“I WENT UP ONE PAIR OF STAIRS,” ETC.
Now I will tell you a joke; whatever I say to you, you must answer “Just like me.” Now we will begin.
I went up one pair of stairs.
Just like me.
I went up two pair of stairs.
Just like me.
I turned myself round about.
Just like me.
I went up three pair of stairs.
Just like me.
I made a cross on the wall.
Just like me.
I went up four pair of stairs.
Just like me.
I looked out of a window.
Just like me.
And I found I was up as high as the highest tree-top.
Just like me.
I saw something moving about in the highest tree-top.
Just like me.
I stared and stared to see what it was.
Just like me.
And then I saw it was a little monkey.
Just like me.
Just like you! Ha, ha! You said the monkey was just like you; I think you must be a little monkey yourself if it looked just like you.
Now I will tell you something else. I will say one and then you must say two; I will say three, and you must say four and so on; but each time we must say after the number “a dead horse.” Like this. I say one a dead horse, and you must say two a dead horse.
Now begin.
One a dead horse.
Two a dead horse.
Three a dead horse.
Four a dead horse.
Six a dead horse.
Seven a dead horse.
Eight a dead horse.
Eight a dead horse! Ate a dead horse! You said you ate a dead horse. Oh! oh! Did it taste good? I hope you enjoyed it. For my part I wouldn’t care to eat a dead horse.
Now I will tell you what kind of a lock I am, and you must be the same kind of a key. If I say I am a gray lock, you must say you are a gray key. If I say I am a queer lock you must say you are a queer key. If I say I am a rusty lock you must say you are a rusty key.
I am a gray lock.
I’m a gray key.
I’m a red lock.
I’m a red key.
I’m a dull lock.
I’m a dull key.
I’m a monk lock.
I’m a monk key.
You’re a monkey! You’re a monkey. That’s the second time you’ve said it, so now I’m sure it must be so. Well, what other kinds of locks and keys are we? Let us begin all over again.
I’m a don lock.
I’m a don key.
Are you indeed? Are you really a dear little donkey? Who would have thought it?
THE STRAW, THE COAL, AND THE BEAN
A bean and a hot coal met each other on the highroad, and as they were both rolling along in the same direction they soon struck up a friendship.
Presently they were joined by a straw, and the three began talking together. They were all going out in the world to seek their fortunes.
“It is just a bit of luck that I can travel about in this way,” said the bean. “If I had not been a stout active fellow I would have been boiled into soup by now. The mistress was about to throw me into the pot with a lot of other beans, but I managed to slip through her fingers and rolled out through the doorway and down the steps without her even noticing I was gone.”
“That was a clever trick,” said the hot coal. “I, too, am a lively chap. I and my brothers were set to heat a kettle, but I jumped out of the fire, and I was so hot the cook did not dare to touch me. She pushed me out of doors with her foot, and now I am free to go about the world as I choose, and seek my fortune.”
The straw sighed. “I was never as active as that,” she said. “Always wherever the wind blew me I went. The farmer had picked up a whole armful of straws to make a bed for the cow; but the wind caught me up and carried me off—and here I am.”
While they were talking in this way the comrades came to a brook, and this stopped their journey, for they did not know how to get across. The straw could easily have sailed over on the first puff of wind, but that way would not do for the other two.
“Listen!” said the straw. “I am long enough to reach from one side of the stream to the other. I will lay myself across it like a bridge, and then you can both walk on over me without getting wet.”
To this plan the other two were glad to agree, so the straw laid herself across the stream.
“You go first,” said the bean, for he was a cautious fellow, and wanted to see whether the bridge was safe before he tried it.
The coal, however, was quick and fiery. He ran out on the straw, but half-way over he grew dizzy and had to stop.
“Quick! quick!” cried the straw. “I am burning”; for the coal was still very hot.
“Wait,” said the coal, balancing himself. “Just a minute!”
But the straw could not wait even for a minute. The coal had burned through it, and down they both went into the water, the coal hissing as it fell.
That seemed so comical to the bean that it began to laugh. It laughed and laughed; it laughed so hard that at last it split its skin, and that would have been the end of it if a tailor had not chanced to come by just then.
The tailor looked all about him, and then he saw the bean lying on the ground. He picked it up, and it did not take him long to see what was the matter with it. “This slit can be easily mended,” said he, and he whipped out his needle and thread and sewed up the bean in a trice. Unluckily he had only black thread, and the stitches made a line of black down the side of the bean. And ever since then, if you look, you will see that every bean of that kind has a black line down one side of it.
THE WATER-SPRITE
A little brother and sister were playing one day on the edge of a well that belonged to a water-sprite. The little girl held her brother’s hand, and leaned far over to look down into it.
