his window looking out over the sea,\nand weeping great tears for his lost daughter, till his white hair and\nbeard grew down over his shoulders and twined round his chair and crept\ninto the chinks of the floor, and his tears, dropping on to the\nwindow-ledge, wore a channel through the stone, and ran away in a little\nriver to the great sea. Meanwhile, his granddaughter grew up with no one\nto care for her, or clothe her; only the old nurse, when no one was by,\nwould sometimes give her a dish of scraps from the kitchen, or a torn\npetticoat from the rag-bag; while the other servants of the palace would\ndrive her from the house with blows and mocking words, calling her\n\"Tattercoats,\" and pointing to her bare feet and shoulders, till she ran\naway, crying, to hide among the bushes.\n\nSo she grew up, with little to eat or to wear, spending her days out of\ndoors, her only companion a crippled gooseherd, who fed his flock of\ngeese on the common. And this gooseherd was a queer, merry little chap,\nand when she was hungry, or cold, or tired, he would play to her so\ngaily on his little pipe, that she forgot all her troubles, and would\nfall to dancing with his flock of noisy geese for partners.\n\nNow one day people told each other that the King was travelling through\nthe land, and was to give a great ball to all the lords and ladies of\nthe country in the town near by, and that the Prince, his only son, was\nto choose a wife from amongst the maidens in the company. In due time\none of the royal invitations to the ball was brought to the Palace by\nthe sea, and the servants carried it up to the old lord, who still sat\nby his window, wrapped in his long white hair and weeping into the\nlittle river that was fed by his tears.\n\nBut when he heard the King's command, he dried his eyes and bade them\nbring shears to cut him loose, for his hair had bound him a fast\nprisoner, and he could not move. And then he sent them for rich clothes,\nand jewels, which he put on; and he ordered them to saddle the white\nhorse, with gold and silk, that he might ride to meet the King; but he\nquite forgot he had a granddaughter to take to the ball.\n\nMeanwhile Tattercoats sat by the kitchen-door weeping, because she could\nnot go to see the grand doings. And when the old nurse heard her crying\nshe went to the Lord of the Palace, and begged him to take his\ngranddaughter with him to the King's ball.\n\nBut he only frowned and told her to be silent; while the servants\nlaughed and said, \"Tattercoats is happy in her rags, playing with the\ngooseherd! Let her be--it is all she is fit for.\"\n\nA second, and then a third time, the old nurse begged him to let the\ngirl go with him, but she was answered only by black looks and fierce\nwords, till she was driven from the room by the jeering servants, with\nblows and mocking words.\n\nWeeping over her ill-success, the old nurse went to look for\nTattercoats; but the girl had been turned from the door by the cook, and\nhad run away to tell her friend the gooseherd how unhappy she was\nbecause she could not go to the King's ball.\n\nNow when the gooseherd had listened to her story, he bade her cheer up,\nand proposed that they should go together into the town to see the King,\nand all the fine things; and when she looked sorrowfully down at her\nrags and bare feet he played a note or two upon his pipe, so gay and\nmerry, that she forgot all about her tears and her troubles, and before\nshe well knew, the gooseherd had taken her by the hand, and she and he,\nand the geese before them, were dancing down the road towards the town.\n\n\"Even cripples can dance when they choose,\" said the gooseherd.\n\nBefore they had gone very far a handsome young man, splendidly dressed,\nriding up, stopped to ask the way to the castle where the King was\nstaying, and when he found that they too were going thither, he got off\nhis horse and walked beside them along the road.\n\n\"You seem merry folk,\" he said, \"and will be good company.\"\n\n\"Good company, indeed,\" said the gooseherd, and played a new tune that\nwas not a dance.\n\nIt was a curious tune, and it made the strange young man stare and stare\nand stare at Tattercoats till he couldn't see her rags--till he\ncouldn't, to tell the truth, see anything but her beautiful face.\n\nThen he said, \"You are the most beautiful maiden in the world. Will you\nmarry me?\"\n\nThen the gooseherd smiled to himself, and played sweeter than ever.\n\nBut Tattercoats laughed. \"Not I,\" said she; \"you would be finely put to\nshame, and so would I be, if you took a goose-girl for your wife! Go and\nask one of the great ladies you will see to-night at the King's ball,\nand do not flout poor Tattercoats.\"\n\nBut the more she refused him the sweeter the pipe played, and the deeper\nthe young man fell in love; till at last he begged her to come that\nnight at twelve to the King's ball, just as she was, with the gooseherd\nand his geese, in her torn petticoat and bare feet, and see if he\nwouldn't dance with her before the King and the lords and ladies, and\npresent her to them all, as his dear and honoured bride.\n\n[Illustration: Tattercoats dancing while the gooseherd pipes]\n\nNow at first Tattercoats said she would not; but the gooseherd said,\n\"Take fortune when it comes, little one.\"\n\nSo when night came, and the hall in the castle was full of light and\nmusic, and the lords and ladies were dancing before the King, just as\nthe clock struck twelve, Tattercoats and the gooseherd, followed by his\nflock of noisy geese, hissing and swaying their heads, entered at the\ngreat doors, and walked straight up the ball-room, while on either side\nthe ladies whispered, the lords laughed, and the King seated at the far\nend stared in amazement.\n\nBut as they came in front of the throne Tattercoats' lover rose from\nbeside the King, and came to meet her. Taking her by the hand, he kissed\nher thrice before them all, and turned to the King.\n\n\"Father!\" he said--for it was the Prince himself--\"I have made my\nchoice, and here is my bride, the loveliest girl in all the land, and\nthe sweetest as well!\"\n\nBefore he had finished speaking, the gooseherd had put his pipe to his\nlips and played a few notes that sounded like a bird singing far off in\nthe woods; and as he played Tattercoats' rags were changed to shining\nrobes sewn with glittering jewels, a golden crown lay upon her golden\nhair, and the flock of geese behind her became a crowd of dainty pages,\nbearing her long train.\n\nAnd as the King rose to greet her as his daughter the trumpets sounded\nloudly in honour of the new Princess, and the people outside in the\nstreet said to each other:\n\n\"Ah! now the Prince has chosen for his wife the loveliest girl in all\nthe land!\"\n\nBut the gooseherd was never seen again, and no one knew what became of\nhim; while the old lord went home once more to his Palace by the sea,\nfor he could not stay at Court, when he had sworn never to look on his\ngranddaughter's face.\n\nSo there he still sits by his window,--if you could only see him, as you\nmay some day--weeping more bitterly than ever. And his white hair has\nbound him to the stones, and the river of his tears runs away to the\ngreat sea.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE FEATHERS\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a girl who was wooed and married by a man\nshe never saw; for he came a-courting her after nightfall, and when they\nwere married he never came home till it was dark, and always left before\ndawn.\n\nStill he was good and kind to her, giving her everything her heart could\ndesire, so she was well content for a while. But, after a bit, some of\nher friends, doubtless full of envy for her good luck, began to whisper\nthat the unseen husband must have something dreadful the matter with him\nwhich made him averse to being seen.\n\nNow from the very beginning the girl had wondered why her lover did not\ncome a-courting her as other girls' lovers came, openly and by day, and\nthough, at first, she paid no heed to her neighbours' nods and winks,\nshe began at last to think there might be something in what they said.\nSo she determined to see for herself, and one night when she heard her\nhusband come into her room, she lit her candle suddenly and saw him.\n\nAnd, lo and behold! he was handsome as handsome; beautiful enough to\nmake every woman in the world fall in love with him on the spot. But\neven as she got her glimpse of him, he changed into a big brown bird\nwhich looked at her with eyes full of anger and blame.\n\n\"Because you have done this faithless thing,\" it said, \"you will see me\nno more, unless for seven long years and a day you serve for me\nfaithfully.\"\n\nAnd she cried with tears and sobs, \"I will serve seven times seven years\nand a day if you will only come back. Tell me what I am to do.\"\n\nThen the bird-husband said, \"I will place you in service, and there you\nmust remain and do good work for seven years and a day, and you must\nlisten to no man who may seek to beguile you to leave that service. If\nyou do I will never return.\"\n\nTo this the girl agreed, and the bird, spreading its broad brown wings,\ncarried her to a big mansion.\n\n\"Here they need a laundry-maid,\" said the bird-husband. \"Go in, ask to\nsee the mistress, and say you will do the work; but remember you must do\nit for seven years and a day.\"\n\n\"But I cannot do it for seven days,\" answered the girl. \"I cannot wash\nor iron.\"\n\n\"That matters nothing,\" replied the bird. \"All you have to do is to\npluck three feathers from under my wing close to my heart, and these\nfeathers will do your bidding whatever it may be. You will only have to\nput them on your hand, and say, 'By virtue of these three feathers from\nover my true love's heart may this be done,' and it will be done.\"\n\nSo the girl plucked three feathers from under the bird's wing, and after\nthat the bird flew away.\n\nThen the girl did as she was bidden, and the lady of the house engaged\nher for the place. And never was such a quick laundress; for, see you,\nshe had only to go into the wash-house, bolt the door and close the\nshutters, so that no one should see what she was at; then she would out\nwith the three feathers and say, \"By virtue of these three feathers from\nover my true love's heart may the copper be lit, the clothes sorted,\nwashed, boiled, dried, folded, mangled, ironed,\" and lo! there they came\ntumbling on to the table, clean and white, quite ready to be put away.\nSo her mistress set great store by her and said there never was such a\ngood laundry-maid. Thus four years passed and there was no talk of her\nleaving. But the other servants grew jealous of her, all the more so,\nbecause, being a very pretty girl, all the men-servants fell in love\nwith her and wanted to marry her.\n\nBut she would have none of them, because she was always waiting and\nlonging for the day when her bird-husband would come back to her in\nman's form.\n\nNow one of the men who wanted her was the stout butler, and one day as\nhe was coming back from the cider-house he chanced to stop by the\nlaundry, and he heard a voice say, \"By virtue of these three feathers\nfrom over my true love's heart may the copper be lit, the clothes\nsorted, boiled, dried, folded, mangled, and ironed.\"\n\nHe thought this very queer, so he peeped through the keyhole. And there\nwas the girl sitting at her ease in a chair, while all the clothes came\nflying to the table ready and fit to put away.\n\nWell, that night he went to the girl and said that if she turned up her\nnose at him and his proposal any longer, he would up and tell the\nmistress that her fine laundress was nothing but a witch; and then, even\nif she were not burnt alive, she would lose her place.\n\nNow the girl was in great distress what to do, since if she were not\nfaithful to her bird-husband, or if she failed to serve her seven years\nand a day in one service, he would alike fail to return; so she made an\nexcuse by saying she could think of no one who did not give her enough\nmoney to satisfy her.\n\nAt this the stout butler laughed. \"Money?\" said he. \"I have seventy\npounds laid by with master. Won't that satisfy thee?\"\n\n\"Happen it would,\" she replied.\n\nSo the very next night the butler came to her with the seventy pounds in\ngolden sovereigns, and she held out her apron and took them, saying she\nwas content; for she had thought of a plan. Now as they were going\nupstairs together she stopped and said:\n\n\"Mr. Butler, excuse me for a minute. I have left the shutters of the\nwash-house open, and I must shut them, or they will be banging all night\nand disturb master and missus!\"\n\nNow though the butler was stout and beginning to grow old, he was\nanxious to seem young and gallant; so he said at once:\n\n\"Excuse me, my beauty, you shall not go. I will go and shut them. I\nshan't be a moment!\"\n\nSo off he set, and no sooner had he gone than she out with her three\nfeathers, and putting them on her hand, said in a hurry:\n\n\"By virtue of the three feathers from over my true love's heart may the\nshutters never cease banging till morning, and may Mr. Butler's hands be\nbusy trying to shut them.\"\n\nAnd so it happened.\n\nMr. Butler shut the shutters, but--bru-u-u! there they were hanging open\nagain. Then he shut them once more, and this time they hit him on the\nface as they flew open. Yet he couldn't stop; he had to go on. So there\nhe was the whole livelong night. Such a cursing, and banging, and\nswearing, and shutting, never was, until dawn came, and, too tired to be\nreally angry, he crept back to his bed, resolving that come what might\nhe would not tell what had happened to him and thus get the laugh on\nhim. So he kept his own counsel, and the girl kept the seventy pounds,\nand laughed in her sleeve at her would-be lover.\n\nNow after a time the coachman, a spruce middle-aged man, who had long\nwanted to marry the clever, pretty laundry-maid, going to the pump to\nget water for his horses overheard her giving orders to the three\nfeathers, and peeping through the keyhole as the butler had done, saw\nher sitting at her ease in a chair while the clothes, all washed and\nironed and mangled, came flying to the table.\n\nSo, just as the butler had done, he went to the girl and said, \"I have\nyou now, my pretty. Don't dare to turn up your nose at me, for if you do\nI'll tell mistress you are a witch.\"\n\nThen the girl said quite calmly, \"I look on none who has no money.\"\n\n\"If that is all,\" replied the coachman, \"I have forty pounds laid by\nwith master. That I'll bring and ask for payment to-morrow night.\"\n\nSo when the night came the girl held out her apron for the money, and as\nshe was going up the stairs she stopped suddenly and said, \"Goody me!\nI've left my clothes on the line. Stop a bit till I fetch them in.\"\n\nNow the coachman was really a very polite fellow, so he said at once:\n\n\"Let me go. It is a cold, windy night and you'll be catching your\ndeath.\"\n\nSo off he went, and the girl out with her feathers and said:\n\n\"By virtue of the three feathers from over my true love's heart may the\nclothes slash and blow about till dawn, and may Mr. Coachman not be able\nto gather them up or take his hand from the job.\"\n\nAnd when she had said this she went quietly to bed, for she knew what\nwould happen. And sure enough it did. Never was such a night as Mr.\nCoachman spent with the wet clothes flittering and fluttering about his\nears, and the sheets wrapping him into a bundle, and tripping him up,\nwhile the towels slashed at his legs. But though he smarted all over he\nhad to go on till dawn came, and then a very weary, woebegone coachman\ncouldn't even creep away to his bed, for he had to feed and water his\nhorses! And he, also, kept his own counsel for fear of the laugh going\nagainst him; so the clever laundry-maid put the forty pounds with the\nseventy in her box, and went on with her work gaily. But after a time\nthe footman, who was quite an honest lad and truly in love, going by the\nlaundry peeped through the keyhole to get a glimpse of his dearest dear,\nand what should he see but her sitting at her ease in a chair, and the\nclothes coming all ready folded and ironed on to the table.\n\nNow when he saw this he was greatly troubled. So he went to his master\nand drew out all his savings; and then he went to the girl and told her\nthat he would have to tell the mistress what he had seen, unless she\nconsented to marry him.\n\n\"You see,\" he said, \"I have been with master this while back, and have\nsaved up this bit, and you have been here this long while back and must\nhave saved as well. So let us put the two together and make a home, or\nelse stay on at service as pleases you.\"\n\nWell, she tried to put him off; but he insisted so much that at last she\nsaid:\n\n\"James! there's a dear, run down to the cellar and fetch me a drop of\nbrandy. You've made me feel so queer!\" And when he had gone she out\nwith her three feathers, and said, \"By virtue of the three feathers from\nover my true love's heart may James not be able to pour the brandy\nstraight, except down his throat.\"\n\nWell! so it happened. Try as he would, James could not get the brandy\ninto the glass. It splashed a few drops into it, then it trickled over\nhis hand, and fell on the floor. And so it went on and on till he grew\nso tired that he thought he needed a dram himself. So he tossed off the\nfew drops and began again; but he fared no better. So he took another\nlittle drain, and went on, and on, and on, till he got quite fuddled.\nAnd who should come down into the cellar but his master to know what the\nsmell of brandy meant!\n\nNow James the footman was truthful as well as honest, so he told the\nmaster how he had come down to get the sick laundry-maid a drop of\nbrandy, but that his hand had shaken so that he could not pour it out,\nand it had fallen on the ground, and that the smell of it had got to his\nhead.\n\n\"A likely tale,\" said the master, and beat James soundly.\n\nThen the master went to the mistress, his wife, and said: \"Send away\nthat laundry-maid of yours. Something has come over my men. They have\nall drawn out their savings as if they were going to be married, yet\nthey don't leave, and I believe that girl is at the bottom of it.\"\n\nBut his wife would not hear of the laundry-maid being blamed; she was\nthe best servant in the house, and worth all the rest of them put\ntogether; it was his men who were at fault. So they quarrelled over it;\nbut in the end the master gave in, and after this there was peace, since\nthe mistress bade the girl keep herself to herself, and none of the men\nwould say ought of what had happened for fear of the laughter of the\nother servants.\n\nSo it went on until one day when the master was going a-driving, the\ncoach was at the door, and the footman was standing to hold the coach\nopen, and the butler on the steps all ready, when who should pass\nthrough the yard, so saucy and bright with a great basket of clean\nclothes, but the laundry-maid. And the sight of her was too much for\nJames, the footman, who began to blub.\n\n\"She is a wicked girl,\" he said. \"She got all my savings, and got me a\ngood thrashing besides.\"\n\nThen the coachman grew bold. \"Did she?\" he said. \"That was nothing to\nwhat she served me.\" So he up and told all about the wet clothes and the\nawful job he had had the livelong night. Now the butler on the steps\nswelled with rage until he nearly burst, and at last he out with his\nnight of banging shutters.\n\n\"And one,\" he said, \"hit me on the nose.\"\n\nThis settled the three men, and they agreed to tell their master the\nmoment he came out, and get the girl sent about her business. Now the\nlaundry-maid had sharp ears and had paused behind a door to listen; so\nwhen she heard this she knew she must do something to stop it. So she\nout with her three feathers and said, \"By virtue of the three feathers\nfrom over my true love's heart may there be striving as to who suffered\nmost between the men so that they get into the pond for a ducking.\"\n\nWell! no sooner had she said the words than the three men began\ndisputing as to which of them had been served the worst; then James up\nand hit the stout butler, giving him a black eye, and the fat butler\nfell upon James and pommelled him hard, while the coachman scrambled\nfrom his box and belaboured them both, and the laundry-maid stood by\nlaughing.\n\nSo out comes the master, but none of them would listen, and each wanted\nto be heard, and fought, and shoved, and pommelled away until they\nshoved each other into the pond, and all got a fine ducking.\n\nThen the master asked the girl what it was all about, and she said:\n\n\"They all wanted to tell a story against me because I won't marry them,\nand one said his was the best, and the next said his was the best, so\nthey fell a-quarrelling as to which was the likeliest story to get me\ninto trouble. But they are well punished, so there is no need to do\nmore.\"\n\nThen the master went to his wife and said, \"You are right. That\nlaundry-maid of yours is a very wise girl.\"\n\nSo the butler and the coachman and James had nothing to do but look\nsheepish and hold their tongues, and the laundry-maid went on with her\nduties without further trouble.\n\nThen when the seven years and a day were over, who should drive up to\nthe door in a fine gilded coach but the bird-husband restored to his\nshape as a handsome young man. And he carried the laundry-maid off to be\nhis wife again, and her master and mistress were so pleased at her good\nfortune that they ordered all the other servants to stand on the steps\nand give her good luck. So as she passed the butler she put a bag with\nseventy pounds in it into his hand and said sweetly, \"That is to\nrecompense you for shutting the shutters.\"\n\nAnd when she passed the coachman she put a bag with forty pounds into\nhis hand and said, \"That is your reward for bringing in the clothes.\"\nBut when she passed the footman she gave him a bag with a hundred pounds\nin it, and laughed, saying, \"That is for the drop of brandy you never\nbrought me!\"\n\nSo she drove off with her handsome husband, and lived happy ever after.\n\n\n\n\nLAZY JACK\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a boy whose name was Jack, and he lived with\nhis mother on a common. They were very poor, and the old woman got her\nliving by spinning, but Jack was so lazy that he would do nothing but\nbask in the sun in the hot weather, and sit by the corner of the hearth\nin the winter-time. So they called him Lazy Jack. His mother could not\nget him to do anything for her, and at last told him, one Monday, that\nif he did not begin to work for his porridge she would turn him out to\nget his living as he could.\n\nThis roused Jack, and he went out and hired himself for the next day to\na neighbouring farmer for a penny; but as he was coming home, never\nhaving had any money before, he lost it in passing over a brook.\n\n\"You stupid boy,\" said his mother, \"you should have put it in your\npocket.\"\n\n\"I'll do so another time,\" replied Jack.\n\nWell, the next day, Jack went out again and hired himself to a\ncowkeeper, who gave him a jar of milk for his day's work. Jack took the\njar and put it into the large pocket of his jacket, spilling it all,\nlong before he got home.\n\n\"Dear me!\" said the old woman; \"you should have carried it on your\nhead.\"\n\n\"I'll do so another time,\" said Jack.\n\nSo the following day, Jack hired himself again to a farmer, who agreed\nto give him a cream cheese for his services. In the evening Jack took\nthe cheese, and went home with it on his head. By the time he got home\nthe cheese was all spoilt, part of it being lost, and part matted with\nhis hair.\n\n\"You stupid lout,\" said his mother, \"you should have carried it very\ncarefully in your hands.\"\n\n\"I'll do so another time,\" replied Jack.\n\nNow the next day, Lazy Jack again went out, and hired himself to a\nbaker, who would give him nothing for his work but a large tom-cat. Jack\ntook the cat, and began carrying it very carefully in his hands, but in\na short time pussy scratched him so much that he was compelled to let it\ngo.\n\nWhen he got home, his mother said to him, \"You silly fellow, you should\nhave tied it with a string, and dragged it along after you.\"\n\n\"I'll do so another time,\" said Jack.\n\nSo on the following day, Jack hired himself to a butcher, who rewarded\nhim by the handsome present of a shoulder of mutton. Jack took the\nmutton, tied it with a string, and trailed it along after him in the\ndirt, so that by the time he had got home the meat was completely\nspoilt. His mother was this time quite out of patience with him, for the\nnext day was Sunday, and she was obliged to do with cabbage for her\ndinner.\n\n[Illustration: Jack found it hard to hoist the donkey on his shoulders]\n\n\"You ninney-hammer,\" said she to her son, \"you should have carried it on\nyour shoulder.\"\n\n\"I'll do so another time,\" replied Jack.\n\nWell, on the Monday, Lazy Jack went once more and hired himself to a\ncattle-keeper, who gave him a donkey for his trouble. Now though Jack\nwas strong he found it hard to hoist the donkey on his shoulders, but at\nlast he did it, and began walking home slowly with his prize. Now it so\nhappened that in the course of his journey he passed a house where a\nrich man lived with his only daughter, a beautiful girl, who was deaf\nand dumb. And she had never laughed in her life, and the doctors said\nshe would never speak till somebody made her laugh. So the father had\ngiven out that any man who made her laugh would receive her hand in\nmarriage. Now this young lady happened to be looking out of the window\nwhen Jack was passing by with the donkey on his shoulders; and the poor\nbeast with its legs sticking up in the air was kicking violently and\nheehawing with all its might. Well, the sight was so comical that she\nburst out into a great fit of laughter, and immediately recovered her\nspeech and hearing. Her father was overjoyed, and fulfilled his promise\nby marrying her to Lazy Jack, who was thus made a rich gentleman. They\nlived in a large house, and Jack's mother lived with them in great\nhappiness until she died.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The giant Cormoran was the terror of all the country-side]\n\nJACK THE GIANT-KILLER\n\n\nI\n\nWhen good King Arthur reigned with Guinevere his Queen, there lived,\nnear the Land's End in Cornwall, a farmer who had one only son called\nJack. Now Jack was brisk and ready; of such a lively wit that none nor\nnothing could worst him.\n\nIn those days, the Mount of St. Michael in Cornwall was the fastness of\na hugeous giant whose name was Cormoran.\n\nHe was full eighteen feet in height, some three yards about his middle,\nof a grim fierce face, and he was the terror of all the country-side. He\nlived in a cave amidst the rocky Mount, and when he desired victuals he\nwould wade across the tides to the mainland and furnish himself forth\nwith all that came in his way. The poor folk and the rich folk alike ran\nout of their houses and hid themselves when they heard the swish-swash\nof his big feet in the water; for if he saw them, he would think nothing\nof broiling half-a-dozen or so of them for breakfast. As it was, he\nseized their cattle by the score, carrying off half-a-dozen fat oxen on\nhis back at a time, and hanging sheep and pigs to his waistbelt like\nbunches of dip-candles. Now this had gone on for long years, and the\npoor folk of Cornwall were in despair, for none could put an end to the\ngiant Cormoran.\n\nIt so happened that one market day Jack, then quite a young lad, found\nthe town upside down over some new exploit of the giant's. Women were\nweeping, men were cursing, and the magistrates were sitting in Council\nover what was to be done. But none could suggest a plan. Then Jack,\nblithe and gay, went up to the magistrates, and with a fine\ncourtesy--for he was ever polite--asked them what reward would be given\nto him who killed the giant Cormoran.\n\n\"The treasures of the Giant's Cave,\" quoth they.\n\n\"Every whit of it?\" quoth Jack, who was never to be done.\n\n\"To the last farthing,\" quoth they.\n\n\"Then will I undertake the task,\" said Jack, and forthwith set about the\nbusiness.\n\nIt was winter-time, and having got himself a horn, a pickaxe, and a\nshovel, he went over to the Mount in the dark evening, set to work, and\nbefore dawn he had dug a pit, no less than twenty-two feet deep and nigh\nas big across. This he covered with long thin sticks and straw,\nsprinkling a little loose mould over all to make it look like solid\nground. So, just as dawn was breaking, he planted himself fair and\nsquare on the side of the pit that was farthest from the giant's cave,\nraised the horn to his lips, and with full blast sounded:\n\n                    \"Tantivy! Tantivy! Tantivy!\"\n\njust as he would have done had he been hunting a fox.\n\nOf course this woke the giant, who rushed in a rage out of his cave, and\nseeing little Jack, fair and square blowing away at his horn, as calm\nand cool as may be, he became still more angry, and made for the\ndisturber of his rest, bawling out, \"I'll teach you to wake a giant, you\nlittle whipper-snapper. You shall pay dearly for your tantivys, I'll\ntake you and broil you whole for break--\"\n\nHe had only got as far as this when crash--he fell into the pit! So\nthere was a break indeed; such an one that it caused the very\nfoundations of the Mount to shake.\n\nBut Jack shook with laughter. \"Ho, ho!\" he cried, \"how about breakfast\nnow, Sir Giant? Will you have me broiled or baked? And will no diet\nserve you but poor little Jack? Faith! I've got you in Lob's pound now!\nYou're in the stocks for bad behaviour, and I'll plague you as I like.\nWould I had rotten eggs; but this will do as well.\" And with that he up\nwith his pickaxe and dealt the giant Cormoran such a most weighty knock\non the very crown of his head, that he killed him on the spot.\n\nWhereupon Jack calmly filled up the pit with earth again and went to\nsearch the cave, where he found much treasure.\n\nNow when the magistrates heard of Jack's great exploit, they proclaimed\nthat henceforth he should be known as--\n\nJACK THE GIANT-KILLER.\n\nAnd they presented him with a sword and belt, on which these words were\nembroidered in gold:\n\n  Here's the valiant Cornishman\n  Who slew the giant Cormoran.\n\n\nII\n\nOf course the news of Jack's victory soon spread over all England, so\nthat another giant named Blunderbore who lived to the north, hearing of\nit, vowed if ever he came across Jack he would be revenged upon him. Now\nthis giant Blunderbore was lord of an enchanted castle that stood in the\nmiddle of a lonesome forest.\n\nIt so happened that Jack, about four months after he had killed\nCormoran, had occasion to journey into Wales, and on the road he passed\nthis forest. Weary with walking, and finding a pleasant fountain by the\nwayside, he lay down to rest and was soon fast asleep.\n\nNow the giant Blunderbore, coming to the well for water, found Jack\nsleeping, and knew by the lines embroidered on his belt that here was\nthe far-famed giant-killer. Rejoiced at his luck, the giant, without\nmore ado, lifted Jack to his shoulder and began to carry him through the\nwood to the enchanted castle.\n\nBut the rustling of the boughs awakened Jack, who, finding himself\nalready in the clutches of the giant, was terrified; nor was his alarm\ndecreased by seeing the courtyard of the castle all strewn with men's\nbones.\n\n\"Yours will be with them ere long,\" said Blunderbore as he locked poor\nJack into an immense chamber above the castle gateway. It had a\nhigh-pitched, beamed roof, and one window that looked down the road.\nHere poor Jack was to stay while Blunderbore went to fetch his\nbrother-giant, who lived in the same wood, that he might share in the\nfeast.\n\nNow, after a time, Jack, watching through the window, saw the two giants\ntramping hastily down the road, eager for their dinner.\n\n\"Now,\" quoth Jack to himself, \"my death or my deliverance is at hand.\"\nFor he had thought out a plan. In one corner of the room he had seen two\nstrong cords. These he took, and making a cunning noose at the end of\neach, he hung them out of the window, and, as the giants were unlocking\nthe iron door of the gate, managed to slip them over their heads without\ntheir noticing it. Then, quick as thought, he tied the other ends to a\nbeam, so that as the giants moved on the nooses tightened and throttled\nthem until they grew black in the face. Seeing this, Jack slid down the\nropes, and drawing his sword, slew them both.\n\nSo, taking the keys of the castle, he unlocked all the doors and set\nfree three beauteous ladies who, tied by the hair of their heads, he\nfound almost starved to death. \"Sweet ladies,\" quoth Jack, kneeling on\none knee--for he was ever polite--\"here are the keys of this enchanted\ncastle. I have destroyed the giant Blunderbore and his brutish brother,\nand thus have restored to you your liberty. These keys should bring you\nall else you require.\"\n\nSo saying he proceeded on his journey to Wales.\n\n\nIII\n\nHe travelled as fast as he could; perhaps too fast, for, losing his way,\nhe found himself benighted and far from any habitation. He wandered on\nalways in hopes, until on entering a narrow valley he came on a very\nlarge, dreary-looking house standing alone. Being anxious for shelter he\nwent up to the door and knocked. You may imagine his surprise and alarm\nwhen the summons was answered by a giant with two heads. But though this\nmonster's look was exceedingly fierce, his manners were quite polite;\nthe truth being that he was a Welsh giant, and as such double-faced and\nsmooth, given to gaining his malicious ends by a show of false\nfriendship.\n\nSo he welcomed Jack heartily in a strong Welsh accent, and prepared a\nbedroom for him, where he was left with kind wishes for a good rest.\nJack, however, was too tired to sleep well, and as he lay awake, he\noverheard his host muttering to himself in the next room. Having very\nkeen ears he was able to make out these words, or something like them:\n\n  \"Though here you lodge with me this night,\n   You shall not see the morning light.\n   My club shall dash your brains outright.\"\n\n\"Say'st thou so!\" quoth Jack to himself, starting up at once, \"So that\nis your Welsh trick, is it? But I will be even with you.\" Then, leaving\nhis bed, he laid a big billet of wood among the blankets, and taking one\nof these to keep himself warm, made himself snug in a corner of the\nroom, pretending to snore, so as to make Mr. Giant think he was asleep.\n\nAnd sure enough, after a little time, in came the monster on tiptoe as\nif treading on eggs, and carrying a big club. Then--\n\n  WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!\n\nJack could hear the bed being belaboured until the Giant, thinking every\nbone of his guest's skin must be broken, stole out of the room again;\nwhereupon Jack went calmly to bed once more and slept soundly! Next\nmorning the giant couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Jack coming down\nthe stairs fresh and hearty.\n\n\"Odds splutter hur nails!\" he cried, astonished. \"Did she sleep well?\nWas there not nothing felt in the night?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" replied Jack, laughing in his sleeve, \"I think a rat did come and\ngive me two or three flaps of his tail.\"\n\n[Illustration: Taking the keys of the castle, Jack unlocked all the doors]\n\n[Illustration: \"Odds splutter hur nails!\" cried the giant, not to be\noutdone. \"Hur can do that hurself!\"]\n\nOn this the giant was dumbfoundered, and led Jack to breakfast, bringing\nhim a bowl which held at least four gallons of hasty-pudding, and\nbidding him, as a man of such mettle, eat the lot. Now Jack when\ntravelling wore under his cloak a leathern bag to carry his things\nwithal; so, quick as thought, he hitched this round in front with the\nopening just under his chin; thus, as he ate, he could slip the best\npart of the pudding into it without the giant's being any the wiser. So\nthey sate down to breakfast, the giant gobbling down his own measure of\nhasty-pudding, while Jack made away with his.\n\n\"See,\" says crafty Jack when he had finished. \"I'll show you a trick\nworth two of yours,\" and with that he up with a carving-knife and,\nripping up the leathern bag, out fell all the hasty-pudding on the\nfloor!\n\n\"Odds splutter hur nails!\" cried the giant, not to be outdone. \"Hur can\ndo that hurself!\" Whereupon he seized the carving-knife, and ripping\nopen his own belly fell down dead.\n\nThus was Jack quit of the Welsh giant.\n\n\nIV\n\nNow it so happened that in those days, when gallant knights were always\nseeking adventures, King Arthur's only son, a very valiant Prince,\nbegged of his father a large sum of money to enable him to journey to\nWales, and there strive to set free a certain beautiful lady who was\npossessed by seven evil spirits. In vain the King denied him; so at last\nhe gave way and the Prince set out with two horses, one of which he\nrode, the other laden with gold pieces. Now after some days' journey the\nPrince came to a market-town in Wales where there was a great commotion.\nOn asking the reason for it he was told that, according to law, the\ncorpse of a very generous man had been arrested on its way to the grave,\nbecause, in life, it had owed large sums to the money-lenders.\n\n\"That is a cruel law,\" said the young Prince. \"Go, bury the dead in\npeace, and let the creditors come to my lodgings; I will pay the debts\nof the dead.\"\n\nSo the creditors came, but they were so numerous that by evening the\nPrince had but twopence left for himself, and could not go further on\nhis journey.\n\nNow it so happened that Jack the Giant-Killer on his way to Wales passed\nthrough the town, and, hearing of the Prince's plight, was so taken with\nhis kindness and generosity that he determined to be the Prince's\nservant. So this was agreed upon, and next morning, after Jack had paid\nthe reckoning with his last farthing, the two set out together. But as\nthey were leaving the town, an old woman ran after the Prince and called\nout, \"Justice! Justice! The dead man owed me twopence these seven years.\nPay me as well as the others.\"\n\nAnd the Prince, kind and generous, put his hand to his pocket and gave\nthe old woman the twopence that was left to him. So now they had not a\npenny between them, and when the sun grew low the Prince said:\n\n\"Jack! Since we have no money, how are we to get a night's lodging?\"\n\nThen Jack replied, \"We shall do well enough, Master; for within two or\nthree miles of this place there lives a huge and monstrous giant with\nthree heads, who can fight four hundred men in armour and make them fly\nfrom him like chaff before the wind.\"\n\n\"And what good will that be to us?\" quoth the Prince. \"He will for sure\nchop us up in a mouthful.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Jack, laughing. \"Let me go and prepare the way for you. By\nall accounts this giant is a dolt. Mayhap I may manage better than\nthat.\"\n\nSo the Prince remained where he was, and Jack pricked his steed at full\nspeed till he came to the giant's castle, at the gate of which he\nknocked so loud that he made the neighbouring hills resound.\n\nOn this the giant roared from within in a voice like thunder:\n\n\"Who's there?\"\n\nThen said Jack as bold as brass, \"None but your poor cousin Jack.\"\n\n\"Cousin Jack!\" quoth the giant, astounded. \"And what news with my poor\ncousin Jack?\" For, see you, he was quite taken aback; so Jack made haste\nto reassure him.\n\n\"Dear coz, heavy news, God wot!\"\n\n\"Heavy news,\" echoed the giant, half afraid. \"God wot, no heavy news can\ncome to me. Have I not three heads? Can I not fight five hundred men in\narmour? Can I not make them fly like chaff before the wind?\"\n\n\"True,\" replied crafty Jack, \"but I came to warn you because the great\nKing Arthur's son with a thousand men in armour is on his way to kill\nyou.\"\n\nAt this the giant began to shiver and to shake. \"Ah! Cousin Jack! Kind\ncousin Jack! This is heavy news indeed,\" quoth he. \"Tell me, what am I\nto do?\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Ah! Cousin Jack! Kind cousin Jack! This is heavy news\nindeed\"]\n\n\"Hide yourself in the vault,\" says crafty Jack, \"and I will lock and\nbolt and bar you in; and keep the key till the Prince has gone. So you\nwill be safe.\"\n\nThen the giant made haste and ran down into the vault, and Jack locked,\nand bolted, and barred him in. Then being thus secure, he went and\nfetched his master, and the two made themselves heartily merry over what\nthe giant was to have had for supper, while the miserable monster\nshivered and shook with fright in the underground vault.\n\nWell, after a good night's rest Jack woke his master in early morn, and\nhaving furnished him well with gold and silver from the giant's\ntreasure, bade him ride three miles forward on his journey. So when Jack\njudged that the Prince was pretty well out of the smell of the giant,\nhe took the key and let his prisoner out. He was half dead with cold and\ndamp, but very grateful; and he begged Jack to let him know what he\nwould be given as a reward for saving the giant's life and castle from\ndestruction, and he should have it.\n\n\"You're very welcome,\" said Jack, who always had his eyes about him.\n\"All I want is the old coat and cap, together with the rusty old sword\nand slippers which are at your bed-head.\"\n\nWhen the giant heard this he sighed and shook his head. \"You don't know\nwhat you are asking,\" quoth he. \"They are the most precious things I\npossess, but as I have promised, you must have them. The coat will make\nyou invisible, the cap will tell you all you want to know, the sword\nwill cut asunder whatever you strike, and the slippers will take you\nwherever you want to go in the twinkling of an eye!\"\n\nSo Jack, overjoyed, rode away with the coat and cap, the sword and the\nslippers, and soon overtook his master; and they rode on together until\nthey reached the castle where the beautiful lady lived whom the Prince\nsought.\n\nNow she was very beautiful, for all she was possessed of seven devils,\nand when she heard the Prince sought her as a suitor, she smiled and\nordered a splendid banquet to be prepared for his reception. And she\nsate on his right hand, and plied him with food and drink.\n\nAnd when the repast was over she took out her own handkerchief and\nwiped his lips gently, and said, with a smile:\n\n\"I have a task for you, my lord! You must show me that kerchief\nto-morrow morning or lose your head.\"\n\nAnd with that she put the handkerchief in her bosom and said,\n\"Good-night!\"\n\nThe Prince was in despair, but Jack said nothing till his master was in\nbed. Then he put on the old cap he had got from the giant, and lo! in a\nminute he knew all that he wanted to know. So, in the dead of the night,\nwhen the beautiful lady called on one of her familiar spirits to carry\nher to Lucifer himself, Jack was beforehand with her, and putting on his\ncoat of darkness and his slippers of swiftness, was there as soon as she\nwas. And when she gave the handkerchief to the Devil, bidding him keep\nit safe, and he put it away on a high shelf, Jack just up and nipped it\naway in a trice!\n\nSo the next morning, when the beauteous enchanted lady looked to see the\nPrince crestfallen, he just made a fine bow and presented her with the\nhandkerchief.\n\nAt first she was terribly disappointed, but, as the day drew on, she\nordered another and still more splendid repast to be got ready. And this\ntime, when the repast was over, she kissed the Prince full on the lips\nand said:\n\n\"I have a task for you, my lover. Show me to-morrow morning the last\nlips I kiss to-night or you lose your head.\"\n\nThen the Prince, who by this time was head over ears in love, said\ntenderly, \"If you will kiss none but mine, I will.\" Now the beauteous\nlady, for all she was possessed by seven devils, could not but see that\nthe Prince was a very handsome young man; so she blushed a little, and\nsaid:\n\n\"That is neither here nor there: you must show me them, or death is your\nportion.\"\n\nSo the Prince went to his bed, sorrowful as before; but Jack put on the\ncap of knowledge and knew in a moment all he wanted to know.