The dove laid some little sticks,
Then began to coo;
The gnat took his trumpet up
To play the day through;
The pie chattered soft and long—
But that she always does;
The bee did all he had to do,
And only said, “Buzz.”
When Jack at length opened his eyes, he found that it was night, for the full moon was shining; but it was not at all a dark night, for he could see distinctly some black birds, that looked like ravens. They were sitting in a row on the edge of the boat.
Now that he had fairies in his pockets, he could 43 understand bird-talk, and he heard one of these ravens saying, “There is no meat so tender; I wish I could pick their little eyes out.”
“Yes,” said another, “fairies are delicate eating indeed. We must speak Jack fair if we want to get at them.” And she heaved up a deep sigh.
Jack lay still, and thought he had better pretend to be asleep; but they soon noticed that his eyes were open, and one of them presently walked up his leg and bowed, and asked if he was hungry.
Jack said, “No.”
“No more am I,” replied the raven; “not at all hungry.” Then she hopped off his leg, and Jack sat up.
“And how are the sweet fairies that my young master is taking to their home?” asked another of the ravens. “I hope they are safe in my young master’s pockets?”
Jack felt in his pockets. Yes, they were all safe; but he did not take any of them out, lest the ravens should snatch at them.
“Eh?” continued the raven, pretending to listen; 44 “did this dear young gentleman say that the fairies were asleep?”
“It doesn’t amuse me to talk about fairies,” said Jack; “but if you would explain some of the things in this country that I cannot make out, I should be very glad.”
“What things?” asked the blackest of the ravens.
“Why,” said Jack, “I see a full moon lying down there among the water-flags, and just going to set, and there is a half-moon overhead plunging among those great gray clouds, and just this moment I saw a thin crescent moon peeping out between the branches of that tree.”
“Well,” said all the ravens at once, “did the young master never see a crescent moon in the men and women’s world?”
“Oh yes,” said Jack.
“Did he never see a full moon?” asked the ravens.
“Yes, of course,” said Jack; “but they are the same moon. I could never see all three of them at the same time.”
The ravens were very much surprised at this, and one of them said,—
“If my young master did not see the moons it must have been because he didn’t look. Perhaps my young master slept in a room, and had only one window; if so, he couldn’t see all the sky at once.”
“I tell you, Raven,” said Jack, laughing, “that I KNOW there is never more than one moon in my country, and sometimes there is no moon at all!”
Upon this all the ravens hung down their heads, and looked very much ashamed; for there is nothing that birds hate so much as to be laughed at, and they believed that Jack was saying this to mock them, and that he knew what they had come for. So first one and then another hopped to the other end of the boat and flew away, till at last there was only one left, and she appeared to be out of spirits, and did not speak again till he spoke to her.
“Raven,” said Jack, “there’s something very 46 cold and slippery lying at the bottom of the boat. I touched it just now, and I don’t like it at all.”
“It’s a water-snake,” said the raven; and she stooped and picked up a long thing with her beak, which she threw out, and then looked over. “The water swarms with them, wicked, murderous creatures; they smell the young fairies, and they want to eat them.”
Jack was so thrown off his guard that he snatched one fairy out, just to make sure that it was safe. It was the one with the mustache; and, alas! in one instant the raven flew at it, got it out of his hand, and pecked off its head before it had time to wake or Jack to rescue it. Then, as she slowly rose, she croaked, and said to Jack, “You’ll catch it for this, my young master!” and she flew to the bough of a tree, where she finished eating the fairy, and threw his little empty coat into the river.
On this Jack began to cry bitterly, and to think what a foolish boy he had been. He was the more sorry because he did not even know that 47 poor little fellow’s name. But he had heard the others calling by name to their companions, and very grand names they were too. One was Jovinian,—he was a very fierce-looking gentleman; the other two were Roxaletta and Mopsa.
Presently, however, Jack forgot to be unhappy, for two of the moons went down, and then the sun rose, and he was delighted to find that however many moons there might be, there was only one sun, even in the country of the wonderful river.
So on and on they went; but the river was very wide, and the waves were boisterous. On the right brink was a thick forest of trees, with such heavy foliage that a little way off they looked like a bank, green, and smooth, and steep; but as the light became clearer, Jack could see here and there the great stems, and see creatures like foxes, wild boars, and deer, come stealing down to drink in the river.
It was very hot here; not at all like the spring weather he had left behind. And as the low 48 sunbeams shone into Jack’s face he said hastily, without thinking of what would occur, “I wish I might land among those lovely glades on the left bank.”
No sooner said than the boat began to make for the left bank, and the nearer they got towards it the more beautiful it became; but also the more stormy were the reaches of water they had to traverse.