“It seems to me that down below there I can see green meadows and flocks of sheep moving over them,” she said.
“It is only the reflection of the clouds,” said the little boy. “But be careful. I fear you will fall in.”
Even as he spoke the little girl slipped and fell into the well, and as she had hold of her brother’s hand she pulled him in after her.
The two children went down—down—down—through the waters, and when they came to the bottom they found themselves in a country of green meadows and trees and streams, and before them stood a shining castle with domes and towers.
This castle belonged to the water-sprite who owned the well.
The little brother and sister went up to the castle and knocked at the door, and at once the water-sprite opened it to them.
“Come in, come in,” said she. “I saw you playing on the edge of the well, and it was I who caused you to fall in. I am lonely here, so you shall stay with me and be my servants, and whatever I bid you do that you must do.”
The water-sprite would have been beautiful if only she had not been so green. Her face was green and her hair was green, and her eyes were green. Only her teeth were white.
The sprite led the children into the kitchen and there she gave the little girl a bucket that had no bottom. “Go,” said she, “and fetch me some water to boil the dumplings for supper. And you,” said she to the boy, “must cut me some wood,” and she gave him an ax that had no edge. It was as blunt as a hammer.
The little sister went out to the spring that the water-sprite showed her, and tried to dip up water, but as fast as she dipped it up it ran out again, for the bucket had no bottom.
The brother began to chop at a tree near by. He chopped and he chopped and he chopped, but he could scarcely make a dent, the ax was so blunt.
When the children came back to the castle without either wood or water, the sprite was very cross with them. “I can easily see that you are both very stupid,” said she. “But sit down; sit down at the table. Even if you are stupid I suppose you must eat.”
The children sat down at the table, and the water-sprite set before them a dish of dumplings, but as the dumplings had not been cooked and were only dough the children could not eat them. They slipped them into their pockets, and then, when the sprite was not looking they gave the dumplings to the water-cat that rubbed about their chairs.
After that the children went to bed and slept.
The next day it was the same thing over again. The water-sprite set them tasks that they could not possibly do, and gave them only dough to eat, so the children made up their minds to run away. They waited, however, until afternoon, when the water-sprite went up to the top of the well to look about her.
When they were about to set out, the water-cat said to them, “You do well to run away. You would not be happy here. But do not think my mistress will allow you to escape if she can help it. When she comes home and finds you gone, she will at once set out in pursuit of you. She can go very much faster than you, and she will certainly catch you unless you take with you her comb, her brush, and her mirror. These are magic things. Each time you find she is about to catch you, throw one or other of these things over your shoulder. By this means, and by this means only, can you hope to escape.”
The children thanked the little cat, and did as it advised them. They took the water-sprite’s brush and comb and mirror, and carried them off with them, and ran as fast as they could along the road that led to the upper world.
Soon after they had left, the water-sprite came home. When she found them gone she only stopped long enough to scold the cat, and then she put on her shoes of swiftness and started after them.
Presently the children looked behind them and saw her coming. She came so fast on her shoes of swiftness, that it seemed as though they could not possibly escape her.
However, the children remembered what the water-cat had told them. They threw the comb behind them, and at once it spread and grew into a wall of spikes, tremendously stiff and high. It took the water-sprite a long time to climb over this wall, and the children were well on their way before they heard her behind them again.
Then the little girl threw the brush over her shoulder. At once the brush became a great thick forest, through which the water-sprite could hardly find her way.
But she got through it at last, and then it did not take her long to be at their heels again.
“And now we have only one more thing left,” said the brother, and he threw the mirror behind him.
At once the mirror became a hill of glass so steep and smooth that no one could possibly climb it. The sprite tried to run up it, but no sooner had she gone a step or so than she slipped back again. At last, with a shriek of rage, she turned and fled back to her castle, and that was the last of her.
But the children went on their way, and the road led them straight to the upper world and the door of their home. After that they were always careful to keep away from the edge of the water-sprite’s well.
STAR JEWELS
A little girl once lived all alone with her old grandmother upon the borders of a forest. They were so poor that they were scarcely able to buy food for their mouths, or clothes to cover them.
“Never mind, Granny,” the little girl would say. “Some day I will be big enough to work, and then I will earn so much that I will be able to buy everything that we need, and to give something to other poor folk as well.”
One day the child went off into the forest to gather fagots. These she hoped to sell for a few pennies in the town over beyond the hill. She was to be gone all day, so she took with her into the forest a bit of the black bread, which was all they had left to eat.
It was winter, and the air was bitterly cold. The child wrapped her little shawl about her, and ran on as fast as she could. She was hungry, but she intended to save her crust until after the fagots were gathered.
Just as she reached the edge of the forest she met a boy, even smaller than she herself, and he was crying bitterly.