\n\nThus when, in the dead of the night, the beauteous lady called on her\nfamiliar spirit to take her to Lucifer himself, Jack in his coat of\ndarkness and his shoes of swiftness was there before her.\n\n\"Thou hast betrayed me once,\" said the beauteous lady to Lucifer,\nfrowning, \"by letting go my handkerchief. Now will I give thee something\nnone can steal, and so best the Prince, King's son though he be.\"\n\nWith that she kissed the loathly demon full on the lips, and left him.\nWhereupon Jack with one blow of the rusty sword of strength cut off\nLucifer's head, and, hiding it under his coat of darkness, brought it\nback to his master.\n\nThus next morning when the beauteous lady, with malice in her beautiful\neyes, asked the Prince to show her the lips she had last kissed, he\npulled out the demon's head by the horns. On that the seven devils,\nwhich possessed the poor lady, gave seven dreadful shrieks and left her.\nThus the enchantment being broken, she appeared in all her perfect\nbeauty and goodness.\n\nSo she and the Prince were married the very next morning. After which\nthey journeyed back to the court of King Arthur, where Jack the\nGiant-Killer, for his many exploits, was made one of the Knights of the\nRound Table.\n\n\nV\n\nThis, however, did not satisfy our hero, who was soon on the road again\nsearching for giants. Now he had not gone far when he came upon one,\nseated on a huge block of timber near the entrance to a dark cave. He\nwas a most terrific giant. His goggle eyes were as coals of fire, his\ncountenance was grim and gruesome; his cheeks, like huge flitches of\nbacon, were covered with a stubbly beard, the bristles of which\nresembled rods of iron wire, while the locks of hair that fell on his\nbrawny shoulders showed like curled snakes or hissing adders. He held a\nknotted iron club, and breathed so heavily you could hear him a mile\naway. Nothing daunted by this fearsome sight, Jack alighted from his\nhorse and, putting on his coat of darkness, went close up to the giant\nand said softly: \"Hullo! is that you? It will not be long before I have\nyou fast by your beard.\"\n\n[Illustration: Seated on a huge block of timber near the entrance to a\ndark cave]\n\nSo saying he made a cut with the sword of strength at the giant's head,\nbut, somehow, missing his aim, cut off the nose instead, clean as a\nwhistle! My goodness! How the giant roared! It was like claps of\nthunder, and he began to lay about him with the knotted iron club, like\none possessed. But Jack in his coat of darkness easily dodged the\nblows, and running in behind, drove the sword up to the hilt into the\ngiant's back, so that he fell stone dead.\n\nJack then cut off the head and sent it to King Arthur by a waggoner whom\nhe hired for the purpose. After which he began to search the giant's\ncave to find his treasure. He passed through many windings and turnings\nuntil he came to a huge hall paved and roofed with freestone. At the\nupper end of this was an immense fireplace where hung an iron cauldron,\nthe like of which, for size, Jack had never seen before. It was boiling\nand gave out a savoury steam; while beside it, on the right hand, stood\na big massive table set out with huge platters and mugs. Here it was\nthat the giants used to dine. Going a little further he came upon a\nsort of window barred with iron, and looking within beheld a vast number\nof miserable captives.\n\n\"Alas! Alack!\" they cried on seeing him. \"Art come, young man, to join\nus in this dreadful prison?\"\n\n\"That depends,\" quoth Jack: \"but first tell me wherefore you are thus\nheld imprisoned?\"\n\n\"Through no fault,\" they cried at once. \"We are captives of the cruel\ngiants and are kept here and well nourished until such time as the\nmonsters desire a feast. Then they choose the fattest and sup off them.\"\n\nOn hearing this Jack straightway unlocked the door of the prison and set\nthe poor fellows free. Then, searching the giants' coffers, he divided\nthe gold and silver equally amongst the captives as some redress for\ntheir sufferings, and taking them to a neighbouring castle gave them a\nright good feast.\n\n\nVI\n\nNow as they were all making merry over their deliverance, and praising\nJack's prowess, a messenger arrived to say that one Thunderdell, a huge\ngiant with two heads, having heard of the death of his kinsman, was on\nhis way from the northern dales to be revenged, and was already within a\nmile or two of the castle, the country folk with their flocks and herds\nflying before him like chaff before the wind.\n\n[Illustration: On his way ... to be revenged]\n\nNow the castle with its gardens stood on a small island that was\nsurrounded by a moat twenty feet wide and thirty feet deep, having very\nsteep sides. And this moat was spanned by a drawbridge. This, without a\nmoment's delay, Jack ordered should be sawn on both sides at the middle,\nso as to only leave one plank uncut over which he in his invisible coat\nof darkness passed swiftly to meet his enemy, bearing in his hand the\nwonderful sword of strength.\n\nNow though the giant could not, of course, see Jack, he could smell him,\nfor giants have keen noses. Therefore Thunderdell cried out in a voice\nlike his name:\n\n  \"Fee, fi, fo, fum!\n   I smell the blood of an Englishman.\n   Be he alive, or be he dead,\n   I'll grind his bones to make my bread!\"\n\n[Illustration: The country folk flying before him like chaff before the\nwind]\n\n\"Is that so?\" quoth Jack, cheerful as ever. \"Then art thou a monstrous\nmiller for sure!\"\n\nOn this the giant, peering round everywhere for a glimpse of his foe,\nshouted out:\n\n\"Art thou, indeed, the villain who hath killed so many of my kinsmen?\nThen, indeed, will I tear thee to pieces with my teeth, suck thy blood,\nand grind thy bones to powder.\"\n\n\"Thou'lt have to catch me first,\" quoth Jack, laughing, and throwing off\nhis coat of darkness and putting on his slippers of swiftness, he began\nnimbly to lead the giant a pretty dance, he leaping and doubling light\nas a feather, the monster following heavily like a walking tower, so\nthat the very foundations of the earth seemed to shake at every step.\nAt this game the onlookers nearly split their sides with laughter, until\nJack, judging there had been enough of it, made for the drawbridge, ran\nneatly over the single plank, and reaching the other side waited in\nteasing fashion for his adversary.\n\nOn came the giant at full speed, foaming at the mouth with rage, and\nflourishing his club. But when he came to the middle of the bridge his\ngreat weight, of course, broke the plank, and there he was fallen\nheadlong into the moat, rolling and wallowing like a whale, plunging\nfrom place to place, yet unable to get out and be revenged.\n\nThe spectators greeted his efforts with roars of laughter, and Jack\nhimself was at first too overcome with merriment to do more than scoff.\nAt last, however, he went for a rope, cast it over the giant's two\nheads, so, with the help of a team of horses, drew them shorewards,\nwhere two blows from the sword of strength settled the matter.\n\n\nVII\n\nAfter some time spent in mirth and pastimes, Jack began once more to\ngrow restless, and taking leave of his companions set out for fresh\nadventures.\n\nHe travelled far and fast, through woods, and vales, and hills, till at\nlast he came, late at night, on a lonesome house set at the foot of a\nhigh mountain. Knocking at the door, it was opened by an old man whose\nhead was white as snow.\n\n\"Father,\" said Jack, ever courteous, \"can you lodge a benighted\ntraveller?\"\n\n\"Ay, that will I, and welcome to my poor cottage,\" replied the old man.\n\nWhereupon Jack came in, and after supper they sate together chatting in\nfriendly fashion. Then it was that the old man, seeing by Jack's belt\nthat he was the famous Giant-Killer, spoke in this wise:\n\n\"My son! You are the great conqueror of evil monsters. Now close by\nthere lives one well worthy of your prowess. On the top of yonder high\nhill is an enchanted castle kept by a giant named Galligantua, who, by\nthe help of a wicked old magician, inveigles many beautiful ladies and\nvaliant knights into the castle, where they are transformed into all\nsorts of birds and beasts, yea, even into fishes and insects. There they\nlive pitiably in confinement; but most of all do I grieve for a duke's\ndaughter whom they kidnapped in her father's garden, bringing her hither\nin a burning chariot drawn by fiery dragons. Her form is that of a white\nhind; and though many valiant knights have tried their utmost to break\nthe spell and work her deliverance, none have succeeded; for, see you,\nat the entrance to the castle are two dreadful griffins who destroy\nevery one who attempts to pass them by.\"\n\nNow Jack bethought him of the coat of darkness which had served him so\nwell before, and he put on the cap of knowledge, and in an instant he\nknew what had to be done. Then the very next morning, at dawn-time, Jack\narose and put on his invisible coat and his slippers of swiftness. And\nin the twinkling of an eye there he was on the top of the mountain! And\nthere were the two griffins guarding the castle gates--horrible\ncreatures with forked tails and tongues. But they could not see him\nbecause of the coat of darkness, so he passed them by unharmed.\n\nAnd hung to the doors of the gateway he found a golden trumpet on a\nsilver chain, and beneath it was engraved in red lettering:\n\n  Whoever shall this trumpet blow\n  Will cause the giant's overthrow.\n  The black enchantment he will break,\n  And gladness out of sadness make.\n\nNo sooner had Jack read these words than he put the horn to his lips and\nblew a loud\n\n                \"Tantivy! Tantivy! Tantivy!\"\n\nNow at the very first note the castle trembled to its vast foundations,\nand before he had finished the measure, both the giant and the magician\nwere biting their thumbs and tearing their hair, knowing that their\nwickedness must now come to an end. But the giant showed fight and took\nup his club to defend himself; whereupon Jack, with one clean cut of the\nsword of strength, severed his head from his body, and would doubtless\nhave done the same to the magician, but that the latter was a coward,\nand, calling up a whirlwind, was swept away by it into the air, nor\nhas he ever been seen or heard of since. The enchantments being thus\nbroken, all the valiant knights and beautiful ladies, who had been\ntransformed into birds and beasts and fishes and reptiles and insects,\nreturned to their proper shapes, including the duke's daughter, who,\nfrom being a white hind, showed as the most beauteous maiden upon whom\nthe sun ever shone. Now, no sooner had this occurred than the whole\ncastle vanished away in a cloud of smoke, and from that moment giants\nvanished also from the land.\n\n[Illustration: The giant Galligantua and the wicked old magician\ntransform the duke's daughter into a white hind]\n\nSo Jack, when he had presented the head of Galligantua to King Arthur,\ntogether with all the lords and ladies he had delivered from\nenchantment, found he had nothing more to do. As a reward for past\nservices, however, King Arthur bestowed the hand of the duke's daughter\nupon honest Jack the Giant-Killer. So married they were, and the whole\nkingdom was filled with joy at their wedding. Furthermore, the King\nbestowed on Jack a noble castle with a magnificent estate belonging\nthereto, whereon he, his lady, and their children lived in great joy and\ncontent for the rest of their days.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Headpiece--The Three Sillies]\n\nTHE THREE SILLIES\n\n\nOnce upon a time, when folk were not so wise as they are nowadays, there\nlived a farmer and his wife who had one daughter. And she, being a\npretty lass, was courted by the young squire when he came home from his\ntravels.\n\nNow every evening he would stroll over from the Hall to see her and stop\nto supper in the farm-house, and every evening the daughter would go\ndown into the cellar to draw the cider for supper.\n\nSo one evening when she had gone down to draw the cider and had turned\nthe tap as usual, she happened to look up at the ceiling, and there she\nsaw a big wooden mallet stuck in one of the beams.\n\nIt must have been there for ages and ages, for it was all covered with\ncobwebs; but somehow or another she had never noticed it before, and at\nonce she began thinking how dangerous it was to have the mallet just\nthere.\n\n\"For,\" thought she, \"supposing him and me was married, and supposing we\nwas to have a son, and supposing he were to grow up to be a man, and\nsupposing he were to come down to draw cider like as I'm doing, and\nsupposing the mallet were to fall on his head and kill him, how dreadful\nit would be!\"\n\nAnd with that she put down the candle she was carrying and, seating\nherself on a cask, began to cry. And she cried and cried and cried.\n\nNow, upstairs, they began to wonder why she was so long drawing the\ncider; so after a time her mother went down to the cellar to see what\nhad come to her, and found her, seated on the cask, crying ever so hard,\nand the cider running all over the floor.\n\n\"Lawks a mercy me!\" cried her mother, \"whatever is the matter?\"\n\n\"O mother!\" says she between her sobs, \"it's that horrid mallet.\nSupposing him and me was married, and supposing we was to have a son,\nand supposing he was to grow up to be a man, and supposing he was to\ncome down to draw cider like as I'm doing, and supposing the mallet were\nto fall on his head and kill him, how dreadful it would be!\"\n\n\"Dear heart!\" said the mother, seating herself beside her daughter and\nbeginning to cry: \"How dreadful it would be!\"\n\nSo they both sat a-crying.\n\nNow after a time, when they did not come back, the farmer began to\nwonder what had happened, and going down to the cellar found them\nseated side by side on the cask, crying hard, and the cider running all\nover the floor.\n\n\"Zounds!\" says he, \"whatever is the matter?\"\n\n\"Just look at that horrid mallet up there, father,\" moaned the mother.\n\"Supposing our daughter was to marry her sweetheart, and supposing they\nwas to have a son, and supposing he was to grow to man's estate, and\nsupposing he was to come down to draw cider like as we're doing, and\nsupposing that there mallet was to fall on his head and kill him, how\ndreadful it would be!\"\n\n\"Dreadful indeed!\" said the father and, seating himself beside his wife\nand daughter, started a-crying too.\n\nNow upstairs the young squire wanted his supper; so at last he lost\npatience and went down into the cellar to see for himself what they were\nall after. And there he found them seated side by side on the cask\na-crying, with their feet all a-wash in cider, for the floor was fair\nflooded. So the first thing he did was to run straight and turn off the\ntap. Then he said:\n\n\"What are you three after, sitting there crying like babies, and letting\ngood cider run over the floor?\"\n\nThen they all three began with one voice, \"Look at that horrid mallet!\nSupposing you and me/she was married, and supposing we/you had a\nson, and supposing he was to grow to man's estate, and supposing he was\nto come down here to draw cider like as we be, and supposing that there\nmallet was to fall down on his head and kill him, how dreadful it would\nbe!\"\n\nThen the young squire burst out a-laughing, and laughed till he was\ntired. But at last he reached up to the old mallet and pulled it out,\nand put it safe on the floor. And he shook his head and said, \"I've\ntravelled far and I've travelled fast, but never have I met with three\nsuch sillies as you three. Now I can't marry one of the three biggest\nsillies in the world. So I shall start again on my travels, and if I can\nfind three bigger sillies than you three, then I'll come back and be\nmarried--not otherwise.\"\n\nSo he wished them good-bye and started again on his travels, leaving\nthem all crying; this time because the marriage was off!\n\nWell, the young man travelled far and he travelled fast, but never did\nhe find a bigger silly, until one day he came upon an old woman's\ncottage that had some grass growing on the thatched roof.\n\nAnd the old woman was trying her best to cudgel her cow into going up a\nladder to eat the grass. But the poor thing was afraid and durst not go.\nThen the old woman tried coaxing, but it wouldn't go. You never saw such\na sight! The cow getting more and more flustered and obstinate, the old\nwoman getting hotter and hotter.\n\nAt last the young squire said, \"It would be easier if _you_ went up the\nladder, cut the grass, and threw it down for the cow to eat.\"\n\n\"A likely story that,\" says the old woman. \"A cow can cut grass for\nherself. And the foolish thing will be quite safe up there, for I'll tie\na rope round her neck, pass the rope down the chimney, and fasten\nt'other end to my wrist, so as when I'm doing my bit o' washing, she\ncan't fall off the roof without my knowing it. So mind your own\nbusiness, young sir.\"\n\nWell, after a while the old woman coaxed and codgered and bullied and\nbadgered the cow up the ladder, and when she got it on to the roof she\ntied a rope round its neck, passed the rope down the chimney, and\nfastened t'other end to her wrist. Then she went about her bit of\nwashing, and young squire he went on his way.\n\nBut he hadn't gone but a bit when he heard the awfullest hullabaloo. He\ngalloped back, and found that the cow had fallen off the roof and got\nstrangled by the rope round its neck, while the weight of the cow had\npulled the old woman by her wrist up the chimney, where she had got\nstuck half-way and been smothered by the soot!\n\n\"That is one bigger silly,\" quoth the young squire as he journeyed on.\n\"So now for two more!\"\n\nHe did not find any, however, till late one night he arrived at a little\ninn. And the inn was so full that he had to share a room with another\ntraveller. Now his room-fellow proved quite a pleasant fellow, and they\nforgathered, and each slept well in his bed.\n\nBut next morning, when they were dressing, what does the stranger do but\ncarefully hang his breeches on the knobs of the tallboy!\n\n\"What are you doing?\" asks young squire.\n\n\"I'm putting on my breeches,\" says the stranger; and with that he goes\nto the other end of the room, takes a little run, and tried to jump into\nthe breeches.\n\nBut he didn't succeed, so he took another run and another try, and\nanother and another and another, until he got quite hot and flustered,\nas the old woman had got over her cow that wouldn't go up the ladder.\nAnd all the time young squire was laughing fit to split, for never in\nhis life did he see anything so comical.\n\nThen the stranger stopped a while and mopped his face with his\nhandkerchief, for he was all in a sweat. \"It's very well laughing,\" says\nhe, \"but breeches are the most awkwardest things to get into that ever\nwere. It takes me the best part of an hour every morning before I get\nthem on. How do you manage yours?\"\n\nThen young squire showed him, as well as he could for laughing, how to\nput on his breeches, and the stranger was ever so grateful and said he\nnever should have thought of that way.\n\n\"So that,\" quoth young squire to himself, \"is a second bigger silly.\"\nBut he travelled far and he travelled fast without finding the third,\nuntil one bright night when the moon was shining right overhead he came\nupon a village. And outside the village was a pond, and round about the\npond was a great crowd of villagers. And some had got rakes, and some\nhad got pitchforks, and some had got brooms. And they were as busy as\nbusy, shouting out, and raking, and forking, and sweeping away at the\npond.\n\n\"What is the matter?\" cried young squire, jumping off his horse to help.\n\"Has any one fallen in?\"\n\n\"Aye! Matter enough,\" says they. \"Can't 'ee see moon's fallen into the\npond, an' we can't get her out nohow.\"\n\nAnd with that they set to again raking, and forking, and sweeping away.\nThen the young squire burst out laughing, told them they were fools for\ntheir pains, and bade them look up over their heads where the moon was\nriding broad and full. But they wouldn't, and they wouldn't believe that\nwhat they saw in the water was only a reflection. And when he insisted\nthey began to abuse him roundly and threaten to duck him in the pond. So\nhe got on his horse again as quickly as he could, leaving them raking,\nand forking, and sweeping away; and for all we know they may be at it\nyet!\n\nBut the young squire said to himself, \"There are many more sillies in\nthis world than I thought for; so I'll just go back and marry the\nfarmer's daughter. She is no sillier than the rest.\"\n\nSo they were married, and if they didn't live happy ever after, that has\nnothing to do with the story of the three sillies.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Headpiece--The Golden Ball]\n\nTHE GOLDEN BALL\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived two lasses, who were sisters, and as they\ncame from the fair they saw a right handsome young man standing at a\nhouse door before them. They had never seen such a handsome young man\nbefore. He had gold on his cap, gold on his finger, gold on his neck,\ngold at his waist! And he had a golden ball in each hand. He gave a ball\nto each lass, saying she was to keep it; but if she lost it, she was to\nbe hanged.\n\nNow the youngest of the lasses lost her ball, and this is how. She was\nby a park paling, and she was tossing her ball, and it went up, and up,\nand up, till it went fair over the paling; and when she climbed to look\nfor it, the ball ran along the green grass, and it ran right forward to\nthe door of a house that stood there, and the ball went into the house\nand she saw it no more.\n\nSo she was taken away to be hanged by the neck till she was dead,\nbecause she had lost her ball.\n\nBut the lass had a sweetheart, and he said he would go and get the ball.\nSo he went to the park gate, but 'twas shut; then he climbed the\nrailing, and when he got to the top of it an old woman rose up out of\nthe ditch before him and said that if he wanted to get the ball he must\nsleep three nights in the house: so he said he would.\n\nWell! when it was evening, he went into the house, and looked everywhere\nfor the ball, but he could not find it, nor any one in the house at all;\nbut when night came on he thought he heard bogles moving about in the\ncourtyard; so he looked out o' window, and, sure enough, the yard was\nfull of them!\n\nPresently he heard steps coming upstairs, so he hid behind the door, and\nwas as still as a mouse. Then in came a big giant five times as tall as\nthe lad, and looked around; but seeing nothing he went to the window and\nbowed himself to look out; and as he bowed on his elbows to see the\nbogles in the yard, the lad stepped behind him, and with one blow of his\nsword he cut him in twain, so that the top part of him fell in the yard,\nand the bottom part remained standing looking out of the window.\n\nWell! there was a great cry from the bogles when they saw half the giant\ncome tumbling down to them, and they called out, \"There comes half our\nmaster; give us the other half.\"\n\nThen the lad said, \"It's no use of thee, thou pair of legs, standing\nalone at the window, as thou hast no eye to see with, so go join thy\nbrother\"; and he cast the lower part of the giant after the top part.\nNow when the bogles had gotten all the giant they were quiet.\n\nNext night the lad went to sleep in the house again, and this time a\nsecond giant came in at the door, and as he came in the lad cut him in\ntwain; but the legs walked on to the fire and went straight up the\nchimney.\n\n\"Go, get thee after thy legs,\" said the lad to the head, and he cast the\nother half of the giant up the chimney.\n\nNow the third night nothing happened, so the lad got into bed; but\nbefore he went to sleep he heard the bogles striving under the bed, and\nhe wondered what they were at. So he peeped, and saw that they had the\nball there, and were playing with it, casting it to and fro.\n\nNow after a time one of them thrust his leg out from under the bed, and\nquick as anything the lad brings his sword down, and cuts it off. Then\nanother bogle thrust his arm out at t'other side of the bed, and in a\ntwinkling the lad cuts that off too. So it went on, till at last he had\nmaimed them all, and they all went off, crying and wailing, and forgot\nthe ball! Then the lad got out of bed, found the ball, and went off at\nonce to seek his true love.\n\n[Illustration: He heard the bogles striving under the bed]\n\nNow the lass had been taken to York to be hanged; she was brought out on\nthe scaffold, and the hangman said, \"Now, lass, thou must hang by the\nneck till thou be'st dead.\" But she cried out:\n\n  \"Stop, stop, I think I see my mother coming!\n   O mother, hast thou brought my golden ball\n      And come to set me free?\"\n\nAnd the mother answered:\n\n  \"I've neither brought thy golden ball\n     Nor come to set thee free,\n   But I have come to see thee hung\n     Upon this gallows-tree.\"\n\nThen the hangman said, \"Now, lass, say thy prayers for thou must die.\"\nBut she said:\n\n  \"Stop, stop, I think I see my father coming!\n   O father, hast thou brought my golden ball\n      And come to set me free?\"\n\nAnd the father answered:\n\n  \"I've neither brought thy golden ball\n     Nor come to set thee free,\n   But I have come to see thee hung\n     Upon this gallows-tree.\"\n\nThen the hangman said, \"Hast thee done thy prayers? Now, lass, put thy\nhead into the noose.\"\n\nBut she answered, \"Stop, stop, I think I see my brother coming!\" And\nagain she sang her little verse, and the brother sang back the same\nwords. And so with her sister, her uncle, her aunt, and her cousin. But\nthey all said the same:\n\n  \"I've neither brought thy golden ball\n     Nor come to set thee free,\n   But I have come to see thee hung\n     Upon this gallows-tree.\"\n\nThen the hangman said, \"I will stop no longer, thou'rt making game of\nme. Thou must be hung at once.\"\n\nBut now, at long last, she saw her sweetheart coming through the crowd,\nso she cried to him:\n\n  \"Stop, stop, I see my sweetheart coming!\n   Sweetheart, hast thou brought my golden ball\n      And come to set me free?\"\n\nThen her sweetheart held up her golden ball and cried:\n\n  \"Aye, I have brought to thee thy golden ball\n     And come to set thee free;\n   I have not come to see thee hung\n     Upon this gallows-tree.\"\n\nSo he took her home, then and there, and they lived happy ever after.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWO SISTERS\n\n\nOnce upon a time there were two sisters who were as like each other as\ntwo peas in a pod; but one was good, and the other was bad-tempered. Now\ntheir father had no work, so the girls began to think of going to\nservice.\n\n\"I will go first and see what I can make of it,\" said the younger\nsister, ever so cheerfully, \"then you, sis, can follow if I have good\nluck.\"\n\nSo she packed up a bundle, said good-bye, and started to find a place;\nbut no one in the town wanted a girl, and she went farther afield into\nthe country. And as she journeyed she came upon an oven in which a lot\nof loaves were baking. Now as she passed, the loaves cried out with one\nvoice:\n\n\"Little girl! Little girl! Take us out! Please take us out! We have been\nbaking for seven years, and no one has come to take us out. Do take us\nout or we shall soon be burnt!\"\n\nThen, being a kind, obliging little girl, she stopped, put down her\nbundle, took out the bread, and went on her way saying:\n\n\"You will be more comfortable now.\"\n\nAfter a time she came to a cow lowing beside an empty pail, and the cow\nsaid to her:\n\n\"Little girl! Little girl! Milk me! Please milk me! Seven years have I\nbeen waiting, but no one has come to milk me!\"\n\nSo the kind girl stopped, put down her bundle, milked the cow into the\npail, and went on her way saying:\n\n\"Now you will be more comfortable.\"\n\nBy and by she came to an apple tree so laden with fruit that its\nbranches were nigh to break, and the apple tree called to her:\n\n\"Little girl! Little girl! Please shake my branches. The fruit is so\nheavy I can't stand straight!\"\n\nThen the kind girl stopped, put down her bundle, and shook the branches\nso that the apples fell off, and the tree could stand straight. Then she\nwent on her way saying:\n\n\"You will be more comfortable now.\"\n\nSo she journeyed on till she came to a house where an old witch-woman\nlived. Now this witch-woman wanted a servant-maid, and promised good\nwages. Therefore the girl agreed to stop with her and try how she liked\nservice. She had to sweep the floor, keep the house clean and tidy, the\nfire bright and cheery. But there was one thing the witch-woman said she\nmust never do; and that was look up the chimney!\n\n[Illustration: \"Tree of mine! O Tree of mine! Have you seen my naughty\nlittle maid?\"]\n\n\"If you do,\" said the witch-woman, \"something will fall down on you, and\nyou will come to a bad end.\" Well! the girl swept, and dusted, and\nmade up the fire; but ne'er a penny of wages did she see. Now the girl\nwanted to go home as she did not like witch-service; for the witch used\nto have boiled babies for supper, and bury the bones under some stones\nin the garden. But she did not like to go home penniless; so she stayed\non, sweeping, and dusting, and doing her work, just as if she was\npleased. Then one day, as she was sweeping up the hearth, down tumbled\nsome soot, and, without remembering she was forbidden to look up the\nchimney, she looked up to see where the soot came from. And, lo and\nbehold! a big bag of gold fell plump into her lap.\n\nNow the witch happened to be out on one of her witch errands; so the\ngirl thought it a fine opportunity to be off home.\n\nSo she kilted up her petticoats and started to run home; but she had\nonly gone a little way when she heard the witch-woman coming after her\non her broomstick. Now the apple tree she had helped to stand straight\nhappened to be quite close; so she ran to it and cried:\n\n  \"Apple tree! Apple tree, hide me\n   So the old witch can't find me,\n   For if she does she'll pick my bones,\n   And bury me under the garden stones.\"\n\nThen the apple tree said, \"Of course I will. You helped me to stand\nstraight, and one good turn deserves another.\"\n\nSo the apple tree hid her finely in its green branches; and when the\nwitch flew past saying:\n\n  \"Tree of mine! O Tree of mine!\n   Have you seen my naughty little maid\n   With a willy willy wag and a great big bag,\n   She's stolen my money--all I had?\"\n\nThe apple tree answered:\n\n  \"No, mother dear,\n   Not for seven year!\"\n\nSo the witch flew on the wrong way, and the girl got down, thanked the\ntree politely, and started again. But just as she got to where the cow\nwas standing beside the pail, she heard the witch coming again, so she\nran to the cow and cried:\n\n  \"Cow! Cow, please hide me\n   So the witch can't find me;\n   If she does she'll pick my bones,\n   And bury me under the garden stones!\"\n\n\"Certainly I will,\" answered the cow. \"Didn't you milk me and make me\ncomfortable? Hide yourself behind me and you'll be quite safe.\"\n\nAnd when the witch flew by and called to the cow:\n\n  \"O Cow of mine! Cow of mine!\n   Have you seen my naughty little maid\n   With a willy willy wag and a great big bag,\n   Who stole my money--all that I had?\"\n\nShe just said politely:\n\n  \"No, mother dear,\n   Not for seven year!\"\n\nThen the old witch went on in the wrong direction, and the girl started\nafresh on her way home; but just as she got to where the oven stood, she\nheard that horrid old witch coming behind her again; so she ran as fast\nas she could to the oven and cried:\n\n  \"O Oven! Oven! hide me\n   So as the witch can't find me,\n   For if she does she'll pick my bones,\n   And bury them under the garden stones.\"\n\nThen the oven said, \"I am afraid there is no room for you, as another\nbatch of bread is baking; but there is the baker--ask him.\"\n\nSo she asked the baker, and he said, \"Of course I will. You saved my\nlast batch from being burnt; so run into the bakehouse, you will be\nquite safe there, and I will settle the witch for you.\"\n\nSo she hid in the bakehouse, only just in time, for there was the old\nwitch calling angrily:\n\n  \"O Man of mine! Man of mine!\n   Have you seen my naughty little maid\n   With a willy willy wag and a great big bag,\n   Who's stole my money--all I had?\"\n\nThen the baker replied, \"Look in the oven. She may be there.\"\n\nAnd the witch alighted from her broomstick and peered into the oven: but\nshe could see no one.\n\n\"Creep in and look in the farthest corner,\" said the baker slyly, and\nthe witch crept in, when----\n\n                           Bang!----\n\nhe shut the door in her face, and there she was roasting. And when she\ncame out with the bread she was all crisp and brown, and had to go home\nas best she could and put cold cream all over her!\n\nBut the kind, obliging little girl got safe home with her bag of money.\n\nNow the ill-tempered elder sister was very jealous of this good luck,\nand determined to get a bag of gold for herself. So she in her turn\npacked up a bundle and started to seek service by the same road. But\nwhen she came to the oven, and the loaves begged her to take them out\nbecause they had been baking seven years and were nigh to burning, she\ntossed her head and said:\n\n\"A likely story indeed, that I should burn my fingers to save your\ncrusts. No, thank you!\"\n\nAnd with that she went on till she came across the cow standing waiting\nto be milked beside the pail. But when the cow said:\n\n\"Little girl! Little girl! Milk me! Please milk me, I've waited seven\nyears to be milked----\"\n\nShe only laughed and replied, \"You may wait another seven years for all\nI care. I'm not your dairymaid!\"\n\nAnd with that she went on till she came to the apple tree, all\noverburdened by its fruit. But when it begged her to shake its branches,\nshe only giggled, and plucking one ripe apple, said:\n\n\"One is enough for me: you can keep the rest yourself.\" And with that\nshe went on munching the apple, till she came to the witch-woman's\nhouse.\n\nNow the witch-woman, though she had got over being crisp and brown from\nthe oven, was dreadfully angry with all little maid-servants, and made\nup her mind this one should not trick her. So for a long time she never\nwent out of the house; thus the ill-tempered sister never had a chance\nof looking up the chimney, as she had meant to do at once. And she had\nto dust, and clean, and brush, and sweep ever so hard, until she was\nquite tired out.\n\nBut one day, when the witch-woman went into the garden to bury her\nbones, she seized the moment, looked up the chimney, and, sure enough, a\nbag of gold fell plump into her lap!\n\nWell! she was off with it in a moment, and ran and ran till she came to\nthe apple tree, when she heard the witch-woman behind her. So she cried\nas her sister had done:\n\n  \"Apple tree! Apple tree, hide me\n   So the old witch can't find me,\n   For if she does she'll break my bones,\n   Or bury me under the garden stones.\"\n\nBut the apple tree said:\n\n\"No room here! I've too many apples.\"\n\nSo she had to run on; and when the witch-woman on her broomstick came\nflying by and called:\n\n  \"O Tree of mine! Tree of mine!\n   Have you seen a naughty little maid\n   With a willy willy wag and a great big bag,\n   Who's stolen my money--all I had?\"\n\nThe apple tree replied:\n\n  \"Yes, mother dear,\n   She's gone down there.\"\n\nThen the witch-woman went after her, caught her, gave her a thorough\ngood beating, took the bag of money away from her, and sent her home\nwithout a penny payment for all her dusting, and sweeping, and brushing,\nand cleaning.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Headpiece--The Laidly Worm]\n\nTHE LAIDLY WORM\n\n\nIn Bamborough Castle there once lived a King who had two children, a son\nnamed Childe Wynde, and a daughter who was called May Margret. Their\nmother, a fair woman, was dead, and the King mourned her long and\nfaithfully. But, after his son Childe Wynde went to seek his fortune,\nthe King, hunting in the forest, came across a lady of such great beauty\nthat he fell in love with her at once and determined to marry her.\n\nNow Princess May Margret was not over-pleased to think that her mother's\nplace should be taken by a strange woman, nor was she pleased to think\nthat she would have to give up keeping house for her father the King.\nFor she had always taken a pride in her work. But she said nothing,\nthough she stood long on the castle walls looking out across the sea\nwishing for her dear brother's return; for, see you, they had mothered\neach other.\n\nStill no news came of Childe Wynde; so on the day when the old King was\nto bring the new Queen home, May Margret counted over the keys of the\ncastle chambers, knotted them on a string, and after casting them over\nher left shoulder for luck--more for her father's sake than for the new\nQueen's regard--she stood at the castle gate ready to hand over the keys\nto her stepmother.\n\nNow as the bridal procession approached with all the lords of the north\ncountrie, and some of the Scots lords in attendance, she looked so fair\nand so sweet, that the lords whispered to one another of her beauty. And\nwhen, after saying in a voice like a mavis--\n\n  \"Oh welcome, welcome, father,\n   Unto your halls and towers!\n   And welcome too, my stepmother,\n   For all that's here is yours!\"\n\nshe turned upon the step and tripped into the yard, the Scots lords said\naloud:\n\n  \"Forsooth! May Margret's grace\n   Surpasses all that we have met, she has so fair a face!\"\n\nNow the new Queen overheard this, and she stamped her foot and her face\nflushed with anger as she turned her about and called:\n\n  \"You might have excepted me,\n   But I will bring May Margret to a Laidly Worm's degree;\n   I'll bring her low as a Laidly Worm\n   That warps about a stone,\n   And not till the Childe of Wynde come back\n   Will the witching be undone.\"\n\nWell! hearing this May Margret laughed, not knowing that her new\nstepmother, for all her beauty, was a witch; and the laugh made the\nwicked woman still more angry. So that same night she left her royal\nbed, and, returning to the lonely cave where she had ever done her\nmagic, she cast Princess May Margret under a spell with charms three\ntimes three, and passes nine times nine. And this was her spell:\n\n  \"I weird ye to a Laidly Worm,\n   And such sail ye ever be\n   Until Childe Wynde the King's dear son\n   Comes home across the sea.\n   Until the world comes to an end\n   Unspelled ye'll never be,\n   Unless Childe Wynde of his own free will\n   Sail give you kisses three!\"\n\nSo it came to pass that Princess May Margret went to her bed a beauteous\nmaiden, full of grace, and rose next morning a Laidly Worm; for when her\ntire-women came to dress her they found coiled up in her bed an awesome\ndragon, which uncoiled itself and came towards them. And when they ran\naway terrified, the Laidly Worm crawled and crept, and crept and crawled\ndown to the sea till it reached the rock of the Spindlestone which is\ncalled the Heugh. And there it curled itself round the stone, and lay\nbasking in the sun.\n\nThen for seven miles east and seven miles west and seven miles north and\nsouth the whole country-side knew the hunger of the Laidly Worm of\nSpindlestone Heugh, for it drove the awesome beast to leave its\nresting-place at night and devour everything it came across.\n\nAt last a wise warlock told the people that if they wished to be quit of\nthese horrors, they must take every drop of the milk of seven white\nmilch kine every morn and every eve to the trough of stone at the foot\nof the Heugh, for the Laidly Worm to drink. And this they did, and after\nthat the Laidly Worm troubled the country-side no longer; but lay warped\nabout the Heugh, looking out to sea with its terrible snout in the air.\n\nBut the word of its doings had gone east and had gone west; it had even\ngone over the sea and had come to Childe Wynde's ears; and the news of\nit angered him; for he thought perchance it had something to do with his\nbeloved sister May Margret's disappearance. So he called his men-at-arms\ntogether and said:\n\n\"We must sail to Bamborough and land by Spindlestone, so as to quell and\nkill this Laidly Worm.\"\n\nThen they built a ship without delay, laying the keel with wood from the\nrowan tree. And they made masts of rowan wood also, and oars likewise;\nand, so furnished, set forth.\n\nNow the wicked Queen knew by her arts they were coming, so she sent out\nher imps to still the winds so that the fluttering sails of silk hung\nidle on the masts. But Childe Wynde was not to be bested; so he called\nout the oarsmen. Thus it came to pass that one morn the wicked Queen,\nlooking from the Keep, saw the gallant ship in Bamborough Bay, and she\nsent out all her witch-wives and her impets to raise a storm and sink\nthe ship; but they came back unable to hurt it, for, see you, it was\nbuilt of rowan wood, over which witches have no power.\n\nThen, as a last device, the Witch Queen laid spells upon the Laidly Worm\nsaying:\n\n  \"Oh! Laidly Worm! Go make their topmast heel,\n   Go! Worm the sand, and creep beneath the keel.\"\n\nNow the Laidly Worm had no choice but to obey. So:\n\n  \"The Worm leapt up, the Worm leapt down\n   And plaited round each plank,\n   And aye as the ship came close to shore\n   She heeled as if she sank.\"\n\nThree times three did Childe Wynde attempt to land, and three times\nthree the Laidly Worm kept the good ship from the shore. At last Childe\nWynde gave the word to put the ship about, and the Witch Queen, who was\nwatching from the Keep, thought he had given up: but he was not to be\nbested: for he only rounded the next point to Budley sands. And there,\njumping into the shoal water, he got safely to land, and drawing his\nsword of proof, rushed up to fight the awesome Worm. But as he raised\nhis sword to strike he heard a voice, soft as the western wind:\n\n  \"Oh quit thy sword, unbend thy bow,\n     And give me kisses three,\n   For though I seem a Laidly Worm\n     No harm I'll do to thee!\"\n\nAnd the voice seemed to him like the voice of his dear sister May\nMargret. So he stayed his hand. Then once again the Laidly Worm said:\n\n  \"Oh quit thy sword, unbend thy bow,\n     My laidly form forget.\n   Forgive the wrong and kiss me thrice\n     For love of May Margret.\"\n\nThen Childe Wynde, remembering how he had loved his sister, put his arms\nround the Laidly Worm and kissed it once. And he kissed the loathly\nthing twice. And he kissed it yet a third time as he stood with the wet\nsand at his feet.\n\nThen with a hiss and a roar the Laidly Worm sank to the sand, and in his\narms was May Margret!\n\nHe wrapped her in his mantle, for she trembled in the cold sea air, and\ncarried her to Bamborough Castle, where the wicked Queen, knowing her\nhour was come, stood, all deserted by her imps and witch-wives, on the\nstairs, twisting her hands.\n\nThen Childe Wynde looking at her cried:\n\n  \"Woe! Woe to thee, thou wicked Witch!\n     An ill fate shalt thine be!\n   The doom thou dreed on May Margret\n     The same doom shalt thou dree.\n\n   Henceforth thou'lt be a Laidly Toad\n     That in the clay doth wend,\n   And unspelled thou wilt never be\n     Till this world hath an end.\"\n\nAnd as he spoke the wicked Queen began to shrivel, and she shrivelled\nand shrivelled to a horrid wrinkled toad that hopped down the castle\nsteps and disappeared in a crevice.\n\nBut to this day a loathsome toad is sometimes seen haunting Bamborough\nKeep; and that Laidly Toad is the wicked Witch Queen!\n\nBut Childe Wynde and Princess May Margret loved each other as much as\never, and lived happily ever after.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Tatty sat down and wept]\n\nTITTY MOUSE AND TATTY MOUSE\n\n\nTitty Mouse and Tatty Mouse both lived in a house.\n\nTitty Mouse went a-gleaning, and Tatty Mouse went a-gleaning.\n\nSo they both went a-gleaning.\n\nTitty Mouse gleaned an ear of corn, and Tatty Mouse gleaned an ear of\ncorn.\n\nSo they both gleaned an ear of corn.\n\nTitty Mouse made a pudding, and Tatty Mouse made a pudding.\n\nSo they both made a pudding.