A lovely country indeed! It sloped gently down to the water’s edge, and beautiful trees were scattered over it, soft, mossy grass grew everywhere, great old laburnum trees stretched their boughs down in patches over the water, and higher up camellias, almost as large as hawthorns, grew together and mingled their red and white flowers.
The country was not so open as a park,—it was more like a half-cleared woodland; but there was a wide space just where the boat was steering for, that had no trees, only a few flowering shrubs. Here groups of strange-looking people were bustling 49 about, and there were shrill fifes sounding, and drums.
Farther back he saw rows of booths or tents under the shade of the trees.
In another place some people dressed like gypsies had made fires of sticks just at the skirts of the woodland, and were boiling their pots. Some of these had very gaudy tilted carts, hung all over with goods, such as baskets, brushes, mats, little glasses, pottery, and beads.
It seemed to be a kind of fair, to which people had gathered from all parts; but there was not one house to be seen. All the goods were either hung upon trees or collected in strange-looking tents.
The people were not all of the same race; indeed, he thought the only human beings were the gypsies, for the folks who had tents were no taller than himself.
How hot it was that morning! and as the boat pushed itself into a little creek, and made its way among the beds of yellow and purple iris which 50 skirted the brink, what a crowd of dragon-flies and large butterflies rose from them!
“Stay where you are!” cried Jack to the boat; and at that instant such a splendid moth rose slowly, that he sprang on shore after it, and quite forgot the fair and the people in his desire to follow it.
The moth settled on a great red honey-flower, and he stole up to look at it. As large as a swallow, it floated on before him. Its wings were nearly black, and they had spots of gold on them.
When it rose again Jack ran after it, till he found himself close to the rows of tents where the brown people stood; and they began to cry out to him, “What’ll you buy? what’ll you buy, sir?” and they crowded about him, so that he soon lost sight of the moth, and forgot everything else in his surprise at the booths.
They were full of splendid things,—clocks and musical boxes, strange china ornaments, embroidered slippers, red caps, and many kinds of splendid silks and small carpets. In other booths 51 were swords and dirks, glittering with jewels; and the chatter of the people when they talked together was not in a language that Jack could understand.
Some of the booths were square, and evidently made of common canvas, for when you went into them, and the sun shone, you could distinctly see the threads.
But scattered a little farther on in groups were some round tents, which were far more curious. They were open on all sides, and consisted only of a thick canopy overhead, which was supported by one beautiful round pillar in the middle.
Outside the canopy was white or brownish; but when Jack stood under these tents, he saw that they were lined with splendid flutings of brown or pink silk: what looked like silk, at least, for it was impossible to be sure whether these were real tents or gigantic mushrooms.
They varied in size, also, as mushrooms do, and in shape: some were large enough for twenty people to stand under them, and had flat tops 52 with a brown lining; others had dome-shaped roofs; these were lined with pink, and would only shelter six or seven.
The people who sold in these tents were as strange as their neighbors; each had a little high cap on his head, in shape just like a beehive, and it was made of straw, and had a little hole in front. In fact, Jack very soon saw bees flying in and out, and it was evident that these people had their honey made on the premises. They were chiefly selling country produce. They had cheeses so large as to reach to their waists, and the women trundled them along as boys do their hoops. They sold a great many kinds of seed, too, in wooden bowls, and cakes and good things to eat, such as gilt gingerbread. Jack bought some of this, and found it very nice indeed. But when he took out his money to pay for it, the little man looked rather strangely at it, and turned it over with an air of disgust. Then Jack saw him hand it to his wife, who also seemed to dislike it; and presently Jack observed that they followed 53 him about, first on one side, then on the other. At last, the little woman slipped her hand into his pocket, and Jack, putting his hand in directly, found his sixpence had been returned.
“Why, you’ve given me back my money!” he said.
The little woman put her hands behind her. “I do not like it,” she said; “it’s dirty; at least, it’s not new.”
“No, it’s not new,” said Jack, a good deal surprised, “but it is a good sixpence.”
“The bees don’t like it,” continued the little woman. “They like things to be neat and new, and that sixpence is bent.”
“What shall I give you then?” said Jack.
The good little woman laughed and blushed. “This young gentleman has a beautiful whistle round his neck,” she observed, politely, but did not ask for it.
Jack had a dog-whistle, so he took it off and gave it to her.
“Thank you for the bees,” she said. “They 54 love to be called home when we’ve collected flowers for them.”
So she made a pretty little courtesy, and went away to her customers.