The little girl had a tender heart. She stopped and asked the child why he was weeping.
“I am weeping,” he answered, “because I am hungry.”
“Have you had nothing to eat to-day?” she asked.
“I have had nothing, and I am like to starve, for I know not where to go for food.”
The little girl sighed. “You are, perhaps, hungrier than I,” she said, and she took the crust from her pocket and gave it to the boy. Then she again hurried on.
A little farther on, she met another child who was even more miserable-looking than the first, for this child seemed almost frozen with cold. Her clothing hung about her in rags, and her skin looked blue through the rents.
“Ah,” cried she, “if I had but a warm little dress like yours! Help me, I pray of you, or I will certainly die of cold.”
The good little girl was filled with pity. “It is not right,” thought she, “that I should have both a dress and a shawl. I will give one of them to this poor child.”
She took off her dress and gave it to the child, and then wrapped the shawl closely about her shoulders. In spite of the shawl she felt very cold. Still she was near the place where the fagots were to be found, and as soon as she had gathered them she would run home again.
She hastened on, but when she reached the place where the fagots were she saw an old woman already there, gathering up the fallen wood. The old woman was so bent and poor and miserable-looking that the little girl’s heart ached for her.
“Oh, oh!” groaned the old woman. “How my poor bones do ache. If I had but a shawl to wrap about my shoulders I would not suffer so.”
The child thought of her own grandmother, and of how she sometimes suffered, and she had pity on the old woman.
“Here,” said she, “take my shawl”; and slipping it from her shoulders she gave it to the old woman.
And now she stood there in the forest with her arms and shoulders bare, and with nothing on her but her little shift. The sharp wind blew about her, but she was not cold. She had eaten nothing, but she was not hungry. She was fed and warmed by her own kindness.
She gathered her fagots and started home again. It was growing dusk, and the stars shown through the bare branches of the trees. Suddenly an old man stood beside her. “Give me of your fagots,” said he, “for my hearth is cold, and I am too old to gather wood for myself.”
The little girl sighed. If she gave him the fagots she would have to stop to gather more. Still she would not refuse him. “Take them,” she said, “in heaven’s name.”
No sooner had she said this than she saw it was not an old man who stood before her, but a shining angel.
“You have fed the hungry,” said the angel, “you have clothed the naked, and you have given help to those who asked it. You shall not go unrewarded. See!”
At once a light shone around the child, and it seemed to her that all the stars of heaven were falling through the bare branches of the trees, but these stars were diamonds and rubies and other precious stones. They lay thick upon the ground. “Gather them together,” said the angel, “for they are yours.”
Wondering, the child gathered them together—all that she could carry in the skirt of her little shift.
When she looked about her again the angel was gone, but the child hastened home with her treasure. It was enough to make her and her old grandmother rich. From then on they lacked for nothing. They were not only able to have all they wished for, but to give to many who were poor. So they were not only rich, but beloved by all who knew them.
SWEET PORRIDGE
There was once a poor widow who had only one daughter, a child who was so good and gentle that everyone who knew her, loved her.
One day the child went into the forest to gather firewood, and she was very sad because there was nothing left in the house to eat, and because she and her mother were so often obliged to go hungry.
She had already gathered a bundle of sticks, and was about to go home, when she saw a poor old woman who had also come to the forest for wood. The woman was so bent and stiff that it was pitiful to see her. The child felt sorry for her and wished to help her.
“Good mother,” said she, “let me gather the wood for you; it must be hard for you to stoop.”
She put down her own load, and gathered for the old woman as much as she was able to carry. “I would take it home for you,” said the little girl, “but my mother is waiting for me, and I must make haste, for I am already late.”
“Child,” said the old woman, “you have a good heart, and you deserve to be rewarded.” She then drew out from under her cloak a little iron pot. “Take this,” she said. “It is a magic pot. Whenever you are hungry you have only to say—
and it will begin to boil and fill up with sweet porridge. When you have had enough say—
and it will stop boiling.”
She made the child repeat the words after her several times, and she then gave her the pot and hobbled away through the forest.
The child was filled with joy at the thought that now she and her mother need never be hungry again. She ran home as fast as she could, carrying the pot with both hands.
When she came in her mother asked her where the wood was.
“I have brought home something better than wood,” cried the child. “The wood only warms us, but here is something that will feed us as well.” She set the pot upon the table and said:
The pot at once began to bubble and boil, and soon it was full and brimming over with sweet porridge. The widow caught up a spoon and dipped some of the porridge out into a bowl, but the more she dipped out the more there was in it. When all the bowls in the house were full, the child said:
and at once the pot stopped boiling.
The widow was overjoyed at the treasure the little girl had brought home. “Come,” cried she, “let us sit down and eat.”