\n\nAnd Tatty Mouse put her pudding into the pot to boil.\n\nBut when Titty went to put hers in, the pot tumbled over, and scalded\nher to death, and Tatty sat down and wept.\n\nThen the three-legged stool said, \"Tatty, why do you weep?\"\n\n\"Titty's dead,\" said Tatty, \"and so I weep.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the stool, \"I'll hop,\" so the stool hopped.\n\nThen a broom in the corner of the room said, \"Stool, why do you hop?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the stool, \"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and so I hop.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the broom, \"I'll sweep,\" so the broom began to sweep.\n\nThen said the door, \"Broom, why do you sweep?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the broom, \"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool\nhops, and so I sweep.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the door, \"I'll jar,\" so the door jarred.\n\nThen the window said, \"Door, why do you jar?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the door, \"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops,\nand the broom sweeps, and so I jar.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the window, \"I'll creak,\" so the window creaked.\n\nNow there was an old form outside the house, and when the window\ncreaked, the form said, \"Window, why do you creak?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the window, \"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool\nhops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and so I creak!\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the old form, \"I'll gallop round the house.\" So the old\nform galloped round the house.\n\nNow there was a fine large walnut tree growing by the cottage, and the\ntree said to the form, \"Form, why do you gallop round the house?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" says the form, \"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool\nhops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, and so\nI gallop round the house.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the walnut tree, \"I'll shed my leaves.\" So the walnut tree\nshed all its beautiful green leaves.\n\nNow there was a little bird perched on one of the boughs of the tree,\nand when all the leaves fell, it said, \"Walnut tree, why do you shed\nyour leaves?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the tree, \"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and\nthe broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form\ngallops round the house, and so I shed my leaves.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the little bird, \"I'll moult all my feathers,\" so he\nmoulted all his gay feathers.\n\nNow there was a little girl walking below, carrying a jug of milk for\nher brothers' and sisters' supper, and when she saw the poor little bird\nmoult all its feathers, she said, \"Little bird, why do you moult all\nyour feathers?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the little bird, \"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool\nhops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the\nold form gallops round the house, the walnut tree sheds its leaves, and\nso I moult all my feathers.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the little girl, \"I'll spill the milk.\" So she dropt the\npitcher and spilt the milk.\n\nNow there was an old man just by on the top of a ladder thatching a\nrick, and when he saw the little girl spill the milk, he said, \"Little\ngirl, what do you mean by spilling the milk? your little brothers and\nsisters must go without their suppers.\"\n\nThen said the little girl, \"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool\nhops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the\nold form gallops round the house, the walnut tree sheds all its leaves,\nthe little bird moults all its feathers, and so I spill the milk.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the old man, \"then I'll tumble off the ladder and break my\nneck.\"\n\nSo he tumbled off the ladder and broke his neck; and when the old man\nbroke his neck, the great walnut tree fell down with a crash and upset\nthe old form and house, and the house falling knocked the window out,\nand the window knocked the door down, and the door upset the broom, and\nthe broom upset the stool, and poor little Tatty Mouse was buried\nbeneath the ruins.\n\n\n\n\nJACK AND THE BEANSTALK\n\n\nA long long time ago, when most of the world was young and folk did what\nthey liked because all things were good, there lived a boy called Jack.\n\nHis father was bed-ridden, and his mother, a good soul, was busy early\nmorns and late eves planning and placing how to support her sick husband\nand her young son by selling the milk and butter which Milky-White, the\nbeautiful cow, gave them without stint. For it was summer-time. But\nwinter came on; the herbs of the fields took refuge from the frosts in\nthe warm earth, and though his mother sent Jack to gather what fodder he\ncould get in the hedgerows, he came back as often as not with a very\nempty sack; for Jack's eyes were so often full of wonder at all the\nthings he saw that sometimes he forgot to work!\n\nSo it came to pass that one morning Milky-White gave no milk at all--not\none drain! Then the good hard-working mother threw her apron over her\nhead and sobbed:\n\n\"What shall we do? What shall we do?\"\n\nNow Jack loved his mother; besides, he felt just a bit sneaky at being\nsuch a big boy and doing so little to help, so he said, \"Cheer up! Cheer\nup! I'll go and get work somewhere.\" And he felt as he spoke as if he\nwould work his fingers to the bone; but the good woman shook her head\nmournfully.\n\n\"You've tried that before, Jack,\" she said, \"and nobody would keep you.\nYou are quite a good lad but your wits go a-wool-gathering. No, we must\nsell Milky-White and live on the money. It is no use crying over milk\nthat is not here to spill!\"\n\nYou see, she was a wise as well as a hard-working woman, and Jack's\nspirits rose.\n\n\"Just so,\" he cried. \"We will sell Milky-White and be richer than ever.\nIt's an ill wind that blows no one good. So, as it is market-day, I'll\njust take her there and we shall see what we shall see.\"\n\n\"But--\" began his mother.\n\n\"But doesn't butter parsnips,\" laughed Jack. \"Trust me to make a good\nbargain.\"\n\nSo, as it was washing-day, and her sick husband was more ailing than\nusual, his mother let Jack set off to sell the cow.\n\n\"Not less than ten pounds,\" she bawled after him as he turned the\ncorner.\n\nTen pounds, indeed! Jack had made up his mind to twenty! Twenty solid\ngolden sovereigns!\n\nHe was just settling what he should buy his mother as a fairing out of\nthe money, when he saw a queer little old man on the road who called\nout, \"Good-morning, Jack!\"\n\n\"Good-morning,\" replied Jack, with a polite bow, wondering how the queer\nlittle old man happened to know his name; though, to be sure, Jacks were\nas plentiful as blackberries.\n\n\"And where may you be going?\" asked the queer little old man. Jack\nwondered again--he was always wondering, you know--what the queer little\nold man had to do with it; but, being always polite, he replied:\n\n\"I am going to market to sell Milky-White--and I mean to make a good\nbargain.\"\n\n\"So you will! So you will!\" chuckled the queer little old man. \"You\nlook the sort of chap for it. I bet you know how many beans make five?\"\n\n\"Two in each hand and one in my mouth,\" answered Jack readily. He really\nwas sharp as a needle.\n\n\"Just so, just so!\" chuckled the queer little old man; and as he spoke\nhe drew out of his pocket five beans. \"Well, here they are, so give us\nMilky-White.\"\n\nJack was so flabbergasted that he stood with his mouth open as if he\nexpected the fifth bean to fly into it.\n\n\"What!\" he said at last. \"My Milky-White for five common beans! Not if I\nknow it!\"\n\n\"But they aren't common beans,\" put in the queer little old man, and\nthere was a queer little smile on his queer little face. \"If you plant\nthese beans over-night, by morning they will have grown up right into\nthe very sky.\"\n\nJack was too flabbergasted this time even to open his mouth; his eyes\nopened instead.\n\n[Illustration: As he spoke he drew out of his pocket five beans]\n\n\"Did you say right into the very sky?\" he asked at last; for, see you,\nJack had wondered more about the sky than about anything else.\n\n\"_RIGHT UP INTO THE VERY SKY_\" repeated the queer old man, with a nod\nbetween each word. \"It's a good bargain, Jack; and, as fair play's a\njewel, if they don't--why! meet me here to-morrow morning and you shall\nhave Milky-White back again. Will that please you?\"\n\n\"Right as a trivet,\" cried Jack, without stopping to think, and the next\nmoment he found himself standing on an empty road.\n\n\"Two in each hand and one in my mouth,\" repeated Jack. \"That is what I\nsaid, and what I'll do. Everything in order, and if what the queer\nlittle old man said isn't true, I shall get Milky-White back to-morrow\nmorning.\"\n\nSo whistling and munching the bean he trudged home cheerfully, wondering\nwhat the sky would be like if he ever got there.\n\n\"What a long time you've been!\" exclaimed his mother, who was watching\nanxiously for him at the gate. \"It is past sun-setting; but I see you\nhave sold Milky-White. Tell me quick how much you got for her.\"\n\n\"You'll never guess,\" began Jack.\n\n\"Laws-a-mercy! You don't say so,\" interrupted the good woman. \"And I\nworriting all day lest they should take you in. What was it? Ten\npounds--fifteen--sure it _can't_ be twenty!\"\n\nJack held out the beans triumphantly.\n\n\"There,\" he said. \"That's what I got for her, and a jolly good bargain\ntoo!\"\n\nIt was his mother's turn to be flabbergasted; but all she said was:\n\n\"What! Them beans!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Jack, beginning to doubt his own wisdom; \"but they're\n_magic_ beans. If you plant them over-night, by morning\nthey--grow--right up--into--the--sky--Oh! Please don't hit so hard!\"\n\nFor Jack's mother for once had lost her temper, and was belabouring the\nboy for all she was worth. And when she had finished scolding and\nbeating, she flung the miserable beans out of window and sent him,\nsupperless, to bed.\n\nIf this was the magical effect of the beans, thought Jack ruefully, he\ndidn't want any more magic, if you please.\n\nHowever, being healthy and, as a rule, happy, he soon fell asleep and\nslept like a top.\n\nWhen he woke he thought at first it was moonlight, for everything in the\nroom showed greenish. Then he stared at the little window. It was\ncovered as if with a curtain by leaves. He was out of bed in a trice,\nand the next moment, without waiting to dress, was climbing up the\nbiggest beanstalk you ever saw. For what the queer little old man had\nsaid was true! One of the beans which his mother had chucked into the\ngarden had found soil, taken root, and grown in the night....\n\nWhere?...\n\nUp to the very sky? Jack meant to see at any rate.\n\nSo he climbed, and he climbed, and he climbed. It was easy work, for the\nbig beanstalk with the leaves growing out of each side was like a\nladder; for all that he soon was out of breath. Then he got his second\nwind, and was just beginning to wonder if he had a third when he saw in\nfront of him a wide, shining white road stretching away, and away, and\naway.\n\nSo he took to walking, and he walked, and walked, and walked, till he\ncame to a tall, shining white house with a wide white doorstep.\n\nAnd on the doorstep stood a great big woman with a black porridge-pot\nin her hand. Now Jack, having had no supper, was hungry as a hunter, and\nwhen he saw the porridge-pot he said quite politely:\n\n\"Good-morning, 'm. I wonder if you _could_ give me some breakfast?\"\n\n\"Breakfast!\" echoed the woman, who, in truth, was an ogre's wife. \"If it\nis breakfast you're wanting, it's breakfast you'll likely be; for I\nexpect my man home every instant, and there is nothing he likes better\nfor breakfast than a boy--a fat boy grilled on toast.\"\n\nNow Jack was not a bit of a coward, and when he wanted a thing he\ngenerally got it, so he said cheerful-like:\n\n\"I'd be fatter if I'd had my breakfast!\" Whereat the ogre's wife laughed\nand bade Jack come in; for she was not, really, half as bad as she\nlooked. But he had hardly finished the great bowl of porridge and milk\nshe gave him when the whole house began to tremble and quake. It was the\nogre coming home!\n\n                     Thump! THUMP!! THUMP!!!\n\n\"Into the oven with you, sharp!\" cried the ogre's wife; and the iron\noven door was just closed when the ogre strode in. Jack could see him\nthrough the little peep-hole slide at the top where the steam came out.\n\nHe was a big one for sure. He had three sheep strung to his belt, and\nthese he threw down on the table. \"Here, wife,\" he cried, \"roast me\nthese snippets for breakfast; they are all I've been able to get this\nmorning, worse luck! I hope the oven's hot?\" And he went to touch the\nhandle, while Jack burst out all of a sweat, wondering what would happen\nnext.\n\n\"Roast!\" echoed the ogre's wife. \"Pooh! the little things would dry to\ncinders. Better boil them.\"\n\nSo she set to work to boil them; but the ogre began sniffing about the\nroom. \"They don't smell--mutton meat,\" he growled. Then he frowned\nhorribly and began the real ogre's rhyme:\n\n  \"_Fee-fi-fo-fum,\n   I smell the blood of an Englishman.\n   Be he alive, or be he dead,\n   I'll grind his bones to make my bread._\"\n\n\"Don't be silly!\" said his wife. \"It's the bones of the little boy you\nhad for supper that I'm boiling down for soup! Come, eat your breakfast,\nthere's a good ogre!\"\n\nSo the ogre ate his three sheep, and when he had done he went to a big\noaken chest and took out three big bags of golden pieces. These he put\non the table, and began to count their contents while his wife cleared\naway the breakfast things. And by and by his head began to nod, and at\nlast he began to snore, and snored so loud that the whole house shook.\n\nThen Jack nipped out of the oven and, seizing one of the bags of gold,\ncrept away, and ran along the straight, wide, shining white road as fast\nas his legs would carry him till he came to the beanstalk. He couldn't\nclimb down it with the bag of gold, it was so heavy, so he just flung\nhis burden down first, and, helter-skelter, climbed after it.\n\nAnd when he came to the bottom, there was his mother picking up gold\npieces out of the garden as fast as she could; for, of course, the bag\nhad burst.\n\n\"Laws-a-mercy me!\" she says. \"Wherever have you been? See! It's been\nrainin' gold!\"\n\n\"No, it hasn't,\" began Jack. \"I climbed up--\"\n\nThen he turned to look for the beanstalk; but, lo and behold! it wasn't\nthere at all! So he knew, then, it was all real magic.\n\nAfter that they lived happily on the gold pieces for a long time, and\nthe bed-ridden father got all sorts of nice things to eat; but, at last,\na day came when Jack's mother showed a doleful face as she put a big\nyellow sovereign into Jack's hand and bade him be careful marketing,\nbecause there was not one more in the coffer. After that they must\nstarve.\n\nThat night Jack went supperless to bed of his own accord. If he couldn't\nmake money, he thought, at any rate he could eat less money. It was a\nshame for a big boy to stuff himself and bring no grist to the mill.\n\nHe slept like a top, as boys do when they don't overeat themselves, and\nwhen he woke....\n\nHey, presto! the whole room showed greenish, and there was a curtain of\nleaves over the window! Another bean had grown in the night, and Jack\nwas up it like a lamp-lighter before you could say knife.\n\nThis time he didn't take nearly so long climbing until he reached the\nstraight, wide, white road, and in a trice he found himself before the\ntall white house, where on the wide white steps the ogre's wife was\nstanding with the black porridge-pot in her hand.\n\nAnd this time Jack was as bold as brass. \"Good-morning, 'm,\" he said.\n\"I've come to ask you for breakfast, for I had no supper, and I'm as\nhungry as a hunter.\"\n\n\"Go away, bad boy!\" replied the ogre's wife. \"Last time I gave a boy\nbreakfast my man missed a whole bag of gold. I believe you are the same\nboy.\"\n\n\"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not,\" said Jack, with a laugh. \"I'll tell you\ntrue when I've had my breakfast; but not till then.\"\n\nSo the ogre's wife, who was dreadfully curious, gave him a big bowl full\nof porridge; but before he had half finished it he heard the ogre\ncoming--\n\n                    Thump! THUMP! THUMP!\n\n\"In with you to the oven,\" shrieked the ogre's wife. \"You shall tell me\nwhen he has gone to sleep.\"\n\nThis time Jack saw through the steam peep-hole that the ogre had three\nfat calves strung to his belt.\n\n\"Better luck to-day, wife!\" he cried, and his voice shook the house.\n\"Quick! Roast these trifles for my breakfast! I hope the oven's hot?\"\n\nAnd he went to feel the handle of the door, but his wife cried out\nsharply:\n\n\"Roast! Why, you'd have to wait hours before they were done! I'll broil\nthem--see how bright the fire is!\"\n\n\"Umph!\" growled the ogre. And then he began sniffing and calling out:\n\n  \"_Fee-fi-fo-fum,\n   I smell the blood of an Englishman.\n   Be he alive, or be he dead,\n   I'll grind his bones to make my bread._\"\n\n\"Twaddle!\" said the ogre's wife. \"It's only the bones of the boy you had\nlast week that I've put into the pig-bucket!\"\n\n\"Umph!\" said the ogre harshly; but he ate the broiled calves, and then\nhe said to his wife, \"Bring me my hen that lays the magic eggs. I want\nto see gold.\"\n\nSo the ogre's wife brought him a great big black hen with a shiny red\ncomb. She plumped it down on the table and took away the breakfast\nthings.\n\nThen the ogre said to the hen, \"Lay!\" and it promptly laid--what do you\nthink?--a beautiful, shiny, yellow, golden egg!\n\n\"None so dusty, henny-penny,\" laughed the ogre. \"I shan't have to beg as\nlong as I've got you.\" Then he said, \"Lay!\" once more; and, lo and\nbehold! there was another beautiful, shiny, yellow, golden egg!\n\nJack could hardly believe his eyes, and made up his mind that he would\nhave that hen, come what might. So, when the ogre began to doze, he just\nout like a flash from the oven, seized the hen, and ran for his life!\nBut, you see, he reckoned without his prize; for hens, you know, always\ncackle when they leave their nests after laying an egg, and this one set\nup such a scrawing that it woke the ogre.\n\n\"Where's my hen?\" he shouted, and his wife came rushing in, and they\nboth rushed to the door; but Jack had got the better of them by a good\nstart, and all they could see was a little figure right away down the\nwide white road, holding a big, scrawing, cackling, fluttering black hen\nby the legs!\n\nHow Jack got down the beanstalk he never knew. It was all wings, and\nleaves, and feathers, and cacklings; but get down he did, and there was\nhis mother wondering if the sky was going to fall!\n\nBut the very moment Jack touched ground he called out, \"Lay!\" and the\nblack hen ceased cackling and laid a great, big, shiny, yellow, golden\negg.\n\nSo every one was satisfied; and from that moment everybody had\neverything that money could buy. For, whenever they wanted anything,\nthey just said, \"Lay!\" and the black hen provided them with gold.\n\nBut Jack began to wonder if he couldn't find something else besides\nmoney in the sky. So one fine moonlight midsummer night he refused his\nsupper, and before he went to bed stole out to the garden with a big\nwatering-can and watered the ground under his window; for, thought he,\n\"there must be two more beans somewhere, and perhaps it is too dry for\nthem to grow.\" Then he slept like a top.\n\nAnd, lo and behold! when he woke, there was the green light shimmering\nthrough his room, and there he was in an instant on the beanstalk,\nclimbing, climbing, climbing for all he was worth.\n\nBut this time he knew better than to ask for his breakfast; for the\nogre's wife would be sure to recognise him. So he just hid in some\nbushes beside the great white house, till he saw her in the scullery,\nand then he slipped out and hid himself in the copper; for he knew she\nwould be sure to look in the oven first thing.\n\nAnd by and by he heard--\n\n                   Thump! THUMP! THUMP!\n\nAnd peeping through a crack in the copper-lid, he could see the ogre\nstalk in with three huge oxen strung at his belt. But this time, no\nsooner had the ogre got into the house than he began shouting:\n\n  \"_Fee-fi-fo-fum,\n   I smell the blood of an Englishman.\n   Be he alive, or be he dead,\n   I'll grind his bones to make my bread._\"\n\nFor, see you, the copper-lid didn't fit tight like the oven door, and\nogres have noses like a dog's for scent.\n\n\"Well, I declare, so do I!\" exclaimed the ogre's wife. \"It will be that\nhorrid boy who stole the bag of gold and the hen. If so, he's hid in the\noven!\"\n\nBut when she opened the door, lo and behold! Jack wasn't there! Only\nsome joints of meat roasting and sizzling away. Then she laughed and\nsaid, \"You and me be fools for sure. Why, it's the boy you caught last\nnight as I was getting ready for your breakfast. Yes, we be fools to\ntake dead meat for live flesh! So eat your breakfast, there's a good\nogre!\"\n\nBut the ogre, though he enjoyed roast boy very much, wasn't satisfied,\nand every now and then he would burst out with \"_Fee-fi-fo-fum_,\" and\nget up and search the cupboards, keeping Jack in a fever of fear lest he\nshould think of the copper.\n\nBut he didn't. And when he had finished his breakfast he called out to\nhis wife, \"Bring me my magic harp! I want to be amused.\"\n\nSo she brought out a little harp and put it on the table. And the ogre\nleant back in his chair and said lazily:\n\n                    \"Sing!\"\n\nAnd, lo and behold! the harp began to sing. If you want to know what it\nsang about? Why! It sang about everything! And it sang so beautifully\nthat Jack forgot to be frightened, and the ogre forgot to think of\n\"_Fee-fi-fo-fum_,\" and fell asleep and\n\n                    did\n                    NOT\n                   SNORE.\n\nThen Jack stole out of the copper like a mouse and crept hands and knees\nto the table, raised himself up ever so softly and laid hold of the\nmagic harp; for he was determined to have it.\n\nBut, no sooner had he touched it, than it cried out quite loud, \"Master!\nMaster!\" So the ogre woke, saw Jack making off, and rushed after him.\n\nMy goodness, it was a race! Jack was nimble, but the ogre's stride was\ntwice as long. So, though Jack turned, and twisted, and doubled like a\nhare, yet at last, when he got to the beanstalk, the ogre was not a\ndozen yards behind him. There wasn't time to think, so Jack just flung\nhimself on to the stalk and began to go down as fast as he could, while\nthe harp kept calling, \"Master! Master!\" at the very top of its voice.\nHe had only got down about a quarter of the way when there was the most\nawful lurch you can think of, and Jack nearly fell off the beanstalk. It\nwas the ogre beginning to climb down, and his weight made the stalk sway\nlike a tree in a storm. Then Jack knew it was life or death, and he\nclimbed down faster and faster, and as he climbed he shouted, \"Mother!\nMother! Bring an axe! Bring an axe!\"\n\nNow his mother, as luck would have it, was in the backyard chopping\nwood, and she ran out thinking that this time the sky must have fallen.\nJust at that moment Jack touched ground, and he flung down the\nharp--which immediately began to sing of all sorts of beautiful\nthings--and he seized the axe and gave a great chop at the beanstalk,\nwhich shook and swayed and bent like barley before a breeze.\n\n\"Have a care!\" shouted the ogre, clinging on as hard as he could. But\nJack _did_ have a care, and he dealt that beanstalk such a shrewd blow\nthat the whole of it, ogre and all, came toppling down, and, of course,\nthe ogre broke his crown, so that he died on the spot.\n\n[Illustration: \"Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman.\"]\n\n[Illustration: Jack seized the axe and gave a great chop at the\nbeanstalk]\n\nAfter that every one was quite happy. For they had gold and to spare,\nand if the bed-ridden father was dull, Jack just brought out the harp\nand said, \"Sing!\" And, lo and behold! It sang about everything under the\nsun.\n\nSo Jack ceased wondering so much and became quite a useful person.\n\nAnd the last bean still hasn't grown yet. It is still in the garden.\n\nI wonder if it will ever grow?\n\nAnd what little child will climb its beanstalk into the sky?\n\nAnd what will that child find?\n\nGoody me!\n\n\n\n\nTHE BLACK BULL OF NORROWAY\n\n\nLong ago in Norroway there lived a lady who had three daughters. Now\nthey were all pretty, and one night they fell a-talking of whom they\nmeant to marry.\n\nAnd the eldest said, \"I will have no one lower than an Earl.\"\n\nAnd the second said, \"I will have none lower than a Lord.\"\n\nBut the third, the prettiest and the merriest, tossed her head and said,\nwith a twinkle in her eye, \"Why so proud? As for me I would be content\nwith the Black Bull of Norroway.\"\n\nAt that the other sisters bade her be silent and not talk lightly of\nsuch a monster. For, see you, is it not written:\n\n  To wilder measures now they turn,\n    The black black Bull of Norroway;\n  Sudden the tapers cease to burn,\n    The minstrels cease to play.\n\nSo, no doubt, the Black Bull of Norroway was held to be a horrid\nmonster.\n\nBut the youngest daughter would have her laugh, so she said three times\nthat she would be content with the Black Bull of Norroway.\n\nWell! It so happened that the very next morning a coach-and-six came\nswinging along the road, and in it sate an Earl who had come to ask the\nhand of the eldest daughter in marriage. So there were great rejoicings\nover the wedding, and the bride and bridegroom drove away in the\ncoach-and-six.\n\nThen the next thing that happened was that a coach-and-four with a Lord\nin it came swinging along the road; and he wanted to marry the second\ndaughter. So they were wed, and there were great rejoicings, and the\nbride and bridegroom drove away in the coach-and-four.\n\nNow after this there was only the youngest, the prettiest and the\nmerriest, of the sisters left, and she became the apple of her mother's\neye. So you may imagine how the mother felt when one morning a terrible\nbellowing was heard at the door, and there was a great big Black Bull\nwaiting for his bride.\n\nShe wept and she wailed, and at first the girl ran away and hid herself\nin the cellar for fear, but there the Bull stood waiting, and at last\nthe girl came up and said:\n\n\"I promised I would be content with the Black Bull of Norroway, and I\nmust keep my word. Farewell, mother, you will not see me again.\"\n\nThen she mounted on the Black Bull's back, and it walked away with her\nquite quietly. And ever it chose the smoothest paths and the easiest\nroads, so that at last the girl grew less afraid. But she became very\nhungry and was nigh to faint when the Black Bull said to her, in quite a\nsoft voice that wasn't a bellow at all:\n\n  \"Eat out of my left ear,\n     Drink out of my right,\n   And set by what you leave\n     To serve the morrow's night.\"\n\nSo she did as she was bid, and, lo and behold! the left ear was full of\ndelicious things to eat, and the right was full of the most delicious\ndrinks, and there was plenty left over for several days.\n\nThus they journeyed on, and they journeyed on, through many dreadful\nforests and many lonely wastes, and the Black Bull never paused for bite\nor sup, but ever the girl he carried ate out of his left ear and drank\nout of his right, and set by what she left to serve the morrow's night.\nAnd she slept soft and warm on his broad back.\n\nNow at last they reached a noble castle where a large company of lords\nand ladies were assembled, and greatly the company wondered at the sight\nof these strange companions. And they invited the girl to supper, but\nthe Black Bull they turned into the field, and left to spend the night\nafter his kind.\n\nBut when the next morning came, there he was ready for his burden again.\nNow, though the girl was loth to leave her pleasant companions, she\nremembered her promise, and mounted on his back, so they journeyed on,\nand journeyed on, and journeyed on, through many tangled woods and over\nmany high mountains. And ever the Black Bull chose the smoothest paths\nfor her and set aside the briars and brambles, while she ate out of his\nleft ear and drank out of his right.\n\nSo at last they came to a magnificent mansion where Dukes and Duchesses\nand Earls and Countesses were enjoying themselves. Now the company,\nthough much surprised at the strange companions, asked the girl in to\nsupper; and the Black Bull they would have turned into the park for the\nnight, but that the girl, remembering how well he had cared for her,\nasked them to put him into the stable and give him a good feed.\n\nSo this was done, and the next morning he was waiting before the\nhall-door for his burden; and she, though somewhat loth at leaving the\nfine company, mounted him cheerfully enough, and they rode away, and\nthey rode away, and they rode away, through thick briar brakes and up\nfearsome cliffs. But ever the Black Bull trod the brambles underfoot and\nchose the easiest paths, while she ate out of his left ear and drank out\nof his right, and wanted for nothing, though he had neither bite nor\nsup. So it came to pass that he grew tired and was limping with one foot\nwhen, just as the sun was setting, they came to a beautiful palace where\nPrinces and Princesses were disporting themselves with ball on the green\ngrass. Now, though the company greatly wondered at the strange\ncompanions, they asked the girl to join them, and ordered the grooms to\nlead away the Black Bull to a field.\n\nBut she, remembering all he had done for her, said, \"Not so! He will\nstay with me!\" Then seeing a large thorn in the foot with which he had\nbeen limping, she stooped down and pulled it out.\n\nAnd, lo and behold! in an instant, to every one's surprise, there\nappeared, not a frightful monstrous bull, but one of the most beautiful\nPrinces ever beheld, who fell at his deliverer's feet, thanking her for\nhaving broken his cruel enchantment.\n\nA wicked witch-woman who wanted to marry him had, he said, spelled him\nuntil a beautiful maiden of her own free will should do him a favour.\n\n\"But,\" he said, \"the danger is not all over. You have broken the\nenchantment by night; that by day has yet to be overcome.\"\n\nSo the next morning the Prince had to resume the form of a bull, and\nthey set out together; and they rode, and they rode, and they rode, till\nthey came to a dark and ugsome glen. And here he bade her dismount and\nsit on a great rock.\n\n\"Here you must stay,\" he said, \"while I go yonder and fight the Old One.\nAnd mind! move neither hand nor foot whilst I am away, else I shall\nnever find you again. If everything around you turns blue, I shall have\nbeaten the Old One; but if everything turns red, he will have conquered\nme.\"\n\nAnd with that, and a tremendous roaring bellow, he set off to find his\nfoe.\n\nWell, she sate as still as a mouse, moving neither hand nor foot, nor\neven her eyes, and waited, and waited, and waited. Then at last\neverything turned blue. But she was so overcome with joy to think that\nher lover was victorious that she forgot to keep still, and lifting one\nof her feet, crossed it over the other!\n\nSo she waited, and waited, and waited. Long she sate, and aye she\nwearied; and all the time he was seeking for her, but he never found\nher.\n\nAt last she rose and went she knew not whither, determined to seek for\nher lover through the whole wide world. So she journeyed on, and she\njourneyed on, and she journeyed on, until one day in a dark wood she\ncame to a little hut where lived an old, old woman who gave her food and\nshelter, and bid her God-speed on her errand, giving her three nuts, a\nwalnut, a filbert, and a hazel nut, with these words:\n\n  \"When your heart is like to break,\n     And once again is like to break,\n   Crack a nut and in its shell\n     That will be that suits you well.\"\n\nAfter this she felt heartened up, and wandered on till her road was\nblocked by a great hill of glass; and though she tried all she could to\nclimb it, she could not; for aye she slipped back, and slipped back, and\nslipped back; for it was like ice.\n\nThen she sought a passage elsewhere, and round and about the foot of the\nhill she went sobbing and wailing, but ne'er a foothold could she find.\nAt last she came to a smithy; and the smith promised if she would serve\nhim faithfully for seven years and seven days, that he would make her\niron shoon wherewith to climb the hill of glass. So for seven long years\nand seven short days she toiled, and span, and swept, and washed in the\nsmith's house. And for wage he gave her a pair of iron shoon, and with\nthem she clomb the glassy hill and went on her way.\n\nNow she had not gone far before a company of fine lords and ladies rode\npast her talking of all the grand doings that were to be done at the\nyoung Duke of Norroway's wedding. Then she passed a number of people\ncarrying all sorts of good things which they told her were for the\nDuke's wedding. And at last she came to a palace castle where the\ncourtyards were full of cooks and bakers, some running this way, some\nrunning that, and all so busy that they did not know what to do first.\n\nThen she heard the horns of hunters and cries of \"Room! Room for the\nDuke of Norroway and his bride!\"\n\nAnd who should ride past but the beautiful Prince she had but half\nunspelled, and by his side was the witch-woman who was determined to\nmarry him that very day.\n\nWell! at the sight she felt that her heart was indeed like to break, and\nover again was like to break, so that the time had come for her to crack\none of the nuts. So she broke the walnut, as it was the biggest, and out\nof it came a wonderful wee woman carding wool as fast as ever she could\ncard.\n\nNow when the witch-woman saw this wonderful thing she offered the girl\nher choice of anything in the castle for it.\n\n\"If you will put off your wedding with the Duke for a day, and let me\nwatch in his room to-night,\" said the girl, \"you shall have it.\"\n\nNow, like all witch-women, the bride wanted everything her own way, and\nshe was so sure she had her groom safe, that she consented; but before\nthe Duke went to rest she gave him, with her own hands, a posset so made\nthat any one who drank it would sleep till morning.\n\nThus, though the girl was allowed alone into the Duke's chamber, and\nthough she spent the livelong night sighing and singing:\n\n  \"Far have I sought for thee,\n   Long have I wrought for thee,\n   Near am I brought to thee,\n   Dear Duke o' Norroway;\n   Wilt thou say naught to me?\"\n\nthe Duke never wakened, but slept on. So when day came the girl had to\nleave him without his ever knowing she had been there.\n\nThen once again her heart was like to break, and over and over again\nlike to break, and she cracked the filbert nut, because it was the next\nbiggest. And out of it came a wonderful wee, wee woman spinning away as\nfast as ever she could spin. Now when the witch-bride saw this wonderful\nthing she once again put off her wedding so that she might possess it.\nAnd once again the girl spent the livelong night in the Duke's chamber\nsighing and singing:\n\n  \"Far have I sought for thee,\n   Long have I wrought for thee,\n   Near am I brought to thee,\n   Dear Duke o' Norroway;\n   Wilt thou say naught to me?\"\n\nBut the Duke, who had drunk the sleeping-draught from the hands of his\nwitch-bride, never stirred, and when dawn came the girl had to leave him\nwithout his ever knowing she had been there.\n\nThen, indeed, the girl's heart was like to break, and over and over and\nover again like to break, so she cracked the last nut--the hazel\nnut--and out of it came the most wonderful wee, wee, wee-est woman\nreeling away at yarn as fast as she could reel.\n\nAnd this marvel so delighted the witch-bride that once again she\nconsented to put off her wedding for a day, and allow the girl to watch\nin the Duke's chamber the night through, in order to possess it.\n\nNow it so happened that when the Duke was dressing that morning he heard\nhis pages talking amongst themselves of the strange sighing and singing\nthey had heard in the night; and he said to his faithful old valet,\n\"What do the pages mean?\"\n\nAnd the old valet, who hated the witch-bride, said:\n\n\"If the master will take no sleeping-draught to-night, mayhap he may\nalso hear what for two nights has kept me awake.\"\n\nAt this the Duke marvelled greatly, and when the witch-bride brought\nhim his evening posset, he made excuse it was not sweet enough, and\nwhile she went away to get honey to sweeten it withal, he poured away\nthe posset and made believe he had swallowed it.\n\nSo that night when dark had come, and the girl stole in to his chamber\nwith a heavy heart thinking it would be the very last time she would\never see him, the Duke was really broad awake. And when she sate down by\nhis bedside and began to sing:\n\n                \"Far have I sought for thee,\"\n\nhe knew her voice at once, and clasped her in his arms.\n\nThen he told her how he had been in the power of the witch-woman and had\nforgotten everything, but that now he remembered all and that the spell\nwas broken for ever and aye.\n\nSo the wedding feast served for their marriage, since the witch-bride,\nseeing her power was gone, quickly fled the country and was never heard\nof again.\n\n\n\n\nCATSKIN\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a gentleman who owned fine lands and\nhouses, and he very much wanted to have a son to be heir to them. So\nwhen his wife brought him a daughter, though she was bonny as bonny\ncould be, he cared nought for her, and said:\n\n\"Let me never see her face.\"\n\nSo she grew up to be a beautiful maiden, though her father never set\neyes on her till she was fifteen years old and was ready to be married.\n\nThen her father said roughly, \"She shall marry the first that comes for\nher.\" Now when this became known, who should come along and be first but\na nasty, horrid old man! So she didn't know what to do, and went to the\nhen-wife and asked her advice. And the hen-wife said, \"Say you will not\ntake him unless they give you a coat of silver cloth.\" Well, they gave\nher a coat of silver cloth, but she wouldn't take him for all that, but\nwent again to the hen-wife, who said, \"Say you will not take him unless\nthey give you a coat of beaten gold.\" Well, they gave her a coat of\nbeaten gold, but still she would not take the old man, but went again\nto the hen-wife, who said, \"Say you will not take him unless they give\nyou a coat made of the feathers of all the birds of the air.\" So they\nsent out a man with a great heap of peas; and the man cried to all the\nbirds of the air, \"Each bird take a pea and put down a feather.\" So each\nbird took a pea and put down one of its feathers: and they took all the\nfeathers and made a coat of them and gave it to her; but still she would\nnot take the nasty, horrid old man, but asked the hen-wife once again\nwhat she was to do, and the hen-wife said, \"Say they must first make you\na coat of catskin.\" Then they made her a coat of catskin; and she put it\non, and tied up her other coats into a bundle, and when it was\nnight-time ran away with it into the woods.\n\nNow she went along, and went along, and went along, till at the end of\nthe wood she saw a fine castle. Then she hid her fine dresses by a\ncrystal waterfall and went up to the castle gates and asked for work.\nThe lady of the castle saw her, and told her, \"I'm sorry I have no\nbetter place, but if you like you may be our scullion.\" So down she went\ninto the kitchen, and they called her Catskin, because of her dress. But\nthe cook was very cruel to her, and led her a sad life.\n\nWell, soon after that it happened that the young lord of the castle came\nhome, and there was to be a grand ball in honour of the occasion. And\nwhen they were speaking about it among the servants, \"Dear me, Mrs.\nCook,\" said Catskin, \"how much I should like to go!\"\n\n\"What! You dirty, impudent slut,\" said the cook, \"you go among all the\nfine lords and ladies with your filthy catskin? A fine figure you'd\ncut!\" and with that she took a basin of water and dashed it into\nCatskin's face. But Catskin only shook her ears and said nothing.\n\nNow when the day of the ball arrived, Catskin slipped out of the house\nand went to the edge of the forest where she had hidden her dresses.\nThen she bathed herself in a crystal waterfall, and put on her coat of\nsilver cloth, and hastened away to the ball. As soon as she entered all\nwere overcome by her beauty and grace, while the young lord at once lost\nhis heart to her. He asked her to be his partner for the first dance;\nand he would dance with none other the livelong night.\n\nWhen it came to parting time, the young lord said, \"Pray tell me, fair\nmaid, where you live?\"\n\nBut Catskin curtsied and said:\n\n  \"Kind sir, if the truth I must tell,\n   At the sign of the 'Basin of Water' I dwell.\"\n\nThen she flew from the castle and donned her catskin robe again, and\nslipped into the scullery, unbeknown to the cook.\n\nThe young lord went the very next day and searched for the sign of the\n\"Basin of Water\"; but he could not find it. So he went to his mother,\nthe lady of the castle, and declared he would wed none other but the\nlady of the silver dress, and would never rest till he had found her.\nSo another ball was soon arranged in hopes that the beautiful maid would\nappear again.\n\nSo Catskin said to the cook, \"Oh, how I should like to go!\" Whereupon\nthe cook screamed out in a rage, \"What, you, you dirty, impudent slut!\nYou would cut a fine figure among all the fine lords and ladies.\" And\nwith that she up with a ladle and broke it across Catskin's back. But\nCatskin only shook her ears, and ran off to the forest, where, first of\nall, she bathed, and then she put on her coat of beaten gold, and off\nshe went to the ball-room.\n\nAs soon as she entered all eyes were upon her; and the young lord at\nonce recognised her as the lady of the \"Basin of Water,\" claimed her\nhand for the first dance, and did not leave her till the last. When that\ncame, he again asked her where she lived. But all that she would say\nwas:\n\n  \"Kind sir, if the truth I must tell,\n   At the sign of the 'Broken Ladle' I dwell\";\n\nand with that she curtsied and flew from the ball, off with her golden\nrobe, on with her catskin, and into the scullery without the cook's\nknowing.\n\nNext day, when the young lord could not find where the sign of the\n\"Basin of Water\" was, he begged his mother to have another grand ball,\nso that he might meet the beautiful maid once more.\n\nThen Catskin said to the cook, \"Oh, how I wish I could go to the ball!\"\nWhereupon the cook called out: \"A fine figure you'd cut!\" and broke the\nskimmer across her head. But Catskin only shook her ears, and went off\nto the forest, where she first bathed in the crystal spring, and then\ndonned her coat of feathers, and so off to the ball-room.\n\nWhen she entered every one was surprised at so beautiful a face and form\ndressed in so rich and rare a dress; but the young lord at once\nrecognised his beautiful sweetheart, and would dance with none but her\nthe whole evening. When the ball came to an end he pressed her to tell\nhim where she lived, but all she would answer was:\n\n  \"Kind sir, if the truth I must tell,\n   At the sign of the 'Broken Skimmer' I dwell\";\n\nand with that she curtsied, and was off to the forest. But this time the\nyoung lord followed her, and watched her change her fine dress of\nfeathers for her catskin dress, and then he knew her for his own\nscullery-maid.\n\nNext day he went to his mother, and told her that he wished to marry the\nscullery-maid, Catskin.\n\n\"Never,\" said the lady of the castle--\"never so long as I live.