There were some very strange creatures also, about the same height as Jack, who had no tents, and seemed there to buy, not to sell. Yet they looked poorer than the other folks, and they were also very cross and discontented; nothing pleased them. Their clothes were made of moss, and their mantles of feathers; and they talked in a queer whistling tone of voice, and carried their skinny little children on their backs and on their shoulders.
They were treated with great respect by the people in the tents; and when Jack asked his friend to whom he had given the whistle what they were, and where they got so much money as they had, she replied that they lived over the hills, and were afraid to come in their best clothes. They were rich and powerful at home, and they came shabbily dressed, and behaved humbly, lest their 55 enemies should envy them. It was very dangerous, she said, to fairies to be envied.
Jack wanted to listen to their strange whistling talk, but he could not for the noise and cheerful chattering of the brown folks, and more still for the screaming and talking of parrots.
Among the goods were hundreds of splendid gilt cages, which were hung by long gold chains from the trees. Each cage contained a parrot and his mate, and they all seemed to be very unhappy indeed.
The parrots could talk, and they kept screaming to the discontented women to buy things for them, and trying very hard to attract attention.
One old parrot made himself quite conspicuous by these efforts. He flung himself against the wires of his cage, he squalled, he screamed, he knocked the floor with his beak, till Jack and one of the customers came running up to see what was the matter.
“What do you make such a fuss for?” cried the discontented woman. “You’ve set your cage 56 swinging with knocking yourself about; and what good does that do? I cannot break the spell and open it for you.”
“I know that,” answered the parrot, sobbing; “but it hurts my feelings so that you should take no notice of me now that I have come down in the world.”
“Yes,” said the parrot’s mate, “it hurts our feelings.”
“I haven’t forgotten you,” answered the woman, more crossly than ever; “I was buying a measure of maize for you when you began to make such a noise.”
Jack thought this was the queerest conversation he had ever heard in his life; and he was still more surprised when the bird answered,—
“I would much rather you would buy me a pocket-handkerchief. Here we are, shut up, without a chance of getting out, and with nobody to pity us; and we can’t even have the comfort of crying, because we’ve got nothing to wipe our eyes with.”
“But at least,” replied the woman, “you CAN cry now if you please, and when you had your other face you could not.”
“Buy me a handkerchief,” sobbed the parrot.
“I can’t afford both,” whined the cross woman, “and I’ve paid now for the maize.” So saying, she went back to the tent to fetch her present to the parrots; and as their cage was still swinging Jack put out his hand to steady it for them, and the instant he did so they became perfectly silent, and all the other parrots on that tree, who had been flinging themselves about in their cages, left off screaming, and became silent too.
The old parrot looked very cunning. His cage hung by such a long gold chain that it was just on a level with Jack’s face, and so many odd things had happened that day that it did not seem more odd than usual to hear him say, in a tone of great astonishment,—
“It’s a BOY, if ever there was one!”
“Yes,” said Jack; “I’m a boy.”
“You won’t go yet, will you?” said the parrot.
“No, don’t,” said a great many other parrots. Jack agreed to stay a little while, upon which they all thanked him.
“I had no notion you were a boy till you touched my cage,” said the old parrot.
Jack did not know how this could have told him, so he only answered, “Indeed!”
“I’m a fairy,” observed the parrot, in a confidential tone. “We are imprisoned here by our enemies the gypsies.”
“So we are,” answered a chorus of other parrots.
“I’m sorry for that,” replied Jack. “I’m friends with the fairies.”
“Don’t tell,” said the parrot, drawing a film over his eyes, and pretending to be asleep. At that moment his friend in the moss petticoat and feather cloak came up with a little measure of maize, and poured it into the cage.
“Here, neighbor,” she said; “I must say good-by now, for the gypsy is coming this way, and I want to buy some of her goods.”
“Well, thank you,” answered the parrot, sobbing 59 again; “but I could have wished it had been a pocket-handkerchief.”
“I’ll lend you my handkerchief,” said Jack. “Here!” And he drew it out, and pushed it between the wires.
The parrot and his wife were in a great hurry to get Jack’s handkerchief. They pulled it in very hastily; but instead of using it they rolled it up into a ball, and the parrot-wife tucked it under her wing.
“It makes me tremble all over,” said she, “to think of such good luck.”
“I say,” observed the parrot to Jack, “I know all about it now. You’ve got some of my people in your pockets,—not of my own tribe, but fairies.”
By this Jack was sure that the parrot really was a fairy himself, and he listened to what he had to say the more attentively.
That handkerchief
Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
She was a charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people.—Othello.