“Yes, dear mother,” said the child, “but first I will carry some of the porridge to the neighbors who were so kind to us when we had nothing.”
She filled a large kettle with porridge and started out with it, but no sooner had she gone than the widow began to wonder whether they had kept enough for themselves. She did not feel satisfied, so she said to the pot:
Immediately the pot began to bubble and boil. Soon it was full and the porridge began to run over. The widow wished to stop it, but she had forgotten what to say. “Enough!” she cried. “Stop! Stop!” but the porridge still boiled up and over the edge of the pot. The widow caught up the spoon and again began dipping out the porridge; she dipped as fast as she could. Soon all the pots and pans in the house were full and still the pot continued to boil out porridge. In despair the widow seized the pot and threw it outside the door, but the porridge flowed out from it in a stream, and ran down the road.
The little girl was coming home when she met the stream of porridge, and at once she guessed what had happened. She ran as fast as she could and when she came to the place where the pot lay she cried:
At once the pot stopped boiling, but already enough porridge had been wasted to have fed the whole countryside.
After that the widow never again dared to tell the pot to boil. When they wished for porridge it was the child who spoke to it. But from then on she and her mother never lacked for anything, for the porridge was so delicious that people came from far and near to buy from them.
CHICKEN-DIDDLE
One day Chicken-diddle had gone to sleep under a rose-bush, and a cow reached over the fence and bit off the top of the rose-bush. The noise wakened Chicken-diddle, and just as she woke a rose-leaf fell on her tail.
“Squawk! Squawk!” cried Chicken-diddle, “the sky’s falling down”; and away she ran as fast as her legs would carry her. She ran until she came to the barnyard, and there was Hen-pen rustling in the dust of the barnyard.
“Oh, Hen-pen, don’t rustle—run, run!” cried Chicken-diddle. “The sky’s falling down.”
The hen stopped rustling. “How do you know that Chicken-diddle?” asked Hen-pen.
“I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run, until we get some place.”
“Quawk! Quawk,” cried the hen, and she began to run, and Chicken-diddle ran after her.
They ran till they came to the duck-pond, and there was Duck-luck just going in for a swim.
“Oh, Duck-luck! Duck-luck! don’t try to swim,” cried Hen-pen. “The sky’s falling down.”
“How do you know that, Hen-pen?” asked Duck-luck.
“Chicken-diddle told me.”
“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”
“Why shouldn’t I know it? I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run until we get some place.”
“Yes, we had better run,” quacked Duck-luck, and away he waddled with Hen-pen, and Chicken-diddle after him.
They ran and ran till they came to a green meadow, and there was Goose-loose eating the green grass.
“Oh, Goose-loose, Goose-loose, don’t eat; run, run,” cried Duck-luck.
“Why should I run?” asked Goose-loose.
“Because the sky’s falling down.”
“How do you know that, Duck-luck?”
“How do you know that, Hen-pen?”
“Chicken-diddle told me.”
“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”
“Because I saw it with my eyes, and heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run some place.”
“Yes, we’d better run,” cried Goose-loose.
Away they all ran, Goose-loose at the head of them, and they ran and ran until they came to the turkey-yard, and there was Turkey-lurkey strutting and gobbling.
“Oh, Turkey-lurkey! don’t strut! Don’t strut!” cried Goose-loose.
“Why should I not strut?” asked Turkey-lurkey.
“Because the sky’s falling down.”
“How do you know it is?”
“Duck-luck told me!”
“How do you know, Duck-luck?”
“Hen-pen told me!”
“How do you know, Hen-pen?”
“Chicken-diddle told me!”
“How do you know, Chicken-diddle?”
“I couldn’t help knowing! I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and a part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run until we get some place.”
“Yes, we’d better run,” said Turkey-lurkey, so away they all ran, first Turkey-lurkey, and then Goose-loose, and then Duck-luck, and then Hen-pen, and then Chicken-diddle.
They ran and ran until they came to Fox-lox’s house, and there was Fox-lox lying in the doorway and yawning until his tongue curled up in his mouth. When he saw Turkey-lurkey and Goose-loose and Duck-luck and Hen-pen and Chicken-diddle he stopped yawning, and pricked up his ears, and he was very glad to see them.
“Well, well,” said he, “and what brings you all here?”
“Oh, Fox-lox, Fox-lox, don’t yawn,” cried Turkey-lurkey, “the sky’s falling down.”
“How do you know that, Turkey-lurkey?” asked the fox.
“Goose-loose told me.”
“How do you know that, Goose-loose?”
“Duck-luck told me.”
“How do you know that, Duck-luck?”
“How do you know that, Hen-pen?”
“Chicken-diddle told me.”