\"\n\n[Illustration: She went along, and went along, and went along]\n\nWell, the young lord was so grieved that he took to his bed and was very\nill indeed. The doctor tried to cure him, but he would not take any\nmedicine unless from the hands of Catskin. At last the doctor went to\nthe mother, and said that her son would die if she did not consent to\nhis marriage with Catskin; so she had to give way. Then she summoned\nCatskin to her, and Catskin put on her coat of beaten gold before she\nwent to see the lady; and she, of course, was overcome at once, and was\nonly too glad to wed her son to so beautiful a maid.\n\nSo they were married, and after a time a little son was born to them,\nand grew up a fine little lad. Now one day, when he was about four years\nold, a beggar woman came to the door, and Lady Catskin gave some money\nto the little lord and told him to go and give it to the beggar woman.\nSo he went and gave it, putting it into the hand of the woman's baby\nchild; and the child leant forward and kissed the little lord.\n\nNow the wicked old cook (who had never been sent away, because Catskin\nwas too kind-hearted) was looking on, and she said, \"See how beggars'\nbrats take to one another!\"\n\nThis insult hurt Catskin dreadfully: and she went to her husband, the\nyoung lord, and told him all about her father, and begged he would go\nand find out what had become of her parents. So they set out in the\nlord's grand coach, and travelled through the forest till they came to\nthe house of Catskin's father. Then they put up at an inn near, and\nCatskin stopped there, while her husband went to see if her father would\nown she was his daughter.\n\nNow her father had never had any other child, and his wife had died; so\nhe was all alone in the world, and sate moping and miserable. When the\nyoung lord came in he hardly looked up, he was so miserable. Then\nCatskin's husband drew a chair close up to him, and asked him, \"Pray,\nsir, had you not once a young daughter whom you would never see or\nown?\"\n\nAnd the miserable man said with tears, \"It is true; I am a hardened\nsinner. But I would give all my worldly goods if I could but see her\nonce before I die.\"\n\nThen the young lord told him what had happened to Catskin, and took him\nto the inn, and afterwards brought his father-in-law to his own castle,\nwhere they lived happy ever afterwards.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE LITTLE PIGS\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was an old sow who had three little pigs, and as\nshe had not enough for them to eat, she said they had better go out into\nthe world and seek their fortunes.\n\nNow the eldest pig went first, and as he trotted along the road he met a\nman carrying a bundle of straw. So he said very politely:\n\n\"If you please, sir, could you give me that straw to build me a house?\"\n\nAnd the man, seeing what good manners the little pig had, gave him the\nstraw, and the little pig set to work and built a beautiful house with\nit.\n\nNow, when it was finished, a wolf happened to pass that way; and he saw\nthe house, and _he smelt the pig inside_.\n\nSo he knocked at the door and said:\n\n\"_Little pig! Little pig! Let me in! Let me in!_\"\n\nBut the little pig saw the wolf's big paws through the keyhole, so he\nanswered back:\n\n\"_No! No! No! by the hair of my chinny chin chin!_\" Then the wolf\nshowed his teeth and said:\n\n\"_Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in._\"\n\n[Illustration: So he huffed and he puffed and he blew the house in]\n\nSo he huffed and he puffed and he blew the house in. Then he ate up\nlittle piggy and went on his way.\n\nNow, the next piggy, when he started, met a man carrying a bundle of\nfurze, and, being very polite, he said to him:\n\n\"If you please, sir, could you give me that furze to build me a house?\"\n\nAnd the man, seeing what good manners the little pig had, gave him the\nfurze, and the little pig set to work and built himself a beautiful\nhouse.\n\nNow it so happened that when the house was finished the wolf passed that\nway; and he saw the house, and _he smelt the pig inside_.\n\nSo he knocked at the door and said:\n\n\"_Little pig! Little pig! Let me in! Let me in!_\"\n\nBut the little pig peeped through the keyhole and saw the wolf's great\nears, so he answered back:\n\n\"_No! No! No! by the hair of my chinny chin chin!_\"\n\nThen the wolf showed his teeth and said:\n\n\"_Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!_\"\n\n[Illustration: So he huffed and he puffed and he blew the house in]\n\nSo he huffed and he puffed and he blew the house in. Then he ate up\nlittle piggy and went on his way.\n\nNow the third little piggy, when he started, met a man carrying a load\nof bricks, and, being very polite, he said:\n\n\"If you please sir, could you give me those bricks to build me a house?\"\n\nAnd the man, seeing that he had been well brought up, gave him the\nbricks, and the little pig set to work and built himself a beautiful\nhouse.\n\nAnd once again it happened that when it was finished the wolf chanced to\ncome that way; and he saw the house, and he _smelt the pig inside_.\n\nSo he knocked at the door and said:\n\n\"_Little pig! Little pig! Let me in! Let me in!_\"\n\nBut the little pig peeped through the keyhole and saw the wolf's great\neyes, so he answered:\n\n\"_No! No! No! by the hair of my chinny chin chin!_\"\n\n\"_Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!_\" says the\nwolf, showing his teeth.\n\n[Illustration: Well! he huffed and he puffed ... but he could _not_\nblow the house down]\n\nWell! he huffed and he puffed. He puffed and he huffed. And he huffed,\nhuffed, and he puffed, puffed; but he could _not_ blow the house down.\nAt last he was so out of breath that he couldn't huff and he couldn't\npuff any more. So he thought a bit. Then he said:\n\n\"Little pig! I know where there is ever such a nice field of turnips.\"\n\n\"Do you,\" says little piggy, \"and where may that be?\"\n\n\"I'll show you,\" says the wolf; \"if you will be ready at six o'clock\nto-morrow morning, I will call round for you, and we can go together to\nFarmer Smith's field and get turnips for dinner.\"\n\n\"Thank you kindly,\" says the little piggy. \"I will be ready at six\no'clock sharp.\"\n\nBut, you see, the little pig was not one to be taken in with chaff, so\nhe got up at five, trotted off to Farmer Smith's field, rooted up the\nturnips, and was home eating them for breakfast when the wolf clattered\nat the door and cried:\n\n\"Little pig! Little pig! Aren't you ready?\"\n\n\"Ready?\" says the little piggy. \"Why! what a sluggard you are! I've been\nto the field and come back again, and I'm having a nice potful of\nturnips for breakfast.\"\n\nThen the wolf grew red with rage; but he was determined to eat little\npiggy, so he said, as if he didn't care:\n\n\"I'm glad you like them; but I know of something better than turnips.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" says little piggy, \"and what may that be?\"\n\n\"A nice apple tree down in Merry gardens with the juiciest, sweetest\napples on it! So if you will be ready at five o'clock to-morrow morning\nI will come round for you and we can get the apples together.\"\n\n\"Thank you kindly,\" says little piggy. \"I will sure and be ready at five\no'clock sharp.\"\n\nNow the next morning he bustled up ever so early, and it wasn't four\no'clock when he started to get the apples; but, you see, the wolf had\nbeen taken in once and wasn't going to be taken in again, so he also\nstarted at four o'clock, and the little pig had but just got his basket\nhalf full of apples when he saw the wolf coming down the road licking\nhis lips.\n\n\"Hullo!\" says the wolf, \"here already! You _are_ an early bird! Are the\napples nice?\"\n\n\"Very nice,\" says little piggy; \"I'll throw you down one to try.\"\n\nAnd he threw it so far away, that when the wolf had gone to pick it up,\nthe little pig was able to jump down with his basket and run home.\n\nWell, the wolf was fair angry; but he went next day to the little\npiggy's house and called through the door, as mild as milk:\n\n\"Little pig! Little pig! You are so clever, I should like to give you a\nfairing; so if you will come with me to the fair this afternoon you\nshall have one.\"\n\n\"Thank you kindly,\" says little piggy. \"What time shall we start?\"\n\n\"At three o'clock sharp,\" says the wolf, \"so be sure to be ready.\"\n\n\"I'll be ready before three,\" sniggered the little piggy. And he was! He\nstarted early in the morning and went to the fair, and rode in a swing,\nand enjoyed himself ever so much, and bought himself a butter-churn as a\nfairing, and trotted away towards home long before three o'clock. But\njust as he got to the top of the hill, what should he see but the wolf\ncoming up it, all panting and red with rage!\n\nWell, there was no place to hide in but the butter-churn; so he crept\ninto it, and was just pulling down the cover when the churn started to\nroll down the hill--\n\n_Bumpety, bumpety, bump!_\n\nOf course piggy, inside, began to squeal, and when the wolf heard the\nnoise, and saw the butter-churn rolling down on top of him--\n\n_Bumpety, bumpety, bump!_\n\n--he was so frightened that he turned tail and ran away.\n\nBut he was still determined to get the little pig for his dinner; so he\nwent next day to the house and told the little pig how sorry he was not\nto have been able to keep his promise of going to the fair, because of\nan awful, dreadful, terrible Thing that had rushed at him, making a\nfearsome noise.\n\n\"Dear me!\" says the little piggy, \"that must have been me! I hid inside\nthe butter-churn when I saw you coming, and it started to roll! I am\nsorry I frightened you!\"\n\nBut this was too much. The wolf danced about with rage and swore he\nwould come down the chimney and eat up the little pig for his supper.\nBut while he was climbing on to the roof the little pig made up a\nblazing fire and put on a big pot full of water to boil. Then, just as\nthe wolf was coming down the chimney, the little piggy off with the lid,\nand plump! in fell the wolf into the scalding water.\n\nSo the little piggy put on the cover again, boiled the wolf up, and ate\n_him_ for supper.\n\n\n\n\nNIX NAUGHT NOTHING\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a King and a Queen who didn't differ much\nfrom all the other kings and queens who have lived since Time began. But\nthey had no children, and this made them very sad indeed. Now it so\nhappened that the King had to go and fight battles in a far country, and\nhe was away for many long months. And, lo and behold! while he was away\nthe Queen at long last bore him a little son. As you may imagine, she\nwas fair delighted, and thought how pleased the King would be when he\ncame home and found that his dearest wish had been fulfilled. And all\nthe courtiers were fine and pleased too, and set about at once to\narrange a grand festival for the naming of the little Prince. But the\nQueen said, \"No! The child shall have no name till his father gives it\nto him. Till then we will call him 'Nix! Naught! Nothing!' because his\nfather knows nothing about him!\"\n\nSo little Prince Nix Naught Nothing grew into a strong, hearty little\nlad; for his father did not come back for a long time, and did not even\nknow that he had a son.\n\nBut at long last he turned his face homewards. Now, on the way, he came\nto a big rushing river which neither he nor his army could cross, for it\nwas flood-time and the water was full of dangerous whirlpools, where\nnixies and water-wraiths lived, always ready to drown men.\n\nSo they were stopped, until a huge giant appeared, who could take the\nriver, whirlpool and all, in his stride; and he said kindly, \"I'll carry\nyou all over, if you like.\" Now, though the giant smiled and was very\npolite, the King knew enough of the ways of giants to think it wiser to\nhave a hard and fast bargain. So he said, quite curt, \"What's your pay?\"\n\n\"Pay?\" echoed the giant, with a grin, \"what do you take me for? Give me\nNix Naught Nothing, and I'll do the job with a glad heart.\"\n\nNow the King felt just a trifle ashamed at the giant's generosity; so he\nsaid, \"Certainly, certainly. I'll give you nix naught nothing and my\nthanks into the bargain.\"\n\nSo the giant carried them safely over the stream and past the\nwhirlpools, and the King hastened homewards. If he was glad to see his\ndear wife, the Queen, you may imagine how he felt when she showed him\nhis young son, tall and strong for his age.\n\n\"And what's your name, young sir?\" he asked of the child fast clasped in\nhis arms.\n\n\"Nix Naught Nothing,\" answered the boy; \"that's what they call me till\nmy father gives me a name.\"\n\nWell! the King nearly dropped the child, he was so horrified. \"What\nhave I done?\" he cried. \"I promised to give nix naught nothing to the\ngiant who carried us over the whirlpools where the nixies and\nwater-wraiths live.\"\n\nAt this the Queen wept and wailed; but being a clever woman she thought\nout a plan whereby to save her son. So she said to her husband the King,\n\"If the giant comes to claim his promise, we will give him the\nhen-wife's youngest boy. She has so many she will not mind if we give\nher a crown piece, and the giant will never know the difference.\"\n\nNow sure enough the very next morning the giant appeared to claim Nix\nNaught Nothing, and they dressed up the hen-wife's boy in the Prince's\nclothes and wept and wailed when the giant, fine and satisfied, carried\nhis prize off on his back. But after a while he came to a big stone and\nsat down to ease his shoulders. And he fell a-dozing. Now, when he woke,\nhe started up in a fluster, and called out:\n\n  \"Hodge, Hodge, on my shoulders! Say\n   What d'ye make the time o' day?\"\n\nAnd the hen-wife's little boy replied:\n\n  \"Time that my mother the hen-wife takes\n   The eggs for the wise Queen's breakfast cakes!\"\n\nThen the giant saw at once the trick that had been played on him, and he\nthrew the hen-wife's boy on the ground, so that his head hit on the\nstone and he was killed.\n\nThen the giant strode back to the palace in a tower of a temper, and\ndemanded \"Nix Naught Nothing.\" So this time they dressed up the\ngardener's boy, and wept and wailed when the giant, fine and satisfied,\ncarried his prize off on his back. Then the same thing happened. The\ngiant grew weary of his burden, and sate down on the big stone to rest.\nSo he fell a-dozing, woke with a start, and called out:\n\n  \"Hodge, Hodge, on my shoulders! Say\n   What d'ye make the time o' day?\"\n\nAnd the gardener's boy replied:\n\n  \"Time that my father the gardener took\n   Greens for the wise Queen's dinner to cook!\"\n\nSo the giant saw at once that a second trick had been played on him and\nbecame quite mad with rage. He flung the boy from him so that he was\nkilled, and then strode back to the palace, where he cried with fury:\n\"Give me what you promised to give, Nix Naught Nothing, or I will\ndestroy you all, root and branch.\"\n\nSo then they saw they must give up the dear little Prince, and this time\nthey really wept and wailed as the giant carried off the boy on his\nback. And this time, after the giant had had his rest at the big stone,\nand had woke up and called:\n\n  \"Hodge, Hodge, on my shoulders! Say\n   What d'ye make the time o' day?\"\n\nthe little Prince replied:\n\n  \"Time for the King my father to call,\n  'Let supper be served in the banqueting hall.'\"\n\nThen the giant laughed with glee and rubbed his hands saying, \"I've got\nthe right one at last.\" So he took Nix Naught Nothing to his own house\nunder the whirlpools; for the giant was really a great Magician who\ncould take any form he chose. And the reason he wanted a little prince\nso badly was that he had lost his wife, and had only one little daughter\nwho needed a playmate sorely. So Nix Naught Nothing and the Magician's\ndaughter grew up together, and every year made them fonder and fonder of\neach other, until she promised to marry him.\n\nNow the Magician had no notion that his daughter should marry just an\nordinary human prince, the like of whom he had eaten a thousand times,\nso he sought some way in which he could quietly get rid of Nix Naught\nNothing. So he said one day, \"I have work for you, Nix Naught Nothing!\nThere is a stable hard by which is seven miles long, and seven miles\nbroad, and it has not been cleaned for seven years. By to-morrow evening\nyou must have cleaned it, or I will have you for my supper.\"\n\nWell, before dawn, Nix Naught Nothing set to work at his task; but, as\nfast as he cleared the muck, it just fell back again. So by\nbreakfast-time he was in a terrible sweat; yet not one whit nearer the\nend of his job was he. Now the Magician's daughter, coming to bring him\nhis breakfast, found him so distraught and distracted that he could\nscarce speak to her.\n\n\"We'll soon set that to rights,\" she said. So she just clapped her hands\nand called:\n\n  \"Beasts and birds o' each degree,\n   Clean me this stable for love o' me.\"\n\nAnd, lo and behold! in a minute the beasts of the fields came trooping,\nand the sky was just dark with the wings of birds, and they carried away\nthe muck, and the stable was clean as a new pin before the evening.\n\nNow when the Magician saw this, he grew hot and angry, and he guessed it\nwas his daughter's magic that had wrought the miracle. So he said:\n\"Shame on the wit that helped you; but I have a harder job for you\nto-morrow. Yonder is a lake seven miles long, seven miles broad, and\nseven miles deep. Drain it by nightfall, so that not one drop remains,\nor, of a certainty, I eat you for supper.\"\n\nSo once again Nix Naught Nothing rose before dawn, and began his task;\nbut though he baled out the water without ceasing, it ever ran back, so\nthat though he sweated and laboured, by breakfast-time he was no nearer\nthe end of his job.\n\nBut when the Magician's daughter came with his breakfast she only\nlaughed and said, \"I'll soon mend that!\" Then she clapped her hands and\ncalled:\n\n  \"Oh! all ye fish of river and sea,\n   Drink me this water for love of me!\"\n\nAnd, lo and behold! the lake was thick with fishes. And they drank and\ndrank, till not one drop remained.\n\nNow when the Magician returned in the morning and saw this he was as\nangry as angry. And he knew it was his daughter's magic, so he said:\n\"Double shame on the wit that helped you! Yet it betters you not, for I\nwill give you a yet harder task than the last. If you do that, you may\nhave my daughter. See you, yonder is a tree, seven miles high, and no\nbranch to it till the top, and there on the fork is a nest with some\neggs in it. Bring those eggs down without breaking one or, sure as fate,\nI'll eat you for my supper.\"\n\nThen the Magician's daughter was very sad; for with all her magic she\ncould think of no way of helping her lover to fetch the eggs and bring\nthem down unbroken. So she sate with Nix Naught Nothing underneath the\ntree, and thought, and thought, and thought; until an idea came to her,\nand she clapped her hands and cried:\n\n  \"Fingers of mine, for love of me,\n   Help my true lover to climb the tree.\"\n\nThen her fingers dropped off her hands one by one and ranged themselves\nlike the steps of a ladder up the tree; but they were not quite enough\nof them to reach the top, so she cried again:\n\n  \"Oh! toes of mine, for love o' me,\n   Help my true lover to climb the tree.\"\n\nThen her toes began to drop off one by one and range themselves like the\nrungs of a ladder; but when the toes of one foot had gone to their\nplaces the ladder was tall enough. So Nix Naught Nothing climbed up it,\nreached the nest, and got the seven eggs. Now, as he was coming down\nwith the last, he was so overjoyed at having finished his task, that he\nturned to see if the Magician's daughter was overjoyed too: and lo! the\nseventh egg slipped from his hand and fell\n\n                         Crash!\n\n\"Quick! Quick!\" cried the Magician's daughter, who, as you will observe,\nalways had her wits about her. \"There is nothing for it now but to fly\nat once. But first I must have my magic flask, or I shall be unable to\nhelp. It is in my room and the door is locked. Put your fingers, since I\nhave none, in my pocket, take the key, unlock the door, get the flask,\nand follow me fast. I shall go slower than you, for I have no toes on\none foot!\"\n\nSo Nix Naught Nothing did as he was bid, and soon caught up the\nMagician's daughter. But alas! they could not run very fast, so ere long\nthe Magician, who had once again taken a giant's form in order to have a\nlong stride, could be seen behind them. Nearer and nearer he came until\nhe was just going to seize Nix Naught Nothing, when the Magician's\ndaughter cried: \"Put your fingers, since I have none, into my hair, take\nmy comb and throw it down.\" So Nix Naught Nothing did as he was bid,\nand, lo and behold! out of every one of the comb-prongs there sprang up\na prickly briar, which grew so fast that the Magician found himself in\nthe middle of a thorn hedge! You may guess how angry and scratched he\nwas before he tore his way out. So Nix Naught Nothing and his sweetheart\nhad time for a good start; but the Magician's daughter could not run\nfast because she had lost her toes on one foot! Therefore the Magician\nin giant form soon caught them up, and he was just about to grip Nix\nNaught Nothing when the Magician's daughter cried: \"Put your fingers,\nsince I have none, to my breast. Take out my veil-dagger and throw it\ndown.\"\n\nSo he did as he was bid, and in a moment the dagger had grown to\nthousands and thousands of sharp razors, criss-cross on the ground, and\nthe Magician giant was howling with pain as he trod among them. You may\nguess how he danced and stumbled and how long it took for him to pick\nhis way through as if he were walking on eggs!\n\nSo Nix Naught Nothing and his sweetheart were nearly out of sight ere\nthe giant could start again; yet it wasn't long before he was like to\ncatch them up; for the Magician's daughter, you see, could not run fast\nbecause she had lost her toes on one foot! She did what she could, but\nit was no use. So just as the giant was reaching out a hand to lay hold\nof Nix Naught Nothing she cried breathlessly:\n\n\"There's nothing left but the magic flask. Take it out and sprinkle some\nof what it holds on the ground.\"\n\nAnd Nix Naught Nothing did as he was bid; but in his hurry he nearly\nemptied the flask altogether; and so the big, big wave of water which\ninstantly welled up, swept him off his feet, and would have carried him\naway, had not the Magician's daughter's loosened veil caught him and\nheld him fast. But the wave grew, and grew, and grew behind them, until\nit reached the giant's waist; then it grew and grew until it reached\nhis shoulders; and it grew and grew until it swept over his head: a\ngreat big sea-wave full of little fishes and crabs and sea-snails and\nall sorts of strange creatures.\n\nSo that was the last of the Magician giant. But the poor little\nMagician's daughter was so weary that, after a time she couldn't move a\nstep further, and she said to her lover, \"Yonder are lights burning. Go\nand see if you can find a night's lodging: I will climb this tree by the\npool where I shall be safe, and by the time you return I shall be\nrested.\"\n\nNow, by chance, it happened that the lights they saw were the lights of\nthe castle where Nix Naught Nothing's father and mother, the King and\nQueen, lived (though of course, he did not know this); so, as he walked\ntowards the castle, he came upon the hen-wife's cottage and asked for a\nnight's lodging.\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked the hen-wife suspiciously.\n\n\"I am Nix Naught Nothing,\" replied the young man.\n\nNow the hen-wife still grieved over her boy who had been killed, so she\ninstantly resolved to be revenged.\n\n\"I cannot give you a night's lodging,\" she said, \"but you shall have a\ndrink of milk, for you look weary. Then you can go on to the castle and\nbeg for a bed there.\"\n\nSo she gave him a cup of milk; but, being a witch-woman, she put a\npotion to it so that the very moment he saw his father and mother he\nshould fall fast asleep, and none should be able to waken him so he\nwould be no use to anybody, and would not recognize his father and\nmother.\n\nNow the King and Queen had never ceased grieving for their lost son.\nThey were always very kind to wandering young men, and when they heard\nthat one was begging a night's lodging, they went down to the hall to\nsee him. And lo, the moment Nix Naught Nothing caught sight of his\nfather and mother, there he was on the floor fast asleep, and none could\nwaken him! He did not recognize his father and mother nor they did not\nrecognize him.\n\nBut Prince Nix Naught Nothing had grown into a very handsome young man,\nso they pitied him very much, and when none, do what they would, could\nwaken him, the King said, \"A maiden will likely take more trouble to\nwaken him than others, seeing how handsome he is. Send forth a\nproclamation that if any maiden in my realm can waken this young man,\nshe shall have him in marriage, and a handsome dowry to boot.\"\n\nSo the proclamation was sent forth, and all the pretty maidens of the\nrealm came to try their luck, but they had no success.\n\nNow the gardener whose boy had been killed by the giant had a daughter\nwho was very ugly indeed--so ugly that she thought it no use to try her\nluck, and went about her work as usual. So she took her pitcher to the\npool to fill it. Now the Magician's daughter was still hiding in the\ntree waiting for her lover to return. Thus it came to pass that the\ngardener's ugly daughter, bending down to fill her pitcher in the pool,\nsaw a beautiful shadow in the water, and thought it was her own!\n\n\"If I am as pretty as that,\" she cried, \"I'll draw water no longer!\"\n\nSo she threw down her pitcher, and went straight to the castle to see if\nshe hadn't a chance of the handsome stranger and the handsome dowry. But\nof course she hadn't; though at the sight of Nix Naught Nothing she fell\nso much in love with him, that, knowing the hen-wife to be a witch, she\nwent straight to her, and offered all her savings for a charm by which\nshe could awaken the sleeper.\n\nNow when the hen-wife witch heard her tale, she thought it would be a\nrare revenge to marry the King and Queen's long-lost son to a gardener's\nugly daughter; so she straightway took the girl's savings and gave her a\ncharm by which she could unspell the Prince or spell him again at her\npleasure.\n\nSo away went the gardener's daughter to the castle, and sure enough, no\nsooner had she sung her charm, than Nix Naught Nothing awoke.\n\n\"I am going to marry you, my charmer,\" she said coaxingly; but Nix\nNaught Nothing said he would prefer sleep. So she thought it wiser to\nput him to sleep again till the marriage feast was ready and she had got\nher fine clothes. So she spelled him asleep again.\n\nNow the gardener had, of course, to draw the water himself, since his\ndaughter would not work. And he took the pitcher to the pool; and he\nalso saw the Magician's daughter's shadow in the water; but he did not\nthink the face was his own, for, see you, he had a beard!\n\nThen he looked up and saw the lady in the tree.\n\nShe, poor thing, was half dead with sorrow, and hunger, and fatigue,\nso, being a kind man, he took her to his house and gave her food. And he\ntold her that that _very day_ his daughter was to marry a handsome young\nstranger at the castle, and to get a handsome dowry to boot from the\nKing and Queen, in memory of their son, Nix Naught Nothing, who had been\ncarried off by a giant when he was a little boy.\n\nThen the Magician's daughter felt sure that something had happened to\nher lover; so she went to the castle, and there she found him fast\nasleep in a chair.\n\nBut she could not waken him, for, see you, her magic had gone from her\nwith the magic flask which Nix Naught Nothing had emptied.\n\nSo, though she put her fingerless hands on his and wept and sang:\n\n  \"I cleaned the stable for love o' thee,\n   I laved the lake and I clomb the tree,\n   Wilt thou not waken for love o' me?\"\n\nhe never stirred nor woke.\n\nNow one of the old servants there, seeing how she wept, took pity on her\nand said, \"She that is to marry the young man will be back ere long, and\nunspell him for the wedding. Hide yourself and listen to her charm.\"\n\nSo the Magician's daughter hid herself, and, by and by, in comes the\ngardener's daughter in her fine wedding-dress, and begins to sing her\ncharm. But the Magician's daughter didn't wait for her to finish it; for\nthe moment Nix Naught Nothing opened his eyes, she rushed out of her\nhiding-place, and put her fingerless hands in his.\n\nThen Nix Naught Nothing remembered everything. He remembered the castle,\nhe remembered his father and mother, he remembered the Magician's\ndaughter and all that she had done for him.\n\nThen he drew out the magic flask and said, \"Surely, surely there must be\nenough magic in it to mend your hands.\" And there was. There were just\nfourteen drops left, ten for the fingers and four for the toes; but\nthere was not one for the little toe, so it could not be brought back.\nOf course, after that there was great rejoicing, and Prince Nix Naught\nNothing and the Magician's daughter were married and lived happy ever\nafter, even though she only had four toes on one foot. As for the\nhen-wife witch, she was burnt, and so the gardener's daughter got back\nher earnings; but she was not happy, because her shadow in the water was\nugly again.\n\n\n\n\nMR. AND MRS. VINEGAR\n\n\nMr. and Mrs. Vinegar, a worthy couple, lived in a glass pickle-jar. The\nhouse, though small, was snug, and so light that each speck of dust on\nthe furniture showed like a mole-hill; so while Mr. Vinegar tilled his\ngarden with a pickle-fork and grew vegetables for pickling, Mrs.\nVinegar, who was a sharp, bustling, tidy woman, swept, brushed, and\ndusted, brushed and dusted and swept to keep the house clean as a new\npin. Now one day she lost her temper with a cobweb and swept so hard\nafter it that bang! bang! the broom-handle went right through the glass,\nand crash! crash! clitter! clatter! there was the pickle-jar house about\nher ears all in splinters and bits.\n\nShe picked her way over these as best she might, and rushed into the\ngarden.\n\n\"Oh, Vinegar, Vinegar!\" she cried. \"We are clean ruined and done for!\nQuit these vegetables! they won't be wanted! What is the use of pickles\nif you haven't a pickle-jar to put them in, and--I've broken ours--into\nlittle bits!\" And with that she fell to crying bitterly.\n\nBut Mr. Vinegar was of different mettle; though a small man, he was a\ncheerful one, always looking at the best side of things, so he said,\n\"Accidents will happen, lovey! But there are as good pickle-bottles in\nthe shop as ever came out of it. All we need is money to buy another. So\nlet us go out into the world and seek our fortunes.\"\n\n\"But what about the furniture?\" sobbed Mrs. Vinegar.\n\n\"I will take the door of the house with me, lovey,\" quoth Mr. Vinegar\nstoutly. \"Then no one will be able to open it, will they?\"\n\nMrs. Vinegar did not quite see how this fact would mend matters, but,\nbeing a good wife, she held her peace. So off they trudged into the\nworld to seek fortune, Mr. Vinegar bearing the door on his back like a\nsnail carries its house.\n\nWell, they walked all day long, but not a brass farthing did they make,\nand when night fell they found themselves in a dark, thick forest. Now\nMrs. Vinegar, for all she was a smart, strong woman, was tired to death,\nand filled with fear of wild beasts, so she began once more to cry\nbitterly; but Mr. Vinegar was cheerful as ever.\n\n\"Don't alarm yourself, lovey,\" he said. \"I will climb into a tree, fix\nthe door firmly in a fork, and you can sleep there as safe and\ncomfortable as in your own bed.\"\n\nSo he climbed the tree, fixed the door, and Mrs. Vinegar lay down on it,\nand being dead tired was soon fast asleep. But her weight tilted the\ndoor sideways, so, after a time, Mr. Vinegar, being afraid she might\nslip off, sate down on the other side to balance her and keep watch.\n\nNow in the very middle of the night, just as he was beginning to nod,\nwhat should happen but that a band of robbers should meet beneath that\nvery tree in order to divide their spoils. Mr. Vinegar could hear every\nword said quite distinctly, and began to tremble like an aspen as he\nlistened to the terrible deeds the thieves had done to gain their ends.\n\n\"Don't shake so!\" murmured Mrs. Vinegar, half asleep. \"You'll have me\noff the bed.\"\n\n\"I'm not shaking, lovey,\" whispered back Mr. Vinegar in a quaking voice.\n\"It is only the wind in the trees.\"\n\nBut for all his cheerfulness he was not really _very_ brave _inside_, so\nhe went on trembling and shaking, and shaking and trembling, till, just\nas the robbers were beginning to parcel out the money, he actually shook\nthe door right out of the tree-fork, and down it came--with Mrs. Vinegar\nstill asleep upon it--right on top of the robbers' heads!\n\nAs you may imagine, they thought the sky had fallen, and made off as\nfast as their legs would carry them, leaving their booty behind them.\nBut Mr. Vinegar, who had saved himself from the fall by clinging to a\nbranch, was far too frightened to go down in the dark to see what had\nhappened. So up in the tree he sate like a big bird until dawn came.\n\nThen Mrs. Vinegar woke, rubbed her eyes, yawned, and said, \"Where am I?\"\n\n\"On the ground, lovey,\" answered Mr. Vinegar, scrambling down.\n\nAnd when they lifted up the door, what do you think they found?\n\nOne robber squashed flat as a pancake, and forty golden guineas all\nscattered about!\n\nMy goodness! How Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar jumped for joy!\n\n\"Now, Vinegar!\" said his wife when they had gathered up all the gold\npieces, \"I will tell you what we must do. You must go to the next\nmarket-town and buy a cow; for, see you, money makes the mare to go,\ntruly; but it also goes itself. Now a cow won't run away, but will give\nus milk and butter, which we can sell. So we shall live in comfort for\nthe rest of our days.\"\n\n\"What a head you have, lovey!\" said Mr. Vinegar admiringly, and started\noff on his errand.\n\n\"Mind you make a good bargain,\" bawled his wife after him.\n\n\"I always do,\" bawled back Mr. Vinegar. \"I made a good bargain when I\nmarried such a clever wife, and I made a better one when I shook her\ndown from the tree. I am the happiest man alive!\"\n\nSo he trudged on, laughing and jingling the forty gold pieces in his\npocket.\n\nNow the first thing he saw in the market was an old red cow.\n\n\"I am in luck to-day,\" he thought; \"that is the very beast for me. I\nshall be the happiest of men if I get that cow.\" So he went up to the\nowner, jingling the gold in his pocket.\n\n\"What will you take for your cow?\" he asked.\n\nAnd the owner of the cow, seeing he was a simpleton, said, \"What you've\ngot in your pocket.\"\n\n\"Done!\" said Mr. Vinegar, handed over the forty guineas, and led off the\ncow, marching her up and down the market, much against her will, to show\noff his bargain.\n\nNow, as he drove it about, proud as Punch, he noticed a man who was\nplaying the bagpipes. He was followed about by a crowd of children who\ndanced to the music, and a perfect shower of pennies fell into his cap\nevery time he held it out.\n\n\"Ho, ho!\" thought Mr. Vinegar. \"That is an easier way of earning a\nlivelihood than by driving about a beast of a cow! Then the feeding, and\nthe milking, and the churning! Ah, I should be the happiest man alive if\nI had those bagpipes!\"\n\nSo he went up to the musician and said, \"What will you take for your\nbagpipes?\"\n\n\"Well,\" replied the musician, seeing he was a simpleton, \"it is a\nbeautiful instrument, and I make so much money by it, that I cannot take\nanything less than that red cow.\"\n\n\"Done!\" cried Mr. Vinegar in a hurry, lest the man should repent of his\noffer.\n\nSo the musician walked off with the red cow, and Mr. Vinegar tried to\nplay the bagpipes. But, alas and alack! though he blew till he almost\nburst, not a sound could he make at first, and when he did at last, it\nwas such a terrific squeal and screech that all the children ran away\nfrightened, and the people stopped their ears.\n\nBut he went on and on, trying to play a tune, and never earning\nanything, save hootings and peltings, until his fingers were almost\nfrozen with the cold, when of course the noise he made on the bagpipes\nwas worse than ever.\n\nThen he noticed a man who had on a pair of warm gloves, and he said to\nhimself, \"Music is impossible when one's fingers are frozen. I believe I\nshould be the happiest man alive if I had those gloves.\"\n\nSo he went up to the owner and said, \"You seem, sir, to have a very good\npair of gloves.\" And the man replied, \"Truly, sir, my hands are as warm\nas toast this bitter November day.\"\n\nThat quite decided Mr. Vinegar, and he asked at once what the owner\nwould take for them; and the owner, seeing he was a simpleton, said, \"As\nyour hands seem frozen, sir, I will, as a favour, let you have them for\nyour bagpipes.\"\n\n\"Done!\" cried Mr. Vinegar, delighted, and made the exchange.\n\nThen he set off to find his wife, quite pleased with himself. \"Warm\nhands, warm heart!\" he thought. \"I'm the happiest man alive!\"\n\nBut as he trudged he grew very, very tired, and at last began to limp.\nThen he saw a man coming along the road with a stout stick.\n\n\"I should be the happiest man alive if I had that stick,\" he thought.\n\"What is the use of warm hands if your feet ache!\" So he said to the man\nwith the stick, \"What will you take for your stick?\" and the man,\nseeing he was a simpleton, replied:\n\n\"Well, I don't want to part with my stick, but as you are so pressing\nI'll oblige you, as a friend, for those warm gloves you are wearing.\"\n\n\"Done for you!\" cried Mr. Vinegar delightedly; and trudged off with the\nstick, chuckling to himself over his good bargain.\n\nBut as he went along a magpie fluttered out of the hedge and sate on a\nbranch in front of him, and chuckled and laughed as magpies do. \"What\nare you laughing at?\" asked Mr. Vinegar.\n\n\"At you, forsooth!\" chuckled the magpie, fluttering just a little\nfurther. \"At you, Mr. Vinegar, you foolish man--you simpleton--you\nblockhead! You bought a cow for forty guineas when she wasn't worth ten,\nyou exchanged her for bagpipes you couldn't play--you changed the\nbagpipes for a pair of gloves, and the pair of gloves for a miserable\nstick. Ho, ho! Ha, ha! So you've nothing to show for your forty guineas\nsave a stick you might have cut in any hedge. Ah, you fool! you\nsimpleton! you blockhead!\"\n\nAnd the magpie chuckled, and chuckled, and chuckled in such guffaws,\nfluttering from branch to branch as Mr. Vinegar trudged along, that at\nlast he flew into a violent rage and flung his stick at the bird. And\nthe stick stuck in a tree out of his reach; so he had to go back to his\nwife without anything at all.\n\n[Illustration: At last he flew into a violent rage and flung his stick\nat the bird]\n\nBut he was glad the stick had stuck in a tree, for Mrs. Vinegar's hands\nwere quite hard enough.\n\nWhen it was all over Mr. Vinegar said cheerfully, \"You are too violent,\nlovey. You broke the pickle-jar, and now you've nearly broken every bone\nin my body. I think we had better turn over a new leaf and begin\nafresh. I shall take service as a gardener, and you can go as a\nhousemaid, until we have enough money to buy a new pickle-jar. There are\nas good ones in the shop as ever came out of it.\"\n\nAnd that is the story of Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar.\n\n[Illustration: And that is the story of Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar]\n\n\n\n\nTHE TRUE HISTORY OF SIR THOMAS THUMB\n\n\nAt the court of great King Arthur, who lived, as all know, when knights\nwere bold, and ladies were fair indeed, one of the most renowned of men\nwas the wizard Merlin. Never before or since was there such another. All\nthat was to be known of wizardry he knew, and his advice was ever good\nand kindly.\n\nNow once when he was travelling in the guise of a beggar, he chanced\nupon an honest ploughman and his wife who, giving him a hearty welcome,\nsupplied him, cheerfully, with a big wooden bowl of fresh milk and some\ncoarse brown bread on a wooden platter. Still, though both they and the\nlittle cottage where they dwelt were neat and tidy, Merlin noticed that\nneither the husband nor the wife seemed happy; and when he asked the\ncause they said it was because they had no children.\n\n\"Had I but a son, no matter if he were no bigger than my goodman's\nthumb,\" said the poor woman, \"we should be quite content.\"\n\nNow this idea of a boy no bigger than a man's thumb so tickled Wizard\nMerlin's fancy that he promised straight away that such a son should\ncome in due time to bring the good couple content. This done, he went\noff at once to pay a visit to the Queen of the Fairies, since he felt\nthat the little people would best be able to carry out his promise. And,\nsure enough, the droll fancy of a mannikin no bigger than his father's\nthumb tickled the Fairy Queen also, and she set about the task at once.\n\nSo behold the ploughman and his wife as happy as King and Queen over the\ntiniest of tiny babies; and all the happier because the Fairy Queen,\nanxious to see the little fellow, flew in at the window, bringing with\nher clothes fit for the wee mannikin to wear.\n\n  An oak-leaf hat he had for his crown;\n  His jacket was woven of thistle-down.\n  His shirt was a web by spiders spun;\n  His breeches of softest feathers were done.\n  His stockings of red-apple rind were tyne\n  With an eyelash plucked from his mother's eyne.\n  His shoes were made of a mouse's skin,\n  Tanned with the soft furry hair within.\n\nDressed in this guise he looked the prettiest little fellow ever seen,\nand the Fairy Queen kissed him over and over again, and gave him the\nname of Tom Thumb.\n\nNow as he grew older--though, mind you, he never grew bigger--he was so\nfull of antics and tricks that he was for ever getting into trouble.\nOnce his mother was making a batter pudding, and Tom, wanting to see how\nit was made, climbed up to the edge of the bowl. His mother was so busy\nbeating the batter that she didn't notice him; and when his foot\nslipped, and he plumped head and ears into the bowl, she just went on\nbeating until the batter was light enough. Then she put it into the\npudding-cloth and set it on the fire to boil.\n\nNow the batter had so filled poor Tom's mouth that he couldn't cry; but\nno sooner did he feel the hot water than he began to struggle and kick\nso much that the pudding bobbed up and down, and jumped about in such\nstrange fashion that the ploughman's wife thought it was bewitched, and\nin a great fright flung it to the door.\n\nHere a poor tinker passing by picked it up and put it in his wallet. But\nby this time Tom had got his mouth clear of the batter, and he began\nholloaing, and making such a to-do, that the tinker, even more\nfrightened than Tom's mother had been, threw the pudding in the road,\nand ran away as fast as he could run. Luckily for Tom, this second fall\nbroke the pudding string and he was able to creep out, all covered with\nhalf-cooked batter, and make his way home, where his mother, distressed\nto see her little dear in such a woeful state, put him into a teacup of\nwater to clean him, and then tucked him up in bed.\n\nAnother time Tom's mother went to milk her red cow in the meadow and\ntook Tom with her, for she was ever afraid lest he should fall into\nmischief when left alone. Now the wind was high, and fearful lest he\nshould be blown away, she tied him to a thistle-head with one of her own\nlong hairs, and then began to milk. But the red cow, nosing about for\nsomething to do while she was being milked, as all cows will, spied\nTom's oak-leaf hat, and thinking it looked good, curled its tongue round\nthe thistle-stalk and--\n\nThere was Tom dodging the cow's teeth, and roaring as loud as he could:\n\n\"Mother! Mother! Help! Help!\"\n\n\"Lawks-a-mercy-me,\" cried his mother, \"where's the child got to now?\nWhere are you, you bad boy?\"\n\n\"Here!\" roared Tom, \"in the red cow's mouth!