“That gypsy woman who is coming with her cart,” said the parrot, “is a fairy too, and very malicious. It was she and others of her tribe who caught us and put us into these cages, for they are more powerful than we. Mind you do not let her allure you into the woods, nor wheedle you or frighten you into giving her any of those fairies.”
“No,” said Jack; “I will not.”
“She sold us to the brown people,” continued the parrot. “Mind you do not buy anything of 61 her, for your money in her palm would act as a charm against you.”
“She has a baby,” observed the parrot-wife, scornfully.
“Yes, a baby,” repeated the old parrot; “and I hope by means of that baby to get her driven away, and perhaps get free myself. I shall try to put her in a passion. Here she comes.”
There she was indeed, almost close at hand. She had a little cart; her goods were hung all about it, and a small horse drew it slowly on, and stopped when she got a customer.
Several gypsy children were with her, and as the people came running together over the grass to see her goods, she sang a curious kind of song, which made them wish to buy them.
Jack turned from the parrot’s cage as she came up. He had heard her singing a little way off, and now, before she began again, he felt that already her searching eyes had found him out, and taken notice that he was different from the other people.
When she began to sing her selling song, he felt a most curious sensation. He felt as if there were some cobwebs before his face, and he put up his hand as if to clear them away. There were no real cobwebs, of course; and yet he again felt as if they floated from the gypsy woman to him, like gossamer threads, and attracted him towards her. So he gazed at her, and she at him, till Jack began to forget how the parrot had warned him.
He saw her baby too, wondered whether it was heavy for her to carry, and wished he could help her. I mean, he saw that she had a baby on her arm. It was wrapped in a shawl, and had a handkerchief over its face. She seemed very fond of it, for she kept hushing it; and Jack softly moved nearer and nearer to the cart, till the gypsy woman smiled, and suddenly began to sing,—
My good man—he’s an old, old man
And my good man got a fall,
To buy me a bargain so fast he ran
When he heard the gypsies call:
“Buy, buy brushes,
Baskets wrought o’ rushes.
Buy them, buy them, take them, try them,
Buy, dames all.”
When the gypsy had finished her song, Jack felt as if he was covered all over with cobwebs; but he could not move away, and he did not mind them now. All his wish was to please her, and get close to her; so when she said, in a soft, wheedling voice, “What will you please to buy, my pretty gentleman?” he was just going to answer that he would buy anything she recommended, when, to his astonishment and displeasure, for he thought it very rude, the parrot suddenly burst into a violent fit of coughing, which made all the customers stare. “That’s to clear my throat,” he said, in a most impertinent tone of voice; and then he began to beat time with his foot, and sing, or rather scream out, an extremely saucy imitation of the gypsy’s song, and 64 all his parrot friends in the other cages joined in the chorus.
My fair lady’s a dear, dear lady—
I walked by her side to woo.
In a garden alley, so sweet and shady,
She answered, “I love not you,
John, John Brady,”
Quoth my dear lady,
“Pray now, pray now, go your way now,
Do, John, do!”
At first the gypsy did not seem to know where that mocking song came from, but when she discovered that it was her prisoner, the old parrot, who was thus daring to imitate her, she stood silent and glared at him, and her face was almost white with rage.
When he came to the end of the verse he pretended to burst into a violent fit of sobbing and crying, and screeched out to his wife, “Mate! mate! hand up my handkerchief. Oh! oh! it’s so affecting, this song is.”
Upon this the other parrot pulled Jack’s handkerchief from under her wing, hobbled up, and 65 began, with a great show of zeal, to wipe his horny beak with it. But this was too much for the gypsy; she took a large brush from her cart, and flung it at the cage with all her might.
This set it violently swinging backwards and forwards, but did not stop the parrot, who screeched out, “How delightful it is to be swung!” And then he began to sing another verse in the most impudent tone possible, and with a voice that seemed to ring through Jack’s head, and almost pierce it:—
Yet my fair lady’s my own, own lady,
For I passed another day;
While making her moan, she sat all alone,
And thus and thus did she say:
“John, John Brady,”
Quoth my dear lady,
“Do now, do now, once more woo now,
Pray, John, pray!”
“It’s beautiful!” screeched the parrot-wife, “and so ap-pro-pri-ate.” Jack was delighted when she managed slowly to say this long word with her black tongue, and he burst out laughing. 66 In the mean time a good many of the brown people came running together, attracted by the noise of the parrots and the rage of the gypsy, who flung at his cage, one after the other, all the largest things she had in her cart. But nothing did the parrot any harm; the more violently his cage swung, the louder he sang, till at last the wicked gypsy seized her poor little young baby, who was lying in her arms, rushed frantically at the cage as it flew swiftly through the air towards her, and struck at it with the little creature’s head. “Oh, you cruel, cruel woman!” cried Jack, and all the small mothers who were standing near with their skinny children on their shoulders, screamed out with terror and indignation; but only for one instant, for the handkerchief flew off that had covered its face, and was caught in the wires of the cage, and all the people saw that it was not a real baby at all, but a bundle of clothes, and its head was a turnip.