“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”
“I couldn’t help knowing, for I saw it with my eyes, and I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, where shall we run? We ought to go some place.”
“Well,” said the Fox, “you come right in here, and I’ll take such good care of you that even if the sky falls down you won’t know anything about it.”
So in ran Turkey-lurkey, and Fox-lox put him in the big room, and shut the door. In ran Goose-loose, and he put him in the little room, and shut the door. In ran Duck-luck, and he put him in the cellar, and shut the door. In ran Hen-pen, and he put her in the attic, and shut the door. In ran Chicken-diddle, and Fox-lox kept him right there in the room with him. And what happened to them after that I don’t know, but nobody ever saw them again; if the sky really fell, I never heard about it. They were only a pack of silly fowls, anyway.
A PACK OF RAGAMUFFINS
“My dear,” said the cock to the hen one day, “what do you say to our taking a walk over to Mulberry Hill? The mulberries must be ripe by now, and we can have a fine feast.”
“That would suit me exactly,” answered the hen. “I am very fond of ripe fruit, and it is a long time since I have tasted any.” So the cock and hen set off together.
The way was long, and the day was hot, and before the two had reached the top of the hill they were both of them tired and out of breath. The mulberries lay thick on the ground, and the cock and the hen ran about hither and yon, pecking and eating—pecking and eating, until they could eat no more, and the sun was near setting.
“Oh! oh!” groaned the hen, “how weary I am. How in the world are we to get home again. My legs are so tired, I could not go another step if my life depended on it.”
“My dear,” said the cock, “I too am weary, but I see here a number of fallen twigs. If I could but weave them into a coach we might ride home in comfort.”
“That is a clever thought,” sighed the hen. “Make it by all means. There is nothing I like better than riding in a coach.”
The cock at once set to work, and by weaving sticks and grasses together he made a little coach with body, wheels, and shafts all complete.
The hen was delighted. She at once hopped into the coach, and seated herself. “Now, my dear Cock-a-lorum,” she cried, “nothing more is needed but for you to get between the shafts and step out briskly, and we will be at home in less than no time.”
“What are you talking about?” asked the cock sharply. “I have no idea of pulling the coach myself. My legs ache as well as yours, and if you wait for me to pull you home you may sit there till doomsday.”
“But how then are we to get home?” asked the hen, beginning to weep.
“I do not know,” answered the cock. “But what I do know is that I am not going to pull you.”
“But you must pull me,” wept the hen.
“But I won’t pull you,” stormed the cock.
So they scolded and disputed and there is no knowing how it would have ended, but suddenly a duck appeared from behind some bushes.
When the duck saw the hen and the cock it ruffled up its feathers and waddled toward them, quacking fiercely. “What is this! What is this!” cried the duck. “Do you not know that this hill belongs to me? Be off at once or I will give you a sound beating.”
It flew at the cock with outspread wings. The cock, however, was a brave little fellow. Instead of running away he met the duck valiantly, and seizing it he pulled out a beakful of feathers. The hen shrieked, but the cock continued to punish the duck until it cried for mercy.
“Very well,” said the cock, settling his feathers. “I will let you go this time, but only if you will promise to draw our coach to the nearest inn, where we can spend the night.”
The duck was afraid to refuse the cock’s demand. He put himself between the shafts, the cock mounted the coach and cracked his whip, and away they all went as fast as the duck could waddle. The coach rocked and bumped over the stones, and suddenly the duck gave a jump that almost upset it. “Ouch! ouch!” it cried. “Something stuck me.”
“I do well to stick you,” replied a small sharp voice. “I may teach you to look where you are going, and not step on honest travelers who are smaller than you.”
The voice was that of a needle, who, with a pin for a comrade, was journeying along the same road.
The cock looked out from the coach. “I am sorry,” said he, “that my duck should be so careless. Will you not get in and ride with us?”
This the pin and the needle were glad to do. The hen was somewhat nervous at first, lest one of them might tread on her foot, but they were so polite, and so careful not to crowd her, that she soon lost her fear of them.
Just before nightfall the coach reached the door of an inn. Here the duck stopped, and the cock called loudly for the landlord.
The man came running, but when he saw the strange guests that sat in the coach he almost shut the door on them. “We want no ragamuffins here,” he cried.
“Wait a bit,” cried the cock. “Just see this fine white egg that the hen has laid. And every morning the duck lays an egg also. Both of these shall be yours if you will take us in for the night.”
Well, the landlord was willing to agree to that bargain. He bade the companions enter and make themselves comfortable. This they did, eating and drinking to their hearts’ content. Then the cock and the hen made themselves comfortable in the best bed, and the others tucked themselves away as best they could.