\"\n\nWith that his mother began to weep and wail, not knowing what else to\ndo; and Tom, hearing her, roared louder than ever. Whereat the red cow,\nalarmed--and no wonder!--at the dreadful noise in her throat, opened\nher mouth, and Tom dropped out, luckily into his mother's apron;\notherwise he would have been badly hurt falling so far.\n\nAdventures like these were not Tom's fault. He could not help being so\nsmall, but he got into dreadful trouble once for which he was entirely\nto blame. This is what happened. He loved playing cherry-stones with the\nbig boys, and when he had lost all his own he would creep unbeknownst\ninto the other players' pockets or bags, and make off with cherry-stones\nenough and galore to carry on the game!\n\nNow one day it so happened that one of the boys saw Master Tom on the\npoint of coming out of a bag with a whole fistful of cherry-stones. So\nhe just drew the string of the bag tight.\n\n\"Ha! ha! Mr. Thomas Thumb,\" says he jeeringly, \"so you were going to\npinch my cherry-stones, were you? Well! you shall have more of them than\nyou like.\" And with that he gave the cherry-stone bag such a hearty\nshake that all Tom's body and legs were sadly bruised black and blue;\nnor was he let out till he had promised never to steal cherry-stones\nagain.\n\nSo the years passed, and when Tom was a lad, still no bigger than a\nthumb, his father thought he might begin to make himself useful. So he\nmade him a whip out of a barley straw, and set him to drive the cattle\nhome. But Tom, in trying to climb a furrow's ridge--which to him, of\ncourse, was a steep hill--slipped down and lay half stunned, so that a\nraven, happening to fly over, thought he was a frog, and picked him up\nintending to eat him. Not relishing the morsel, however, the bird\ndropped him above the battlements of a big castle that stood close to\nthe sea. Now the castle belonged to one Grumbo, an ill-tempered giant\nwho happened to be taking the air on the roof of his tower. And when Tom\ndropped on his bald pate the giant put up his great hand to catch what\nhe thought was an impudent fly, and finding something that smelt man's\nmeat, he just swallowed the little fellow as he would have swallowed a\npill!\n\nHe began, however, to repent very soon, for Tom kicked and struggled in\nthe giant's inside as he had done in the red cow's throat until the\ngiant felt quite squeamish, and finally got rid of Tom by being sick\nover the battlements into the sea.\n\nAnd here, doubtless, would have been Tom Thumb's end by drowning, had\nnot a big fish, thinking that he was a shrimp, rushed at him and gulped\nhim down!\n\nNow by good chance some fishermen were standing by with their nets, and\nwhen they drew them in, the fish that had swallowed Tom was one of the\nhaul. Being a very fine fish it was sent to the Court kitchen, where,\nwhen the fish was opened, out popped Tom on the dresser, as spry as\nspry, to the astonishment of the cook and the scullions! Never had such\na mite of a man been seen, while his quips and pranks kept the whole\nbuttery in roars of laughter. What is more, he soon became the favourite\nof the whole Court, and when the King went out a-riding Tom sat in the\nRoyal waistcoat pocket ready to amuse Royalty and the Knights of the\nRound Table.\n\nAfter a while, however, Tom wearied to see his parents again; so the\nKing gave him leave to go home and take with him as much money as he\ncould carry. Tom therefore chose a threepenny bit, and putting it into a\npurse made of a water bubble, lifted it with difficulty on to his back,\nand trudged away to his father's house, which was some half a mile\ndistant.\n\nIt took him two days and two nights to cover the ground, and he was fair\noutwearied by his heavy burden ere he reached home. However, his mother\nput him to rest in a walnut shell by the fire and gave him a whole hazel\nnut to eat; which, sad to say, disagreed with him dreadfully. However,\nhe recovered in some measure, but had grown so thin and light that to\nsave him the trouble of walking back to the Court, his mother tied him\nto a dandelion-clock, and as there was a high wind, away he went as if\non wings. Unfortunately, however, just as he was flying low in order to\nalight, the Court cook, an ill-natured fellow, was coming across the\npalace yard with a bowl of hot furmenty for the King's supper. Now Tom\nwas unskilled in the handling of dandelion horses, so what should happen\nbut that he rode straight into the furmenty, spilt the half of it, and\nsplashed the other half, scalding hot, into the cook's face.\n\nHe was in a fine rage, and going straight to King Arthur said that Tom,\nat his old antics, had done it on purpose.\n\nNow the King's favourite dish was hot furmenty; so he also fell into a\nfine rage and ordered Tom to be tried for high treason. He was therefore\nimprisoned in a mouse-trap, where he remained for several days tormented\nby a cat, who, thinking him some new kind of mouse, spent its time in\nsparring at him through the bars. At the end of a week, however, King\nArthur, having recovered the loss of the furmenty, sent for Tom and once\nmore received him into favour. After this Tom's life was happy and\nsuccessful. He became so renowned for his dexterity and wonderful\nactivity, that he was knighted, by the King under the name of Sir Thomas\nThumb, and as his clothes, what with the batter and the furmenty, to say\nnothing of the insides of giants and fishes, had become somewhat shabby,\nHis Majesty ordered him a new suit of clothes fit for a mounted knight\nto wear. He also gave him a beautiful prancing grey mouse as a charger.\n\nIt was certainly very diverting to see Tom dressed up to the nines, and\nas proud as Punch.\n\n  Of butterflies' wings his shirt was made,\n  His boots of chicken hide,\n  And by a nimble fairy blade,\n  All learned in the tailoring trade,\n  His coat was well supplied.\n  A needle dangled at his side,\n  And thus attired in stately pride\n  A dapper mouse he used to ride.\n\nIn truth the King and all the Knights of the Round Table were ready to\nexpire with laughter at Tom on his fine curveting steed.\n\nBut one day, as the hunt was passing a farm-house, a big cat, lurking\nabout, made one spring and carried both Tom and the mouse up a tree.\nNothing daunted, Tom boldly drew his needle sword and attacked the enemy\nwith such fierceness that she let her prey fall. Luckily one of the\nnobles caught the little fellow in his cap, otherwise he must have been\nkilled by the fall. As it was he became very ill, and the doctor almost\ndespaired of his life. However, his friend and guardian, the Queen of\nthe Fairies, arrived in a chariot drawn by flying mice, and then and\nthere carried Tom back with her to Fairyland, where, amongst folk of his\nown size, he, after a time, recovered. But time runs swiftly in\nFairyland, and when Tom Thumb returned to Court he was surprised to find\nthat his father and mother and nearly all his old friends were dead, and\nthat King Thunstone reigned in King Arthur's place. So every one was\nastonished at his size, and carried him as a curiosity to the Audience\nHall.\n\n\"Who art thou, mannikin?\" asked King Thunstone. \"Whence dost come? And\nwhere dost live?\"\n\nTo which Tom replied with a bow:\n\n  \"My name is well known.\n   From the Fairies I come.\n   When King Arthur shone,\n   This Court was my home.\n   By him I was knighted,\n   In me he delighted\n   --Your servant--Sir Thomas Thumb.\"\n\nThis address so pleased His Majesty that he ordered a little golden\nchair to be made, so that Tom might sit beside him at table. Also a\nlittle palace of gold, but a span high, with doors a bare inch wide, in\nwhich the little fellow might take his ease.\n\nNow King Thunstone's Queen was a very jealous woman, and could not bear\nto see such honours showered on the little fellow; so she up and told\nthe King all sorts of bad tales about his favourite; amongst others,\nthat he had been saucy and rude to her.\n\nWhereupon the King sent for Tom; but forewarned is forearmed, and\nknowing by bitter experience the danger of royal displeasure, Tom hid\nhimself in an empty snail-shell, where he lay till he was nigh starved.\nThen seeing a fine large butterfly on a dandelion close by, he climbed\nup and managed to get astride it. No sooner had he gained his seat than\nthe butterfly was off, hovering from tree to tree, from flower to\nflower.\n\nAt last the royal gardener saw it and gave chase, then the nobles joined\nin the hunt, even the King himself, and finally the Queen, who forgot\nher anger in the merriment. Hither and thither they ran, trying in vain\nto catch the pair, and almost expiring with laughter, until poor Tom,\ndizzy with so much fluttering, and doubling, and flittering, fell from\nhis seat into a watering-pot, where he was nearly drowned.\n\nSo they all agreed he must be forgiven, because he had afforded them so\nmuch amusement.\n\n[Illustration: A spider one day attacked him]\n\nThus Tom was once more in favour; but he did not live long to enjoy his\ngood luck, for a spider one day attacked him, and though he fought well,\nthe creature's poisonous breath proved too much for him; he fell dead on\nthe ground where he stood, and the spider soon sucked every drop of his\nblood.\n\nThus ended Sir Thomas Thumb; but the King and the Court were so sorry at\nthe loss of their little favourite that they went into mourning for him.\nAnd they put a fine white marble monument over his grave whereon was\ncarven the following epitaph:\n\n  Here lyes Tom Thumb, King Arthur's Knight,\n  Who died by a spider's fell despite.\n  He was well known in Arthur's Court,\n  Where he afforded gallant sport.\n  He rode at tilt and tournament,\n  And on a mouse a-hunting went.\n  Alive he filled the Court with mirth,\n  His death to sadness must give birth.\n  So wipe your eyes and shake your head,\n  And say, \"Alas, Tom Thumb is dead!\"\n\n\n\n\nHENNY-PENNY\n\n\nOne day Henny-penny was picking up corn in the rickyard when--whack!--an\nacorn hit her upon the head. \"Goodness gracious me!\" said Henny-penny,\n\"the sky's a-going to fall; I must go and tell the King.\"\n\nSo she went along, and she went along, and she went along, till she met\nCocky-locky. \"Where are you going, Henny-penny?\" says Cocky-locky. \"Oh!\nI'm going to tell the King the sky's a-falling,\" says Henny-penny. \"May\nI come with you?\" says Cocky-locky. \"Certainly,\" says Henny-penny. So\nHenny-penny and Cocky-locky went to tell the King the sky was falling.\n\nThey went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they met\nDucky-daddles. \"Where are you going to, Henny-penny and Cocky-locky?\"\nsays Ducky-daddles. \"Oh! we're going to tell the King the sky's\na-falling,\" said Henny-penny and Cocky-locky. \"May I come with you?\"\nsays Ducky-daddles. \"Certainly,\" said Henny-penny and Cocky-locky. So\nHenny-penny, Cocky-locky, and Ducky-daddles went to tell the King the\nsky was a-falling.\n\nSo they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they\nmet Goosey-poosey. \"Where are you going to, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,\nand Ducky-daddles?\" said Goosey-poosey. \"Oh! we're going to tell the\nKing the sky's a-falling,\" said Henny-penny and Cocky-locky and\nDucky-daddles. \"May I come with you?\" said Goosey-poosey. \"Certainly,\"\nsaid Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, and Ducky-daddles. So Henny-penny,\nCocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey went to tell the King the\nsky was a-falling.\n\nSo they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they\nmet Turkey-lurkey. \"Where are you going, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,\nDucky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey?\" says Turkey-lurkey. \"Oh! we're going\nto tell the King the sky's a-falling,\" said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,\nDucky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey. \"May I come with you, Henny-penny,\nCocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey?\" said Turkey-lurkey. \"Oh,\ncertainly, Turkey-lurkey,\" said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,\nand Goosey-poosey. So Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,\nGoosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey all went to tell the King the sky was\na-falling.\n\nSo they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they\nmet Foxy-woxy, and Foxy-woxy said to Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,\nDucky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey, \"Where are you going,\nHenny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and\nTurkey-lurkey?\" And Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,\nGoosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey said to Foxy-woxy, \"We're going to tell\nthe King the sky's a-falling.\" \"Oh! but this is not the way to the King,\nHenny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and\nTurkey-lurkey,\" says Foxy-woxy; \"I know the proper way; shall I show it\nyou?\" \"Oh, certainly, Foxy-woxy,\" said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,\nDucky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey. So Henny-penny,\nCocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, Turkey-lurkey, and Foxy-woxy\nall went to tell the King the sky was a-falling. So they went along, and\nthey went along, and they went along, till they came to a narrow and\ndark hole. Now this was the door of Foxy-woxy's burrow. But Foxy-woxy\nsaid to Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and\nTurkey-lurkey, \"This is the short cut to the King's palace: you'll\nsoon get there if you follow me. I will go first and you come after,\nHenny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and\nTurkey-lurkey.\" \"Why, of course, certainly, without doubt, why not?\"\nsaid Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and\nTurkey-lurkey.\n\n[Illustration: \"I will go first and you come after, Henny-penny,\nCocky-locky Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey\"]\n\nSo Foxy-woxy went into his burrow, and he didn't go very far but turned\nround to wait for Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,\nGoosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey. Now Turkey-lurkey was the first to go\nthrough the dark hole into the burrow. He hadn't got far when--\n\n\"Hrumph!\"\n\nFoxy-woxy snapped off Turkey-lurkey's head and threw his body over his\nleft shoulder. Then Goosey-poosey went in, and--\n\n\"Hrumph!\"\n\n[Illustration: So she escaped]\n\nOff went her head and Goosey-poosey was thrown beside Turkey-lurkey.\nThen Ducky-daddles waddled down, and--\n\n\"Hrumph!\"\n\nFoxy-woxy had snapped off Ducky-daddles' head and Ducky-daddles was\nthrown alongside Turkey-lurkey and Goosey-poosey. Then Cocky-locky\nstrutted down into the burrow, and he hadn't gone far when--\n\n\"Hrumph!\"\n\nBut Cocky-locky _will_ always crow whether you want him to do so or not,\nand so he had just time for one \"Cock-a-doo-dle d--\" before he went to\njoin Turkey-lurkey, Goosey-poosey, and Ducky-daddles over Foxy-woxy's\nshoulders.\n\nNow when Henny-penny, who had just got into the dark burrow, heard\nCocky-locky crow, she said to herself:\n\n\"My goodness! it must be dawn. Time for me to lay my egg.\"\n\nSo she turned round and bustled off to her nest; so she escaped, but she\nnever told the King the sky was falling!\n\n[Illustration: So she escaped]\n\n\n[Illustration: They thanked her and said good-bye, and she went on her\njourney.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE HEADS OF THE WELL\n\n\nOnce upon a time there reigned a King in Colchester, valiant, strong,\nwise, famous as a good ruler.\n\nBut in the midst of his glory his dear Queen died, leaving him with a\ndaughter just touching woman's estate; and this maiden was renowned, far\nand wide, for beauty, kindness, grace. Now strange things happen, and\nthe King of Colchester, hearing of a lady who had immense riches, had a\nmind to marry her, though she was old, ugly, hook-nosed, and\nill-tempered; and though she was, furthermore, possessed of a daughter\nas ugly as herself. None could give the reason why, but only a few weeks\nafter the death of his dear Queen, the King brought this loathly bride\nto Court, and married her with great pomp and festivities. Now the very\nfirst thing she did was to poison the King's mind against his own\nbeautiful, kind, gracious daughter, of whom, naturally, the ugly Queen\nand her ugly daughter were dreadfully jealous.\n\nNow when the young Princess found that even her father had turned\nagainst her, she grew weary of Court life, and longed to get away from\nit; so, one day, happening to meet the King alone in the garden, she\nwent down on her knees, and begged and prayed him to give her some help,\nand let her go out into the world to seek her fortune. To this the King\nagreed, and told his consort to fit the girl out for her enterprise in\nproper fashion. But the jealous woman only gave her a canvas bag of\nbrown bread and hard cheese, with a bottle of small-beer.\n\nThough this was but a pitiful dowry for a King's daughter, the Princess\nwas too proud to complain; so she took it, returned her thanks, and set\noff on her journey through woods and forests, by rivers and lakes, over\nmountain and valley.\n\nAt last she came to a cave at the mouth of which, on a stone, sate an\nold, old man with a white beard.\n\n\"Good morrow, fair damsel,\" he said; \"whither away so fast?\"\n\n\"Reverend father,\" replies she, \"I go to seek my fortune.\"\n\n\"And what hast thou for dowry, fair damsel,\" said he, \"in thy bag and\nbottle?\"\n\n\"Bread and cheese and small-beer, father,\" says she, smiling. \"Will it\nplease you to partake of either?\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" says he, and when she pulled out her provisions he\nate them nearly all. But once again she made no complaint, but bade him\neat what he needed, and welcome.\n\nNow when he had finished he gave her many thanks, and said:\n\n\"For your beauty, and your kindness, and your grace, take this wand.\nThere is a thick thorny hedge before you which seems impassable. But\nstrike it thrice with this wand, saying each time, 'Please, hedge, let\nme through,' and it will open a pathway for you. Then, when you come to\na well, sit down on the brink of it; do not be surprised at anything you\nmay see, but, whatever you are asked to do, that do!\"\n\nSo saying the old man went into the cave, and she went on her way. After\na while she came to a high, thick thorny hedge; but when she struck it\nthree times with the wand, saying, \"Please, hedge, let me through,\" it\nopened a wide pathway for her. So she came to the well, on the brink of\nwhich she sate down, and no sooner had she done so, than a golden head\nwithout any body came up through the water, singing as it came:\n\n  \"Wash me, and comb me, lay me on a bank to dry\n   Softly and prettily to watch the passers-by.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" she said, pulling out her silver comb. Then, placing the\nhead on her lap, she began to comb the golden hair. When she had combed\nit, she lifted the golden head softly, and laid it on a primrose bank to\ndry. No sooner had she done this than another golden head appeared,\nsinging as it came:\n\n  \"Wash me, and comb me, lay me on a bank to dry\n   Softly and prettily to watch the passers-by.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" says she, and after combing the golden hair, placed the\ngolden head softly on the primrose bank, beside the first one.\n\nThen came a third head out of the well, and it said the same thing:\n\n  \"Wash me, and comb me, lay me on a bank to dry\n   Softly and prettily to watch the passers-by.\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" says she graciously, and after taking the head on\nher lap, and combing its golden hair with her silver comb, there were\nthe three golden heads in a row on the primrose bank. And she sate down\nto rest herself and looked at them, they were so quaint and pretty; and\nas she rested she cheerfully ate and drank the meagre portion of the\nbrown bread, hard cheese, and small-beer which the old man had left to\nher; for, though she was a king's daughter, she was too proud to\ncomplain.\n\nThen the first head spoke. \"Brothers, what shall we weird for this\ndamsel who has been so gracious unto us? I weird her to be so beautiful\nthat she shall charm every one she meets.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said the second head, \"weird her a voice that shall exceed the\nnightingale's in sweetness.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said the third head, \"weird her to be so fortunate that she\nshall marry the greatest King that reigns.\"\n\n\"Thank you with all my heart,\" says she; \"but don't you think I had\nbetter put you back in the well before I go on? Remember you are golden,\nand the passers-by might steal you.\"\n\nTo this they agreed; so she put them back. And when they had thanked\nher for her kind thought and said good-bye, she went on her journey.\n\nNow she had not travelled far before she came to a forest where the King\nof the country was hunting with his nobles, and as the gay cavalcade\npassed down the glade she stood back to avoid them; but the King caught\nsight of her, and drew up his horse, fairly amazed at her beauty.\n\n\"Fair maid,\" he said, \"who art thou, and whither goest thou through the\nforest thus alone?\"\n\n\"I am the King of Colchester's daughter, and I go to seek my fortune,\"\nsays she, and her voice was sweeter than the nightingale's.\n\nThen the King jumped from his horse, being so struck by her that he felt\nit would be impossible to live without her, and falling on his knee\nbegged and prayed her to marry him without delay.\n\nAnd he begged and prayed so well that at last she consented. So, with\nall courtesy, he mounted her on his horse behind him, and commanding the\nhunt to follow, he returned to his palace, where the wedding festivities\ntook place with all possible pomp and merriment. Then, ordering out the\nroyal chariot, the happy pair started to pay the King of Colchester a\nbridal visit: and you may imagine the surprise and delight with which,\nafter so short an absence, the people of Colchester saw their beloved,\nbeautiful, kind, and gracious princess return in a chariot all gemmed\nwith gold, as the bride of the most powerful King in the world. The\nbells rang out, flags flew, drums beat, the people huzzaed, and all was\ngladness, save for the ugly Queen and her ugly daughter, who were ready\nto burst with envy and malice; for, see you, the despised maiden was now\nabove them both, and went before them at every Court ceremonial.\n\nSo, after the visit was ended, and the young King and his bride had gone\nback to their own country, there to live happily ever after, the ugly\nill-natured princess said to her mother, the ugly Queen:\n\n\"I also will go into the world and seek my fortune. If that drab of a\ngirl with her mincing ways got so much, what may I not get?\"\n\nSo her mother agreed, and furnished her forth with silken dresses and\nfurs, and gave her as provisions sugar, almonds, and sweetmeats of every\nvariety, besides a large flagon of Malaga sack. Altogether a right royal\ndowry.\n\nArmed with these she set forth, following the same road as her\nstep-sister. Thus she soon came upon the old man with a white beard, who\nwas seated on a stone by the mouth of a cave.\n\n\"Good morrow,\" says he. \"Whither away so fast?\"\n\n\"What's that to you, old man?\" she replied rudely.\n\n\"And what hast thou for dowry in bag and bottle?\" he asked quietly.\n\n\"Good things with which you shall not be troubled,\" she answered pertly.\n\n\"Wilt thou not spare an old man something?\" he said.\n\n[Illustration: The thorns closed in around her so that she was all\nscratched and torn]\n\nThen she laughed. \"Not a bite, not a sup, lest they should choke you:\nthough that would be small matter to me,\" she replied, with a toss of\nher head.\n\n\"Then ill luck go with thee,\" remarked the old man as he rose and went\ninto the cave.\n\nSo she went on her way, and after a time came to the thick thorny hedge,\nand seeing what she thought was a gap in it, she tried to pass through;\nbut no sooner had she got well into the middle of the hedge than the\nthorns closed in around her so that she was all scratched and torn\nbefore she won her way. Thus, streaming with blood, she went on to the\nwell, and seeing water, sate on the brink intending to cleanse herself.\nBut just as she dipped her hands, up came a golden head singing as it\ncame:\n\n  \"Wash me, and comb me, lay me on the bank to dry\n   Softly and prettily to watch the passers-by.\"\n\n\"A likely story,\" says she. \"I'm going to wash myself.\" And with that\nshe gave the head such a bang with her bottle that it bobbed below the\nwater. But it came up again, and so did a second head, singing as it\ncame:\n\n  \"Wash me, and comb me, lay me on the bank to dry\n   Softly and prettily to watch the passers-by.\"\n\n\"Not I,\" scoffs she. \"I'm going to wash my hands and face and have my\ndinner.\" So she fetches the second head a cruel bang with the bottle,\nand both heads ducked down in the water.\n\nBut when they came up again all draggled and dripping, the third head\ncame also, singing as it came:\n\n  \"Wash me, and comb me, lay me on the bank to dry\n   Softly and prettily to watch the passers-by.\"\n\nBy this time the ugly princess had cleansed herself, and, seated on the\nprimrose bank, had her mouth full of sugar and almonds.\n\n\"Not I,\" says she as well as she could. \"I'm not a washerwoman nor a\nbarber. So take that for your washing and combing.\"\n\nAnd with that, having finished the Malaga sack, she flung the empty\nbottle at the three heads.\n\nBut this time they didn't duck. They looked at each other and said, \"How\nshall we weird this rude girl for her bad manners?\" Then the first head\nsaid:\n\n\"I weird that to her ugliness shall be added blotches on her face.\"\n\nAnd the second head said:\n\n\"I weird that she shall ever be hoarse as a crow and speak as if she had\nher mouth full.\"\n\nThen the third head said:\n\n\"And I weird that she shall be glad to marry a cobbler.\"\n\nThen the three heads sank into the well and were no more seen, and the\nugly princess went on her way. But, lo and behold! when she came to a\ntown, the children ran from her ugly blotched face screaming with\nfright, and when she tried to tell them she was the King of Colchester's\ndaughter, her voice squeaked like a corn-crake's, was hoarse as a\ncrow's, and folk could not understand a word she said, because she spoke\nas if her mouth was full!\n\nNow in the town there happened to be a cobbler who not long before had\nmended the shoes of a poor old hermit; and the latter, having no money,\nhad paid for the job by the gift of a wonderful ointment which would\ncure blotches on the face, and a bottle of medicine that would banish\nany hoarseness.\n\nSo, seeing the miserable, ugly princess in great distress, he went up to\nher and gave her a few drops out of his bottle; and then understanding\nfrom her rich attire and clearer speech that she was indeed a King's\ndaughter, he craftily said that if she would take him for a husband he\nwould undertake to cure her.\n\n\"Anything! Anything!\" sobbed the miserable princess.\n\nSo they were married, and the cobbler straightway set off with his bride\nto visit the King of Colchester. But the bells did not ring, the drums\ndid not beat, and the people, instead of huzzaing, burst into loud\nguffaws at the cobbler in leather, and his wife in silks and satins.\n\nAs for the ugly Queen, she was so enraged and disappointed that she went\nmad, and hanged herself in wrath. Whereupon the King, really pleased at\ngetting rid of her so soon, gave the cobbler a hundred pounds and bade\nhim go about his business with his ugly bride.\n\nWhich he did quite contentedly, for a hundred pounds means much to a\npoor cobbler. So they went to a remote part of the kingdom and lived\nunhappily for many years, he cobbling shoes, and she spinning the thread\nfor him.\n\n\n\n\nMR. FOX\n\n\nLady Mary was young and Lady Mary was fair, and she had more lovers than\nshe could count on the fingers of both hands.\n\nShe lived with her two brothers, who were very proud and very fond of\ntheir beautiful sister, and very anxious that she should choose well\namongst her many suitors.\n\nNow amongst them there was a certain Mr. Fox, handsome and young and\nrich; and though nobody quite knew who he was, he was so gallant and so\ngay that every one liked him. And he wooed Lady Mary so well that at\nlast she promised to marry him. But though he talked much of the\nbeautiful home to which he would take her, and described the castle and\nall the wonderful things that furnished it, he never offered to show it\nto her, neither did he invite Lady Mary's brothers to see it.\n\nNow this seemed to her very strange indeed; and, being a lass of spirit,\nshe made up her mind to see the castle if she could.\n\nSo one day, just before the wedding, when she knew Mr. Fox would be\naway seeing the lawyers with her brothers, she just kilted up her skirts\nand set out unbeknownst--for, see you, the whole household was busy\npreparing for the marriage feastings--to see for herself what Mr. Fox's\nbeautiful castle was like.\n\nAfter many searchings, and much travelling, she found it at last; and a\nfine strong building it was, with high walls and a deep moat to it. A\nbit frowning and gloomy, but when she came up to the wide gateway she\nsaw these words carven over the arch:\n\n                _BE BOLD--BE BOLD._\n\nSo she plucked up courage, and the gate being open, went through it and\nfound herself in a wide, empty, open courtyard. At the end of this was a\nsmaller door, and over this was carven:\n\n        _BE BOLD, BE BOLD; BUT NOT TOO BOLD._\n\nSo she went through it to a wide, empty hall, and up the wide, empty\nstaircase. Now at the top of the staircase there was a wide, empty\ngallery at one end of which were wide windows with the sunlight\nstreaming through them from a beautiful garden, and at the other end a\nnarrow door, over the archway of which was carven:\n\n    _BE BOLD, BE BOLD; BUT NOT TOO BOLD,\n    LEST THAT YOUR HEART'S BLOOD SHOULD RUN COLD._\n\nNow Lady Mary was a lass of spirit, and so, of course, she turned her\nback on the sunshine, and opened the narrow, dark door. And there she\nwas in a narrow, dark passage. But at the end there was a chink of\nlight. So she went forward and put her eye to the chink--and what do you\nthink she saw?\n\nWhy! a wide saloon lit with many candles, and all round it, some hanging\nby their necks, some seated on chairs, some lying on the floor, were the\nskeletons and bodies of numbers of beautiful young maidens in their\nwedding-dresses that were all stained with blood.\n\nNow Lady Mary, for all she was a lass of spirit, and brave as brave,\ncould not look for long on such a horrid sight, so she turned and fled.\nDown the dark narrow passage, through the dark narrow door (which she\ndid not forget to close behind her), and along the wide gallery she fled\nlike a hare, and was just going down the wide stairs into the wide hall\nwhen, what did she see, through the window, but Mr. Fox dragging a\nbeautiful young lady across the wide courtyard! There was nothing for\nit, Lady Mary decided, but to hide herself as quickly and as best she\nmight; so she fled faster down the wide stairs, and hid herself behind a\nbig wine-butt that stood in a corner of the wide hall. She was only just\nin time, for there at the wide door was Mr. Fox dragging the poor young\nmaiden along by the hair; and he dragged her across the wide hall and up\nthe wide stairs. And when she clutched at the bannisters to stop\nherself, Mr. Fox cursed and swore dreadfully; and at last he drew his\nsword and brought it down so hard on the poor young lady's wrist that\nthe hand, cut off, jumped up into the air so that the diamond ring on\nthe finger flashed in the sunlight as it fell, of all places in the\nworld, into Lady Mary's very lap as she crouched behind the wine-butt!\n\nThen she was fair frightened, thinking Mr. Fox would be sure to find\nher; but after looking about a little while in vain (for, of course, he\ncoveted the diamond ring), he continued his dreadful task of dragging\nthe poor, beautiful young maiden upstairs to the horrid chamber,\nintending, doubtless, to return when he had finished his loathly work,\nand seek for the hand.\n\nBut by that time Lady Mary had fled; for no sooner did she hear the\nawful, dragging noise pass into the gallery, than she upped and ran for\ndear life--through the wide door with\n\n            _BE BOLD, BE BOLD; BUT NOT TOO BOLD_\n\nengraven over the arch, across the wide courtyard past the wide gate\nwith\n\n                _BE BOLD--BE BOLD_\n\nengraven over it, never stopping, never thinking till she reached her\nown chamber. And all the while the hand with the diamond ring lay in her\nkilted lap.\n\nNow the very next day, when Mr. Fox and Lady Mary's brothers returned\nfrom the lawyers, the marriage-contract had to be signed. And all the\nneighbourhood was asked to witness it and partake of a splendid\nbreakfast. And there was Lady Mary in bridal array, and there was Mr.\nFox, looking so gay and so gallant. He was seated at the table just\nopposite Lady Mary, and he looked at her and said:\n\n\"How pale you are this morning, dear heart.\"\n\nThen Lady Mary looked at him quietly and said, \"Yes, dear sir! I had a\nbad night's rest, for I had horrible dreams.\"\n\nThen Mr. Fox smiled and said, \"Dreams go by contraries, dear heart; but\ntell me your dream, and your sweet voice will speed the time till I can\ncall you mine.\"\n\n\"I dreamed,\" said Lady Mary, with a quiet smile, and her eyes were\nclear, \"that I went yesterday to seek the castle that is to be my home,\nand I found it in the woods with high walls and a deep dark moat. And\nover the gateway were carven these words:\n\n                   _BE BOLD--BE BOLD._\"\n\nThen Mr. Fox spoke in a hurry. \"But it is not so--nor it was not so.\"\n\n\"Then I crossed the wide courtyard and went through a wide door over\nwhich was carven:\n\n            _BE BOLD, BE BOLD; BUT NOT TOO BOLD,_\"\n\nwent on Lady Mary, still smiling, and her voice was cold; \"but, of\ncourse, it is not so, and it was not so.\"\n\nAnd Mr. Fox said nothing; he sate like a stone.\n\n\"Then I dreamed,\" continued Lady Mary, still smiling, though her eyes\nwere stern, \"that I passed through a wide hall and up a wide stair and\nalong a wide gallery until I came to a dark narrow door, and over it was\ncarven:\n\n    _BE BOLD, BE BOLD; BUT NOT TOO BOLD,\n     LEST THAT YOUR HEART'S BLOOD SHOULD RUN COLD._\n\n\"But it is not so, of course, and it was not so.\"\n\nAnd Mr. Fox said nothing; he sate frozen.\n\n\"Then I dreamed that I opened the door and went down a dark narrow\npassage,\" said Lady Mary, still smiling, though her voice was ice. \"And\nat the end of the passage there was a door, and the door had a chink in\nit. And through the chink I saw a wide saloon lit with many candles, and\nall round it were the bones and bodies of poor dead maidens, their\nclothes all stained with blood; but of course it is not so, and it was\nnot so.\"\n\nBy this time all the neighbours were looking Mr. Fox-ways with all their\neyes, while he sate silent.\n\nBut Lady Mary went on, and her smiling lips were set:\n\n\"Then I dreamed that I ran downstairs and had just time to hide myself\nwhen you, Mr. Fox, came in dragging a young lady by the hair. And the\nsunlight glittered on her diamond ring as she clutched the stair-rail,\nand you out with your sword and cut off the poor lady's hand.\"\n\nThen Mr. Fox rose in his seat stonily and glared about him as if to\nescape, and his eye-teeth showed like a fox beset by the dogs, and he\ngrew pale.\n\nAnd he said, trying to smile, though his whispering voice could scarcely\nbe heard:\n\n\"But it is not so, dear heart, and it was not so, and God forbid it\nshould be so!\"\n\nThen Lady Mary rose in her seat also, and the smile left her face, and\nher voice rang as she cried:\n\n  \"But it is so, and it was so;\n   Here's hand and ring I have to show.\"\n\n[Illustration: Many's the beating he had from the broomstick or the\nladle]\n\nAnd with that she pulled out the poor dead hand with the glittering\nring from her bosom and pointed it straight at Mr. Fox.\n\nAt this all the company rose, and drawing their swords cut Mr. Fox to\npieces.\n\nAnd served him very well right.\n\n\n\n\nDICK WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT\n\n\nMore than five hundred years ago there was a little boy named Dick\nWhittington, and this is true. His father and mother died when he was\ntoo young to work, and so poor little Dick was very badly off. He was\nquite glad to get the parings of the potatoes to eat and a dry crust of\nbread now and then, and more than that he did not often get, for the\nvillage where he lived was a very poor one and the neighbours were not\nable to spare him much.\n\nNow the country folk in those days thought that the people of London\nwere all fine ladies and gentlemen, and that there was singing and\ndancing all the day long, and so rich were they there that even the\nstreets, they said, were paved with gold. Dick used to sit by and listen\nwhile all these strange tales of the wealth of London were told, and it\nmade him long to go and live there and have plenty to eat and fine\nclothes to wear, instead of the rags and hard fare that fell to his lot\nin the country.\n\nSo one day when a great waggon with eight horses stopped on its way\nthrough the village, Dick made friends with the waggoner and begged to\nbe taken with him to London. The man felt sorry for poor little Dick\nwhen he heard that he had no father or mother to take care of him, and\nsaw how ragged and how badly in need of help he was. So he agreed to\ntake him, and off they set.\n\nHow far it was and how many days they took over the journey I do not\nknow, but in due time Dick found himself in the wonderful city which he\nhad heard so much of and pictured to himself so grandly. But oh! how\ndisappointed he was when he got there. How dirty it was! And the people,\nhow unlike the gay company, with music and singing, that he had dreamt\nof! He wandered up and down the streets, one after another, until he was\ntired out, but not one did he find that was paved with gold. Dirt in\nplenty he could see, but none of the gold that he thought to have put in\nhis pockets as fast as he chose to pick it up.\n\n[Illustration: Dick finds that the streets of London are not paved with\ngold]\n\nLittle Dick ran about till he was tired and it was growing dark. And at\nlast he sat himself down in a corner and fell asleep. When morning came\nhe was very cold and hungry, and though he asked every one he met to\nhelp him, only one or two gave him a halfpenny to buy some bread. For\ntwo or three days he lived in the streets in this way, only just able to\nkeep himself alive, when he managed to get some work to do in a\nhayfield, and that kept him for a short time longer, till the haymaking\nwas over.\n\nAfter this he was as badly off as ever, and did not know where to turn.\nOne day in his wanderings he lay down to rest in the doorway of the\nhouse of a rich merchant whose name was Fitzwarren. But here he was soon\nseen by the cook-maid, who was an unkind, bad-tempered woman, and she\ncried out to him to be off. \"Lazy rogue,\" she called him; and she said\nshe'd precious quick throw some dirty dishwater over him, boiling hot,\nif he didn't go. However, just then Mr. Fitzwarren himself came home to\ndinner, and when he saw what was happening, he asked Dick why he was\nlying there. \"You're old enough to be at work, my boy,\" he said. \"I'm\nafraid you have a mind to be lazy.\"\n\n\"Indeed, sir,\" said Dick to him, \"indeed that is not so\"; and he told\nhim how hard he had tried to get work to do, and how ill he was for want\nof food. Dick, poor fellow, was now so weak that though he tried to\nstand he had to lie down again, for it was more than three days since he\nhad had anything to eat at all. The kind merchant gave orders for him to\nbe taken into the house and gave him a good dinner, and then he said\nthat he was to be kept, to do what work he could to help the cook.\n\nAnd now Dick would have been happy enough in this good family if it had\nnot been for the ill-natured cook, who did her best to make life a\nburden to him. Night and morning she was for ever scolding him. Nothing\nhe did was good enough. It was \"Look sharp here\" and \"Hurry up there,\"\nand there was no pleasing her. And many's the beating he had from the\nbroomstick or the ladle, or whatever else she had in her hand.\n\nAt last it came to the ears of Miss Alice, Mr. Fitzwarren's daughter,\nhow badly the cook was treating poor Dick. And she told the cook that\nshe would quickly lose her place if she didn't treat him more kindly,\nfor Dick had become quite a favourite with the family.\n\nAfter that the cook's behaviour was a little better, but Dick still had\nanother hardship that he bore with difficulty. For he slept in a garret\nwhere were so many holes in the walls and the floor that every night as\nhe lay in bed the room was overrun with rats and mice, and sometimes he\ncould hardly sleep a wink. One day when he had earned a penny for\ncleaning a gentleman's shoes, he met a little girl with a cat in her\narms, and asked whether she would not sell it to him. \"Yes, she would,\"\nshe said, though the cat was such a good mouser that she was sorry to\npart with her. This just suited Dick, who kept pussy up in his garret,\nfeeding her on scraps of his own dinner that he saved for her every day.\nIn a little while he had no more bother with the rats and mice. Puss\nsoon saw to that, and he slept sound every night.\n\nSoon after this Mr. Fitzwarren had a ship ready to sail; and as it was\nhis custom that all his servants should be given a chance of good\nfortune as well as himself, he called them all into the counting-house\nand asked them what they would send out.\n\nThey all had something that they were willing to venture except poor\nDick, who had neither money nor goods, and so could send nothing. For\nthis reason he did not come into the room with the rest. But Miss Alice\nguessed what was the matter, and ordered him to be called in. She then\nsaid, \"I will lay down some money for him out of my own purse\"; but her\nfather told her that would not do, for it must be something of his own.\n\nWhen Dick heard this he said, \"I have nothing whatever but a cat, which\nI bought for a penny some time ago.\"\n\n\"Go, my boy, fetch your cat then,\" said his master, \"and let her go.\"\n\nDick went upstairs and fetched poor puss, but there were tears in his\neyes when he gave her to the captain. \"For,\" he said, \"I shall now be\nkept awake all night by the rats and mice.\" All the company laughed at\nDick's odd venture, and Miss Alice, who felt sorry for him, gave him\nsome money to buy another cat.\n\nNow this, and other marks of kindness shown him by Miss Alice, made the\nill-tempered cook jealous of poor Dick, and she began to use him more\ncruelly than ever, and was always making game of him for sending his cat\nto sea. \"What do you think your cat will sell for?\" she'd ask. \"As much\nmoney as would buy a stick to beat you with?\"\n\nAt last poor Dick could not bear this usage any longer, and he thought\nhe would run away. So he made a bundle of his things--he hadn't\nmany--and started very early in the morning, on All-hallows Day, the\nfirst of November. He walked as far as Holloway, and there he sat down\nto rest on a stone, which to this day, they say, is called\n\"Whittington's Stone,\" and began to wonder to himself which road he\nshould take.\n\n[Illustration: Dick Whittington hears Bow Bells]\n\nWhile he was thinking what he should do the Bells of Bow Church in\nCheapside began to chime, and as they rang he fancied that they were\nsinging over and over again:\n\n  \"Turn again, Whittington,\n   Lord Mayor of London.\"\n\n\"Lord Mayor of London!\" said he to himself. \"Why, to be sure, wouldn't I\nput up with almost anything now to be Lord Mayor of London, and ride in\na fine coach, when I grow to be a man! Well, I'll go back, and think\nnothing of the cuffing and scolding of the cross old cook if I am to be\nLord Mayor of London at last.