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Project Gutenberg's Miss Muffet's Christmas Party, by Samuel McChord Crothers
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
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Title: Miss Muffet's Christmas Party
Author: Samuel McChord Crothers
Illustrator: Olive M. Long
Release Date: April 15, 2010 [EBook #31997]
Language: English
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<div class="figcenter" style="width: 313px;">
<img src="images/cover2.jpg" width="313" height="469" alt="Cover" title="" />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 347px;">
<img src="images/endpaper.png" width="347" height="500" alt="Fairy in a web" title="" />
</div>
<div class='bbox'>
<h3>By Samuel M. Crothers</h3>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Books by Crothers">
<tr><td align='left'>MEDITATIONS ON VOTES FOR WOMEN.</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>HUMANLY SPEAKING.</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>AMONG FRIENDS.</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>BY THE CHRISTMAS FIRE.</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>THE PARDONER'S WALLET.</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>THE ENDLESS LIFE.</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>THE GENTLE READER.</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES: THE AUTOCRAT<br />AND HIS FELLOW BOARDERS. With Portrait.</div></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>MISS MUFFET'S CHRISTMAS PARTY. Illustrated.</td></tr>
</table></div>
<div class='center'><br />
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br />
<span class="smcap">Boston and New York</span><br />
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p>
<h2>MISS MUFFET'S CHRISTMAS PARTY</h2>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 324px;">
<img src="images/frontis.png" width="324" height="500" alt="A visitor came (page 4)" title="" />
<span class="caption">A visitor came (<a href="#Page_4">page 4</a>)</span>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/titlepage.png" width="400" height="600" alt="Title Page" title="" />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p>
<div class='copyright'>
COPYRIGHT 1902 BY SAMUEL McCHORD CROTHERS<br />
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br />
<br />
<i>Published November, 1902</i><br />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p>
<div class='center'>
<big>TO MARGERY</big><br />
BECAUSE, AMONG OTHER THINGS,<br />
WE LIKE THE SAME PEOPLE<br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 12px;">
<img src="images/leaf.png" width="12" height="18" alt="Leaf" title="" />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p>
<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents">
<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>A visitor came</i> (<i><a href="#Page_4">page 4</a></i>)</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_i">Frontispiece</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Chapter Heading</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Mrs. Muffet had read this in a book</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>To meditate on the passage of time</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>The kind of thing that Miss Muffet sat on</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Fairly jumped off her tuffet</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Chapter Heading</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>They sat down</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Every town crier in England</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>The blighted being</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Chapter Heading</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Miss Muffet closed her eyes</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>She could catch glimpses of travelers</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#glimpses">20</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Tom Sawyer trying to "hitch on" behind</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Alice with all the strange friends she had found in Wonderland</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#alice">23</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>"<i>This is the main caravan road to Bagdad</i>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Elves</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>The woods were full of merry little people</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>An old witch who was not nearly so bad as she looked</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Chapter Heading</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Introduced the Orientals to the North Country people</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Aladdin explains the virtues of his lamp</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>"<i>Listening . . . is hard on the eyes</i>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Chapter Heading</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span><i>The shyest persons in the room</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Scampering off into the dark</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Chapter Heading</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>"<i>I am sorry to be so late</i>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Hal cut his string</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>"<i>I don't think I ever knew two persons more different</i>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>"<i>You dear little Rosamond</i>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Chapter Heading</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>One was beating the other</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>A little talk about dervishry</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>An expressive glance at the executioner</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Aladdin's brother and the Dervish</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Chapter Heading</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>"<i>I must have the full set</i>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Telling anecdotes</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>"<i>It all depends on grammar</i>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Chapter Heading</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Wynken, Blynken, and Nod</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>He was a little prudent</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#prudent">96</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>The Rockaby Lady saying good-night</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Flew away . . . into the night</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Into his overcoat pocket</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Red Riding-Hood's Grandmother began to dance</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>A long time to get on their overshoes</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Closed her eyes</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><i>Tail Piece</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr>
</table></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
<img src="images/i001.png" width="300" height="219" alt="Chapter I" title="" />
</div>
<div class="figright" style="width: 132px;">
<img src="images/i002.png" width="132" height="200" alt="Mrs. Muffet had read this in a book" title="" />
<span class="caption">Mrs. Muffet had read this in a book</span>
</div>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">'Twas</span> the night before Christmas, and it was
very quiet in Mrs. Muffet's house,—altogether too
quiet, thought little Miss Muffet, as she sat trying
to eat her curds and whey. For Mrs. Muffet was
a very severe mother and had her own ideas about
bringing up children,—and so had Mr. Muffet,
or rather he had the same ideas, only warmed
over. One of these was on the necessity of care in
the diet of growing children. "First," said Mrs.
Muffet, "we must find out what the children don't
like, and then we must make them eat plenty of it;
next to breaking their wills, there is nothing so
necessary as breaking their appetites." Mrs. Muffet
had read this in a book, and so she knew it must be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>
true; and Mr. Muffet had heard Mrs. Muffet say
it so many times that he knew it
was true.</div>
<p>So every morning little Miss
Muffet had three courses: first,
curds and whey; second,
whey and curds; third,
curdled whey. She had
the same things for the
other meals, but the order
was changed about.
An experienced housekeeper
tells me that the
third course is impossible
to prepare, as whey cannot
be curdled. All I have to say is that this
housekeeper had not known Mrs. Muffet. Mrs.
Muffet could curdle anything. But the worst days
of the year for little Miss Muffet were the holidays,
for they were occasions that had to be improved.
Now for a little girl to improve an occasion is
about the hardest work she can do, especially when
she doesn't know how. If she had been left to
herself, Miss Muffet wouldn't have improved them
at all, but would have left them in their natural
state.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
<div class='center'> <table class="time" summary="time">
<tr><td align='left'><div class='textleft'><br /><br />
<p>"Christmas," said Mrs. Muffet
in her most economical tone,
"comes but once a year, so we
must make it go as far as possible.
The best way for a child
to do that is to sit and meditate.
You've no idea how long a holiday
seems till you sit still and
think about it. Count sixty, that
will be just one
minute, and another,
and another,
and then
another—sixty
times one, and
then sixty times
that, and then twenty-four times that makes—well—it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>
makes—the exact number doesn't matter
much," said Mrs. Muffet, who wasn't quick
at mental arithmetic, "but you'll see that there
are quite a considerable number of seconds in
Christmas Day—quite
enough for any growing
child." So at Christmas
time Mrs. Muffet would go
out to visit the neighbors,
leaving the little girl seated
on a very uncomfortable
tuffet, to meditate on the
passage of time.</p></div><br />
<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<div class='textright'><p>Perhaps some of you
would like to know what a
tuffet is. I have thought
of that myself, and have
taken the trouble to ask several
learned persons. They
assure me that the most complete and satisfactory
definition is,—a tuffet is the kind of thing that
Miss Muffet sat on. With this explanation I shall
go on with my story. As she sat on her tuffet
counting up the seconds of Christmas Eve, and had
already reached the sum of two thousand one hundred
and seven, a strange thing happened. A visitor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>
came and sat down beside her. You guess
who he was? Yes—an elderly, benevolent spider.