As soon as they were all asleep the landlord said to his wife, “Listen! This is a fine bargain that I have made. Roast duck is very good, and so is chicken pie, and to-morrow our travelers shall furnish us with both of them. As for the needle and pin you can put them away in your work-basket, and they will always be useful.”
After saying this the landlord and his wife also went to sleep, for the landlord intended to be up early in the morning before his guests had wakened.
The cock, however, was not one to let anyone catch him sleeping. While it was still dark the next morning, he awakened the hen. “Come,” said he; “we’d best be up and away. This landlord of ours seems to me a sly and greedy man; he might take a notion to have roast chicken for dinner to-day, so we had better be gone before he is stirring.”
To this the hen agreed, but she and the cock were both hungry, so before starting they shared the egg between them. The shells they threw in among the ashes on the hearth. Then they took the needle and stuck it in the back of the landlord’s chair; the pin they put in the towel that hung behind the door, and this done they took to their wings and away they flew.
The sound of their going awoke the duck. It opened its eyes and looked after them. “Well, well! So they’re off. I think I’d better be moving myself,” and so saying it waddled down to the river, and swam back to the place whence it had come.
It was not long after this the landlord himself awoke. “I’ll just slip down and see to the travelers before breakfast,” said he.
“Do,” answered his wife.
First, however, the landlord stopped to wash in the kitchen. He picked up the towel to dry his face, and the pin that was in it scratched him from ear to ear. He went to the hearth to light his pipe and the egg-shells flew up in his face. He sat down in his chair for a moment, but scarcely had he leaned back, when he jumped up with a cry. The needle had run into him.
“It is all the fault of those ragamuffins,” cried the landlord in a rage, and he caught up a knife and ran to find them. But search as he might there was not a sign of them anywhere, for they were already safely home again.
So all the landlord had for his trouble after all, was his pains.
THE FROG PRINCE
There was once a king who had one only daughter, and her he loved as he loved the apple of his eye.
One day the Princess sat beside a fountain in the gardens, and played with a golden ball. She threw it up into the air and caught it again, and the ball shone and glittered in the sunshine so that she laughed aloud with pleasure. But presently as she caught at the ball she missed it, and it rolled across the grass and fell into the fountain. There it sank to the bottom. The Princess tried and tried to reach it, but she could not. Then she began to weep, and her tears dripped down into the fountain.
“Princess, Princess, why are you weeping?” asked a hoarse voice.
The Princess looked about her, and there was a great squat green frog sitting on the edge of the fountain.
“I am weeping, Froggie, because I have dropped my ball into the water and I cannot get it again,” answered the Princess.
“And what will you give me if I get it for you?”
“Anything in the world, dear Frog, except the ball itself.”
“I wish you to give me nothing, Princess,” said the frog. “But if I bring back your ball to you will you let me be your little playmate? Will you let me sit at your table, and eat from your plate, and drink from your mug, and sleep in your little bed?”
“Yes, yes,” cried the Princess. She was very willing to promise, for she did not believe the frog could ever leave the fountain, or come up the palace steps.
“Very well, then that is a promise,” said the frog, and at once he plunged into the fountain and brought back the ball to the Princess in his arms.
The little girl took the ball and ran away with it without even stopping to thank him.
That evening the child sat at supper with her father, and she ate from her golden plate, and drank from her golden mug, and she did not even give a thought to the frog down in the fountain.
Presently there came a knocking at the door, but it was so soft that no one heard it but the Princess. Then the knocking came again, and a hoarse voice cried, “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, let me in. Have you forgotten the promise you made me by the fountain?”
The Princess was frightened. She slipped down from her chair, and ran to the door, and opened it and looked out. There on the top-most step sat the great green frog.
When the Princess saw him she shut the door quickly, and came back to the table, and she was very pale.
“Who was that at the door?” asked the King.
“It was no one,” answered the Princess.
“But there was surely someone there,” said the King.
“It was only a great green frog from the fountain,” said the Princess. And then she told her father how she had dropped her ball into the fountain, and how the frog had brought it back to her, and of what she had promised him.
“What you have promised that you must perform,” said the King. “Open the door, my daughter, and let him in.”
Very unwillingly the child went back to the door and opened it; the frog hopped into the room. When she returned to the table, the frog hopped along close at her heels.
She sat down and began to eat. “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, set me upon the table that I too may eat from your golden plate,” said the frog.
The Princess would have refused, but she dared not because of what her father had said. She lifted the frog to the table, and there he ate from her plate, but she herself could touch nothing.
“I am thirsty,” said the frog. “Tilt your golden mug that I may drink from it.”
The Princess did as he bade her, but as she did so she could not help weeping so that her tears ran down into the milk.
When supper was ended the Princess was about to hurry away to her room, but the frog called to her, “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, take me along. Have you forgotten that I was to sleep in your little white bed?”