\"\n\nSo back he went, and he was lucky enough to get into the house and set\nabout his work before the cook came down.\n\nBut now you must hear what befell Mrs. Puss all this while. The ship\n_Unicorn_ that she was on was a long time at sea, and the cat made\nherself useful, as she would, among the unwelcome rats that lived on\nboard too. At last the ship put into harbour on the coast of Barbary,\nwhere the only people are the Moors. They had never before seen a ship\nfrom England, and flocked in numbers to see the sailors, whose different\ncolour and foreign dress were a great wonder to them. They were soon\neager to buy the goods with which the ship was laden, and patterns were\nsent ashore for the King to see. He was so much pleased with them that\nhe sent for the captain to come to the palace, and honoured him with an\ninvitation to dinner. But no sooner were they seated, as is the custom\nthere, on the fine rugs and carpets that covered the floor, than great\nnumbers of rats and mice came scampering in, swarming over all the\ndishes, and helping themselves from all the good things there were to\neat. The captain was amazed, and wondered whether they didn't find such\na pest most unpleasant.\n\n[Illustration: When Puss saw the rats and mice she didn't wait to be\ntold]\n\n\"Oh yes,\" said they, \"it was so, and the King would give half his\ntreasure to be freed of them, for they not only spoil his dinner, but\nthey even attack him in his bed at night, so that a watch has to be kept\nwhile he is sleeping, for fear of them.\"\n\nThe captain was overjoyed; he thought at once of poor Dick Whittington\nand his cat, and said he had a creature on board ship that would soon do\nfor all these vermin if she were there. Of course, when the King heard\nthis he was eager to possess this wonderful animal.\n\n\"Bring it to me at once,\" he said; \"for the vermin are dreadful, and if\nonly it will do what you say, I will load your ship with gold and jewels\nin exchange for it.\"\n\nThe captain, who knew his business, took care not to underrate the value\nof Dick's cat. He told His Majesty how inconvenient it would be to part\nwith her, as when she was gone the rats might destroy the goods in the\nship; however, to oblige the King, he would fetch her.\n\n\"Oh, make haste, do!\" cried the Queen; \"I, too, am all impatience to see\nthis dear creature.\"\n\nOff went the captain, while another dinner was got ready. He took Puss\nunder his arm and got back to the palace just in time to see the carpet\ncovered with rats and mice once again. When Puss saw them, she didn't\nwait to be told, but jumped out of the captain's arms, and in no time\nalmost all the rats and mice were dead at her feet, while the rest of\nthem had scuttled off to their holes in fright.\n\nThe King was delighted to get rid so easily of such an intolerable\nplague, and the Queen desired that the animal who had done them such a\nservice might be brought to her. Upon which the captain called out,\n\"Puss, puss, puss,\" and she came running to him. Then he presented her\nto the Queen, who was rather afraid at first to touch a creature who had\nmade such a havoc with her claws. However, when the captain called her,\n\"Pussy, pussy,\" and began to stroke her, the Queen also ventured to\ntouch her and cried, \"Putty, putty,\" in imitation of the captain, for\nshe hadn't learned to speak English. He then put her on to the Queen's\nlap, where she purred and played with Her Majesty's hand and was soon\nasleep.\n\nThe King having seen what Mrs. Puss could do, and learning that her\nkittens would soon stock the whole country, and keep it free from rats,\nafter bargaining with the captain for the whole ship's cargo, then gave\nhim ten times as much for the cat as all the rest amounted to.\n\nThe captain then said farewell to the court of Barbary, and after a fair\nvoyage reached London again with his precious load of gold and jewels\nsafe and sound.\n\nOne morning early Mr. Fitzwarren had just come to his counting-house and\nsettled himself at the desk to count the cash, when there came a knock\nat the door. \"Who's there?\" said he. \"A friend,\" replied a voice. \"I\ncome with good news of your ship the _Unicorn_.\" The merchant in haste\nopened the door, and who were there but the ship's captain and the mate,\nbearing a chest of jewels and a bill of lading. When he had looked this\nover he lifted his eyes and thanked heaven for sending him such a\nprosperous voyage.\n\nThe honest captain next told him all about the cat, and showed him the\nrich present the King had sent for her to poor Dick. Rejoicing on behalf\nof Dick as much as he had done over his own good fortune, he called out\nto his servants to come and to bring up Dick:\n\n  \"Go fetch him, and we'll tell him of his fame;\n   Pray call him Mr. Whittington by name.\"\n\nThe servants, some of them, hesitated at this, and said so great a\ntreasure was too much for a lad like Dick; but Mr. Fitzwarren now showed\nhimself the good man that he was and refused to deprive him of the value\nof a single penny. \"God forbid!\" he cried. \"It's all his own, and he\nshall have it, to a farthing.\"\n\nHe then sent for Dick, who at the moment was scouring pots for the cook\nand was black with dirt. He tried to excuse himself from coming into the\nroom in such a plight, but the merchant made him come, and had a chair\nset for him. And he then began to think they must be making game of him,\nso he begged them not to play tricks on a poor simple boy, but to let\nhim go downstairs again back to his work in the scullery.\n\n\"Indeed, Mr. Whittington,\" said the merchant, \"we are all quite in\nearnest with you, and I most heartily rejoice at the news that these\ngentlemen have brought. For the captain has sold your cat to the King of\nBarbary, and brings you in return for her more riches than I possess in\nthe whole world; and may you long enjoy them!\"\n\nMr. Fitzwarren then told the men to open the great treasure they had\nbrought with them, saying, \"There is nothing more now for Mr.\nWhittington to do but to put it in some place of safety.\"\n\nPoor Dick hardly knew how to behave himself for joy. He begged his\nmaster to take what part of it he pleased, since he owed it all to his\nkindness. \"No, no,\" answered Mr. Fitzwarren, \"this all belongs to you;\nand I have no doubt that you will use it well.\"\n\nDick next begged his mistress, and then Miss Alice, to accept a part of\nhis good fortune, but they would not, and at the same time told him what\ngreat joy they felt at his great success. But he was far too\nkind-hearted to keep it all to himself; so he made a present to the\ncaptain, the mate, and the rest of Mr. Fitzwarren's servants; and even\nto his old enemy, the cross cook.\n\nAfter this Mr. Fitzwarren advised him to send for a tailor and get\nhimself dressed like a gentleman, and told him he was welcome to live in\nhis house till he could provide himself with a better.\n\nWhen Whittington's face was washed, his hair curled, and he was dressed\nin a smart suit of clothes, he was just as handsome and fine a young man\nas any who visited at Mr. Fitzwarren's, and so thought fair Alice\nFitzwarren, who had once been so kind to him and looked upon him with\npity. And now she felt he was quite fit to be her sweetheart, and none\nthe less, no doubt, because Whittington was always thinking what he\ncould do to please her, and making her the prettiest presents that could\nbe.\n\nMr. Fitzwarren soon saw which way the wind blew, and ere long proposed\nto join them in marriage, and to this they both readily agreed. A day\nfor the wedding was soon fixed; and they were attended to church by the\nLord Mayor, the court of aldermen, the sheriffs, and a great number of\nthe richest merchants in London, whom they afterwards treated with a\nmagnificent feast.\n\nHistory tells us that Mr. Whittington and his lady lived in great\nsplendour, and were very happy. They had several children. He was\nSheriff, and thrice Lord Mayor of London, and received the honour of\nknighthood from Henry V.\n\nAfter the King's conquest of France, Sir Richard Whittington entertained\nhim and the Queen at dinner at the Mansion House in so sumptuous a\nmanner that the King said, \"Never had Prince such a subject!\" To which\nSir Richard replied, \"Never had subject such a Prince.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG\n\n\nAn old woman was sweeping her house, and she found a little crooked\nsixpence. \"What,\" said she, \"shall I do with this little sixpence? I\nwill go to market, and buy a little pig.\"\n\nSo she bought a little pig; but as she was coming home, she came to a\nstile, and the piggy would not go over the stile.\n\n[Illustration: The old woman and her pig]\n\nShe went a little further, and she met a dog. So she said to him, \"Dog!\ndog! bite pig; piggy won't go over the stile; and I shan't get home till\nmidnight.\" But the dog wouldn't.\n\nShe went a little further, and she met a stick. So she said, \"Stick!\nstick! beat dog; dog won't bite pig; piggy won't get over the stile; and\nI shan't get home till midnight.\" But the stick wouldn't.\n\nShe went a little further, and she met a fire. So she said, \"Fire! fire!\nburn stick; stick won't beat dog; dog won't bite pig; pig won't get over\nthe stile; and I shan't get home till midnight.\" But the fire wouldn't.\n\nShe went a little further, and she met some water. So she said, \"Water!\nwater! quench fire; fire won't burn stick; stick won't beat dog; dog\nwon't bite pig; pig won't get over the stile; and I shan't get home till\nmidnight.\" But the water wouldn't.\n\nShe went a little further, and she met an ox. So she said, \"Ox! ox!\ndrink water; water won't quench fire; fire won't burn stick; stick won't\nbeat dog; dog won't bite pig; pig won't get over the stile; and I shan't\nget home till midnight.\" But the ox wouldn't.\n\nShe went a little further, and she met a butcher. So she said, \"Butcher!\nbutcher! kill ox; ox won't drink water; water won't quench fire; fire\nwon't burn stick; stick won't beat dog; dog won't bite pig; pig won't\nget over the stile; and I shan't get home till midnight.\" But the\nbutcher wouldn't.\n\nShe went a little further, and she met a rope. So she said, \"Rope! rope!\nhang butcher; butcher won't kill ox; ox won't drink water; water won't\nquench fire; fire won't burn stick; stick won't beat dog; dog won't bite\npig; pig won't get over the stile; and I shan't get home till\nmidnight.\" But the rope wouldn't.\n\nShe went a little further, and she met a rat. So she said, \"Rat! rat!\ngnaw rope; rope won't hang butcher; butcher won't kill ox; ox won't\ndrink water; water won't quench fire; fire won't burn stick; stick won't\nbeat dog; dog won't bite pig; pig won't get over the stile; and I shan't\nget home till midnight.\" But the rat wouldn't.\n\nShe went a little further, and she met a cat. So she said, \"Cat! cat!\nkill rat; rat won't gnaw rope; rope won't hang butcher; butcher won't\nkill ox; ox won't drink water; water won't quench fire; fire won't burn\nstick; stick won't beat dog; dog won't bite pig; pig won't get over the\nstile; and I shan't get home till midnight.\" But the cat said to her,\n\"If you will go to yonder cow, and fetch me a saucer of milk, I will\nkill the rat.\" So away went the old woman to the cow.\n\nBut the cow said to her, \"If you will go to yonder haystack, and fetch\nme a handful of hay, I'll give you the milk.\" So away went the old woman\nto the haystack; and she brought the hay to the cow.\n\nAs soon as the cow had eaten the hay, she gave the old woman the milk;\nand away she went with it in a saucer to the cat.\n\nAs soon as the cat had lapped up the milk, the cat began to kill the\nrat; the rat began to gnaw the rope; the rope began to hang the butcher;\nthe butcher began to kill the ox; the ox began to drink the water; the\nwater began to quench the fire; the fire began to burn the stick; the\nstick began to beat the dog; the dog began to bite the pig; the little\npig squealed and jumped over the stile; and so the old woman got home\nbefore midnight.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WEE BANNOCK\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was an old man and his old wife who lived in a\nwee cottage beside a wee burnie. They had two cows, five hens, and a\ncock, a cat and two kittens. Now the old man looked after the cows, the\ncock looked after the hens, the cat looked after a mouse in the\ncupboard, and the two kittens looked after the old wife's spindle as it\ntwirled and tussled about on the hearthstone. But though the old wife\nshould have looked after the kittens, the more she said, \"Sho! Sho! Go\naway, kitty!\" the more they looked after the spindle!\n\nSo, one day, when she was quite tired out with saying, \"Sho! Sho!\" the\nold wife felt hungry and thought she could take a wee bite of something.\nSo she up and baked two wee oatmeal bannocks and set them to toast\nbefore the fire. Now just as they were toasting away, smelling so fresh\nand tasty, in came the old man, and seeing them look so crisp and nice,\ntakes up one of them and snaps a piece out of it. On this the other\nbannock thought it high time to be off, so up it jumps and away it\ntrundles as fast as ever it could. And away ran the old wife after it\nas fast as she could run, with her spindle in one hand and her distaff\nin the other. But the wee bannock trundled faster than she could run, so\nit was soon out of sight, and the old wife was obliged to go back and\ntussle with the kittens again.\n\nThe wee bannock meanwhile trundled gaily down the hill till it came to a\nbig thatched house, and it ran boldly in at the door and sate itself\ndown by the fireside quite comfortably. Now there were three tailors in\nthe room working away on a big bench, and being tailors they were, of\ncourse, dreadfully afraid, and jumped up to hide behind the goodwife who\nwas carding wool by the fire.\n\n\"Hout-tout!\" she cried. \"What are ye a-feared of? 'Tis naught but a wee\nbit bannock. Just grip hold o' it, and I'll give ye a sup o' milk to\ndrink with it.\"\n\nSo up she gets with the carders in her hands, and the tailor had his\niron goose, and the apprentices, one with the big scissors and the other\nwith the ironing-board, and they all made for the wee bannock; but it\nwas too clever for them, and dodged about the fireside until the\napprentice, thinking to snap it with the big scissors, fell into the hot\nashes and got badly burnt. Then the tailor cast the goose at it, and the\nother apprentice the ironing-board; but it wouldn't do. The wee bannock\ngot out at the doorway, where the goodwife flung the carders at it; but\nit dodged them and trundled away gaily till it came to a small house by\nthe road-side. So in it ran bold as bold and sate itself down by the\nhearth where the wife was winding a clue of yarn for her husband, the\nweaver, who was click-clacking away at his loom.\n\n\"Tibby!\" quoth the weaver. \"Whatever's that?\"\n\n\"Naught but a wee bannock,\" quoth she.\n\n\"Well, come and welcome,\" says he, \"for the porridge was thin the morn;\nso grip it, woman! grip it!\"\n\n\"Aye,\" says she, and reaches out her hand to it. But the wee bannock\njust dodged.\n\n\"Man!\" says she, \"yon's a clever wee bannockie! Catch it, man! Catch it\nif you can.\"\n\nBut the wee bannock just dodged. \"Cast the clue at it, woman!\" shouted\nthe weaver.\n\nBut the wee bannock was out at the door, trundling away over the hill\nlike a new tarred sheep or a mad cow!\n\nAnd it trundled away till it came to a cowherd's house where the\ngoodwife was churning her butter.\n\n\"Come in by,\" cried the goodwife when she saw the wee bannock all crisp\nand fresh and tasty; \"I've plenty cream to eat with you.\"\n\nBut at this the wee bannock began dodging about, and it dodged so\ncraftily that the goodwife overset the churn in trying to grip it, and\nbefore she set it straight again the wee bannock was off, trundling away\ndown the hill till it came to a mill-house where the miller was sifting\nmeal. So in it ran and sate down by the trough.\n\n\"Ho, ho!\" says the miller. \"It's a sign o' plenty when the likes of you\nrun about the country-side with none to look after you. But come in by.\nI like bannock and cheese for supper, so I'll give ye a night's\nquarters.\" And with that he tapped his fat stomach.\n\nAt this the wee bannock turned and ran; it wasn't going to trust itself\nwith the miller and his cheese; and the miller, having nothing but the\nmeal to fling after it, just stood and stared; so the wee bannock\ntrundled quietly along the level till it came to the smithy where the\nsmith was welding horse-nails.\n\n\"Hullo!\" says he, \"you're a well-toasted bannock. You'll do fine with a\nglass of ale! So come in by and I'll give you a lodging inside.\" And\nwith that he laughed, and tapped his fat stomach.\n\nBut the wee bannock thought the ale was as bad as the cheese, so it up\nand away, with the smith after it. And when he couldn't come up with it,\nhe just cast his hammer at it. But the hammer missed and the wee bannock\nwas out of sight in a crack, and trundled and trundled till it came to a\nfarm-house where the goodman and his wife were beating out flax and\ncombing it. So it ran in to the fireside and began to toast itself\nagain.\n\n\"Janet,\" says the goodman, \"yon is a well-toasted wee bannock. I'll have\nthe half of it.\"\n\n\"And I'll take t'other half,\" says the goodwife, and reached out a hand\nto grip it. But the wee bannock played dodgings again.\n\n\"My certy,\" says the wife, \"but you're spirity!\" And with that she cast\nthe flax comb at it. But it was too clever for her, so out it trundled\nthrough the door and away was it down the road, till it came to another\nhouse where the goodwife was stirring the scalding soup and the goodman\nwas plaiting a thorn collar for the calf. So it trundled in, and sate\ndown by the fire.\n\n\"Ho, Jock!\" quoth the goodwife, \"you're always crying on a well-toasted\nbannock. Here's one! Come and eat it!\"\n\nThen the wee bannock tried dodgings again, and the goodwife cried on the\ngoodman to help her grip it.\n\n\"Aye, mother!\" says he, \"but where's it gone?\"\n\n\"Over there!\" cries she. \"Quick! run to t'other side o' yon chair.\" And\nthe chair upset, and down came the goodman among the thorns. And the\ngoodwife she flung the soup spoon at it, and the scalding soup fell on\nthe goodman and scalded him, so the wee bannock ran out in a crack and\nwas away to the next house, where the folk were just sitting down to\ntheir supper and the goodwife was scraping the pot.\n\n\"Look!\" cries she, \"here's a wee well-toasted bannock for him as catches\nit!\"\n\n\"Let's shut the door first,\" says the cautious goodman, \"afore we try to\nget a grip on it.\"\n\nNow when the wee bannock heard this it judged it was time to be off; so\naway it trundled and they after it helter-skelter. But though they threw\ntheir spoons at it, and the goodman cast his best hat, the wee bannock\nwas too clever for them, and was out of sight in a crack.\n\nThen away it trundled till it came to a house where the folk were just\naway to their beds. The goodwife she was raking out the fire, and the\ngoodman had taken off his breeches.\n\n\"What's yon?\" says he, for it was nigh dark.\n\n\"It will just be a wee bannock,\" says she.\n\n\"I could eat the half of it,\" says he.\n\n\"And I could eat t'other,\" quoth she.\n\nThen they tried to grip it; but the wee bannock tried dodging. And the\ngoodman and the goodwife tumbled against each other in the dark and grew\nangry.\n\n\"Cast your breeches at it, man!\" cries the goodwife at last. \"What's the\nuse of standing staring like a stuck pig?\"\n\nSo the goodman cast his breeches at it and thought he had smothered it\nsure enough; but somehow it wriggled out, and away it was, the goodman\nafter it without his breeches. You never saw such a race--a real clean\nchase over the park, and through the whins, and round by the bramble\npatch. But there the goodman lost sight of it and had to go back all\nscratched and tired and shivering.\n\nThe wee bannock, however, trundled on till it was too dark even for a\nwee bannock to see.\n\nThen it came to a fox's hole in the side of a big whinbush and trundled\nin to spend the night there; but the fox had had no meat for three whole\ndays, so he just said, \"You're welcome, friend! I wish there were two of\nyou!\"\n\nAnd there were two! For he snapped the wee bannock into halves with one\nbite. So that was an end of _it_!\n\n[Illustration: Headpiece--How Jack went out to seek his Fortune]\n\n\n\n\nHOW JACK WENT OUT TO SEEK HIS FORTUNE\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a boy named Jack, and one morning he started to\ngo and seek his fortune.\n\nHe hadn't gone very far before he met a cat.\n\n\"Where are you going, Jack?\" said the cat.\n\n\"I am going to seek my fortune.\"\n\n\"May I go with you?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jack, \"the more the merrier.\"\n\nSo on they went, Jack and the cat. Jiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt,\njiggelty-jolt!\n\nThey went a little farther and they met a dog.\n\n\"Where are you going, Jack?\" said the dog.\n\n\"I am going to seek my fortune.\"\n\n\"May I go with you?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jack, \"the more the merrier.\"\n\nSo on they went, Jack, the cat, and the dog! Jiggelty-jolt,\njiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt!\n\nThey went a little farther and they met a goat.\n\n\"Where are you going, Jack?\" said the goat.\n\n\"I am going to seek my fortune.\"\n\n\"May I go with you?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jack, \"the more the merrier.\"\n\nSo on they went, Jack, the cat, the dog, and the goat. Jiggelty-jolt,\njiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt!\n\nThey went a little farther and they met a bull.\n\n\"Where are you going, Jack?\" said the bull.\n\n\"I am going to seek my fortune.\"\n\n\"May I go with you?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jack, \"the more the merrier.\"\n\nSo on they went, Jack, the cat, the dog, the goat, and the bull.\nJiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt!\n\nThey went a little farther and they met a rooster.\n\n\"Where are you going, Jack?\" said the rooster.\n\n\"I am going to seek my fortune.\"\n\n\"May I go with you?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jack, \"the more the merrier.\"\n\nSo on they went, Jack, the cat, the dog, the goat, the bull, and the\nrooster. Jiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt!\n\nAnd they went on jiggelty-jolting till it was about dark, and it was\ntime to think of some place where they could spend the night. Now, after\na bit, they came in sight of a house, and Jack told his companions to\nkeep still while he went up and looked in through the window to see if\nall was safe. And what did he see through the window but a band of\nrobbers seated at a table counting over great bags of gold!\n\n\"That gold shall be mine,\" quoth Jack to himself. \"I have found my\nfortune already.\"\n\nThen he went back and told his companions to wait till he gave the word,\nand then to make all the noise they possibly could in their own fashion.\nSo when they were all ready Jack gave the word, and the cat mewed, and\nthe dog barked, and the goat bleated, and the bull bellowed, and the\nrooster crowed, and all together they made such a terrific hubbub that\nthe robbers jumped up in a fright and ran away, leaving their gold on\nthe table. So, after a good laugh, Jack and his companions went in and\ntook possession of the house and the gold.\n\nNow Jack was a wise boy, and he knew that the robbers would come back in\nthe dead of the night to get their gold, and so when it came time to go\nto bed he put the cat in the rocking-chair, and he put the dog under the\ntable, and he put the goat upstairs, and he put the bull in the cellar,\nand bade the rooster fly up on to the roof.\n\nThen he went to bed.\n\nNow sure enough, in the dead of the night, the robbers sent one man back\nto the house to look after their money. But before long he came back in\na great fright and told them a fearsome tale!\n\n\"I went back to the house,\" said he, \"and went in and tried to sit down\nin the rocking-chair, and there was an old woman knitting there, and\nshe--oh my!--stuck her knitting-needles into me.\"\n\n(_That was the cat, you know._)\n\n\"Then I went to the table to look after the money, but there was a\nshoemaker under the table, and my! how he stuck his awl into me.\"\n\n(_That was the dog, you know._)\n\n\"So I started to go upstairs, but there was a man up there threshing,\nand goody! how he knocked me down with his flail!\"\n\n(_That was the goat, you know._)\n\n\"Then I started to go down to the cellar, but--oh dear me!--there was a\nman down there chopping wood, and he knocked me up and he knocked me\ndown just terrible with his axe.\"\n\n(_That was the bull, you know._)\n\n\"But I shouldn't have minded all that if it hadn't been for an awful\nlittle fellow on the top of the house by the kitchen chimney, who kept\na-hollering and hollering, 'Cook him in a stew! Cook him in a stew! Cook\nhim in a stew!'\"\n\n(_And that, of course, was the cock-a-doodle-doo._)\n\nThen the robbers agreed that they would rather lose their gold than meet\nwith such a fate; so they made off, and Jack next morning went gaily\nhome with his booty. And each of the animals carried a portion of it.\nThe cat hung a bag on its tail (a cat when it walks always carries its\ntail stiff), the dog on his collar, the goat and the bull on their\nhorns, but Jack made the rooster carry a golden guinea in its beak to\nprevent it from calling all the time:\n\n  \"Cock-a-doodle-doo,\n   Cook him in a stew!\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOGEY-BEAST\n\n\nThere was once a woman who was very, very cheerful, though she had\nlittle to make her so; for she was old, and poor, and lonely. She lived\nin a little bit of a cottage and earned a scant living by running\nerrands for her neighbours, getting a bite here, a sup there, as reward\nfor her services. So she made shift to get on, and always looked as spry\nand cheery as if she had not a want in the world.\n\nNow one summer evening, as she was trotting, full of smiles as ever,\nalong the high road to her hovel, what should she see but a big black\npot lying in the ditch!\n\n\"Goodness me!\" she cried, \"that would be just the very thing for me if I\nonly had something to put in it! But I haven't! Now who could have left\nit in the ditch?\"\n\nAnd she looked about her expecting the owner would not be far off; but\nshe could see nobody.\n\n\"Maybe there is a hole in it,\" she went on, \"and that's why it has been\ncast away. But it would do fine to put a flower in for my window; so\nI'll just take it home with me.\"\n\nAnd with that she lifted the lid and looked inside. \"Mercy me!\" she\ncried, fair amazed. \"If it isn't full of gold pieces. Here's luck!\"\n\nAnd so it was, brimful of great gold coins. Well, at first she simply\nstood stock-still, wondering if she was standing on her head or her\nheels. Then she began saying:\n\n\"Lawks! But I do feel rich. I feel awful rich!\"\n\nAfter she had said this many times, she began to wonder how she was to\nget her treasure home. It was too heavy for her to carry, and she could\nsee no better way than to tie the end of her shawl to it and drag it\nbehind her like a go-cart.\n\n\"It will soon be dark,\" she said to herself as she trotted along. \"So\nmuch the better! The neighbours will not see what I'm bringing home, and\nI shall have all the night to myself, and be able to think what I'll do!\nMayhap I'll buy a grand house and just sit by the fire with a cup o' tea\nand do no work at all like a queen. Or maybe I'll bury it at the garden\nfoot and just keep a bit in the old china teapot on the chimney-piece.\nOr maybe--Goody! Goody! I feel that grand I don't know myself.\"\n\nBy this time she was a bit tired of dragging such a heavy weight, and,\nstopping to rest a while, turned to look at her treasure.\n\nAnd lo! it wasn't a pot of gold at all! It was nothing but a lump of\nsilver.\n\nShe stared at it, and rubbed her eyes, and stared at it again.\n\n\"Well! I never!\" she said at last. \"And me thinking it was a pot of\ngold! I must have been dreaming. But this is luck! Silver is far less\ntrouble--easier to mind, and not so easy stolen. Them gold pieces would\nhave been the death o' me, and with this great lump of silver--\"\n\nSo she went off again planning what she would do, and feeling as rich as\nrich, until becoming a bit tired again she stopped to rest and gave a\nlook round to see if her treasure was safe; and she saw nothing but a\ngreat lump of iron!\n\n\"Well! I never!\" says she again. \"And I mistaking it for silver! I must\nhave been dreaming. But this is luck! It's real convenient. I can get\npenny pieces for old iron, and penny pieces are a deal handier for me\nthan your gold and silver. Why! I should never have slept a wink for\nfear of being robbed. But a penny piece comes in useful, and I shall\nsell that iron for a lot and be real rich--rolling rich.\"\n\nSo on she trotted full of plans as to how she would spend her penny\npieces, till once more she stopped to rest and looked round to see her\ntreasure was safe. And this time she saw nothing but a big stone.\n\n\"Well! I never!\" she cried, full of smiles. \"And to think I mistook it\nfor iron. I must have been dreaming. But here's luck indeed, and me\nwanting a stone terrible bad to stick open the gate. Eh my! but it's a\nchange for the better! It's a fine thing to have good luck.\"\n\nSo, all in a hurry to see how the stone would keep the gate open, she\ntrotted off down the hill till she came to her own cottage. She\nunlatched the gate and then turned to unfasten her shawl from the stone\nwhich lay on the path behind her. Aye! It was a stone sure enough. There\nwas plenty light to see it lying there, douce and peaceable as a stone\nshould.\n\nSo she bent over it to unfasten the shawl end, when--\"Oh my!\" All of a\nsudden it gave a jump, a squeal, and in one moment was as big as a\nhaystack. Then it let down four great lanky legs and threw out two long\nears, nourished a great long tail and romped off, kicking and squealing\nand whinnying and laughing like a naughty, mischievous boy!\n\nThe old woman stared after it till it was fairly out of sight, then she\nburst out laughing too.\n\n\"Well!\" she chuckled, \"I am in luck! Quite the luckiest body hereabouts.\nFancy my seeing the Bogey-Beast all to myself; and making myself so free\nwith it too! My goodness! I do feel that uplifted--that _GRAND_!\"--\n\nSo she went into her cottage and spent the evening chuckling over her\ngood luck.\n\n[Illustration: \"Well!\" she chuckled, \"I am in luck!\"]\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a little girl who was called little Red\nRiding-Hood, because she was quite small and because she always wore a\nred cloak with a big red hood to it, which her grandmother had made for\nher.\n\nNow one day her mother, who had been churning and baking cakes, said to\nher:\n\n\"My dear, put on your red cloak with the hood to it, and take this cake\nand this pot of butter to your Grannie, and ask how she is, for I hear\nshe is ailing.\"\n\nNow little Red Riding-Hood was very fond of her grandmother, who made\nher so many nice things, so she put on her cloak joyfully and started on\nher errand. But her grandmother lived some way off, and to reach the\ncottage little Red Riding-Hood had to pass through a vast lonely forest.\nHowever, some wood-cutters were at work in it, so little Red Riding-Hood\nwas not so very much alarmed when she saw a great big wolf coming\ntowards her, because she knew that wolves were cowardly things.\n\nAnd sure enough the wolf, though but for the wood-cutters he would\nsurely have eaten little Red Riding-Hood, only stopped and asked her\npolitely where she was going.\n\n\"I am going to see Grannie, take her this cake and this pot of butter,\nand ask how she is,\" says little Red Riding-Hood.\n\n\"Does she live a very long way off?\" asks the wolf craftily.\n\n\"Not so very far if you go by the straight road,\" replied little Red\nRiding-Hood. \"You only have to pass the mill and the first cottage on\nthe right is Grannie's; but I am going by the wood path because there\nare such a lot of nuts and flowers and butterflies.\"\n\n\"I wish you good luck,\" says the wolf politely. \"Give my respects to\nyour grandmother and tell her I hope she is quite well.\"\n\nAnd with that he trotted off. But instead of going his ways he turned\nback, took the straight road to the old woman's cottage, and knocked at\nthe door.\n\nRap! Rap! Rap!\n\n\"Who's there?\" asked the old woman, who was in bed.\n\n\"Little Red Riding-Hood,\" sings out the wolf, making his voice as shrill\nas he could. \"I've come to bring dear Grannie a pot of butter and a cake\nfrom mother, and to ask how you are.\"\n\n\"Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up,\" says the old woman, well\nsatisfied.\n\nSo the wolf pulled the bobbin, the latch went up, and--oh my!--it\nwasn't a minute before he had gobbled up old Grannie, for he had had\nnothing to eat for a week.\n\nThen he shut the door, put on Grannie's nightcap, and, getting into bed,\nrolled himself well up in the clothes.\n\nBy and by along comes little Red Riding-Hood, who had been amusing\nherself by gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and picking\nflowers.\n\nSo she knocked at the door.\n\nRap! Rap! Rap!\n\n\"Who's there?\" says the wolf, making his voice as soft as he could.\n\nNow little Red Riding-Hood heard the voice was very gruff, but she\nthought her grandmother had a cold; so she said:\n\n\"Little Red Riding-Hood, with a pot of butter and a cake from mother, to\nask how you are.\"\n\n\"Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up.\"\n\nSo little Red Riding-Hood pulled the bobbin, the latch went up, and\nthere, she thought, was her grandmother in the bed; for the cottage was\nso dark one could not see well. Besides, the crafty wolf turned his face\nto the wall at first. And he made his voice as soft, as soft as he\ncould, when he said:\n\n\"Come and kiss me, my dear.\"\n\nThen little Red Riding-Hood took off her cloak and went to the bed.\n\n\"Oh, Grandmamma, Grandmamma,\" says she, \"what big arms you've got!\"\n\n\"All the better to hug you with,\" says he.\n\n\"But, Grandmamma, Grandmamma, what big legs you have!\"\n\n\"All the better to run with, my dear.\"\n\n\"Oh, Grandmamma, Grandmamma, what big ears you've got!\"\n\n\"All the better to hear with, my dear.\"\n\n\"But, Grandmamma, Grandmamma, what big eyes you've got!\"\n\n\"All the better to see you with, my dear!\"\n\n\"Oh, Grandmamma, Grandmamma, what big teeth you've got!\"\n\n\"All the better to eat you with, my dear!\" says that wicked, wicked\nwolf, and with that he gobbled up little Red Riding-Hood.\n\n\n\n\nCHILDE ROWLAND\n\n\n  Childe Rowland and his brothers twain\n  Were playing at the ball.\n  Their sister, Burd Helen, she played\n  In the midst among them all.\n\nFor Burd Helen loved her brothers, and they loved her exceedingly. At\nplay she was ever their companion and they cared for her as brothers\nshould. And one day when they were at ball close to the churchyard--\n\n  Childe Rowland kicked it with his foot\n  And caught it on his knee.\n  At last as he plunged among them all,\n  O'er the church he made it flee.\n\nNow Childe Rowland was Burd Helen's youngest, dearest brother, and there\nwas ever a loving rivalry between them as to which should win. So with a\nlaugh--\n\n  Burd Helen round about the aisle\n  To seek the ball is gone.\n\nNow the ball had trundled to the right of the church; so, as Burd Helen\nran the nearest way to get it, she ran contrary to the sun's course,\nand the light, shining full on her face, sent her shadow behind her.\nThus that happened which will happen at times when folk forget and run\nwidershins, that is against the light, so that their shadows are out of\nsight and cannot be taken care of properly.\n\nNow what happened you will learn by and by; meanwhile, Burd Helen's\nthree brothers waited for her return.\n\n  But long they waited, and longer still,\n  And she came not back again.\n\nThen they grew alarmed, and--\n\n  They sought her east, they sought her west,\n  They sought her up and down.\n  And woe were the hearts of her brethren,\n  Since she was not to be found.\n\nNot to be found anywhere--she had disappeared like dew on a May morning.\n\nSo at last her eldest brother went to Great Merlin the Magician, who\ncould tell and foretell, see and foresee all things under the sun and\nbeyond it, and asked him where Burd Helen could have gone.\n\n\"Fair Burd Helen,\" said the Magician, \"must have been carried off with\nher shadow by the fairies when she was running round the church\nwidershins; for fairies have power when folk go against the light. She\nwill now be in the Dark Tower of the King of Elfland, and none but the\nboldest knight in Christendom will be able to bring her back.\"\n\n\"If it be possible to bring her back,\" said the eldest brother, \"I will\ndo it, or perish in the attempt.\"\n\n\"Possible it is,\" quoth Merlin the Magician gravely. \"But woe be to the\nman or mother's son who attempts the task if he be not well taught\nbeforehand what he is to do.\"\n\nNow the eldest brother of fair Burd Helen was brave indeed, danger did\nnot dismay him, so he begged the Magician to tell him exactly what he\nshould do, and what he should not do, as he was determined to go and\nseek his sister. And the Great Magician told him, and schooled him, and\nafter he had learnt his lesson right well he girt on his sword, said\ngood-bye to his brothers and his mother, and set out for the Dark Tower\nof Elfland to bring Burd Helen back.\n\n  But long they waited, and longer still,\n  With doubt and muckle pain.\n  But woe were the hearts of his brethren,\n  For he came not back again.\n\nSo after a time Burd Helen's second brother went to Merlin the Magician\nand said:\n\n\"School me also, for I go to find my brother and sister in the Dark\nTower of the King of Elfland and bring them back.\" For he also was brave\nindeed, danger did not dismay him.\n\nThen when he had been well schooled and had learnt his lesson, he said\ngood-bye to Childe Rowland, his brother, and to his mother the good\nQueen, girt on his sword, and set out for the Dark Tower of Elfland to\nbring back Burd Helen and her brother.\n\n  But long they waited, and longer still,\n  With muckle doubt and pain.\n  And woe were his mother's and brother's hearts,\n  For he came not back again.\n\nNow when they had waited and waited a long, long time, and none had come\nback from the Dark Tower of Elfland, Childe Rowland, the youngest, the\nbest beloved of Burd Helen's brothers, besought his mother to let him\nalso go on the quest; for he was the bravest of them all, and neither\ndeath nor danger could dismay him. But at first his mother the Queen\nsaid:\n\n\"Not so! You are the last of my children; if you are lost, all is lost\nindeed!\"\n\nBut he begged so hard that at length the good Queen his mother bade him\nGod-speed, and girt about his waist his father's sword, the brand that\nnever struck in vain, and as she girt it on she chanted the spell that\ngives victory.\n\nSo Childe Rowland bade her good-bye and went to the cave of the Great\nMagician Merlin.\n\n\"Yet once more, Master,\" said the youth, \"and but once more, tell how\nman or mother's son may find fair Burd Helen and her brothers twain in\nthe Dark Tower of Elfland.\"\n\n\"My son,\" replied the wizard Merlin, \"there be things twain; simple they\nseem to say, but hard are they to perform. One thing is to do, and one\nthing is not to do. Now the first thing you have to do is this: after\nyou have once entered the Land of Faery, _whoever speaks to you_, you\nmust out with your father's brand and cut off their head. In this you\nmust not fail. And the second thing you have not to do is this: after\nyou have entered the Land of Faery, bite no bit, sup no drop; for if in\nElfland you sup one drop or bite one bit, never again will you see\nMiddle Earth.\"\n\nThen Childe Rowland said these two lessons over and over until he knew\nthem by heart; so, well schooled, he thanked the Great Master and went\non his way to seek the Dark Tower of Elfland.\n\nAnd he journeyed far, and he journeyed fast, until at last on a wide\nmoorland he came upon a horse-herd feeding his horses; and the horses\nwere wild, and their eyes were like coals of fire.\n\nThen he knew they must be the horses of the King of Elfland, and that at\nlast he must be in the Land of Faery.\n\nSo Childe Rowland said to the horse-herd, \"Canst tell me where lies the\nDark Tower of the Elfland King?\"\n\nAnd the horse-herd answered, \"Nay, that is beyond my ken; but go a\nlittle farther and thou wilt come to a cow-herd who mayhap can tell\nthee.\"\n\nThen at once Childe Rowland drew his father's sword that never struck in\nvain, and smote off the horse-herd's head, so that it rolled on the wide\nmoorland and frightened the King of Elfland's horses. And he journeyed\nfurther till he came to a wide pasture where a cow-herd was herding\ncows. And the cows looked at him with fiery eyes, so he knew that they\nmust be the King of Elfland's cows, and that he was still in the Land of\nFaery. Then he said to the cow-herd:\n\n\"Canst tell me where lies the Dark Tower of the Elfland King?\"\n\nAnd the cow-herd answered, \"Nay, that is beyond my ken; but go a little\nfarther and thou wilt come to a hen-wife who, mayhap, can tell thee.\"\n\nSo at once Childe Rowland, remembering his lesson, out with his father's\ngood sword that never struck in vain, and off went the cow-herd's head\nspinning amongst the grasses and frightening the King of Elfland's cows.\n\nThen he journeyed further till he came to an orchard where an old woman\nin a grey cloak was feeding fowls.\n\nAnd the fowls' little eyes were like little coals of fire, so he knew\nthat they were the King of Elfland's fowls, and that he was still in the\nLand of Faery.\n\nAnd he said to the hen-wife, \"Canst tell me where lies the Dark Tower of\nthe King of Elfland?\"\n\nNow the hen-wife looked at him and smiled. \"Surely I can tell you,\" said\nshe. \"Go on a little farther. There you will find a low green hill;\ngreen and low against the sky. And the hill will have three\nterrace-rings upon it from bottom to top. Go round the first terrace\nsaying:\n\n  'Open from within;\n   Let me in! Let me in!'\n\n\"Then go round the second terrace and say:\n\n  'Open wide, open wide;\n   Let me inside.'\n\n\"Then go round the third terrace and say:\n\n  'Open fast, open fast;\n   Let me in at last.'\n\n\"Then a door will open and let you in to the Dark Tower of the King of\nElfland. Only remember to go round widershins. If you go round with the\nsun the door will not open. So good luck to you!\"\n\nNow the hen-wife spoke so fair, and smiled so frank, that Childe Rowland\nforgot for a moment what he had to do. Therefore he thanked the old\nwoman for her courtesy and was just going on, when, all of a sudden, he\nremembered his lesson. And he out with his father's sword that never yet\nstruck in vain, and smote off the hen-wife's head, so that it rolled\namong the corn and frightened the fiery-eyed fowls of the King of\nElfland.\n\nAfter that he went on and on, till, against the blue sky, he saw a round\ngreen hill set with three terraces from top to bottom.\n\nThen he did as the hen-wife had told him, not forgetting to go round\nwidershins, so that the sun was always on his face.\n\nNow when he had gone round the third terrace saying:\n\n  \"Open fast, open fast;\n   Let me in at last,\"\n\nwhat should happen but that he should see a door in the hill-side. And\nit opened and let him in. Then it closed behind him with a click, and\nChilde Rowland was left in the dark; for he had gotten at last to the\nDark Tower of the King of Elfland.