He was short-sighted and wore green spectacles,
and had evidently a little rheumatism in his
legs, but as he had eight of them, he managed to
get along very well.</p></div>
</td>
</tr></table></div>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 114px;">
<img src="images/i004.png" width="114" height="200" alt="The kind of thing that Miss Muffet sat on" title="" />
<span class="caption">The kind of thing that Miss Muffet sat on</span>
</div>
<p>Now the way you may have heard the story is
that when the kind old spider sat down beside her,
it frightened Miss Muffet away. That story must
be true because I myself have seen it in print,
but it happened at another time, when Miss Muffet
was very little indeed.</p>
<p>On the Christmas Eve I am telling about, she
had become a very sensible little girl, and knew all
about spiders, so instead of running away, she
made room for him on the tuffet and said, "I am
very glad to see you, Mr. Spider." Mr. Spider
bowed and looked at her in a kindly way through
his spectacles, but said nothing.</p>
<p>"I hope your family are all well; I mean the
family Arachnida, sub-order, I forget the name.
We've enjoyed dissecting those we could get; and
you deserve a great deal of credit for the curious
way in which you are put together, with your
funny thorax and everything."</p>
<p>"Let's change the subject, Miss," said the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
spider, moving toward the further side of the tuffet.
"This is Christmas Eve."</p>
<div class="figright" style="width: 274px;">
<img src="images/i005.png" width="274" height="350" alt="Fairly jumped off her tuffet" title="" />
<span class="caption">Fairly jumped off her tuffet</span>
</div>
<p>"Yes," answered Miss Muffet wearily. "Sixty
seconds make a minute; sixty minutes make an
hour. Even Christmas Eve will come to an end
some time; but what's the good? For then Christmas
will come, and that will <i>never</i> get through."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
<p>"What do you say to a party?"</p>
<p>Miss Muffet fairly jumped off her tuffet, for she
had never had a party in her life. "Who will
invite the people?"</p>
<p>"I will," said the spider.</p>
<p>"But do you think any one will come if <i>you</i>
invite them?"</p>
<p>"Why not?"</p>
<p>"Oh! I was just thinking; some people are such
'fraid-cats; and then, you know, once, one of your
family invited the fly to walk into his parlor. I
don't believe the story one bit, but then, you know,
Mr. Spider, it caused talk."</p>
<p>Mr. Spider positively blushed green. "If you
have no objection, let's change the subject again.
Business is business; as for flies, there is a difference
of opinion about them, and we can't all live on
curds and whey, Miss Muffet. But this is to be
your party, and we should not invite flies but folks.
How would you like to have a literary party, and
invite all the people you've read about?"</p>
<p>"How delightful!" cried Miss Muffet gleefully.
"What a dear old spider you are!"</p>
<p>"Let's write the invitations immediately," said
Mr. Spider, taking out of his pocket a ream of the
most delicate cobweb paper.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
<img src="images/i006.png" width="300" height="205" alt="Chapter II" title="" />
</div>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">They</span> sat down with their heads very close together,
and such a number of letters you never
saw as Miss Muffet and the spider wrote. Some
of them were very informal, like those beginning
"Dear Little Bo-Peep" and "Dear Red Riding-Hood."
They said, "Won't you come to a party
at my house? We're going to have games."
Others were very formal like that addressed to</div>
<div class='poem'>
The Reverend Swiss Robinson and Family,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Tent House,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 9em;">Desert Island,</span><br />
</div>
<div class='unindent'>stating that "Miss Muffet requests the pleasure of
your company," etc. Then there were letters<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
addressed to Wonderland and Back of the North
Wind, and to Lilliput and the Land where the Jumblies
Live, and to all sorts of places which are to
be found only on the best maps, and are not in the
school geographies at all.</div>
<p>Mr. Spider was very careful and businesslike,
and insisted that Miss Muffet should always put
down the exact address, for it would never do to
have any of the letters go to the dead-letter office.
Sometimes, however, they were puzzled to find the
right direction.</p>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 250px;">
<img src="images/i007.png" width="250" height="162" alt="They sat down" title="" />
<span class="caption">They sat down</span>
</div>
<p>"Shall I address this letter to Norwich or the
Moon?" asked Miss Muffet, handing him an
envelope.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>
<p>"Ah!" said the spider, "this is a difficult case;
it's hard to reach these traveling men. Here is
a gentleman residing in the Moon, who suddenly
sets out for Norwich without leaving his address.
Better direct the letter to 'Norwich, General Delivery,'
and write in the upper left hand corner, 'If
not called for in five minutes, forward to the Moon.'"</p>
<p>"And I suppose that Gloucester is Dr. Foster's
address? That is where I last heard of him."</p>
<p>"No; I'm afraid we shall have to give the
doctor up. He is a very peculiar man and took a
prejudice against the town, and vowed he would
never go that way again."</p>
<p>"Oh, yes, I remember," said Miss Muffet; "it
was because he didn't like the way they kept the
roads."</p>
<p>It was a difficult matter to get the correct titles
for all the princes and princesses of Fairyland, and
to learn the names of all the crowned heads. Of
course, where their names were in the Court Directory
it was easy enough, for the spider had a huge
volume at his elbow; but he said that it was far
from complete. All the giant-killers and the young
men who married the kings' daughters were in it,
but the kings themselves were often forgotten.</p>
<p>"'A certain king had three daughters,'" said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
Miss Muffet; "that's all that I know about him,
but he ought to be invited. The postman will
want to know which 'Certain King' it is, and what
he's king of."</p>
<p>"The best way to do," said the spider, "would
be to address a hundred letters, each to 'A Certain
King,' asking His Majesty to honor your party with
his presence, and to bring with him a 'Certain
Queen.' Then whenever the messenger comes across
a king without any particular name he can give him
an invitation. If you want to be more definite, you
may address each letter to 'A Certain Kingdom.'"</p>
<p>"But he has usually given away half of his
kingdom."</p>
<p>"That's true," said the spider; "you had better
address it to 'The Other Half.'"</p>
<p>Miss Muffet was troubled about the persons who
had only lately risen in life.</p>
<p>"There is Dumbling, who went out to chop wood,
and the dwarf gave him a golden goose that made
everything stick to it. The king's daughter in
that certain kingdom had been so serious that the
king had offered her to any one who would make
her laugh; and when she saw Dumbling with the
goose under his arm and the maids and the parson
and all the rest following after, she laughed outright.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
She didn't mean to, but she couldn't help
it. And now Dumbling is a prince, and is living
happily ever afterward. I wonder if that makes
any difference in his feelings, or if he likes to be
called Dumbling."</p>
<p>The spider said that it all depended on his wife.
With such a serious person as she had been one
must be careful about etiquette. Because she had
laughed once was no sign that she would do it
again.</p>
<p>"Shall you invite any plain boys and girls who
live in the Every Day Country?" asked the
spider.</p>
<p>This was a hard question, for the Muffets were
an old family who had come across with Mother
Goose, and at this moment Every Day Country
seemed a long way off and just a bit uninteresting.