Yes, a turnip! You could see that as plainly as possible, for though the green leaves had been 67 cut off, their stalks were visible through the lace cap that had been tied on it.
Upon this all the crowd pressed closer, throwing her baskets, and brushes, and laces, and beads at the gypsy, and calling out, “We will have none of your goods, you false woman! Give us back our money, or we will drive you out of the fair. You’ve stuck a stick into a turnip, and dressed it up in baby clothes. You’re a cheat! a cheat!”
“My sweet gentlemen, my kind ladies,” began the gypsy; but baskets and brushes flew at her so fast that she was obliged to sit down on the grass and hold up the sham baby to screen her face.
While this was going on, Jack felt that the cobwebs which had seemed to float about his face were all gone; he did not care at all any more about the gypsy, and began to watch the parrots with great attention.
He observed that when the handkerchief stuck between the cage wires, the parrots caught it, and drew it inside; and then Jack saw the cunning 68 old bird himself lay it on the floor, fold it crosswise like a shawl, and put it on his wife.
Then she jumped upon the perch, and held it with one foot, looking precisely like an old lady with a parrot’s head. Then he folded Jack’s handkerchief in the same way, put it on, and got upon the perch beside his wife, screaming out, in his most piercing tone,—
“I like shawls; they’re so becoming.”
Now the gypsy did not care at all what those inferior people thought of her, and she was calmly counting out their money, to return it; but she was very desirous to make Jack forget her behavior, and had begun to smile again, and tell him she had only been joking, when the parrot spoke, and, looking up, she saw the two birds sitting side by side, and the parrot-wife was screaming in her mate’s ear, though neither of them was at all deaf,—
“If Jack lets her allure him into the woods, he’ll never come out again. She’ll hang him up 69 in a cage, as she did us. I say, how does my shawl fit?”
So saying, the parrot-wife whisked herself round on the perch, and lo! in the corner of the handkerchief were seen some curious letters, marked in red. When the crowd saw these, they drew a little farther off, and glanced at one another with alarm.
“You look charming, my dear; it fits well!” screamed the old parrot in answer. “A word in your ear; ‘Share and share alike’ is a fine motto.”
“What do you mean by all this?” said the gypsy, rising, and going with slow steps to the cage, and speaking cautiously.
“Jack,” said the parrot, “do they ever eat handkerchiefs in your part of the country?”
“No, never,” answered Jack.
“Hold your tongue and be reasonable,” said the gypsy, trembling. “What do you want? I’ll do it, whatever it is.”
“But do they never pick out the marks?” continued 70 the parrot. “O Jack! are you sure they never pick out the marks?”
“The marks?” said Jack, considering. “Yes, perhaps they do.”
“Stop!” cried the gypsy, as the old parrot made a peck at the strange letters. “Oh! you’re hurting me. What do you want? I say again, tell me what you want, and you shall have it.”
“We want to get out,” replied the parrot; “you must undo the spell.”
“Then give me my handkerchief,” answered the gypsy, “to bandage my eyes. I dare not say the words with my eyes open. You had no business to steal it. It was woven by human hands, so that nobody can see through it; and if you don’t give it to me, you’ll never get out,—no, never!”
“Then,” said the old parrot, tossing his shawl off, “you may have Jack’s handkerchief; it will bandage your eyes just as well. It was woven over the water, as yours was.”
“It won’t do!” cried the gypsy, in terror; “give me my own.”
“I tell you,” answered the parrot, “that you shall have Jack’s handkerchief; you can do no harm with that.”
By this time the parrots all around had become perfectly silent, and none of the people ventured to say a word, for they feared the malice of the gypsy. She was trembling dreadfully, and her dark eyes, which had been so bright and piercing, had become dull and almost dim; but when she found there was no help for it, she said,—
“Well, pass out Jack’s handkerchief. I will set you free if you will bring out mine with you.”
“Share and share alike,” answered the parrot; “you must let all my friends out too.”
“Then I won’t let you out,” answered the gypsy. “You shall come out first, and give me my handkerchief, or not one of their cages will I undo. So take your choice.”
“My friends, then,” answered the brave old 72 parrot; and he poked Jack’s handkerchief out to her through the wires.