\n\nIt was very dark at first, perhaps because the sun had part blinded his\neyes; for after a while it became twilight, though where the light came\nfrom none could tell, unless through the walls and the roof; for there\nwere neither windows nor candles. But in the gloaming light he could see\na long passage of rough arches made of rock that was transparent and all\nencrusted with sheep-silver, rock-spar, and many bright stones. And the\nair was warm as it ever is in Elfland. So he went on and on in the\ntwilight that came from nowhere, till he found himself before two wide\ndoors all barred with iron. But they flew open at his touch, and he saw\na wonderful, large, and spacious hall that seemed to him to be as long\nand as broad as the green hill itself. The roof was supported by pillars\nwide and lofty beyond the pillars of a cathedral; and they were of gold\nand silver, fretted into foliage, and between and around them were woven\nwreaths of flowers. And the flowers were of diamonds, and rubies, and\ntopaz, and the leaves of emerald. And the arches met in the middle of\nthe roof where hung, by a golden chain, an immense lamp made of a\nhollowed pearl, white and translucent. And in the middle of this lamp\nwas a mighty carbuncle, blood-red, that kept spinning round and round,\nshedding its light to the very ends of the huge hall, which thus seemed\nto be filled with the shining of the setting sun.\n\nNow at one end of the hall was a marvelous, wondrous, glorious couch of\nvelvet, silk and gold, and on it sate fair Burd Helen combing her\nbeautiful golden hair with a golden comb. But her face was all set and\nwan, as if it were made of stone. When she saw Childe Rowland she never\nmoved, and her voice came like the voice of the dead as she said:\n\n  \"God pity you, poor luckless fool!\n   What have you here to do?\"\n\nNow at first Childe Rowland felt he must clasp this semblance of his\ndear sister in his arms, but he remembered the lesson which the Great\nMagician Merlin had taught him, and drawing his father's brand which had\nnever yet been drawn in vain, and turning his eyes from the horrid\nsight, he struck with all his force at the enchanted form of fair Burd\nHelen.\n\nAnd lo, when he turned to look in fear and trembling, there she was her\nown self, her joy fighting with her fears. And she clasped him in her\narms and cried:\n\n  \"Oh, hear you this, my youngest brother,\n   Why didn't you bide at home?\n   Had you a hundred thousand lives,\n   Ye couldn't spare ne'er a one!\n\n  \"But sit you down, my dearest dear,\n   Oh! woe that ye were born,\n   For, come the King of Elfland in,\n   Your fortune is forlorn.\"\n\nSo with tears and smiles she seated him beside her on the wondrous\ncouch, and they told each other what they each had suffered and done. He\ntold her how he had come to Elfland. She told him how she had been\ncarried off, shadow and all, because she ran round a church widershins,\nand how her brothers had been enchanted, and lay intombed as if dead, as\nshe had been. Because they had not had the courage to obey the Great\nMagician's lesson to the letter, and cut off her head.\n\nNow after a time Childe Rowland, who had travelled far and travelled\nfast, became very hungry, and forgetting all about the second lesson of\nthe Magician Merlin, asked his sister for some food; and she, being\nstill under the spell of Elfland, could not warn him of his danger. She\ncould only look at him sadly as she rose up and brought him a golden\nbasin full of bread and milk.\n\nNow in those days it was manners before taking food from anyone to say\nthank you with your eyes, and so just as Childe Rowland was about to put\nthe golden bowl to his lips, he raised his eyes to his sister's.\n\nAnd in an instant he remembered what the Great Magician had said: \"Bite\nno bit, sup no drop, for if in Elfland you sup one drop or bite one bit,\nnever again will you see Middle Earth.\"\n\nSo he dashed the bowl to the ground, and standing square and fair, lithe\nand young and strong, he cried like a challenge:\n\n\"Not a sup will I swallow, not a bit will I bite, till fair Burd Helen\nis set free.\"\n\nThen immediately there was a loud noise like thunder, and a voice was\nheard saying:\n\n  \"Fee, fi, fo, fum,\n   I smell the blood of a Christian Man.\n   Be he alive or dead, my brand\n   Shall dash his brains from his brain-pan.\"\n\nThen the folding-doors of the vast hall burst open and the King of\nElfland entered like a storm of wind. What he was really like Childe\nRowland had not time to see, for with a bold cry:\n\n\"Strike, Bogle! thy hardest if thou darest!\" he rushed to meet the foe,\nhis good sword, that never yet did fail, in his hand.\n\nAnd Childe Rowland and the King of Elfland fought, and fought, and\nfought, while Burd Helen, with her hands clasped, watched them in fear\nand hope.\n\nSo they fought, and fought, and fought, until at last Childe Rowland\nbeat the King of Elfland to his knees. Whereupon he cried, \"I yield me.\nThou hast beaten me in fair fight.\"\n\nThen Childe Rowland said, \"I grant thee mercy if thou wilt release my\nsister and my brothers from all spells and enchantments, and let us go\nback to Middle Earth.\"\n\nSo that was agreed; and the Elfin King went to a golden chest whence he\ntook a phial that was filled with a blood-red liquor. And with this\nliquor he anointed the ears and the eyelids, the nostrils, the lips, and\nthe finger-tips of the bodies of Burd Helen's two brothers that lay as\ndead in two golden coffers.\n\nAnd immediately they sprang to life and declared that their souls only\nhad been away, but had now returned.\n\nAfter this the Elfin King said a charm which took away the very last bit\nof enchantment, and adown the huge hall that showed as if it were lit by\nthe setting sun, and through the long passage of rough arches made of\nrock that was transparent and all encrusted with sheep-silver,\nrock-spar, and many bright stones, where twilight reigned, the three\nbrothers and their sister passed. Then the door opened in the green\nhill, it clicked behind them, and they left the Dark Tower of the King\nof Elfland never to return.\n\nFor, no sooner were they in the light of day, than they found themselves\nat home.\n\nBut fair Burd Helen took care never to go widershins round a church\nagain.\n\n[Illustration: They both met together upon Nottingham bridge]\n\n\n\n\nTHE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM\n\n\nOF BUYING OF SHEEP\n\nThere were two men of Gotham, and one of them was going to market to\nNottingham to buy sheep, and the other came from the market, and they\nboth met together upon Nottingham bridge.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" said the one who came from Nottingham.\n\n\"Marry,\" said he that was going to Nottingham, \"I am going to buy\nsheep.\"\n\n\"Buy sheep?\" said the other; \"and which way will you bring them home?\"\n\n\"Marry,\" said the other, \"I will bring them over this bridge.\"\n\n\"By Robin Hood,\" said he that came from Nottingham, \"but thou shalt\nnot.\"\n\n\"By Maid Marion,\" said he that was going thither, \"but I will.\"\n\n\"You will not,\" said the one.\n\n\"I will.\"\n\nThen they beat their staves against the ground, one against the other,\nas if there had been a hundred sheep between them.\n\n\"Hold in,\" said one; \"beware lest my sheep leap over the bridge.\"\n\n\"I care not,\" said the other; \"they shall not come this way.\"\n\n\"But they shall,\" said the other.\n\nThen the other said, \"If that thou make much to do, I will put my\nfingers in thy mouth.\"\n\n\"Will you?\" said the other.\n\nNow, as they were at their contention, another man of Gotham came from\nthe market with a sack of meal upon a horse, and seeing and hearing his\nneighbours at strife about sheep, though there were none between them,\nsaid:\n\n\"Ah, fools! will you ever learn wisdom? Help me, and lay my sack upon my\nshoulders.\"\n\nThey did so, and he went to the side of the bridge, unloosened the mouth\nof the sack, and shook all his meal out into the river.\n\n\"Now, neighbours,\" he said, \"how much meal is there in my sack?\"\n\n\"Marry,\" said they, \"there is none at all.\"\n\n\"Now, by my faith,\" said he, \"even as much wit as is in your two heads\nto stir up strife about a thing you have not.\"\n\nWhich was the wisest of these three persons, judge yourself.\n\n[Illustration: \"A vengeance on her!\" said they. \"We did not make our\nhedge high enough\"]\n\nOF HEDGING A CUCKOO\n\nOnce upon a time the men of Gotham would have kept the Cuckoo so that\nshe might sing all the year, and in the midst of their town they made a\nhedge round in compass and they got a Cuckoo, and put her into it, and\nsaid, \"Sing there all through the year, or thou shalt have neither meat\nnor water.\" The Cuckoo, as soon as she perceived herself within the\nhedge, flew away. \"A vengeance on her!\" said they. \"We did not make our\nhedge high enough.\"\n\n[Illustration: He took out the cheeses and rolled them down the hill]\n\nOF SENDING CHEESES\n\nThere was a man of Gotham who went to the market at Nottingham to sell\ncheese, and as he was going down the hill to Nottingham bridge, one of\nhis cheeses fell out of his wallet and rolled down the hill. \"Ah,\ngaffer,\" said the fellow, \"can you run to market alone? I will send one\nafter another after you.\" Then he laid down his wallet and took out the\ncheeses and rolled them down the hill. Some went into one bush, and some\nwent into another.\n\n\"I charge you all to meet me near the market-place,\" cried he; and when\nthe fellow came to the market to meet his cheeses, he stayed there till\nthe market was nearly done. Then he went about to inquire of his friends\nand neighbours, and other men, if they did see his cheeses come to the\nmarket.\n\n\"Who should bring them?\" said one of the market men.\n\n\"Marry, themselves,\" said the fellow; \"they know the way well enough.\"\n\nHe said, \"A vengeance on them all. I did fear, to see them run so fast,\nthat they would run beyond the market. I am now fully persuaded that\nthey must be now almost at York.\" Whereupon he forthwith hired a horse\nto ride to York, to seek his cheeses where they were not; but to this\nday no man can tell him of his cheeses.\n\n[Illustration: And they left the eel to drown]\n\nOF DROWNING EELS\n\nWhen Good Friday came, the men of Gotham cast their heads together what\nto do with their white herrings, their red herrings, their sprats, and\nother salt fish. One consulted with the other, and agreed that such\nfish should be cast into their pond (which was in the middle of the\ntown), that they might breed against the next year, and every man that\nhad salt fish left cast them into the pool.\n\n\"I have many white herrings,\" said one.\n\n\"I have many sprats,\" said another.\n\n\"I have many red herrings,\" said the other.\n\n\"I have much salt fish. Let all go into the pond or pool, and we shall\nfare like lords next year.\"\n\nAt the beginning of next year following the men drew near the pond to\nhave their fish, and there was nothing but a great eel. \"Ah,\" said they\nall, \"a mischief on this eel, for he has eaten up all our fish.\"\n\n\"What shall we do to him?\" said one to the other.\n\n\"Kill him,\" said one.\n\n\"Chop him into pieces,\" said another.\n\n\"Not so,\" said another; \"let us drown him.\"\n\n\"Be it so,\" said all. And they went to another pond, and cast the eel\ninto the pond. \"Lie there and shift for yourself, for no help thou shalt\nhave from us\"; and they left the eel to drown.\n\n[Illustration: The hare ran on along the country way]\n\nOF SENDING RENT\n\nOnce on a time the men of Gotham had forgotten to pay their landlord.\nOne said to the other, \"To-morrow is our pay-day, and what shall we find\nto send our money to our landlord?\"\n\nThe one said, \"This day I have caught a hare, and he shall carry it, for\nhe is light of foot.\"\n\n\"Be it so,\" said all; \"he shall have a letter and a purse to put our\nmoney in, and we shall direct him the right way.\" So when the letters\nwere written and the money put in a purse, they tied it round the hare's\nneck, saying, \"First you go to Lancaster, then thou must go to\nLoughborough, and Newarke is our landlord, and commend us to him, and\nthere is his dues.\"\n\nThe hare, as soon as he was out of their hands, ran on along the country\nway. Some cried, \"Thou must go to Lancaster first.\"\n\n\"Let the hare alone,\" said another; \"he can tell a nearer way than the\nbest of us all. Let him go.\"\n\nAnother said, \"It is a subtle hare; let her alone; she will not keep the\nhighway for fear of dogs.\"\n\n[Illustration: A courtier came riding by, and he did ask what they were\nseeking]\n\nOF COUNTING\n\nOn a certain time there were twelve men of Gotham who went fishing, and\nsome went into the water and some on dry ground; and, as they were\ncoming back, one of them said, \"We have ventured much this day wading; I\npray God that none of us that did come from home be drowned.\"\n\n\"Marry,\" said one, \"let us see about that. Twelve of us came out.\" And\nevery man did count eleven, and the twelfth man did never count himself.\n\n\"Alas!\" said one to another, \"one of us is drowned.\" They went back to\nthe brook where they had been fishing, and looked up and down for him\nthat was drowned, and made great lamentation. A courtier came riding by,\nand he did ask what they were seeking, and why they were so sorrowful.\n\"Oh,\" said they, \"this day we came to fish in this brook, and there were\ntwelve of us, and one is drowned.\"\n\n\"Why,\" said the courtier, \"count me how many of you there be\"; and one\ncounted eleven and did not count himself. \"Well,\" said the courtier,\n\"what will you give me if I find the twelfth man?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said they, \"all the money we have.\"\n\n\"Give me the money,\" said the courtier; and he began with the first, and\ngave him a whack over the shoulders that he groaned, and said, \"There is\none,\" and he served all of them that they groaned; but when he came to\nthe last he gave him a good blow, saying, \"Here is the twelfth man.\"\n\n\"God bless you on your heart,\" said all the company; \"you have found our\nneighbour.\"\n\n\n\n\nCAPORUSHES\n\n\nOnce upon a time, a long, long while ago, when all the world was young\nand all sorts of strange things happened, there lived a very rich\ngentleman whose wife had died leaving him three lovely daughters. They\nwere as the apple of his eye, and he loved them exceedingly.\n\nNow one day he wanted to find out if they loved him in return, so he\nsaid to the eldest, \"How much do you love me, my dear?\"\n\nAnd she answered as pat as may be, \"As I love my life.\"\n\n\"Very good, my dear,\" said he, and gave her a kiss. Then he said to the\nsecond girl, \"How much do you love me, my dear?\"\n\nAnd she answered as swift as thought, \"Better than all the world\nbeside.\"\n\n\"Good!\" he replied, and patted her on the cheek. Then he turned to the\nyoungest, who was also the prettiest.\n\n\"And how much do _you_ love me, my dearest?\"\n\nNow the youngest daughter was not only pretty, she was clever. So she\nthought a moment, then she said slowly:\n\n\"I love you as fresh meat loves salt!\"\n\nNow when her father heard this he was very angry, because he really\nloved her more than the others.\n\n\"What!\" he said. \"If that is all you give me in return for all I've\ngiven you, out of my house you go.\" So there and then he turned her out\nof the home where she had been born and bred, and shut the door in her\nface.\n\nNot knowing where to go, she wandered on, and she wandered on, till she\ncame to a big fen where the reeds grew ever so tall and the rushes\nswayed in the wind like a field of corn. There she sate down and plaited\nherself an overall of rushes and a cap to match, so as to hide her fine\nclothes, and her beautiful golden hair that was all set with milk-white\npearls. For she was a wise girl, and thought that in such lonely\ncountry, mayhap, some robber might fall in with her and kill her to get\nher fine clothes and jewels.\n\nIt took a long time to plait the dress and cap, and while she plaited\nshe sang a little song:\n\n  \"Hide my hair, O cap o' rushes,\n   Hide my heart, O robe o' rushes.\n   Sure! my answer had no fault,\n   I love him more than he loves salt.\"\n\nAnd the fen birds sate and listened and sang back to her:\n\n  \"Cap o' rushes, shed no tear,\n   Robe o' rushes, have no fear;\n   With these words if fault he'd find,\n   Sure your father must be blind.\"\n\nWhen her task was finished she put on her robe of rushes and it hid all\nher fine clothes, and she put on the cap and it hid all her beautiful\nhair, so that she looked quite a common country girl. But the fen birds\nflew away, singing as they flew:\n\n  \"Cap-o-rushes! we can see,\n   Robe o' rushes! what you be,\n   Fair and clean, and fine and tidy,\n   So you'll be whate'er betide ye.\"\n\nBy this time she was very, very hungry, so she wandered on, and she\nwandered on; but ne'er a cottage or a hamlet did she see, till just at\nsun-setting she came on a great house on the edge of the fen. It had a\nfine front door to it; but mindful of her dress of rushes she went round\nto the back. And there she saw a strapping fat scullion washing pots and\npans with a very sulky face. So, being a clever girl, she guessed what\nthe maid was wanting, and said:\n\n\"If I may have a night's lodging, I will scrub the pots and pans for\nyou.\"\n\n\"Why! Here's luck,\" replied the scullery-maid, ever so pleased. \"I was\njust wanting badly to go a-walking with my sweetheart. So if you will do\nmy work you shall share my bed and have a bite of my supper. Only mind\nyou scrub the pots clean or cook will be at me.\"\n\nNow next morning the pots were scraped so clean that they looked like\nnew, and the saucepans were polished like silver, and the cook said to\nthe scullion, \"Who cleaned these pots? Not you, I'll swear.\" So the maid\nhad to up and out with the truth. Then the cook would have turned away\nthe old maid and put on the new, but the latter would not hear of it.\n\n\"The maid was kind to me and gave me a night's lodging,\" she said. \"So\nnow I will stay without wage and do the dirty work for her.\"\n\nSo Caporushes--for so they called her since she would give no other\nname--stayed on and cleaned the pots and scraped the saucepans.\n\nNow it so happened that her master's son came of age, and to celebrate\nthe occasion a ball was given to the neighbourhood, for the young man\nwas a grand dancer, and loved nothing so well as a country measure. It\nwas a very fine party, and after supper was served, the servants were\nallowed to go and watch the quality from the gallery of the ball-room.\n\nBut Caporushes refused to go, for she also was a grand dancer, and she\nwas afraid that when she heard the fiddles starting a merry jig, she\nmight start dancing. So she excused herself by saying she was too tired\nwith scraping pots and washing saucepans; and when the others went off,\nshe crept up to her bed.\n\nBut alas! and alack-a-day! The door had been left open, and as she lay\nin her bed she could hear the fiddlers fiddling away and the tramp of\ndancing feet.\n\nThen she upped and off with her cap and robe of rushes, and there she\nwas ever so fine and tidy. She was in the ball-room in a trice joining\nin the jig, and none was more beautiful or better dressed than she.\nWhile as for her dancing...!\n\nHer master's son singled her out at once, and with the finest of bows\nengaged her as his partner for the rest of the night. So she danced away\nto her heart's content, while the whole room was agog, trying to find\nout who the beautiful young stranger could be. But she kept her own\ncounsel and, making some excuse, slipped away before the ball finished;\nso when her fellow-servants came to bed, there she was in hers in her\ncap and robe of rushes, pretending to be fast asleep.\n\nNext morning, however, the maids could talk of nothing but the beautiful\nstranger.\n\n\"You should ha' seen her,\" they said. \"She was the loveliest young lady\nas ever you see, not a bit like the likes o' we. Her golden hair was all\nsilvered wi' pearls, and her dress--law! You wouldn't believe how she\nwas dressed. Young master never took his eyes off her.\"\n\nAnd Caporushes only smiled and said, with a twinkle in her eye, \"I\nshould like to see her, but I don't think I ever shall.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, you will,\" they replied, \"for young master has ordered another\nball to-night in hopes she will come to dance again.\"\n\nBut that evening Caporushes refused once more to go to the gallery,\nsaying she was too tired with cleaning pots and scraping saucepans. And\nonce more when she heard the fiddlers fiddling she said to herself, \"I\nmust have one dance--just one with the young master: he dances so\nbeautifully.\" For she felt certain he would dance with her.\n\nAnd sure enough, when she had upped and offed with her cap and robe of\nrushes, there he was at the door waiting for her to come; for he had\ndetermined to dance with no one else.\n\nSo he took her by the hand, and they danced down the ball-room. It was a\nsight of all sights! Never were such dancers! So young, so handsome, so\nfine, so gay!\n\nBut once again Caporushes kept her own counsel and just slipped away on\nsome excuse in time, so that when her fellow-servants came to their beds\nthey found her in hers, pretending to be fast asleep; but her cheeks\nwere all flushed and her breath came fast. So they said, \"She is\ndreaming. We hope her dreams are happy.\"\n\nBut next morning they were full of what she had missed. Never was such a\nbeautiful young gentleman as young master! Never was such a beautiful\nyoung lady! Never was such beautiful dancing! Every one else had stopped\ntheirs to look on.\n\nAnd Caporushes, with a twinkle in her eyes, said, \"I should like to see\nher; but I'm _sure_ I never shall!\"\n\n\"Oh yes!\" they replied. \"If you come to-night you're sure to see her;\nfor young master has ordered another ball in hopes the beautiful\nstranger will come again; for it's easy to see he is madly in love with\nher.\"\n\nThen Caporushes told herself she would not dance again, since it was not\nfit for a gay young master to be in love with his scullery-maid; but,\nalas! the moment she heard the fiddlers fiddling, she just upped and\noffed with her rushes, and there she was fine and tidy as ever! She\ndidn't even have to brush her beautiful golden hair! And once again she\nwas in the ball-room in a trice, dancing away with young master, who\nnever took his eyes off her, and implored her to tell him who she was.\nBut she kept her own counsel and only told him that she never, never,\nnever would come to dance any more, and that he must say good-bye. And\nhe held her hand so fast that she had a job to get away, and lo and\nbehold! his ring came off his finger, and as she ran up to her bed there\nit was in her hand! She had just time to put on her cap and robe of\nrushes, when her fellow-servants came trooping in and found her awake.\n\n\"It was the noise you made coming upstairs,\" she made excuse; but they\nsaid, \"Not we! It is the whole place that is in an uproar searching for\nthe beautiful stranger. Young master he tried to detain her; but she\nslipped from him like an eel. But he declares he will find her; for if\nhe doesn't he will die of love for her.\"\n\nThen Caporushes laughed. \"Young men don't die of love,\" says she. \"He\nwill find some one else.\"\n\nBut he didn't. He spent his whole time looking for his beautiful dancer,\nbut go where he might, and ask whom he would, he never heard anything\nabout her. And day by day he grew thinner and thinner, and paler and\npaler, until at last he took to his bed.\n\nAnd the housekeeper came to the cook and said, \"Cook the nicest dinner\nyou can cook, for young master eats nothing.\"\n\nThen the cook prepared soups, and jellies, and creams, and roast\nchicken, and bread sauce; but the young man would none of them.\n\nAnd Caporushes cleaned the pots and scraped the saucepans and said\nnothing.\n\nThen the housekeeper came crying and said to the cook, \"Prepare some\ngruel for young master. Mayhap he'd take that. If not he will die for\nlove of the beautiful dancer. If she could see him now she would have\npity on him.\"\n\nSo the cook began to make the gruel, and Caporushes left scraping\nsaucepans and watched her.\n\n\"Let me stir it,\" she said, \"while you fetch a cup from the\npantry-room.\"\n\nSo Caporushes stirred the gruel, and what did she do but slips young\nmaster's ring into it before the cook came back!\n\nThen the butler took the cup upstairs on a silver salver. But when the\nyoung master saw it he waved it away, till the butler with tears begged\nhim just to taste it.\n\nSo the young master took a silver spoon and stirred the gruel; and he\nfelt something hard at the bottom of the cup. And when he fished it up,\nlo! it was his own ring! Then he sate up in bed and said quite loud,\n\"Send for the cook!\" And when she came he asked her who made the gruel.\n\n\"I did,\" she said, for she was half-pleased and half-frightened.\n\nThen he looked at her all over and said, \"No, you didn't! You're too\nstout! Tell me who made it and you shan't be harmed!\"\n\nThen the cook began to cry. \"If you please, sir, I _did_ make it; but\nCaporushes stirred it.\"\n\n\"And who is Caporushes?\" asked the young man.\n\n\"If you please, sir, Caporushes is the scullion,\" whimpered the cook.\n\nThen the young man sighed and fell back on his pillow. \"Send Caporushes\nhere,\" he said in a faint voice; for he really was very near dying.\n\nAnd when Caporushes came he just looked at her cap and her robe of\nrushes and turned his face to the wall; but he asked her in a weak\nlittle voice, \"From whom did you get that ring?\"\n\nNow when Caporushes saw the poor young man so weak and worn with love\nfor her, her heart melted, and she replied softly:\n\n\"From him that gave it me,\" quoth she, and offed with her cap and robe\nof rushes, and there she was as fine and tidy as ever with her beautiful\ngolden hair all silvered over with pearls.\n\nAnd the young man caught sight of her with the tail of his eye, and sate\nup in bed as strong as may be, and drew her to him and gave her a great\nbig kiss.\n\nSo, of course, they were to be married in spite of her being only a\nscullery-maid, for she told no one who she was. Now every one far and\nnear was asked to the wedding. Amongst the invited guests was\nCaporushes' father, who, from grief at losing his favourite daughter,\nhad lost his sight, and was very dull and miserable. However, as a\nfriend of the family, he had to come to the young master's wedding.\n\nNow the marriage feast was to be the finest ever seen; but Caporushes\nwent to her friend the cook and said:\n\n\"Dress every dish without one mite of salt.\"\n\n\"That'll be rare and nasty,\" replied the cook; but because she prided\nherself on having let Caporushes stir the gruel and so saved the young\nmaster's life, she did as she was asked, and dressed every dish for the\nwedding breakfast without one mite of salt.\n\nNow when the company sate down to table their faces were full of smiles\nand content, for all the dishes looked so nice and tasty; but no sooner\nhad the guests begun to eat than their faces fell; for nothing can be\ntasty without salt.\n\nThen Caporushes' blind father, whom his daughter had seated next to her,\nburst out crying.\n\n\"What is the matter?\" she asked.\n\nThen the old man sobbed, \"I had a daughter whom I loved dearly, dearly.\nAnd I asked her how much she loved me, and she replied, 'As fresh meat\nloves salt.' And I was angry with her and turned her out of house and\nhome, for I thought she didn't love me at all. But now I see she loved\nme best of all.\"\n\nAnd as he said the words his eyes were opened, and there beside him was\nhis daughter lovelier than ever.\n\nAnd she gave him one hand, and her husband, the young master, the other,\nand laughed saying, \"I love you both as fresh meat loves salt.\" And\nafter that they were all happy for evermore.\n\n[Illustration: She sate down and plaited herself an overall of rushes\nand a cap to match]\n\n\n    THE BABES IN THE WOOD\n\n\n    Now ponder well, you parents dear,\n      These words which I shall write;\n    A doleful story you shall hear,\n      In time brought forth to light.\n    A gentleman of good account\n      In Norfolk dwelt of late,\n    Who did in honour far surmount\n      Most men of his estate.\n\n    Sore sick he was and like to die,\n      No help his life could save;\n    His wife by him as sick did lie,\n      And both possest one grave.\n    No love between these two was lost,\n      Each was to other kind;\n    In love they lived, in love they died,\n      And left two babes behind:\n\n    The one a fine and pretty boy\n      Not passing three years old,\n    The other a girl more young than he,\n      And framed in beauty's mould.\n    The father left his little son,\n      As plainly did appear,\n    When he to perfect age should come,\n      Three hundred pounds a year;\n\n    And to his little daughter Jane\n      Five hundred pounds in gold,\n    To be paid down on marriage-day,\n      Which might not be controlled.\n    But if the children chanced to die\n      Ere they to age should come,\n    Their uncle should possess their wealth;\n      For so the will did run.\n\n    \"Now, brother,\" said the dying man,\n      \"Look to my children dear;\n    Be good unto my boy and girl,\n      No friends else have they here;\n    To God and you I recommend\n      My children dear this day;\n    But little while be sure we have\n      Within this world to stay.\n\n    \"You must be father and mother both,\n      And uncle, all in one;\n    God knows what will become of them\n      When I am dead and gone.\"\n    With that bespake their mother dear:\n      \"O brother kind,\" quoth she,\n    \"You are the man must bring our babes\n      To wealth or misery.\n\n    \"And if you keep them carefully,\n      Then God will you reward;\n    But if you otherwise should deal,\n      God will your deeds regard.\"\n    With lips as cold as any stone,\n      They kissed their children small:\n    \"God bless you both, my children dear!\"\n      With that the tears did fall.\n\n    These speeches then their brother spake\n      To this sick couple there:\n    \"The keeping of your little ones,\n      Sweet sister, do not fear;\n    God never prosper me nor mine,\n      Nor aught else that I have,\n    If I do wrong your children dear\n      When you are laid in grave!\"\n\n    The parents being dead and gone,\n      The children home he takes,\n    And brings them straight unto his house,\n      Where much of them he makes.\n    He had not kept these pretty babes\n      A twelvemonth and a day,\n    But, for their wealth, he did devise\n      To make them both away.\n\n    He bargained with two ruffians strong,\n      Which were of furious mood,\n    That they should take these children young.\n      And slay them in a wood.\n    He told his wife an artful tale\n      He would the children send\n    To be brought up in London town\n      With one that was his friend.\n\n    Away then went those pretty babes,\n      Rejoicing at that tide,\n    Rejoicing with a merry mind\n      They should on cock-horse ride.\n    They prate and prattle pleasantly,\n      As they ride on the way,\n    To those that should their butchers be\n      And work their lives' decay:\n\n    So that the pretty speech they had\n      Made Murder's heart relent;\n    And they that undertook the deed\n      Full sore now did repent.\n    Yet one of them, more hard of heart,\n      Did vow to do his charge,\n    Because the wretch that hired him\n      Had paid him very large.\n\n    The other won't agree thereto,\n      So there they fall to strife;\n    With one another they did fight\n      About the children's life;\n    And he that was of mildest mood\n      Did slay the other there,\n    Within an unfrequented wood;\n      The babes did quake for fear!\n\n    He took the children by the hand,\n      Tears standing in their eye,\n    And bade them straightway follow him,\n      And look they did not cry;\n    And two long miles he led them on,\n      While they for food complain:\n    \"Stay here,\" quoth he, \"I'll bring you bread,\n      When I come back again.\"\n\n    These pretty babes, with hand in hand,\n      Went wandering up and down;\n    But never more could see the man\n      Approaching from the town.\n    Their pretty lips with blackberries\n      Were all besmeared and dyed;\n    And when they saw the darksome night,\n      They sat them down and cried.\n\n    Thus wandered these poor innocents,\n      Till death did end their grief;\n    In one another's arms they died,\n      As wanting due relief:\n    No burial this pretty pair\n      From any man receives,\n    Till Robin Redbreast piously\n      Did cover them with leaves.\n\n    And now the heavy wrath of God\n      Upon their uncle fell;\n    Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house,\n      His conscience felt an hell:\n    His barns were fired, his goods consumed,\n      His lands were barren made,\n    His cattle died within the field,\n      And nothing with him stayed.\n\n    And in a voyage to Portugal\n      Two of his sons did die;\n    And to conclude, himself was brought\n      To want and misery:\n    He pawned and mortgaged all his land\n      Ere seven years came about.\n    And now at last this wicked act\n      Did by this means come out.\n\n    The fellow that did take in hand\n      These children for to kill,\n    Was for a robbery judged to die,\n      Such was God's blessed will:\n    Who did confess the very truth,\n      As here hath been displayed:\n    The uncle having died in jail,\n      Where he for debt was laid.\n\n    You that executors be made,\n      And overseers eke,\n    Of children that be fatherless,\n      And infants mild and meek,\n    Take you example by this thing,\n      And yield to each his right,\n    Lest God with suchlike misery\n      Your wicked minds requite.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RED ETTIN\n\n\nThere was once a widow that lived on a small bit of ground, which she\nrented from a farmer. And she had two sons; and by and by it was time\nfor the wife to send them away to seek their fortune. So she told her\neldest son one day to take a can and bring her water from the well, that\nshe might bake a cake for him; and however much or however little water\nhe might bring, the cake would be great or small accordingly, and that\ncake was to be all that she could give him when he went on his travels.\n\nThe lad went away with the can to the well, and filled it with water,\nand then came away home again; but the can being broken, the most part\nof the water had run out before he got back. So his cake was very small;\nyet small as it was, his mother asked him if he was willing to take the\nhalf of it with her blessing, telling him that, if he chose rather to\ntake the whole, he would only get it with her curse. The young man,\nthinking he might have to travel a far way, and not knowing when or how\nhe might get other provisions, said he would like to have the whole\ncake, come of his mother's malison what might; so she gave him the\nwhole cake, and her malison along with it. Then he took his brother\naside, and gave him a knife to keep till he should come back, desiring\nhim to look at it every morning, and as long as it continued to be\nclear, then he might be sure that the owner of it was well; but if it\ngrew dim and rusty, then for certain some ill had befallen him.\n\nSo the young man went to seek his fortune. And he went all that day, and\nall the next day; and on the third day, in the afternoon, he came up to\nwhere a shepherd was sitting with a flock of sheep. And he went up to\nthe shepherd and asked him to whom the sheep belonged; and he answered:\n\n    \"To the Red Ettin of Ireland\n     Who lives in Ballygan,\n   He stole King Malcolm's daughter,\n     The king of fair Scotland.\n   He beats her, he binds her,\n     He lays her on a hand;\n   And every day he strikes her\n     With a bright silver wand.\n   'Tis said there's one predestinate\n     To be his mortal foe;\n   But sure that man is yet unborn,\n     And long may it be so!\"\n\nAfter this the shepherd told him to beware of the beasts he should next\nmeet, for they were of a very different kind from any he had yet seen.\n\nSo the young man went on, and by and by he saw a multitude of very\ndreadful, terrible, horrible beasts, with two heads, and on every head\nfour horns! And he was sore frightened, and ran away from them as fast\nas he could; and glad was he when he came to a castle that stood on a\nhillock, with the door standing wide open to the wall. And he went in to\nthe castle for shelter, and there he saw an old wife sitting beside the\nkitchen fire. He asked the wife if he might stay for the night, as he\nwas tired with a long journey; and the wife said he might, but it was\nnot a good place for him to be in, as it belonged to the Red Ettin, who\nwas a very terrible monster with three heads, who spared no living man\nit could get hold of. The young man would have gone away, but he was\nafraid of the two-headed four-horned beasts outside; so he beseeched the\nold woman to hide him as best she could, and not tell the Ettin he was\nthere. He thought, if he could put over the night, he might get away in\nthe morning, without meeting with the dreadful, terrible, horrible\nbeasts, and so escape.\n\nBut he had not been long in his hiding-hole, before the awful Ettin came\nin; and no sooner was he in, than he was heard crying:\n\n  \"Snouk but! and snouk ben!\n   I find the smell of an earthly man;\n   Be he living, or be he dead,\n   His heart this night shall kitchen my bread.\"\n\nWell, the monster began to search about, and he soon found the poor\nyoung man, and pulled him from his hiding-place. And when he had got him\nout, he told him that if he could answer him three questions his life\nshould be spared.\n\nSo the first head asked: \"A thing without an end; what's that?\"\n\nBut the young man knew not.\n\nThen the second head said: \"The smaller the more dangerous; what's\nthat?\"\n\nBut the young man knew not.\n\nAnd then the third head asked: \"The dead carrying the living? riddle me\nthat.\"\n\nBut the young man knew not.\n\nSo the lad not being able to answer one of these questions, the Red\nEttin took a mallet from behind the door, knocked him on the head, and\nturned him into a pillar of stone.\n\nNow on the morning after this happened the younger brother took out the\nknife to look at it, and he was grieved to find it all brown with rust.\nSo he told his mother that the time was now come for him to go away upon\nhis travels also. At first she refused to let him go; but at last she\nrequested him to take the can to the well for water, that she might make\na cake for him. So he went, but as he was bringing home the water, a\nraven over his head cried to him to look, and he would see that the\nwater was running out. Now being a young man of sense, and seeing the\nwater running out, he took some clay and patched up the holes, so that\nhe brought home enough water to bake a large cake. And when his mother\nput it to him to take the half cake with her blessing, he took it\ninstead of having the whole with her malison.\n\nSo he went away on his journey with his mother's blessing. Now after he\nhad travelled a far way, he met with an old woman who asked him if he\nwould give her a bit of his cake. And he said, \"I will gladly do that\";\nso he gave her a piece of the cake. Then the old woman, who was a fairy,\ngave him a magic wand, that might yet be of service to him, if he took\ncare to use it rightly; and she told him a great deal that would happen\nto him, and what he ought to do in all circumstances; and after that,\nshe vanished in an instant, out of his sight. Then he went on his way\nuntil he came up to the old man who was herding the sheep; and when he\nasked him to whom the sheep belonged, the answer was:\n\n  \"To the Red Ettin of Ireland\n     Who lives in Ballygan,\n   He stole King Malcolm's daughter,\n     The king of fair Scotland.\n   He beats her, he binds her,\n     He lays her on a band;\n   And every day he strikes her\n     With a bright silver wand.\n   But now I fear his end is near,\n     And death is close at hand;\n   For you're to be, I plainly see,\n     The heir of all his land.\"\n\nSo the younger brother went on his way; but when he came to the place\nwhere the dreadful, terrible, horrible beasts were standing, he did not\nstop nor run away, but went boldly through amongst them. One came up\nroaring with open mouth to devour him, when he struck it with his wand,\nand laid it in an instant dead at his feet. He soon came to the Ettin's\ncastle, where he found the door shut, but he knocked boldly, and was\nadmitted. Then the old woman who sat by the fire warned him of the\nterrible Ettin, and what had been the fate of his brother; but he was\nnot to be daunted, and would not even hide.\n\nThen by and by the monster came in, crying as before:\n\n  \"Snouk but! and snouk ben!\n   I find the smell of an earthly man;\n   Be he living, or be he dead,\n   His heart this night shall kitchen my bread.\"\n\nWell, he quickly espied the young man, and bade him stand forth on the\nfloor, and told him that if he could answer three questions his life\nwould be spared.\n\nSo the first head asked: \"What's the thing without an end?\"\n\nNow the younger brother had been told by the fairy to whom he had given\na piece of his cake what he ought to say; so he answered:\n\n\"A bowl.\"\n\nThen the first head frowned, but the second head asked:\n\n\"The smaller the more dangerous; what's that?\"\n\n\"A bridge,\" says the younger brother, quite fast.\n\nThen the first and the second heads frowned, but the third head asked:\n\n\"When does the dead carry the living? riddle me that.\"\n\nAt this the young man answered up at once and said:\n\n\"When a ship sails on the sea with men inside her.\"\n\nWhen the Red Ettin found all his riddles answered, he knew that his\npower was gone, so he tried to escape, but the young man took up an axe\nand hewed off the monster's three heads. Then he asked the old woman to\nshow him where the king's daughter lay; and the old woman took him\nupstairs, and opened a great many doors, and out of every door came a\nbeautiful lady who had been imprisoned there by the Red Ettin; and last\nof all the ladies was the king's daughter. Then the old woman took him\ndown into a low room, and there stood a stone pillar; but he had only to\ntouch it with his wand, and his brother started into life.\n\nSo the whole of the prisoners were overjoyed at their deliverance, for\nwhich they thanked the younger brother again and again. Next day they\nall set out for the king's court, and a gallant company they made. Then\nthe king married his daughter to the young man who had delivered her,\nand gave a noble's daughter to his brother.\n\nSo they all lived happily all the rest of their days.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FISH AND THE RING\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a Baron who was a great magician, and could\ntell by his arts and charms everything that was going to happen at any\ntime.\n\nNow this great lord had a little son born to him as heir to all his\ncastles and lands. So, when the little lad was about four years old,\nwishing to know what his fortune would be, the Baron looked in his Book\nof Fate to see what it foretold.\n\nAnd, lo and behold! it was written that this much-loved, much-prized\nheir to all the great lands and castles was to marry a low-born maiden.\nSo the Baron was dismayed, and set to work by more arts and charms to\ndiscover if this maiden were already born, and if so, where she lived.\n\nAnd he found out that she had just been born in a very poor house, where\nthe poor parents were already burdened with five children.\n\nSo he called for his horse and rode away, and away, until he came to the\npoor man's house, and there he found the poor man sitting at his\ndoorstep very sad and doleful.\n\n\"What is the matter, my friend?\" asked he; and the poor man replied:\n\n\"May it please your honour, a little lass has just been born to our\nhouse; and we have five children already, and where the bread is to come\nfrom to fill the sixth mouth, we know not.\"\n\n\"If that be all your trouble,\" quoth the Baron readily, \"mayhap I can\nhelp you: so don't be down-hearted. I am just looking for such a little\nlass to companion my son, so, if you will, I will give you ten crowns\nfor her.