But then Miss Muffet remembered how many kind
friends she had found there, and answered,—</p>
<p>"Oh, certainly, we must send invitations to the
Every Day Country, for some of the folks there
are just as good as the Dreamland people, only of
course they haven't had the same advantages."</p>
<div class="figright" style="width: 203px;">
<img src="images/i008.png" width="203" height="250" alt="Every town crier in England" title="" />
<span class="caption">Every town crier in England</span>
</div>
<p>So letters were sent to Prudy and Dotty Dimple
and the Bodley Family, and to the Little Men and
Little Women and Lord Fauntleroy and the rest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
A special letter was written to the little Ruggleses,
and to Tiny Tim and all the Cratchetts, for Miss
Muffet knew that they were always ready to have
a good time on Christmas. A message was sent to
every town crier in England, asking him to make
immediate proclamation in the streets that if any
small boy who was a Prince and a Pauper would
make himself known, he would hear something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
greatly to his advantage, for he was invited to Miss
Muffet's Party.</p>
<p>The longest letter was that sent to Agamemnon
Peterkin. Miss Muffet wrote it very carefully,
underscoring all the important parts, and adding
a map showing the way from the Peterkins' house
to the palace. She asked him to bring all the
family, including the little boys.</p>
<p>"I don't see how he can make a mistake," she
said, "but he probably will. They are all so ingenious.
They find out how to make mistakes
that other folks would never think of."</p>
<p>"What about Mr. Henty's boys?" said the
spider; "there are so many of them."</p>
<p>"There seem to be a great many of them," said
Miss Muffet, "but I've sometimes thought that
there may be only two, only they live in different
centuries and go to different wars. Boys can
do that, can't they, Mr. Spider, if they are very
brave?"</p>
<p>The spider said he thought they could without
changing their characters, but of course they would
have to change their names.</p>
<p>So an invitation was sent to Ronald Leslie,
alias Wulf, Roger, Lionel, Stanley, etc., On The
Firing Line, Near Carthage, Quebec, Crécy, Waterloo,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
Khartoum, or wherever the Enemy may be
found in force.
Forward by a
swift messenger,
trusty and true.</p>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 243px;">
<img src="images/i009.png" width="243" height="500" alt="The blighted being." title="" />
</div>
<p>"I shouldn't
wonder if they
might be a little
late, for they may
be taken prisoner,
and it always
takes them
some time to escape."</p>
<p>"Shall you invite
any bad
boys?" asked
the spider.</p>
<p>"No," answered
Miss
Muffet severely,
"not as a rule;
but I think we
shall ask Mr.
Aldrich's Bad Boy, for he is a blighted being. I
think it's our duty to have him,—and then it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
would be such fun. And I suppose we ought to
invite Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer to keep
him company."</p>
<p>"Of course you will invite all the good boys?"</p>
<p>"Of course we shall invite them, as a rule. But
the good boys in the books are almost too good
sometimes; don't you think so, Mr. Spider? I
mean almost too good to be true. But that reminds
me; I suppose we should invite Rollo?"</p>
<p>"Yes," said the spider, "we certainly must invite
Rollo; he's a worthy lad, and of an inquiring
mind."</p>
<p>"Oh dear!" said Miss Muffet, tearing up the
letter she had just written, "he's so intelligent.
I'll have to write very correctly or he'll criticise
the spelling; and then if I invite Rollo, I shall
have to invite Jonas, too."</p>
<p>"Certainly," said the spider, "we must invite
Jonas, and we must arrange some moral amusement.
Suppose in your invitation you leave out
the word 'party' and ask him to attend a 'serious
symposium.' How would this do?—'Respected
Sir, You are earnestly requested to attend a serious
symposium at Miss Muffet's, to meet the Rev. Swiss
Robinson and other persons interested in the education
of youth. The Little Old Woman who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
lived in a Shoe will preside. There will be a
number of papers, to be followed by a discussion.'"</p>
<p>"How good that is! Jonas would so love a discussion,"
said Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>"Shall we invite any giants?"</p>
<p>"No; I don't want to be exclusive, but we
must draw the line somewhere. Let's draw it at
giants."</p>
<p>"Very well," said the spider, throwing into the
waste-basket the letter he had just addressed to
His Majesty the King of the Brobdingnags.</p>
<p>At last the invitations were all written, and the
kind old spider said, "Now lie down, my dear, on
the tuffet and close your eyes, and I will make all
the preparations and wake you in time for the
party."</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
<img src="images/i010.png" width="300" height="327" alt="Chapter III" title="" />
</div>
<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;">
<img src="images/i011.png" width="300" height="138" alt="Miss Muffet closed her eyes" title="" />
<span class="caption">Miss Muffet closed her eyes</span>
</div>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Miss Muffet</span> closed her eyes, and had already
begun to dream of curds and whey, when all at
once she was awakened and found herself in a most
wonderful palace. The walls and floors were made
of the sheerest, filmiest spider's-web, woven into a
thousand delicate patterns. A soft light shone
through the tapestries, and the dewdrops on the
roof sparkled like diamonds. The music that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
floated in through the open windows was not so
much a sound as a part of the atmosphere. She
was not sure whether she heard it or only breathed
it in. Everything was so shimmering and so
dainty that Miss Muffet might have thought that
she was dreaming had it not been for the spider,
who looked so comical in his dress-suit that she
laughed outright. The moment she laughed, Miss
Muffet knew that everything was real.</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"><a name="glimpses" id="glimpses"></a>
<img src="images/i012.png" width="300" height="348" alt="She could catch glimpses of travelers" title="" />
<span class="caption">She could catch glimpses of travelers</span>
</div>
<div class="figright" style="width: 340px;"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a>
<img src="images/i013.png" width="340" height="500" alt="Tom Sawyer trying to "hitch on" behind" title="" />
<span class="caption">Tom Sawyer trying to "hitch on" behind</span>
</div>
<p>For a minute she did not dare to trust herself
on the floor, but when she took a step she had the
most delightful experience of walking on air. She
went to one of the great windows. If the palace
had been wonderful, how much more wonderful
was the view from it. Far as the eye could reach
were the shining paths of spider's-web, each one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
leading over hill and dale to the palace door. Now
the paths were on the ground, now with bridges
from grass blade to grass blade, sometimes from
tree to tree; and far off she could see them spanning
deep valleys among the hills. By and by
she could catch glimpses of travelers on the road,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
some in coaches, some on foot, some on horseback,
coming by twos and dozens and scores.</p>
<p>"They're coming to the party," said the spider.</p>
<p>Sure enough, there was Cinderella in her coach
with the Prince sitting by her side, and Tom Sawyer
trying to "hitch on" behind. And there was
Alice with all the strange friends she had found in
Wonderland; and a very queer set they were, for
Wonderland is rather out of the world, and the
fashions of the Wonderlanders were peculiar, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
not at all like anything Miss Muffet had ever
seen before. And then how they did act! It was a
great relief to see, after the March Hare and the
Cheshire Cat and the Duchess, who were skipping
along in the most extraordinary manner, Mr. Robinson
Crusoe. "He looks so solid and respectable,"
said Miss Muffet, "and so English, you know."</p>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"><a name="alice" id="alice"></a>
<img src="images/i014.png" width="300" height="249" alt="Alice with all the strange friends she had found in Wonderland" title="" />
<span class="caption">Alice with all the strange friends she had found in Wonderland</span>
</div>
<p>"Come to the east window," said the spider.</p>
<p>Miss Muffet went with him and looked out on
a great level road stretching toward the sunrise.