The wondering crowd stood by to look, and the gypsy bandaged her eyes tightly with the handkerchief; and then, stooping low, she began to murmur something and clap her hands—softly at first, but by degrees more and more violently. The noise was meant to drown the words she muttered; but as she went on clapping, the bottom of cage after cage fell clattering down. Out flew the parrots by hundreds, screaming and congratulating one another; and there was such a deafening din that not only the sound of her spell, but the clapping of her hands, was quite lost in it.
But all this time Jack was very busy; for the moment the gypsy had tied up her eyes, the old parrot snatched the real handkerchief off his wife’s shoulders, and tied it round her neck. Then she pushed out her head through the wires, and the old parrot called to Jack, and said, “Pull!”
Jack took the ends of the handkerchief, pulled 73 terribly hard, and stopped. “Go on! go on!” screamed the old parrot.
“I shall pull her head off,” cried Jack.
“No matter,” cried the parrot; “no matter,—only pull.”
Well, Jack did pull, and he actually did pull her head off! nearly tumbling backward himself as he did it; but he saw what the whole thing meant then, for there was another head inside,—a fairy’s head.
Jack flung down the old parrot’s head and great beak, for he saw that what he had to do was to clear the fairy of its parrot covering. The poor little creature seemed nearly dead, it was so terribly squeezed in the wires. It had a green gown or robe on, with an ermine collar; and Jack got hold of this dress, stripped the fairy out of the parrot feathers, and dragged her through,—velvet robe, and crimson girdle, and little yellow shoes. She was very much exhausted, but a kind brown woman took her instantly, and laid her in her 74 bosom. She was a splendid little creature, about half a foot long.
“There’s a brave boy!” cried the parrot. Jack glanced round, and saw that not all the parrots were free yet, the gypsy was still muttering her spell.
He returned the handkerchief to the parrot, who put it round his own neck, and again Jack pulled. But oh! what a tough old parrot that was, and how Jack tugged before his cunning head would come off! It did, however, at last; and just as a fine fairy was pulled through, leaving his parrot skin and the handkerchief behind him, the gypsy untied her eyes, and saw what Jack had done.
“Give me my handkerchief!” she screamed, in despair.
“It’s in the cage, gypsy,” answered Jack; “you can get it yourself. Say your words again.”
But the gypsy’s spell would only open places where she had confined fairies, and no fairies were in the cage now.
“No, no, no!” she screamed; “too late! Hide me! O good people, hide me!”
But it was indeed too late. The parrots had been wheeling in the air, hundreds and hundreds of them, high above her head; and as she ceased speaking, she fell shuddering on the ground, drew her cloak over her face, and down they came, swooping in one immense flock, and settled so thickly all over her that she was completely covered; from her shoes to her head not an atom of her was to be seen.
All the people stood gravely looking on. So did Jack, but he could not see much for the fluttering of the parrots, nor hear anything for their screaming voices; but at last he made one of the cross people hear when he shouted to her, “What are they going to do to the poor gypsy?”
“Make her take her other form,” she replied; “and then she cannot hurt us while she stays in our country. She is a fairy, as we have just found out, and all fairies have two forms.”
“Oh!” said Jack; but he had no time for more questions.
The screaming and fighting, and tossing about of little bits of cloth and cotton, ceased; a black lump heaved itself up from the ground among the parrots; and as they flew aside, an ugly great condor, with a bare neck, spread out its wings, and, skimming the ground, sailed slowly away.
“They have pecked her so that she can hardly rise,” exclaimed the parrot fairy. “Set me on your shoulder, Jack, and let me see the end of it.”
Jack set him there; and his little wife, who had recovered herself, sprang from her friend the brown woman, and sat on the other shoulder. He then ran on,—the tribe of brown people and mushroom people, and the feather-coated folks running too,—after the great black bird, who skimmed slowly on before them till she got to the gypsy carts, when out rushed the gypsies, armed with poles, milking-stools, spades, and everything 77 they could get hold of to beat back the people and the parrots from hunting their relation, who had folded her tired wings, and was skulking under a cart, with ruffled feathers and a scowling eye.
Jack was so frightened at the violent way in which the gypsies and the other tribes were knocking each other about, that he ran off, thinking he had seen enough of such a dangerous country.
As he passed the place where that evil-minded gypsy had been changed, he found the ground strewed with little bits of her clothes. Many parrots were picking them up, and poking them into the cage where the handkerchief was; and presently another parrot came with a lighted brand, which she had pulled from one of the gypsies’ fires.