“That you shall not,” cried the Princess in a passion. “Go back to the stones of the fountain, where you belong.”
“What you have said that you must do,” said the King. “Take the frog with you.”
The Princess shuddered, but she dared not refuse.
She took the frog with her up to her room, and put him down in the darkest corner, where she would not see him. Then she undressed and went to bed. But scarcely had her head touched the pillow when she heard the frog calling her.
“King’s daughter, King’s daughter! Is this the way you keep your promise? Lift me up to the bed, for the floor is cold and hard.”
The Princess sprang from the bed and seized the frog in her hands. “Miserable frog,” she cried, “you shall not torment me in this way.” So saying she threw the frog against the wall with all her force.
But no sooner did the frog touch the wall than it turned into a handsome young prince, all dressed in green, with a golden crown upon his head, and a chain of emeralds about his neck.
The Prince came to her, and took her by the hand.
“Dear Princess,” said he, “you have broken the enchantment that held me. A cruel fairy was angry with my father, and so she changed me into a frog, and put me there in the fountain. But now that the enchantment is broken we can really be playmates, and when you are old enough you shall be my wife.”
The Princess did not say no. She was delighted at the thought of having such a handsome playmate. And as for marrying him later on, she was quite willing for that, too.
So the Prince stayed there in the palace, and the King was very glad to think he was to have him for a son-in-law, and when he and the Princess were married, there was great rejoicing and feasting through all the kingdom.
The Prince, however, was not willing to stay away from his own kingdom any longer. He said he must return to see his old father.
One day a handsome golden coach drawn by eight white horses drove up to the door. It had been sent by the Prince’s father to fetch him home again. Upon the box rode the faithful servant who had cared for the Prince when he was a child.
When the Prince had been carried away by the fairy this faithful servant had grieved so bitterly he had feared his heart would break. To keep this from happening he had put three great iron bands around his body.
The Prince and the Princess entered the coach, and away went the horses. They had not driven far, however, when a loud crack was heard.
“What is that?” cried the Princess. “Surely something has broken.”
“Yes, mistress,” answered the faithful servant,
They drove a little farther, and then there came another crack, even louder than the first.
“Surely the coach is breaking down,” cried the Prince.
“Nay, master,” answered the faithful servant,
A little farther on there came a crack that was louder than any.
“Now surely something has broken,” cried the Prince and Princess together.
answered the servant.
After that they drove on quietly until they reached their own country. There the Prince and Princess lived in happiness to the end of their lives, and the faithful servant with them.
THE WOLF AND THE FIVE LITTLE GOATS
There was once a mother goat who had five little kids, and these kids were so dear to her that nothing could have been dearer.
One day the mother goat was going to the forest to gather some wood for her fire. “Now, my little kids,” said she, “you must be very careful while I am away. Bar the door behind me, and open it to nobody until I return. If the wicked wolf should get in he would certainly eat you.”
The little kids promised they would be careful, and then their mother started out, and as soon as she had gone they barred the door behind her.
Now it so happened the old wolf was on the watch that day. He saw the mother goat trotting away toward the forest, and as soon as she was out of sight, he crept down to the house and knocked at the door—rap-tap-tap!
“Who is there?” called the little kids within.
“It is I, your mother, my dears,” answered the wolf in his great rough voice. “Open the door and let me in.”
But the kids were very clever little kids. “No, no,” they cried. “You are not our mother. Our mother has a soft, sweet voice, and your voice is harsh and rough. You must be the wolf.”
When the wolf heard this he was very angry. He battered and battered at the door, but they would not let him in. Then he turned and galloped away as fast as he could until he came to a dairy. There he stuck his head in at the window, and the woman had just finished churning her butter.
“Woman, woman,” cried the wolf, “give me some butter. If you do not I will come in and upset your churn.”
The woman was frightened. At once she gave him a great deal of butter—all he could eat.
The wolf swallowed it down, and then he ran back to the goat’s house and knocked at the door—rat-tat-rat!
“Who is there?” asked the little goats within.
“Your mother, my dears,” answered the wolf, and now his voice was very soft and smooth because of the butter he had swallowed.
“It is our mother,” cried the little kids, and they were about to open the door, but the littlest kid of all, who was a very wise little kid, stopped them.
“Wait a bit,” said he. “It sounds like our mother’s voice, but before we open the door we had better be very, very sure it is not the wolf.” Then he called through the door, “Put your paws up on the windowsill.”
The wolf suspected nothing. He put his paws up on the windowsill, and as soon as the little kids saw them they knew at once that it was not their mother. “No, no,” they cried, “you are not our mother. Our mother has pretty white feet, and your feet are as black as soot. You must be the wolf.”