Just where it seemed to touch the sky she could
see a grove of palm-trees, and she thought she
could see, beyond, the golden domes and minarets
of a city. But she was not quite sure of this, for
it might have been the clouds. A faint perfume as
of rare spices floated to her as the wind sprang up.</p>
<p>"This," said the spider, "is the main caravan
road to Bagdad." A golden dust seemed to rise
in the distance among the palms. At last Miss
Muffet could see a caravan.</p>
<p>"Take this glass," said the spider, handing her
an opera-glass. Then Miss Muffet could see very
well. There were the Sultan and the Caliph and
the Grand Vizier, and the silk merchants and the
calenders, and the princesses of every degree,—all
on camels most wonderful to behold.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
<div class="figright" style="width: 261px;">
<img src="images/i015.png" width="261" height="500" alt=""This is the main caravan road to Bagdad"" title="" />
<span class="caption">"This is the main caravan road to Bagdad"</span>
</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
<p>"Do you see the Forty Thieves?" asked the
spider uneasily. "If you do, we'd better count
the spoons."</p>
<p>Then Miss Muffet went to the north window,
and such a sight as she saw there! There was
frost on all the roads, and snow on the far mountains,
and the great pine forest on that side came
almost to the palace doors. And such pine-trees
as they were! Each one looked like a great
Christmas tree. The woods were full of merry
little people, with such frosty twinkles in their
eyes that it did one good to look at them. They
talked Swedish and German and Icelandic and
all sorts of queer languages, but somehow they
laughed so naturally, and were so simple and
hearty, that Miss Muffet understood every word.
There were hosts of brownies and elves and
fairies, and intelligent white bears, and one or two
reformed wolves, and an old witch who was not
nearly so bad as she looked, and the Marsh King
and his daughters, and an old gentleman who
looked so much like Santa Claus that Miss Muffet
was sure that he must be his brother. Indeed, she
could not help noticing that a great many of these
North Country folks bore a strong family resemblance
to Santa Claus,—but perhaps it was only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
the way they wore
their beards.
When she saw
them all, she was
sorry that she
had not invited
Santa Claus himself.
She hadn't
asked him, because,
as she told Mr. Spider, it was Christmas Eve,
and it might seem suggestive. But the truth of the
matter was, as I suspect, that she thought he would
probably drop in of his own accord, some time in the
course of the evening.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/i016.png" width="400" height="469" alt="Elves" title="" />
<span class="caption">Elves</span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 339px;">
<img src="images/i017.png" width="339" height="500" alt="The woods were full of merry little people" title="" />
<span class="caption">The woods were full of merry little people</span>
</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
<p>As the brisk little people from the North came
up the palace steps, Miss Muffet was sure that
Hans Christian Andersen must have had a party
once, or how could he have described them so
well? "Indeed," she said, "if I didn't know
what day of the month and what year it is, I
should almost think that this is 'Once upon a
Time.'"</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 259px;">
<img src="images/i018.png" width="259" height="300" alt="An old witch who was not nearly so bad as she looked" title="" />
<span class="caption">An old witch who was not nearly so bad as she looked</span>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/i019.png" width="400" height="354" alt="Chapter IV" title="" />
</div>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">When</span> the guests began to come in, Miss Muffet
was all in a flurry for fear she should not do her
duty as a hostess; but she needn't have worried a
bit, for they were so much interested in themselves
that they paid very little attention to her. Then
she had the assistance of two widely traveled
storks, who, having their summer residences in
Norway and spending their winters in Bagdad, had
a great number of acquaintances, and introduced
the Orientals to the North Country people. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
delightful to see how quickly they all became
acquainted. Little Dutch Gretchen in her wooden
shoes was not at all like the Persian Princess whom
she now met for the first time, but they were soon
warm friends though they had moved in such
different society. At first Miss Muffet was afraid
that the wooden shoes might spoil the spider's-web
floor; but there was no real danger of this, for the
spider, knowing that there would be a very great
crowd, had made everything very strong.</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 343px;"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>
<img src="images/i020.png" width="343" height="500" alt="Introduced the Orientals to the North Country people" title="" />
<span class="caption">Introduced the Orientals to the North Country people</span>
</div>
<p>There was a little man in a huge bearskin coat
who came from Back of the North Wind. At
first he was shy and awkward, but it was beautiful
to see how soon he was put at ease when
Aladdin came up and explained to him the virtues
of his wonderful lamp. The little man said that
such a lamp must be very useful, but when it
came to illuminating power it was nothing to what
he had at home, for he had an Aurora Borealis
in every room. Then the little man chuckled to
himself, for he wanted every one to know that
the Back of the North Wind Country was not so
uncivilized as people supposed.</p>
<p>In a corner she found a delightful group of
seafaring folks. Dr. Lemuel Gulliver was telling
the story of one of his voyages. He was such a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
matter-of-fact person, and so accurate about the
latitude and longitude, that Miss Muffet had the
greatest confidence in him, and felt that, though
he might be mistaken in regard to the main points,
all the details happened exactly as he said. His
story reminded Sindbad the Sailor of something
that had happened to him. He told his story in
a charming oriental way, but without a touch of
exaggeration.</p>
<p>"That would have spoiled it," said Miss Muffet
to Baron Munchausen, who was standing by.
"Don't you like simplicity, Baron?"</p>
<p>The Baron bowed in a courtly, old-fashioned
way, and said that he was inordinately fond of it.
Miss Muffet heard a rippling, liquid sound which
she at first mistook for laughter, but the Baron
assured her that it was only the frozen truth beginning
to thaw. This reminded him of a little
incident which was wonderful to hear. Everybody
was astonished except the Three Wise Men
of Gotham. They remarked that if they were at
liberty to tell their adventures, as seafaring men,
the stories that had been told would seem quite
tame; but they didn't feel at liberty, and only
looked at each other so wisely that Miss Muffet
wondered whether any persons could really be as
wise as they looked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 346px;">
<img src="images/i021.png" width="346" height="500" alt="Aladdin explains the virtues of his lamp" title="" />
<span class="caption">Aladdin explains the virtues of his lamp</span>
</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
<div class="figright" style="width: 184px;">
<img src="images/i022.png" width="184" height="250" alt=""Listening . . . is hard on the eyes"" title="" />
<span class="caption">"Listening . . . is hard on the eyes"</span>
</div>
<p>A sturdy, round-faced man stood just behind
the group, but took no part in the conversation.
Whenever Sindbad was talking he became so excited
that his eyes
seemed almost to
pop out of his
head, but he quieted
down as soon
as any one else
began. After a
time Sindbad
came over to him,
and taking out
his purse, gave
him a handful of
gold pieces.</p>
<p>"A hundred
sequins?" asked
Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>"Yes," said the round-faced man, "that's my
regular wages."</p>
<p>"It must be a very large amount."</p>
<p>He said he had no complaint to make, though a
sequin didn't go so far in Bagdad as it once did,
and he had to spend a great deal in clothes.</p>
<p>"I knew the minute I saw you that you must be
Hindbad the Porter."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
<p>"I used to be a porter before I became a professional
listener. Listening isn't so hard on the
back as portering, but it requires more attention
and the hours are longer; that is, they seem longer.
Besides, it's hard on the eyes."</p>
<p>"You mean on the ears," suggested Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>"No! on the eyes; you have to look interested."</p>
<p>"Oh! I understand," said Miss Muffet. "When
first I heard about your being invited to dinner at
Sindbad's and listening to his first tale, it seemed
the very nicest thing in the world. And how unexpected
it was, after you had enjoyed it, for him
to hand you a hundred sequins and say, 'Take
this, Hindbad, and return to your home, and come
back to-morrow and hear more of my adventures.'