“That’s right,” said the fairy on Jack’s shoulder, when he saw his friend push the brand between the wires of what had been his cage, and set the gypsy’s handkerchief on fire, and all 78 the bits of her clothes with it. “She won’t find much of herself here,” he observed, as Jack went on. “It will not be very easy to put herself together again.”
So Jack moved away. He was tired of the noise and confusion; and the sun was just setting as he reached the little creek where his boat lay.
Then the parrot fairy and his wife sprang down, and kissed their hands to him as he stepped on board, and pushed the boat off. He saw, when he looked back, that a great fight was still going on; so he was glad to get away, and he wished his two friends good-by, and set off, the old parrot fairly calling after him, “My relations have put some of our favorite food on board for you.” Then they again thanked him for his good help, and sprang into a tree, and the boat began to go down the wonderful river.
“This has been a most extraordinary day,” thought Jack; “the strangest day I have had yet.” And after he had eaten a good supper of what 79 the parrots had brought, he felt so tired and sleepy that he laid down in the boat, and presently fell fast asleep. His fairies were sound asleep too in his pockets, and nothing happened of the least consequence; so he slept comfortably till morning.
“Master,” quoth the auld hound,
“Where will ye go?”
“Over moss, over muir.
To court my new jo.”
“Master, though the night be merk,
I’se follow through the snow.
“Court her, master, court her,
So shall ye do weel;
But and ben she’ll guide the house,
I’se get milk and meal.
Ye’se get lilting while she sits
With her rock and reel.”
“For, oh! she has a sweet tongue,
And een that look down,
A gold girdle for her waist,
And a purple gown.
She has a good word forbye
Fra a’ folk in the town.”
Soon after sunrise they came to a great city, and it was perfectly still. There were grand towers and terraces, wharves, too, and a large 81 market, but there was nobody anywhere to be seen. Jack thought that might be because it was so early in the morning; and when the boat ran itself up against a wooden wharf and stopped, he jumped ashore, for he thought this must be the end of his journey. A delightful town it was, if only there had been any people in it! The market-place was full of stalls, on which were spread toys, baskets, fruit, butter, vegetables, and all the other things that are usually sold in a market.
Jack walked about in it. Then he looked in at the open doors of the houses, and at last, finding that they were all empty, he walked into one, looked at the rooms, examined the picture-books, rang the bells, and set the musical-boxes going. Then, after he had shouted a good deal, and tried in vain to make some one hear, he went back to the edge of the river where his boat was lying, and the water was so delightfully clear and calm, that he thought he would bathe. So he took off his clothes, and folding them very carefully, 82 so as not to hurt the fairies, laid them down beside a hay-cock, and went in, and ran about and paddled for a long time,—much longer than there was any occasion for; but then he had nothing to do.
When at last he had finished, he ran to the hay-cock and began to dress himself; but he could not find his stockings, and after looking about for some time he was obliged to put on his clothes without them, and he was going to put his boots on his bare feet, when, walking to the other side of the hay-cock, he saw a little old woman about as large as himself. She had a pair of spectacles on, and she was knitting.
She looked so sweet-tempered that Jack asked her if she knew anything about his stockings.
“It will be time enough to ask for them when you have had your breakfast,” said she. “Sit down. Welcome to our town. How do you like it?”
“I should like it very much indeed,” said Jack, “if there was anybody in it.”
“I’m glad of that,” said the woman. “You’ve seen a good deal of it; but it pleases me to find that you are a very honest boy. You did not take anything at all. I am honest too.”
“Yes,” said Jack, “of course you are.”
“And as I am pleased with you for being honest,” continued the little woman, “I shall give you some breakfast out of my basket.” So she took out a saucer full of honey, a roll of bread, and a cup of milk.
“Thank you,” said Jack, “but I am not a beggar-boy; I have got a half-crown, a shilling, a sixpence, and two pence; so I can buy this breakfast of you, if you like. You look very poor.”
“Do I?” said the little woman, softly; and she went on knitting, and Jack began to eat the breakfast.
“I wonder what has become of my stockings,” said Jack.
“You will never see them any more,” said 84 the old woman. “I threw them into the river, and they floated away.”
“Why did you?” asked Jack.
The little woman took no notice; but presently she had finished a beautiful pair of stockings, and she handed them to Jack, and said,—
“Is that like the pair you lost?”
“Oh no,” said Jack; “these are much more beautiful stockings than mine.”
“Do you like them as well?” asked the fairy woman.
“I like them much better,” said Jack, putting them on. “How clever you are!”
“Would you like to wear these,” said the woman, “instead of yours?”
She gave Jack such a strange look when she said this, that he was afraid to take them, and answered,—
“I shouldn’t like to wear them if you think I had better not.”