When the wolf heard this he was angrier than ever. He turned and galloped away again, and as he galloped he growled to himself and gnashed his teeth.
Presently he came to a baker’s shop, and there he stuck his head in at the window.
“Baker, baker, give me some dough,” he cried. “If you do not I will upset your pans and spoil your baking.”
The baker was frightened. At once he gave the wolf all the dough he wanted. The wolf seized it and ran away with it. He ran until he came to the goat’s house. There he sat down and covered his black feet all over with the white dough. Then he knocked at the door—rat-tat-tat!
“Who is there?” cried the little goats within.
“Your mother, my dears, come home again,” answered the wolf, in his smooth buttery voice.
“Put your paws up on the windowsill.”
The wolf put his paws up on the windowsill, and they looked quite white because of the dough. Then the little kids felt sure it was their mother, and they gladly opened the door.
“Woof!” In bounded the wicked wolf.
The little goats cried out and away they ran, some in one direction, and some in another. They hid themselves one behind the door, and one in the dough-trough, and one in the wash-tub, and one under the bed, and one (and he was the littlest one of all) hid in the tall clock-case. The wolf stood there glaring about him, and not as much as a tail of one of them could he see.
Then he began to hunt about for them, but he had to be in a hurry, because he was afraid the mother goat would come home again.
He found the kid behind the door, and he was in such a hurry he swallowed it whole without hurting it in the least. He found the one in the wash-tub, and he swallowed it whole, too. He found the one in the dough-trough, and it, too, he swallowed whole. He found the one under the bed and he swallowed it whole. The only one he did not find was the one in the clock-case, and he never thought of looking there. He hunted around and hunted around, and he was afraid to stay any longer for fear their mother would come home.
But now the old wolf felt very heavy and sleepy. He looked around for a place to go in order to lie down and rest.
Not far away were some rocks and trees that made a pleasant shadow. Here the wolf stretched himself out, and presently he was snoring so loudly that the leaves of the trees shook overhead.
Soon after this the mother goat came home. As soon as she saw the door of the house standing open, she knew at once that some misfortune had happened. She went in and looked about her. The furniture was all upset and scattered about the room. “Alas, alas! My dear little kids!” cried the mother. “The wicked wolf has certainly been here and eaten them all.”
“He didn’t eat me,” said a little voice in the clock-case.
The mother goat opened the door of the clock-case and the littlest kid of all hopped out.
“But why were you in the clock-case? And what has happened?” asked the mother.
Then the little kid told her all about how the wolf had come there with his buttery voice and his whitened paws, and how they had let him in, and how he had swallowed all four of the other little kids, so that he alone was left.
After the mother goat had heard the story she went to the door and looked about. Then she heard the old wolf snoring where he lay asleep under the nut-trees in the shade of the rocks.
“That must be the old wolf snoring,” said the mother goat, “and he cannot be far away. Do not make a noise, my little kid, but come with me.”
The mother goat stole over to the heap of rocks, and the little kid followed her on tiptoes. She peeped and peered, and there lay the old wolf so fast asleep that nothing less than an earthquake would have wakened him.
“Now, my little kid,” whispered the mother, “run straight home again as fast as you can, and fetch me my shears and a needle and some stout thread.”
This the little kid did, and he ran so softly over the grass that not even a mouse could have heard him.
As soon as he returned the mother goat crept up to the old wolf, and with the sharp shears she slit his hide up just as though it had been a sack. Out popped one little kid, and out popped another little kid, and another, and another, and there they all were, just as safe and sound as though they had never been swallowed. And all this while the old wolf never stirred nor stopped snoring.
“And now, my little kids,” whispered the mother, “do you each one of you bring me a big round stone, but be very quick and quiet, for your lives depend upon it.”
So the little kids ran away, and hunted around, and each fetched her back a big round stone, and they were very quick and quiet about it, just as their mother had bade them be.
The old goat put the stones inside the wolf, where the little kids had been, and then she drew the hide together and sewed it up, using the stout, strong thread. After that she and the little kids hid themselves behind the rocks, and watched and waited.
Presently the old wolf yawned and opened his eyes. Then he got up and shook himself, and when he did so the stones inside him rattled together so that the goat and the little kids could hear them, where they hid behind the rocks.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear me!” groaned the wolf;
Now what with the stones inside of him and the hot sun overhead the wolf grew very thirsty. Near by was a deep well, with water almost up to the brink of it. The old wolf went to drink. He leaned over, and all the stones rolled up to his head and upset him. Plump! he went down into the water, and the stones carried him straight to the bottom. He could not swim at all, and so he was drowned.
But all the little kids ran out from behind the rocks and began to dance around the well.
they sang, and the mother goat came and danced with them, they were all so delighted.