Weren't you surprised to hear a story and get a
hundred sequins besides?"</p>
<p>Hindbad said that he was surprised at first, but
after a day or two he began to look at it more in
a business way. He had always made it a rule to
be thorough, for whatever was worth doing was
worth doing well, and he determined to be the
very best listener in Bagdad.</p>
<p>"You see, in my country, we have a great many
gentlemen who gain wealth by having adventures.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
When they come back from their shipwrecks, they
naturally want to tell about them; but there's so
much competition that it's hard to get a hearing.
When they meet with people, like those horrid
Wise Men of Gotham, who prefer their own shipwrecks,
they go into a decline."</p>
<p>His eyes filled with tears, and Miss Muffet was
sure that he was one of the most sympathetic men
in the world.</p>
<p>"Now I had a great advantage," he went on;
"I never had a shipwreck of my own, so that I
could not be reminded of something that would
make me interrupt. And then it is easy for me
to have a story seem strange. I seem to have a
natural gift for it. Any one can be surprised the
first time he hears an adventure, but if one is to
become a professional listener he must cultivate the
habit of being surprised. Now that story about
the roc's egg grows upon me; indeed it does! I
don't think I appreciated it at first. That's the
way with all big things; it's some time before you
take them in. Even Mr. Sindbad says that it
didn't seem as big when he saw it as it does now
when he remembers it. And whenever I hear
about those huge serpents it makes me shudder, and
I ask Mr. Sindbad to hurry on and tell me that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
he really did get away from them. I can't stand
the suspense. The cannibals are frightful creatures,
Miss Muffet; they say they eat people. Mr.
Sindbad has a perfect genius for having accidents.
They come in the most unexpected places.
And then he escapes. I sometimes think that is
the most wonderful part of it."</p>
<p>"Do you think a little girl who studied hard
could learn your profession and practice in Bagdad?"
asked Miss Muffet timidly. "You know I
wouldn't ask for wages; I would do it just for the
love of it."</p>
<p>Hindbad frowned darkly. "It would never do,
Miss Muffet! I can't have little girls coming over
on the banks of the Tigris and taking the bread
out of the mouths of my family."</p>
<p>But when he saw that Miss Muffet was beginning
to cry, he changed his tone and said, "I am sure
you meant no harm, only you didn't understand
about the wages. You could easily earn a hundred
sequins at listening, and it isn't so hard to learn
when you are young. I would give that much
myself to have you listen to a queer thing that
happened to me once in Bagdad. I've never told
it before, for I never found any one who looked
interested. It was in one of the narrowest streets<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
down by the water-side, and it was on the darkest
night of the year, when"—</p>
<p>Just then the spider came to take Miss Muffet
away to meet some children who came from The
Golden Age. Their names were Harold and Edward
and Charlotte, and they said they had an
Aunt Maria, who had stayed at home because she
had not been invited to the party. They had
walked all the way along the Roman Road, which
made the spider think that they must be tired. In
this he was mistaken; though they said that they
were ready for the refreshments.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
<img src="images/i023.png" width="350" height="356" alt="Chapter V" title="" />
</div>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">The</span> Golden Age children said that they didn't
like to play with grown folks; after people got to
be thirty or ninety they thought they became very
uninteresting, and didn't have the right kind of
feelings; unless they were Princes and went on
adventures.</div>
<p>Miss Muffet didn't agree with this because some
of her best friends were elderly peasants whose
faces were all puckered up because they had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
smiling for so many years. She wished, though,
that they were not so shy.</p>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 327px;">
<img src="images/i024.png" width="327" height="450" alt="The shyest persons in the room" title="" />
<span class="caption">The shyest persons in the room</span>
</div>
<p>"I suppose it's because they are not used to
going to parties; neither am I, for that matter, but
then I'm not so much used as they are to <i>not</i> going."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
<p>Perhaps the shyest persons in the room were an
old German shoemaker and his wife, whom Miss
Muffet had for a long time loved and admired,
though they had not known it. Indeed, they didn't
know that any one was ever admired unless he had
found a pot of gold or done something equally praiseworthy.
The shoemaker had never done anything
but make shoes, and his wife did the cooking
and made the clothes for the family. When
they received the invitation to the party, they were
greatly astonished and thought it must be a mistake,
but the village priest, who read the letter,
told them that it was certainly intended for them,
though why they were invited was a mystery.
When the priest told them that it was a mystery,
they knew that it was so, and came along bowing
and curtsying as if all the persons they met were
their betters, though really only one or two were
half so good. Miss Muffet ran to them and put her
hands in theirs.</p>
<div class="figright" style="width: 348px;"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>
<img src="images/i025.png" width="348" height="500" alt="Scampering off into the dark" title="" />
<span class="caption">Scampering off into the dark</span>
</div>
<p>"I have just loved you since the time I heard
what you did for the little elves who used to come
at night after you had gone to bed and finish your
work for you. Some people take what's done for
them and think no more about it except that they're
lucky; but you sat up till midnight and peeped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
into the room where the elves were working, and
saw that they didn't have enough clothes to keep
them warm. Then you made each one a shirt and
a coat and waistcoat and a pair of trousers and
a little pair of shoes. What fun it must have been,
next night, to watch them putting on their things
and scampering off into the dark. I never heard of
elves being dressed up like that."</p>
<p>The shoemaker and his wife laughed heartily as
they remembered how funny the elves were. The
wife confessed that the garments didn't fit closely,
though she made them like her husband's, only
smaller.</p>
<p>"Elves are not so square, are they?" asked
Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>"No," said the shoemaker's wife; "but their
clothes are. That's the only pattern I have."</p>
<p>"I suppose they are coming to the party? I
sent a general invitation to Elf-land. There is to
be elfin music and a frolic for them. I thought
they might like it better to have their own games.
Your elves can't say they have nothing to wear,
because that wouldn't be true."</p>
<p>But though she looked everywhere for them, nowhere
could she see the little elves in square coats
and trousers. When the refreshments were served,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
Mr. Spider noticed that everything went remarkably
smoothly, and there was more of all kinds of
provisions than he had ordered. He said he had
no doubt but that the little elves were helping in
the kitchen.</p>
<p>"It would be just like them; the little dears!"
said Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>The shoemaker felt very much more at home
when he met a young fellow named Hans who had
come from the same village. He was not the Hans
who married Grettel, but the one whom Miss Muffet
had often heard of because he traded a horse
for a cow, the cow for a pig, the pig for a goose,
and so on, all the way home. This caused a good
deal of talk in the neighborhood, and some of the
villagers thought he wasn't much of a business
man.</p>
<p>Hans, however, was perfectly satisfied with himself,
and was quite ready to talk.</p>
<p>"The secret of being a trader," he said, "is to
be quick about it. You must not stop to think:
that's where you lose time. If I had stopped to
think, I should have brought the horse home with
me, and I might have had it on my hands yet.
There are ever so many people grumbling about
the care of their property; they say it is a burden<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
to them. I tell them that it's all their own fault.