“Well,” she answered, “I am very honest, as I told you; and therefore I am obliged to say 85 that if I were you I would not wear those stockings on any account.”
“Why not?” said Jack; for she looked so sweet-tempered that he could not help trusting her.
“Why not?” repeated the fairy; “why, because when you have those stockings on, your feet belong to me.”
“Oh!” said Jack. “Well, if you think that matters, I’ll take them off again. Do you think it matters?”
“Yes,” said the fairy woman; “it matters, because I am a slave, and my master can make me do whatever he pleases, for I am completely in his power. So, if he found out that I had knitted these stockings for you, he would make me order you to walk into his mill,—the mill which grinds the corn for the town; and there you would have to grind and grind till I got free again.”
When Jack heard this, he pulled off the beautiful stockings, and laid them on the old woman’s 86 lap. Upon this she burst out crying, as if her heart would break.
“If my fairies that I have in my pocket would only wake,” said Jack, “I would fight your master; for if he is no bigger than you are, perhaps I could beat him, and get you away.”
“No, Jack,” said the little woman; “that would be of no use. The only thing you could do would be to buy me; for my cruel master has said that if ever I am late again he shall sell me in the slave market to the brown people, who work underground. And, though I am dreadfully afraid of my master, I mean to be late to-day, in hopes (as you are kind, and as you have some money) that you will come to the slave-market and buy me. Can you buy me, Jack, to be your slave?”
“I don’t want a slave,” said Jack; “and, besides, I have hardly any money to buy you with.”
“But it is real money,” said the fairy woman, “not like what my master has. His money has 87 to be made every week, for if there comes a hot day it cracks, so it never has time to look old, as your half-crown does; and that is how we know the real money, for we cannot imitate anything that is old. Oh, now, now it is twelve o’clock! now I am late again! and though I said I would do it, I am so frightened!”
So saying, the little woman ran off towards the town, wringing her hands, and Jack ran beside her.
“How am I to find your master?” he said.
“O Jack, buy me! buy me!” cried the fairy woman. “You will find me in the slave-market. Bid high for me. Go back and put your boots on, and bid high.”
Now Jack had nothing on his feet, so he left the poor little woman to run into the town by herself, and went back to put his boots on. They were very uncomfortable, as he had no stockings; but he did not much mind that, and he counted his money. There was the half-crown that his grandmamma had given him on his birthday, 88 there was a shilling, a sixpence, and two pence, besides a silver fourpenny-piece which he had forgotten. He then marched into the town; and now it was quite full of people,—all of them little men and women about his own height. They thought he was somebody of consequence, and they called out to him to buy their goods. And he bought some stockings, and said, “What I want to buy now is a slave.”
So they showed him the way to the slave-market, and there whole rows of odd-looking little people were sitting, while in front of them stood the slaves.
Now Jack had observed as he came along how very disrespectful the dogs of that town were to the people. They had a habit of going up to them and smelling at their legs, and even gnawing their feet as they sat before the little tables selling their wares; and what made this more surprising was that the people did not always seem to find out when they were being gnawed. But the moment the dogs saw Jack they came and fawned 89 on him, and two old hounds followed him all the way to the slave-market; and when he took a seat one of them laid down at his feet, and said, “Master, set your handsome feet on my back, that they may be out of the dust.”
“Don’t be afraid of him,” said the other hound; “he won’t gnaw your feet. He knows well enough that they are real ones.”
“Are the other people’s feet not real?” asked Jack.
“Of course not,” said the hound. “They had a feud long ago with the fairies, and they all went one night into a great corn-field which belonged to these enemies of theirs, intending to steal the corn. So they made themselves invisible, as they are always obliged to do till twelve o’clock at noon; but before morning dawn, the wheat being quite ripe, down came the fairies with their sickles, surrounded the field, and cut the corn. So all their legs of course got cut off with it, for when they are invisible they cannot 90 stir. Ever since that they have been obliged to make their legs of wood.”
While the hound was telling this story Jack looked about, but he did not see one slave who was in the least like his poor little friend, and he was beginning to be afraid that he should not find her, when he heard two people talking together.
“Good-day!” said one. “So you have sold that good-for-nothing slave of yours?”
“Yes,” answered a very cross-looking old man. “She was late again this morning, and came to me crying and praying to be forgiven; but I was determined to make an example of her, so I sold her at once to Clink-of-the-Hole, and he has just driven her away to work in his mine.”
Jack, on hearing this, whispered to the hound at his feet, “If you will guide me to Clink’s hole, you shall be my dog.”
“Master, I will do my best,” answered the hound; and he stole softly out of the market, Jack following him.