\"\n\nWell! the man he nigh jumped for joy, since he was to get good money,\nand his daughter, so he thought, a good home. Therefore he brought out\nthe child then and there, and the Baron, wrapping the babe in his cloak,\nrode away. But when he got to the river he flung the little thing into\nthe swollen stream, and said to himself as he galloped back to his\ncastle:\n\n\"There goes Fate!\"\n\nBut, you see, he was just sore mistaken. For the little lass didn't\nsink. The stream was very swift, and her long clothes kept her up till\nshe caught in a snag just opposite a fisherman, who was mending his\nnets.\n\nNow the fisherman and his wife had no children, and they were just\nlonging for a baby; so when the goodman saw the little lass he was\novercome with joy, and took her home to his wife, who received her with\nopen arms.\n\nAnd there she grew up, the apple of their eyes, into the most beautiful\nmaiden that ever was seen.\n\nNow, when she was about fifteen years of age, it so happened that the\nBaron and his friends went a-hunting along the banks of the river and\nstopped to get a drink of water at the fisherman's hut. And who should\nbring the water out but, as they thought, the fisherman's daughter.\n\nNow the young men of the party noticed her beauty, and one of them said\nto the Baron, \"She should marry well; read us her fate, since you are so\nlearned in the art.\"\n\nThen the Baron, scarce looking at her, said carelessly: \"I could guess\nher fate! Some wretched yokel or other. But, to please you, I will cast\nher horoscope by the stars; so tell me, girl, what day you were born?\"\n\n\"That I cannot tell, sir,\" replied the girl, \"for I was picked up in the\nriver about fifteen years ago.\"\n\nThen the Baron grew pale, for he guessed at once that she was the little\nlass he had flung into the stream, and that Fate had been stronger than\nhe was. But he kept his own counsel and said nothing at the time.\nAfterwards, however, he thought out a plan, so he rode back and gave the\ngirl a letter.\n\n\"See you!\" he said. \"I will make your fortune. Take this letter to my\nbrother, who needs a good girl, and you will be settled for life.\"\n\nNow the fisherman and his wife were growing old and needed help; so the\ngirl said she would go, and took the letter.\n\nAnd the Baron rode back to his castle saying to himself once more:\n\n\"There goes Fate!\"\n\nFor what he had written in the letter was this:\n\n\"DEAR BROTHER,\n\n\"Take the bearer and put her to death immediately.\"\n\nBut once again he was sore mistaken; since on the way to the town where\nhis brother lived, the girl had to stop the night in a little inn. And\nit so happened that that very night a gang of thieves broke into the\ninn, and not content with carrying off all that the innkeeper possessed,\nthey searched the pockets of the guests, and found the letter which the\ngirl carried. And when they read it, they agreed that it was a mean\ntrick and a shame. So their captain sat down and, taking pen and paper,\nwrote instead:\n\n\"DEAR BROTHER,\n\n\"Take the bearer and marry her to my son without delay.\"\n\nThen, after putting the note into an envelope and sealing it up, they\ngave it to the girl and bade her go on her way. So when she arrived at\nthe brother's castle, though rather surprised, he gave orders for a\nwedding feast to be prepared. And the Baron's son, who was staying with\nhis uncle, seeing the girl's great beauty, was nothing loth, so they\nwere fast wedded.\n\nWell! when the news was brought to the Baron, he was nigh beside\nhimself; but he was determined not to be done by Fate. So he rode\npost-haste to his brother's and pretended to be quite pleased. And then\none day, when no one was nigh, he asked the young bride to come for a\nwalk with him, and when they were close to some cliffs, seized hold of\nher, and was for throwing her over into the sea. But she begged hard for\nher life.\n\n\"It is not my fault,\" she said. \"I have done nothing. It is Fate. But if\nyou will spare my life I promise that I will fight against Fate also. I\nwill never see you or your son again until you desire it. That will be\nsafer for you; since, see you, the sea may preserve me, as the river\ndid.\"\n\nWell! the Baron agreed to this. So he took off his gold ring from his\nfinger and flung it over the cliffs into the sea and said:\n\n\"Never dare to show me your face again till you can show me that ring\nlikewise.\"\n\nAnd with that he let her go.\n\nWell! the girl wandered on, and she wandered on, until she came to a\nnobleman's castle; and there, as they needed a kitchen girl, she engaged\nas a scullion, since she had been used to such work in the fisherman's\nhut.\n\nNow one day, as she was cleaning a big fish, she looked out of the\nkitchen window, and who should she see driving up to dinner but the\nBaron and his young son, her husband. At first she thought that, to keep\nher promise, she must run away; but afterwards she remembered they would\nnot see her in the kitchen, so she went on with her cleaning of the big\nfish.\n\nAnd, lo and behold! she saw something shine in its inside, and there,\nsure enough, was the Baron's ring! She was glad enough to see it, I can\ntell you; so she slipped it on to her thumb. But she went on with her\nwork, and dressed the fish as nicely as ever she could, and served it up\nas pretty as may be, with parsley sauce and butter.\n\nWell! when it came to table the guests liked it so well that they asked\nthe host who cooked it. And he called to his servants, \"Send up the cook\nwho cooked that fine fish, that she may get her reward.\"\n\nWell! when the girl heard she was wanted she made herself ready, and\nwith the gold ring on her thumb, went boldly into the dining-hall. And\nall the guests when they saw her were struck dumb by her wonderful\nbeauty. And the young husband started up gladly; but the Baron,\nrecognising her, jumped up angrily and looked as if he would kill her.\nSo, without one word, the girl held up her hand before his face, and the\ngold ring shone and glittered on it; and she went straight up to the\nBaron, and laid her hand with the ring on it before him on the table.\n\nThen the Baron understood that Fate had been too strong for him; so he\ntook her by the hand, and, placing her beside him, turned to the guests\nand said:\n\n\"This is my son's wife. Let us drink a toast in her honour.\"\n\nAnd after dinner he took her and his son home to his castle, where they\nall lived as happy as could be for ever afterwards.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Headpiece--Lawkamercyme]\n\n    LAWKAMERCYME\n\n\n    There was an old woman, as I've heard tell,\n    She went to the market her eggs for to sell;\n    She went to the market, all on a market-day,\n    And she fell asleep on the king's highway.\n\n    There came by a pedlar, whose name it was Stout,\n    He cut all her petticoats all round about;\n    He cut her petticoats up to the knees,\n    Which made the old woman to shiver and freeze.\n\n    When this old woman first did awake,\n    She 'gan to shiver, she 'gan to shake;\n    She 'gan to wonder, she 'gan to cry--\n    \"Lawkamercyme! this is none of I!\n\n    \"But if it be I, as I do hope it be,\n    I've a little dog at home, and sure he'll know me;\n    If it be I, he'll wag his little tail,\n    And if it be not I, then he'll bark and wail.\"\n\n    Home went the old woman, all in the dark;\n    Up got the little dog, and he began to bark,\n    He began to bark, and she began to cry--\n    \"Lawkamercyme! this is none of I!\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: A funny-looking old gentleman engaged her and took her\nhome]\n\nMASTER OF ALL MASTERS\n\n\nA Girl once went to the fair to hire herself for servant. At last a\nfunny-looking old gentleman engaged her and took her home to his house.\nWhen she got there, he told her that he had something to teach her, for\nthat in his house he had his own names for things.\n\nHe said to her, \"What will you call me?\"\n\n\"Master or mister, or whatever you please, sir,\" says she.\n\nHe said, \"You must call me 'master of all masters.' And what would you\ncall this?\" pointing to his bed.\n\n\"Bed or couch, or whatever you please, sir.\"\n\n\"No, that's my 'barnacle'. And what do you call these?\" said he,\npointing to his pantaloons.\n\n\"Breeches or trousers, or whatever you please, sir.\"\n\n\"You must call them 'squibs and crackers.' And what would you call her?\"\npointing to the cat.\n\n\"Cat or kit, or whatever you please, sir.'\n\n\"You must call her 'white-faced simminy' And this now,\" showing the\nfire, \"what would you call this?\"\n\n\"Fire or flame, or whatever you please, sir.\"\n\n\"You must call it 'hot cockalorum'; and what this?\" he went on, pointing\nto the water.\n\n\"Water or wet, or whatever you please, sir.\"\n\n\"No, 'pondalorum' is its name. And what do you call all this?\" asked he,\nas he pointed to the house.\n\n\"House or cottage, or whatever you please, sir.\"\n\n\"You must call it 'high topper mountain.'\"\n\nThat very night the servant woke her master up in a fright and said,\n\"Master of all masters, get out of your barnacle and put on your squibs\nand crackers. For white-faced simminy has got a spark of hot cockalorum\non its tail, and unless you get some pondalorum high topper mountain\nwill be all on hot cockalorum....\"\n\nThat's all!!\n\n[Illustration: White-faced simminy has got a spark of hot cockalorum on\nits tail]\n\n\n\n\nMOLLY WHUPPIE AND THE DOUBLE-FACED GIANT\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a man and his wife who were not over rich.\nAnd they had so many children that they couldn't find meat for them; so,\nas the three youngest were girls, they just took them out to the forest\none day, and left them there to fend for themselves as best they might.\n\nNow the two eldest were just ordinary girls, so they cried a bit and\nfelt afraid; but the youngest, whose name was Molly Whuppie, was bold,\nso she counselled her sisters not to despair, but to try and find some\nhouse where they might get a night's lodging. So they set off through\nthe forest, and journeyed, and journeyed, and journeyed, but never a\nhouse did they see. It began to grow dark, her sisters were faint with\nhunger, and even Molly Whuppie began to think of supper. At last in the\ndistance they saw a great big light, and made for it. Now when they drew\nnear they saw that it came from a huge window in a huge house.\n\n\"It will be a giant's house,\" said the two elder girls, trembling with\nfright.\n\n\"If there were two giants in it I mean to have my supper,\" quoth Molly\nWhuppie, and knocked at a huge door, as bold as brass. It was opened by\nthe giant's wife, who shook her head when Molly Whuppie asked for\nvictuals and a night's lodging.\n\n\"You wouldn't thank me for it,\" she said, \"for my man is a giant, and\nwhen he comes home he will kill you of a certainty.\"\n\n\"But if you give us supper at once,\" says Molly craftily, \"we shall have\nfinished it before the giant comes home; for we are very sharp-set.\"\n\nNow the giant's wife was not unkindly; besides, her three daughters, who\nwere just of an age with Molly and her sisters, tugged at her skirts\nwell pleased; so she took the girls in, set them by the fire, and gave\nthem each a bowl of bread and milk. But they had hardly begun to gobble\nit up before the door burst open, and a fearful giant strode in saying:\n\n  \"_Fee-fi-fo-fum,\n   I smell the smell of some earthly one._\"\n\n\"Don't put yourself about, my dear,\" said the giant's wife, trying to\nmake the best of it. \"See for yourself. They are only three poor little\ngirlies like our girlies. They were cold and hungry so I gave them some\nsupper; but they have promised to go away as soon as they have\nfinished. Now be a good giant and don't touch them. They've eaten of\nour salt, so don't _you_ be at fault!\"\n\nNow this giant was not at all a straightforward giant. He was a\ndouble-faced giant. So he only said,\n\n  \"Umph!\"\n\nand remarked that as they had come, they had better stay all night,\nsince they could easily sleep with his three daughters. And after he had\nhad his supper he made himself quite pleasant, and plaited chains of\nstraw for the little strangers to wear round their necks, to match the\ngold chains his daughters wore. Then he wished them all pleasant dreams\nand sent them to bed.\n\nDear me! He _was_ a double-faced giant!\n\nBut Molly Whuppie, the youngest of the three girls, was not only bold,\nshe was clever. So when she was in bed, instead of going to sleep like\nthe others, she lay awake and thought, and thought, and thought; until\nat last she up ever so softly, took off her own and her sisters' straw\nchains, put them round the neck of the ogre's daughters, and placed\ntheir gold chains round her own and her sisters' necks.\n\nAnd even then she did not go to sleep, but lay still and waited to see\nif she was wise; and she was! For in the very middle of the night, when\neverybody else was dead asleep and it was pitch dark, in comes the\ngiant, all stealthy, feels for the straw chains, twists them tight round\nthe wearers' necks, half strangles his daughters, drags them on to the\nfloor, and beats them till they were quite dead; so, all stealthy and\nsatisfied, goes back to his own bed, thinking he had been very clever.\n\nBut he was no match, you see, for Molly Whuppie; for she at once roused\nher sisters, bade them be quiet, and follow her. Then she slipped out of\nthe giant's house and ran, and ran, and ran until the dawn broke and\nthey found themselves before another great house. It was surrounded by a\nwide deep moat, which was spanned by a drawbridge. But the drawbridge\nwas up. However, beside it hung a Single-Hair rope over which any one\nvery light-footed could cross.\n\nNow Molly's sisters were feared to try it; besides, they said that for\naught they knew the house might be another giant's house, and they had\nbest keep away.\n\n\"Taste and try,\" says Molly Whuppie, laughing, and was over the Bridge\nof a Single Hair before you could say knife. And, after all, it was not\na giant's house but a King's castle. Now it so happened that the very\ngiant whom Molly had tricked was the terror of the whole country-side,\nand it was to gain safety from him that the drawbridge was kept up, and\nthe Bridge of a Single Hair had been made. So when the sentry heard\nMolly Whuppie's tale, he took her to the King and said:\n\n\"My lord! Here is a girlie who has tricked the giant!\"\n\nThen the King when he had heard the story said, \"You are a clever girl,\nMolly Whuppie, and you managed very well; but if you could manage still\nbetter and steal the giant's sword, in which part of his strength lies,\nI will give your eldest sister in marriage to my eldest son.\"\n\nWell! Molly Whuppie thought this would be a very good downsitting for\nher sister, so she said she would try.\n\nSo that evening, all alone, she ran across the Bridge of One Hair, and\nran and ran till she came to the giant's house. The sun was just\nsetting, and shone on it so beautifully that Molly Whuppie thought it\nlooked like a castle in Spain, and could hardly believe that such a\ndreadful, double-faced giant lived within. However, she knew he did; so\nshe slipped into the house unbeknownst, stole up to the giant's room,\nand crept in behind the bed. By and by the giant came home, ate a huge\nsupper, and came crashing up the stairs to his bed. But Molly kept very\nstill and held her breath. So after a time he fell asleep, and soon he\nbegan to snore. Then Molly crept out from under the bed, ever so softly,\nand crept up the bed-clothes, and crept past his great snoring face, and\nlaid hold of the sword that hung above it. But alas! as she jumped from\nthe bed in a hurry, the sword rattled in the scabbard. The noise woke\nthe giant, and up he jumped and ran after Molly, who ran as she had\nnever run before, carrying the sword over her shoulder. And he ran, and\nshe ran, and they both ran, until they came to the Bridge of One Hair.\nThen she fled over it light-footed, balancing the sword, but he\ncouldn't. So he stopped, foaming at the mouth with rage, and called\nafter her:\n\n\"Woe worth you, Molly Whuppie! Never you dare to come again!\"\n\nAnd she, turning her head about as she sped over the One Hair Bridge,\nlaughed lightly:\n\n\"Twice yet, gaffer, will I come to the Castle in Spain!\"\n\nSo Molly gave the sword to the King, and, as he had promised, his eldest\nson wedded her eldest sister.\n\nBut after the marriage festivities were over the King says again to\nMolly Whuppie:\n\n\"You're a main clever girl, Molly, and you have managed very well, but\nif you could manage still better and steal the giant's purse, in which\npart of his strength lies, I will marry my second son to your second\nsister. But you need to be careful, for the giant sleeps with the purse\nunder his pillow!\"\n\nWell! Molly Whuppie thought this would be a very good downsitting,\nindeed, for her second sister, so she said she would try her luck.\n\nSo that evening, just at sunsetting, she ran over the One Hair Bridge,\nand ran, and ran, and ran until she came to the giant's house looking\nfor all the world like a castle in the air, all ruddy and golden and\nglinting. She could scarce believe such a dreadful double-faced giant\nlived within. However, she _knew_ he did; so she slipped into the house\nunbeknownst, stole up to the giant's room, and crept in below the\ngiant's bed. By and by the giant came home, ate a hearty supper, and\nthen came crashing upstairs, and soon fell a-snoring. Then Molly Whuppie\nslipped from under the bed, and slipped up the bed-clothes, and reaching\nout her hand slipped it under the pillow, and got hold of the purse.\nBut the giant's head was so heavy on it she had to tug and tug away. At\nlast out it came, she fell backward over the bedside, the purse opened,\nand some of the money fell out with a crash. The noise wakened the\ngiant, and she had only time to grab the money off the floor, when he\nwas after her. How they ran, and ran, and ran, and ran! At last she\nreached the One Hair Bridge and, with the purse in one hand, the money\nin the other, she sped across it while the giant shook his fist at her\nand cried:\n\n\"Woe worth you, Molly Whuppie! Never you dare to come again!\"\n\nAnd she, turning her head, laughed lightly:\n\n\"Yet once more, gaffer, will I come to the Castle in Spain.\"\n\nSo she took the purse to the King, and he ordered a splendid marriage\nfeast for his second son and her second sister.\n\nBut after the wedding was over the King says to her, says he:\n\n\"Molly! You are the most main clever girl in the world; but if you would\ndo better yet, and steal me from his finger the giant's ring, in which\nall his strength lies, I will give you my dearest, youngest, handsomest\nson for yourself.\"\n\nNow Molly thought the King's son was the nicest young prince she had\never seen, so she said she would try, and that evening, all alone, she\nsped across the One Hair Bridge as light as a feather, and ran, and ran,\nand ran until she came to the giant's house all lit up with the red\nsetting sun like any castle in the air. And she slipped inside, stole\nupstairs, and crept under the bed in no time. And the giant came in, and\nsupped, and crashed up to bed, and snored. Oh! he snored louder than\never!\n\nBut you know he was a double-faced giant; so perhaps he snored louder\non purpose. For no sooner had Molly Whuppie began to tug at his ring\nthan ... My!...\n\nHe had her fast between his finger and thumb. And he sate up in bed, and\nshook his head at her and said, \"Molly Whuppie, you are a main clever\ngirl! Now, if I had done as much ill to you as you have done to me, what\nwould you do to me?\"\n\nThen Molly thought for a moment and she said, \"I'd put you in a sack,\nand I'd put the cat inside with you, and I'd put the dog inside with\nyou, and I'd put a needle and thread and a pair of shears inside with\nyou, and I'd hang you up on a nail, and I'd go to the wood and cut the\nthickest stick I could get, and come home and take you down and bang\nyou, and bang, and bang, and bang you till you were dead!\"\n\n\"Right you are!\" cried the giant gleefully, \"and that's just what I'll\ndo to you!\"\n\nSo he got a sack and put Molly into it with the dog and the cat, and the\nneedle and thread and the shears, and hung her on a nail in the wall,\nand went out to the wood to choose a stick.\n\nThen Molly Whuppie began to laugh like anything, and the dog joined in\nwith barks, and the cat with mews.\n\nNow the giant's wife was sitting in the next room, and when she heard\nthe commotion she went in to see what was up.\n\n\"Whatever is the matter?\" quoth she.\n\n\"Nothing, 'm,\" quoth Molly Whuppie from inside the sack, laughing like\nanything. \"Ho, ho! Ha, ha! If you saw what we see you'd laugh too. Ho,\nho! Ha, ha!\"\n\nAnd no matter how the giant's wife begged to know what she saw, there\nnever was any answer but, \"Ho, ho! Ha, ha! Could ye but see what I\nsee!!!\"\n\nAt last the giant's wife begged Molly to let her see, so Molly took the\nshears, cut a hole in the sack, jumped out, helped the giant's wife in,\nand sewed up the hole! For of course she hadn't forgotten to take out\nthe needle and thread with her.\n\nNow, just at that very moment, the giant burst in, and Molly had barely\ntime to hide behind the door before he rushed at the sack, tore it down,\nand began to batter it with a huge tree he had cut in the wood.\n\n\"Stop! stop!\" cried his wife. \"It's me! It's me!\"\n\nBut he couldn't hear, for, see you, the dog and the cat had tumbled one\non the top of the other, and such a growling and spitting, and yelling\nand caterwauling you never heard! It was fair deafening, and the giant\nwould have gone on battering till his wife was dead had he not caught\nsight of Molly Whuppie escaping with the ring which he had left on the\ntable.\n\nWell, he threw down the tree and ran after her. Never was such a race.\nThey ran, and they ran, and they ran, and they ran, until they came to\nthe One Hair Bridge. And then, balancing herself with the ring like a\nhoop, Molly Whuppie sped over the bridge light as a feather, but the\ngiant had to stand on the other side, and shake his fist at her, and cry\nlouder than ever:\n\n\"Woe worth you, Molly Whuppie! Never you dare to come again!\"\n\nAnd she, turning her head back as she sped, laughed gaily:\n\n\"Never more, gaffer, will I come to the castle in the air!\"\n\nSo she took the ring to the King, and she and the handsome young prince\nwere married, and no one ever saw the double-faced giant again.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ASS, THE TABLE, AND THE STICK\n\n\nA lad named Jack was once so unhappy at home through his father's\nill-treatment, that he made up his mind to run away and seek his fortune\nin the wide world.\n\nHe ran, and he ran, till he could run no longer, and then he ran right\nup against a little old woman who was gathering sticks. He was too much\nout of breath to beg pardon, but the woman was good-natured, and she\nsaid he seemed to be a likely lad, so she would take him to be her\nservant, and would pay him well. He agreed, for he was very hungry, and\nshe brought him to her house in the wood, where he served her for a\ntwelvemonths and a day. When the year had passed, she called him to her,\nand said she had good wages for him. So she presented him with an ass\nout of the stable, and he had but to pull Neddy's ears to make him begin\nat once to hee-haw! And when he brayed there dropped from his mouth\nsilver sixpences, and half-crowns, and golden guineas.\n\nThe lad was well pleased with the wage he had received, and away he rode\ntill he reached an inn. There he ordered the best of everything, and\nwhen the innkeeper refused to serve him without being paid beforehand,\nthe boy went off to the stable, pulled the ass's ears, and obtained his\npocket full of money. The host had watched all this through a crack in\nthe door, and when night came on he put an ass of his own for the\nprecious Neddy belonging to the youth. So Jack, without knowing that any\nchange had been made, rode away next morning to his father's house.\n\nNow I must tell you that near his home dwelt a poor widow with an only\ndaughter. The lad and the maiden were fast friends and true-loves. So\nwhen Jack returned he asked his father's leave to marry the girl.\n\n\"Never till you have the money to keep her,\" was the reply.\n\n\"I have that, father,\" said the lad, and going to the ass he pulled its\nlong ears; well, he pulled, and he pulled, till one of them came off in\nhis hands; but Neddy, though he hee-hawed and he hee-hawed, let fall no\nhalf-crowns or guineas. Then the father picked up a hayfork and beat his\nson out of the house.\n\nI promise you he ran; he ran and ran till he came bang against a door,\nand burst it open, and there he was in a joiner's shop. \"You're a likely\nlad,\" said the joiner; \"serve me for a twelvemonths and a day and I will\npay you well.\" So he agreed, and served the carpenter for a year and a\nday. \"Now,\" said the master, \"I will give you your wage\"; and he\npresented him with a table, telling him he had but to say, \"Table, be\ncovered,\" and at once it would be spread with lots to eat and drink.\n\nJack hitched the table on his back, and away he went with it till he\ncame to the inn. \"Well, host,\" shouted he, putting down the table, \"my\ndinner to-day, and that of the best.\"\n\n\"Very sorry, sir,\" says the host, \"but there is nothing in the house but\nham and eggs.\"\n\n\"No ham and eggs for me!\" exclaimed Jack. \"I can do better than\nthat.--Come, my table, be covered!\"\n\nSo at once the table was spread with turkey and sausages, roast mutton,\npotatoes, and greens. The innkeeper opened his eyes, but he said\nnothing, not he! But that night he fetched down from his attic a table\nvery like the magic one, and exchanged the two, and Jack, none the\nwiser, next morning hitched the worthless table on to his back and\ncarried it home.\n\n\"Now, father, may I marry my lass?\" he asked.\n\n\"Not unless you can keep her,\" replied the father.\n\n\"Look here!\" exclaimed Jack. \"Father, I have a table which does all my\nbidding.\"\n\n\"Let me see it,\" said the old man.\n\nThe lad set it in the middle of the room, and bade it be covered; but\nall in vain, the table remained bare. Then, in a rage, the father caught\nthe warming-pan down from the wall and warmed his son's back with it so\nthat the boy fled howling from the house, and ran and ran till he came\nto a river and tumbled in. A man picked him out and bade him help in\nmaking a bridge over the river by casting a tree across. Then Jack\nclimbed up to the top of the tree and threw his weight on it, so that\nwhen the man had rooted the tree up, Jack and the tree-head dropped on\nthe farther bank.\n\n[Illustration: The fisherman and his wife had no children, and they were\njust longing for a baby]\n\n\"Thank you,\" said the man; \"and now for what you have done I will pay\nyou\"; so saying, he tore a branch from the tree, and fettled it up into\na club with his knife. \"There,\" exclaimed he; \"take this stick, and when\nyou say to it, 'Up, stick, and bang him,' it will knock any one down who\nangers you.\"\n\nThe lad was overjoyed to get this stick, for he had begun to see he had\nbeen tricked by the innkeeper, so away he went with it to the inn, and\nas soon as the man appeared he cried:\n\n\"Up, stick, and bang him!\"\n\nAt the word the cudgel flew from his hand and battered the old fellow on\nthe back, rapped his head, bruised his arms, tickled his ribs, till he\nfell groaning on the floor; and still the stick belaboured the prostrate\nman, nor would Jack call it off till he had got back the stolen ass and\ntable. Then he galloped home on the ass, with the table on his\nshoulders, and the stick in his hand. When he arrived there he found his\nfather was dead, so he brought his ass into the stable, and pulled its\nears till he had filled the manger with money.\n\nIt was soon known through the town that Jack had returned rolling in\nwealth, and accordingly all the girls in the place set their caps at\nhim.\n\n\"Now,\" said Jack, \"I shall marry the richest lass in the place; so\nto-morrow do you all come in front of my house with your money in your\naprons.\"\n\nNext morning the street was full of girls with aprons held out, and\ngold and silver in them; but Jack's own sweetheart was among them, and\nshe had neither gold nor silver; nought but two copper pennies, that was\nall she had.\n\n\"Stand aside, lass,\" said Jack to her, speaking roughly. \"Thou hast no\nsilver nor gold--stand off from the rest.\" She obeyed, and the tears ran\ndown her cheeks, and filled her apron with diamonds.\n\n\"Up, stick, and bang them!\" exclaimed Jack; whereupon the cudgel leaped\nup, and running along the line of girls, knocked them all on the heads\nand left them senseless on the pavement. Jack took all their money and\npoured it into his true-love's lap. \"Now, lass,\" he exclaimed, \"thou art\nthe richest, and I shall marry thee.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END\n\n\nOnce upon a time, and a very good time it was, though it wasn't in my\ntime, nor in your time, nor any one else's time, there was a girl whose\nmother had died, and her father had married again. And her stepmother\nhated her because she was more beautiful than she was. And she was very\ncruel to her; she used to make her do all the servant's work, and never\nlet her have any peace. At last, one day, the stepmother thought to get\nrid of her altogether; so she handed her a sieve and said to her:\n\n\"Go, fill it at the Well of the World's End and bring it home to me\nfull, or woe betide you.\" For she thought she would never be able to\nfind the Well of the World's End, and, if she did, how could she bring\nhome a sieve full of water?\n\nWell, the girl started off, and asked every one she met to tell her\nwhere was the Well of the World's End. But nobody knew, and she didn't\nknow what to do, when a queer little old woman, all bent double, told\nher where it was, and how she could get to it. So she did what the old\nwoman told her, and at last arrived at the Well of the World's End. But\nwhen she dipped the sieve in the cold cold water, it all ran out again.\nShe tried and she tried again, but every time it was the same; and at\nlast she sate down and cried as if her heart would break.\n\nSuddenly she heard a croaking voice, and she looked up and saw a great\nfrog with goggle eyes looking at her and speaking to her.\n\n\"What's the matter, dearie?\" it said.\n\n\"Oh dear! oh dear!\" she said, \"my stepmother has sent me all this long\nway to fill this sieve with water from the Well of the World's End, and\nI can't fill it no how at all.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the frog, \"if you promise me to do whatever I bid you for a\nwhole night long, I'll tell you how to fill it.\"\n\nSo the girl agreed, and then the frog said:\n\n  \"Stop it with moss and daub it with clay,\n   And then it will carry the water away\";\n\nand then it gave a hop, skip, and jump, and went flop into the Well of\nthe World's End.\n\nSo the girl looked about for some moss, and lined the bottom of the\nsieve with it, and over that she put some clay, and then she dipped it\nonce-again into the Well of the World's End; and this time the water\ndidn't run out, and she turned to go away.\n\nJust then the frog popped up its head out of the Well of the World's\nEnd, and said, \"Remember your promise.\"\n\n\"All right,\" said the girl; for, thought she, \"what harm can a frog do\nme?\"\n\nSo she went back to her stepmother, and brought the sieve full of water\nfrom the Well of the World's End. The stepmother was angry as angry, but\nshe said nothing at all.\n\nThat very evening they heard something tap-tapping at the door low down,\nand a voice cried out:\n\n  \"Open the door, my hinny, my heart,\n     Open the door, my own darling;\n   Remember the words that you and I spoke,\n     At the World's End Well but this morning.\"\n\n\"Whatever can that be?\" cried out the stepmother.\n\nThen the girl had to tell her all about it, and what she had promised\nthe frog.\n\n\"Girls must keep their promises,\" said the stepmother, who was glad the\ngirl would have to obey a nasty frog. \"Go and open the door this\ninstant.\"\n\nSo the girl went and opened the door, and there was the frog from the\nWell of the World's End. And it hopped, and it hopped, and it jumped,\ntill it reached the girl, and then it said:\n\n  \"Lift me up, my hinny, my heart,\n     Lift to your knee, my own darling;\n   Remember the words that you and I spoke,\n     At the World's End Well but this morning.\"\n\nBut the girl would not do the frog's bidding, till her stepmother said,\n\"Lift it up this instant, you hussy! Girls _must_ keep their promises!\"\n\nSo she lifted the frog up on to her lap, and it lay there comfortably\nfor a time; till at last it said:\n\n  \"Give me some supper, my hinny, my heart,\n     Give me some supper, my darling;\n   Remember the words you and I spoke,\n     At the World's End Well but this morning.\"\n\nWell, that she did not mind doing, so she got it a bowl of milk and\nbread, and fed it well. But when the frog had finished, it said:\n\n  \"Take me to bed, my hinny, my heart,\n     Take me to bed, my own darling;\n   Remember the promise you promised to me,\n     At the World's End Well but this morning.\"\n\nBut that the girl refused to do, till her stepmother said harshly:\n\n\"Do what you promised, girl; girls _must_ keep their promises. Do what\nyou're bid, or out you go, you and your froggie.\"\n\nSo the girl took the frog with her to bed, and kept it as far away from\nher as she could. Well, just as the day was beginning to break, what\nshould the frog say but:\n\n  \"Chop off my head, my hinny, my heart,\n     Chop off my head, my own darling;\n   Remember the promise you promised to me,\n     At the World's End Well but this morning.\"\n\nAt first the girl wouldn't, for she thought of what the frog had done\nfor her at the Well of the World's End. But when the frog said the words\nover and over again in a pleading voice, she went and took an axe and\nchopped off its head, and, lo and behold! there stood before her a\nhandsome young prince, who told her that he had been enchanted by a\nwicked magician, and he could never be unspelled till some girl would do\nhis bidding for a whole night, and chop off his head at the end of it.\n\nThe stepmother was surprised indeed when she found the young prince\ninstead of the nasty frog, and she was not best pleased, you may be\nsure, when the prince told her that he was going to marry her\nstepdaughter because she had unspelled him. But married they were, and\nwent away to live in the castle of the king, his father; and all the\nstepmother had to console her was, that it was all through _her_ that\nher stepdaughter was married to a prince.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ROSE TREE\n\n\nOnce upon a time, long long years ago, in the days when one had to be\ncareful about witches, there lived a good man, whose young wife died,\nleaving him a baby girl.\n\nNow this good man felt he could not look after the baby properly, so he\nmarried a young woman whose husband had died leaving her with a baby\nboy.\n\nThus the two children grew up together, and loved each other dearly,\ndearly.\n\nBut the boy's mother was really a wicked witch-woman, and so jealous\nthat she wanted all the boy's love for herself, and when the girl-baby\ngrew white as milk, with cheeks like roses and lips like cherries, and\nwhen her hair, shining like golden silk, hung down to her feet so that\nher father and all the neighbours began to praise her looks, the\nstepmother fairly hated her, and did all in her power to spoil her\nlooks. She would set the child hard tasks, and send her out in all\nweathers to do difficult messages, and if they were not well performed\nwould beat her and scold her cruelly.\n\nNow one cold winter evening when the snow was drifting fast, and the\nwild rose tree in the garden under which the children used to play in\nsummer was all brown and barren save for snowflake flowers, the\nstepmother said to the little girl:\n\n\"Child! go and buy me a bunch of candles at the grocer's. Here is some\nmoney; go quickly, and don't loiter by the way.\"\n\nSo the little girl took the money and set off quickly through the snow,\nfor already it was growing dark. Now there was such a wind blowing that\nit nearly blew her off her feet, and as she ran her beautiful hair got\nall tangled and almost tripped her up. However, she got the candles,\npaid for them, and started home again. But this time the wind was behind\nher and blew all her beautiful golden hair in front of her like a cloud,\nso that she could not see her steps, and, coming to a stile, had to stop\nand put down the bundle of candles in order to see how to get over it.\nAnd when she was climbing it a big black dog came by and ran off with\nthe bunch of candles! Now she was so afraid of her stepmother that she\ndurst not go home, but turned back and bought another bunch of candles\nat the grocer's, and when she arrived at the stile once more, the same\nthing happened. A big black dog came down the road and ran away with the\nbunch of candles. So yet once again she journeyed back to the grocer's\nthrough wind and snow, and, with her last penny, bought yet another\nbunch of candles. To no purpose, for alas, and alack-a-day! when she\nlaid them down in order to part her beautiful golden hair and to see how\nto get over the stile, a big black dog ran away with them.\n\nSo nothing was left save to go back to her stepmother in fear and\ntrembling. But, for a wonder, her stepmother did not seem very angry.\nShe only scolded her for being so late, for, see you, her father and her\nlittle playmate had gone to their beds and were in the Land of Nod.\n\nThen she said to the child, \"I must take the tangles out of your hair\nbefore you go to sleep. Come, put your head on my lap.\"\n\nSo the little girl put her head on her stepmother's lap, and, lo and\nbehold! her beautiful yellow-silk hair rolled right over the woman's\nknees and lay upon the ground.\n\nThen the beauty of it made the stepmother more jealous than before, so\nshe said, \"I cannot part your hair properly on my knee, fetch me a\nbillet of wood.\"\n\nSo the little girl fetched one. Then said the stepmother, \"Your hair is\nso thick I cannot part it with a comb; fetch me an axe!\"\n\nSo the child fetched an axe.\n\n\"Now,\" said that wicked, wicked woman, \"lay your head down on the billet\nwhile I part your hair.\"\n\nAnd the child did as she was bid without fear; and lo! the beautiful\nlittle golden head was off in a second, by one blow of the axe.\n\nNow the wicked stepmother had thought it all out before, so she took the\npoor little dead girl out to the garden, dug a hollow in the snow under\nthe rose tree, and said to herself, \"When spring comes and the snow\nmelts if people find her bones, they will say she lost her way and fell\nasleep in the snow.\"\n\nBut first, because she was a wicked witch-woman, knowing spells and\ncharms, she took out the heart of the little girl and made it into two\nsavoury pasties, one for her husband's breakfast and one for the little\nboy's, for thus would the love they bore to the little girl become hers.\nNevertheless, she was mistaken, for when morning came and the little\nchild could not be found, the father sent away his breakfast barely\ntasted, and the little boy wept so that he could eat nothing.\n\nSo they grieved and grieved. And when the snow melted and they found the\nbones of the poor child, they said, \"She must have lost her way that\ndark night going to the grocer's to buy candles.\" So they buried the\nbones under the children's rose tree, and every day the little boy sate\nthere and wept and wept for his lost playmate.\n\nNow when summer came the wild rose tree flowered. It was covered with\nwhite roses, and amongst the flowers there sate a beautiful white bird.\nAnd it sang and sang and sang like an angel out of heaven; but what it\nsang the little boy could never make out, for he could hardly see for\nweeping, hardly hear for sobbing.\n\nSo at last the beautiful white bird unfolded its broad white wings and\nflew to a cobbler's shop, where a myrtle bush hung over the man and his\nlast, on which he was making a dainty little pair of rose-red shoes.\nThen it perched on a bough and sang ever so sweetly:\n\n  \"Stepmother slew me,\n   Father nigh ate me,\n   He whom I dearly love\n   Sits below, I sing above,\n   Stick! Stock! Stone dead!\"\n\n\"Sing that beautiful song again,\" said the cobbler. \"It is better than a\nnightingale's.\"\n\n\"That will I gladly,\" sang the bird, \"if you will give me the little\nrose-red shoes you are making.\"\n\nAnd the cobbler gave them willingly, so the white bird sang its song\nonce more. Then with the rose-red shoes in one foot it flew to an ash\ntree that grew close beside a goldsmith's bench, and sang:\n\n  \"Stepmother slew me,\n   Father nigh ate me,\n   He whom I dearly love\n   Sits below, I sing above,\n   Stick! Stock! Stone dead!\"\n\n\"Oh, what a beautiful song!\" cried the goldsmith.\n\n\"Sing again, dear bird, it is sweeter than a nightingale's.\"\n\n\"That will I gladly,\" sang the bird, \"if you will give me the gold chain\nyou're making.\"\n\nAnd the goldsmith gave the bauble willingly, and the bird sang its song\nonce more. Then with the rose-red shoes in one foot and the golden chain\nin the other, the bird flew to an oak tree which overhung the mill\nstream, beside which three millers were busy picking out a millstone,\nand, perching on a bough, sang its song ever so sweetly:\n\n  \"My stepmother slew me,\n   My father nigh ate me,\n   He whom I dearly love\n   Sits below, I sing above,\n   Stick!--\"\n\nJust then one of the millers put down his tool and listened.\n\n\"Stock!\" sang the bird.\n\nAnd the second miller put aside his tool and listened.\n\n\"Stone,\" sang the bird.\n\nThen the third miller put aside his tool and listened.\n\n\"Dead!\" sang the bird so sweetly that with one accord the millers looked\nup and cried with one voice:\n\n\"Oh, what a beautiful song! Sing it again, dear bird, it is sweeter than\na nightingale's.\"\n\n\"That will I gladly,\" answered the bird, \"if you will hang the millstone\nyou are picking round my neck.\"\n\nSo the millers hung it as they were asked; and when the song was\nfinished, the bird spread its wide white wings and, with the millstone\nround its neck and the little rose-red shoes in one foot, the golden\nchain in the other, it flew back to the rose tree. But the little\nplaymate was not there; he was inside the house eating his dinner.\n\nThen the bird flew to the house, and rattled the millstone about the\neaves until the stepmother cried, \"Hearken! How it thunders!\"\n\nSo the little boy ran out to see, and down dropped the dainty rose-red\nshoes at his feet.\n\n\"See what fine things the thunder has brought!\" he cried with glee as he\nran back.\n\nThen the white bird rattled the millstone about the eaves once more, and\nonce again the stepmother said, \"Hearken! How it thunders!\"\n\nSo this time the father went out to see, and down dropped the golden\nchain about his neck.\n\n\"It is true,\" he said when he came back. \"The thunder does bring fine\nthings!\"\n\nThen once more the white bird rattled the millstone about the eaves, and\nthis time the stepmother said hurriedly, \"Hark! there it is again!\nPerhaps it has got something for me!\"\n\nThen she ran out; but the moment she stepped outside the door, down fell\nthe millstone right on her head and killed her.\n\nSo that was an end of her. And after that the little boy was ever so\nmuch happier, and all the summer time he sate with his little\nrose-coloured shoes under the wild rose tree and listened to the white\nbird's song. But when winter came and the wild rose tree was all barren\nand bare save for snowflake flowers, the white bird came no longer and\nthe little boy grew tired of waiting for it. So one day he gave up\naltogether, and they buried him under the rose tree beside his little\nplaymate.\n\nNow when the spring came and the rose tree blossomed, the flowers were\nno longer white. They were edged with rose colour like the little boy's\nshoes, and in the centre of each blossom there was a beautiful tuft of\ngolden silk like the little girl's hair.\n\nAnd if you look in a wild rose you will find these things there still.","title":"English Fairy Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":78632}