If they kept their eyes open, they would find plenty
of ways of getting rid of it."</p>
<p>Hans had such a shrewd twinkle in his eyes that
Miss Muffet felt sure that he would always get the
best of a bargain, no matter how it turned out.</p>
<p>While Hans was talking, she noticed a little man
who looked like a tailor.</p>
<p>"Didn't you start on a journey once," she asked,
"with only a piece of cheese and an old hen in
your wallet?"</p>
<p>"Yes," he answered; "but that was a good
while ago."</p>
<p>"I thought you must be the one. And you
fooled the giant, and when he squeezed a stone till
water came out of it, you squeezed your cheese till
the whey ran out, and he thought your cheese was
a stone, and that you squeezed harder than he did.
And he never saw through any of your tricks,
though I should have thought that even a giant
would have suspected. Are all giants so stupid?"</p>
<p>The tailor said that not all of them were so
stupid, though fortunately a great many were, and
generally when they grew beyond a certain size,
something happened to their heads.</p>
<p>"If it weren't for that, Miss Muffet, there would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
be no room for us common people on the earth.
The giants would eat up everything. Now and
then there is a young giant like Thumbling who is
active and keeps his wits about him. But Thumbling
was very little to begin with. Most giants
get foolish when they grow up, and then we can
put an end to them."</p>
<p>When the talk got upon giants, it was astonishing
to see what an eager crowd gathered around
the tailor. There were some knights in armor
who listened unconcernedly, for they knew that
giants could do them no harm; but it was different
with the tailors and fishermen and ploughmen.
They had suffered so much that they could not
speak of a giant without bitterness.</p>
<p>"But aren't there good giants?" asked Miss
Muffet.</p>
<p>"I never heard of one," said the tailor, "except
Christopher, and he is a saint and learned how to
fast. It isn't a question of their being good: the
trouble with them is that they are too big. It
takes too much to support them. They eat us out
of house and home. We can't get along peaceably
till we are all more of a size."</p>
<p>They were all of that opinion, and the stories
which they applauded were of the kind where a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
little man gets the better of a big one. Miss Muffet
could not object to this, because it was the kind
she liked best herself.</p>
<p>"I never have been so much afraid of giants,"
she said, "since I learned about their diseases.
They are not nearly so strong as they look. There
was Giant Despair,—'in sunshiny weather he fell
into fits.' It was while he was having a fit, you
know, that Christian and Hopeful got away. If I
were going where there were bad giants, I should
go in sunshiny weather."</p>
<p>"I don't think you would have any trouble, my
dear," said the shoemaker, "for you would take
the sunshine with you."</p>
<p>And then he laughed to think of Giant Despair
tumbling over in a fit when he caught sight of
Miss Muffet. For though the shoemaker was a
very kind man, he had no sympathy for giants.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
<img src="images/i026.png" width="350" height="299" alt="Chapter VI" title="" />
</div>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">There</span> were so many interesting things going
on at the party that Miss Muffet almost forgot the
Serious Symposium. When she did remember it,
she was very much troubled.</div>
<p>"What will Rollo think about me for being so
negligent! I invited him particularly to come
to a symposium, and now I don't even know how
it is done."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 419px;"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a>
<img src="images/i027.png" width="419" height="500" alt=""I am sorry to be so late"" title="" />
<span class="caption">"I am sorry to be so late"</span>
</div>
<p>The spider, however, told her that he had secured
a hall up two flights, and had arranged the chairs
and a table, which were all the arrangements necessary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
for a meeting. He had seen a number of
serious persons going upstairs, and he had no doubt
that it was a success.</p>
<p>When she reached the hall, the papers had all
been read and discussed, and the Little Old Woman,
who was in the chair, was just announcing
that the next business before the house was to
adjourn.</p>
<p>"I am sorry to be so late," said Miss Muffet,
"and to miss hearing the papers."</p>
<p>"If that's the case," said the Little Old Woman,
"we will have them all over again. The speakers
will read slowly, so that the papers will go
further."</p>
<p>"Oh, please don't on my account!" cried Miss
Muffet, all in a tremble. "Don't let me interfere
with your adjourning. I know that must be important
business."</p>
<p>The Little Old Woman said that it was the most
important business of the meeting.</p>
<p>"Does it take long?" asked Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>"Not if you know how to do it," said the Little
Old Woman.</p>
<p>"Then I will just sit down and watch it."</p>
<p>The Little Old Woman rapped upon the table
with a huge button-hook, and went about the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
business so briskly that before Miss Muffet knew
what had happened, the meeting had adjourned.</p>
<p>"Were the papers so quick?" she asked.</p>
<p>"No, they weren't; papers are never that way."</p>
<p>"What were they about?"</p>
<p>"The white ones were about 'Child Study,' and
the yellow ones were about 'Obedience to Parents'
and 'Not Losing Your Thimble.' The yellow ones
were the ones I knew best; I used to have them
when I was a little girl."</p>
<p>"Then the white ones must be harder. Is Child
Study harder than Arithmetic?"</p>
<p>"There are two kinds. One kind is where you
take the children you are acquainted with and tell
what you know about them. That kind isn't so
good to make papers out of. It's too short. The
other kind is where you get at 'the Contents of the
Child's Mind.' I can't say that it's harder than
Arithmetic, for it is Arithmetic, only it's further
on than you've got. It's percentage. You take
eleven hundred little girls in blue dresses and make
them fill out blanks. You ask them which they
like best, chocolate caramels or peppermint drops."</p>
<p>"Which <i>do</i> they like best?" asked Miss Muffet,
who had often thought about that question herself.</p>
<p>"You can't tell," answered the Little Old Woman;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
"all you know is the answers: they depend
on which words the little girls can spell easiest.
The chief thing is to get the percentage. Then
you write a paper. If it doesn't come out right,
you ask eleven hundred little girls in pink dresses
and they answer differently. Then you have a
Problem."</p>
<p>"What is a Problem?" asked Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>"It's something to discuss," said the Little Old
Woman.</p>
<p>"Why don't they ask their mothers?"</p>
<p>"The mothers are too busy. Besides, their children
are all exceptions. You can't make anything
out of exceptions,—there are too many of them.
If you let them in, it just musses up the Science.
The best way is to keep them out."</p>
<p>"But their mothers like them," said Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>"Yes; they think that they are the nicest kind."</p>
<p>When she had time to look around her, Miss
Muffet was surprised to see how different the company
was from that in the other parts of the palace.</p>
<p>"They look as if something had been done to
them," said Miss Muffet. "Oh! now I know who
they are! They must be Youths. I've always
read about Youths in the books mamma makes me
read on Sunday afternoon, but I didn't know that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
they were real. Some of them look almost like
boys and girls, only less so."</p>
<p>Sure enough, the room was full of Youths. They
came out of the Sunday-school books and the Fifth
Readers and the Moral Tales and the Libraries of
Instructive Juvenile Literature. Some had never
been out of a book before, and found it impossible
to talk in anything but the book language. Some
were evidently very good, and some were painful
examples of youthful wickedness, while others were
chiefly interested in Natural History.</p>
<p>"Youths," said the Little Old Woman, "are
easier to understand than boys and girls and other
young folks. Youths have habits, and each one
practices only one at a time. When they do a
naughty thing, they keep on doing it regularly;
that's the way you come to know which is which.
It doesn't matter what it is, whether Vanity or Procrastination
or Not Bringing in the Wood, they
keep it up till they have been made to see the folly
of it, or are given over to their evil ways. Now
children are more changeable. When I lived in a
Shoe, I was driven half out of my wits, for I never
could be thorough when I reproved them, they
were always naughty in a different way. I don't
believe that any one could have got any of my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
children into a book; they wouldn't keep still long
enough to have their characters taken."</p>
<p>Almost all the Youths were accompanied by their
parents or guardians, though some had private tutors.
Two youthful persons from the eighteenth
century attracted a great deal of attention. They
were Harry Sandford and Tommy Merton. Harry
was a great philosopher, and understood so perfectly
the principles of the Wedge and the Inclined Plane
and the Moral Law that it was hard to believe his
friend, Mr. Barlow, who stated that he was only six
years old. Tommy, on the other hand, until his
sixth year had been quite worldly, and had held a
number of erroneous opinions. Under Harry's
instruction, however, he had been much improved
and was now quite sedate and observing.</p>
<p>Somehow the painful examples appealed to Miss
Muffet most, for she was very tender-hearted.
There was the little criminal who once stole a pin.
Miss Muffet had always understood that a pin was
the very worst thing to steal; it had such fearful
consequences. The last consequence generally is
that one is transported. And there was an example
of youthful obstinacy who wouldn't pronounce the
letter G. His mother was almost broken-hearted
for fear he might take a prejudice against other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
letters of the alphabet. She sat up three nights
with him and spent days trying to make him
say G.</p>
<p>"It shows that she was a good mother, doesn't
it?" said Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>"It shows that she didn't have to do her own
work," replied the Little Old Woman.</p>
<p>A group of very old-fashioned children were
talking together in whispers. They were evidently
anxious that no older persons should hear them.</p>
<p>"There they are at it again," said the Little Old
Woman; "they are Mrs. Opie's children. People
don't know them so well now, but they used to be
notorious for telling White Lies. I have no doubt
that they are doing it now; they are exaggerating."</p>
<p>"What's that?" asked Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>"It's telling how large a thing is before you've
measured it."</p>
<p>"But what if you haven't a tape-line with
you?"</p>
<p>"Then you should say nothing about it."</p>
<p>"There is Hal," said Miss Muffet; "I know him
by the miserable piece of string hanging out of his
pocket. Hal cut his string. It was a sin and he
suffers for it. His cousin Ben untied his and has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
it always ready for emergencies. All his emergencies
are of that kind; they need a piece of whipcord
to bring them out right. I've no doubt but that
to-night the coach of one of the very prettiest princesses
will break down and Ben will tie it up. It
would be just his luck."</p>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 165px;">
<img src="images/i028.png" width="165" height="350" alt="Hal cut his string" title="" />
<span class="caption">Hal cut his string</span>
</div>
<p>Of course it was not
long before Miss Muffet
sought out Rollo Halliday.</p>
<p>"I always did like
Rollo," she said. "I almost
forget that he is a
Youth sometimes. The
nicest thing about him is
that you always know
what he means. He always
tells you where he is
and how he got there,
without skipping anything
that you ought to
know. When he goes
into a room, he goes
through the door, opening
and shutting the door just as you expected. He
isn't at all like Humpty Dumpty. I don't think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
I ever knew two persons more different. There
was only one time when he puzzled me. When he
went to Europe, and they told him how the French
did things, 'Rollo laughed long and loud.' It was
so unusual. I read it over and over, but I couldn't
tell what he laughed at. I think he might have
explained, but I suppose he forgot."</p>
<p>It certainly was a pleasant thing to see Rollo
surrounded by a group of kindred spirits. They
were the healthiest and happiest Youths in the company,
for they had lived a great deal in the open
air, and had kept their eyes open.</p>
<p>Rollo was engaged in a dispute with little Francis
about the comparative merits of New England
and a Desert Island for farming. Jonas said little,
but what he did say carried great weight.</p>
<p>Rollo expressed himself as highly pleased with
the Symposium. He was sorry that there was not
time for a paper on "The New Boy" and a discussion
of the question, "Are not the Young Growing
Younger?" He said he had seen some dangerous
tendencies in that direction.</p>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;">
<img src="images/i029.png" width="300" height="312" alt=""I don't think I ever knew two persons more different"" title="" />
<span class="caption">"I don't think I ever knew two persons more different"</span>
</div>
<p>Having said this, Rollo walked to the other side of
the room, and having found a settee, sat down on it.</p>
<p>Scarcely had Rollo sat down when Miss Muffet
saw a little girl whose face was very familiar.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
<p>"You are Rosamond, aren't you? And once
you bought a beautiful purple jar instead of shoes,
even though your old shoes had holes in them?"</p>
<p>"It was a youthful indiscretion," said Rosamond,
"and I have learned a lesson from it."</p>
<p>"It was just lovely. Any one can have shoes,
but a purple jar is something one dreams about:
it's almost as good as having a party."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
<p>Then she looked very anxiously at Rosamond
and said,—</p>
<p>"I hope it didn't happen to you? Since first
I read the story Miss Edgeworth told about you
and the purple jar, I couldn't get out of my head
the dreadful lines with which she begins,—</p>
<div class='poem'>
'O teach her while your lessons last<br />
To judge the future by the past,<br />
The mind to strengthen and anneal<br />
While on the stithy glows the steel.'<br />
</div>
<p>It seemed such a dreadful thing to have your mind
annealed, and you so little. I'm sure it's something
uncomfortable. And then how hard it was
for your mamma to make you <i>choose</i> to do all the
unpleasant things. I don't mind doing them when
I'm told to, but to have to choose them rumples
up my mind. That must have been an awful
time when you had to choose a needle-book instead
of that funny stone plum that you could have
fooled the boys with."</p>
<p>"But Mamma wanted to train me to be a Free
Moral Agent," said Rosamond.</p>
<p>"I don't like agents," said Miss Muffet, and
then she was sorry that she had been so rude. "I
mean I don't believe in being one till one is more
grown up. And now that we are talking about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
it, maybe you could tell me what the other line
means,—</p>
<div class='center'>
'While on the stithy glows the steel.'"<br />
</div>
<div class="figright" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/i030.png" width="264" height="350" alt=""You dear little Rosamond"" title="" />
<span class="caption">"You dear little Rosamond"</span>
</div>
<p>"A stithy," said Rosamond, "is a kind of blacksmith
shop."</p>
<p>"Now I know what every word means," said
Miss Muffet, "but what was it all about?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
<p>"It was poetry."</p>
<p>"I suppose that this evening you had to choose
between the Symposium and the rest of the party
where they don't have papers? And you are
glad you chose the Symposium?"</p>
<p>"No, I'm not," said Rosamond impulsively.</p>
<p>"You dear little Rosamond!" cried Miss Muffet,
throwing her arms about her. "The annealing's
come off. Now let's go where there's music."</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
<img src="images/i031.png" width="300" height="280" alt="Chapter VII" title="" />
</div>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">As</span> she returned from the Symposium, Miss Muffet
was compelled to pass through some of the more
remote parts of the palace, and whom should she
see but the Caliph Haroun al Raschid, whom
she recognized at once because he was in full disguise.
He had no sooner come to the party than
he had begun to poke around in search of adventures,
as was his habit. At length he found two
little girls engaged in a violent quarrel over a lamb.
One was beating the other over the head with a
crook, and accusing her of theft. This was just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
what the Caliph was after, and summoning the girls
before him, he prepared to try the case. The
younger girl, whose name was Mary, testified that
the lamb had followed her to school. The elder
girl, known as Bo-Peep, stated that on that same
day she had lost her whole flock of sheep.</div>
<p>"This is a strange coincidence," said Haroun al
Raschid: "one girl loses her sheep and another has
one in her possession. There is a great mystery
here that must be looked into. Appear before me
to-morrow, little girls, and tell me your stories."
And then he added, with a terrible frown and an
expressive glance at the executioner,—"And be
sure, little girls, that your stories are interesting."</p>
<p>Miss Muffet had hoped to have a long quiet talk
with Haroun al Raschid and to ask him ever so
many questions. But when she saw the executioner
she changed her mind, and she felt, too, that
the Caliph was more used to asking questions than
to answering them.</p>
<p>It was a great relief, therefore, to see a Dervish
sitting on the floor, as if he had all the time in
the world. He didn't seem in the least afraid
of Haroun al Raschid; for Dervishes are great
people in their way and have no need of being
afraid of anybody.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 364px;">
<img src="images/i032.png" width="364" height="500" alt="One was beating the other" title="" />
<span class="caption">One was beating the other</span>
</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
<p>"Good-evening, Mr. Dervish, may I sit down by
you and have a little talk about dervishry?"</p>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 325px;">
<img src="images/i033.png" width="325" height="325" alt="A little talk about dervishry" title="" />
<span class="caption">A little talk about dervishry</span>
</div>
<p>The Dervish said something she didn't quite
understand about not talking shop on social occasions.
"However," he added, "I will be glad to
tell about my neighbors; that will be more polite."
This suited Miss Muffet just as well.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
<p>"It's what I really want to hear about," she
said. "Dervishry must be very hard work when
you do it well, but it gives you a chance to meet
all the interesting people. Let me see; you have
a bowl, and you sit under a palm-tree by a well,
and then the Calendars and Cadis and Muftis and
Merchants and Mendicants and the ladies of Bagdad
come and ask you questions, and when they
put things in your bowl you answer them?"</p>
<p>The Dervish said that that would be against the
rule.</p>
<p>"Oh, I remember. You look wise and tell them
to come again to-morrow. The next day they come
again, and you tell them which camel was blind
in one eye and where their lovers are. That is very
wonderful."</p>
<p>The Dervish said that was the easiest part of it.
The hardest thing was to look wiser than the
Muftis.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 327px;"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>
<img src="images/i034.png" width="327" height="500" alt="An expressive glance at the executioner" title="" />
<span class="caption">An expressive glance at the executioner</span>
</div>
<p>Very soon they were having a delightful talk
about all the great personages Miss Muffet had
always admired at a distance, but the Dervish had
known them intimately and could tell all their
weak points, which were not in the books. Indeed,
Miss Muffet was surprised to find how many mistakes
the books had in them, all because the persons<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
who made them hadn't taken the trouble to
talk with the Dervish. Almost all the numbers
were wrong.</p>
<p>"There weren't forty thieves, there were only
thirty-nine. I counted them myself."</p>
<p>"But didn't everything else happen as I was
told?" asked Miss Muffet; "and didn't it come
out as it is in the book?"</p>
<p>The Dervish admitted this, but said that that
wasn't the important part: the important part was
to count straight.</p>
<p>A remarkable discovery was that all the famous
people had brothers, and the brothers were always
the ones who ought to have been famous, but
every one forgot about them.</p>
<p>"There is Aladdin, he's a greatly overrated
man. I could tell you some curious things I
learned about him. I know they are true, for
they were told to me in confidence. People
admire him because they think he is so lucky.
Now if it had been his brother! He came over
from China and used to sit by the day under my
palm-tree talking about the chances he had just
missed. They were truly marvelous. He missed
more chances than Aladdin ever dreamed of, but
nobody ever writes about him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
<p>"Perhaps they don't know about him," said
Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>"That's the injustice of it."</p>
<p>"Speaking of brothers, did you ever find out
why it is that the third one is always the wisest?
I asked one of the North Country princes about
it just now, and he bowed and said he thanked
me for the compliment, but he was no philosopher.
It doesn't matter where it is, in the Red Fairy
Book or the Green Fairy Book or any color, the
third is always the charm, and it seems very much
the same way in your country. The oldest brother
is always vain and selfish, and when he goes into
the forest, always does the very thing he was told
not to. And the second brother is selfish, and
stupider, for he ought to know better when his
brother doesn't come back and there are so many
witches around. Then it comes to the third
brother, and I never expect anything of him because
he is so little and his stepmother has kept
him back, but he turns out splendid. Did you
ever meditate on that, Mr. Dervish?"</p>
<p>The Dervish said that he had meditated on it
for a great many years, and had at last come to
the conclusion that it was a law of nature.</p>
<p>"I am so glad to know that," said Miss Muffet,
"for it has always troubled me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
<div class="figright" style="width: 294px;">
<img src="images/i035.png" width="294" height="500" alt="Aladdin's brother and the Dervish" title="" />
<span class="caption">Aladdin's brother and the Dervish</span>
</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
<p>The Dervish remarked that when one was troubled
by that kind of questions, it was always better
to consult a wise man at once. It was not safe
to let the case run on.</p>
<p>"There's another thing I should like to ask
about. Since I first read of the Three Royal
Mendicants, I've always wondered what a Mendicant
is. I know he must be very proud and great,
but what does he do? The Mendicants are here
this evening, but I don't like to ask them; it
might seem rude."</p>
<p>Then the Dervish explained about the Mendicants,
and seemed so familiar with their way of life
that Miss Muffet suspected that he might have
been one himself. He explained too about the
Calendars.</p>
<p>The time passed so rapidly that Miss Muffet
would have talked with him all the evening, had
he not at last said that he feared he was monopolizing
the attention of his hostess; besides, it was
about time for him to do some more meditating.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/i036.png" width="400" height="410" alt="Chapter VIII" title="" />
</div>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">There</span> was a surprise at the party that delighted
many of the young people. Old Mr. Esop passed
through the hall, distributing handbills, announcing
that, at immense expense, he had brought
from Greece his unparalleled aggregation of Fables,
which would now be open for exhibition in a grand
pavilion just outside the south door of the palace.
Out of compliment to Miss Muffet's party, admission<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
to the Fables would be free, though ten cents
would be charged to those who remained to the
Morals,—which, I am sorry to say, very few did.
Some of the Fables were unusually terrifying, such
as the Lions and the hungry Wolves, and Miss
Muffet was glad to see what strong bars there
were to their cages. But a number of the Fables,
having been for a long time on exhibition, had
become quite tame, and walked about conversing
so amiably that the youngest children felt no
apprehension.</div>
<p>It was while Mr. Esop was engaged in attaching
the Morals to the Fables that Miss Muffet caught
sight for the first time of Uncle Remus and the
Little Boy. Mr. Esop was pointing out the Hare
asleep by the wayside while the Tortoise was coming
gayly down the home stretch, and he was about
to exhibit the Moral when Uncle Remus broke out
with a hearty laugh.</p>
<p>"You don't fool dis chile, does you, honey?
Brer Rabbit he sometime play 'possum, but he
sleep wid one eye open; he not let hisself be beat
by a triflin' mud turtle. Jess when Brer Turtle
thinks he's thar, Brer Rabbit'll give a jump, an'
Brer Turtle'll find he's jess in time to be too late.
Oh! I know Brer Rabbit's owdacious ways." But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
still the Hare slept while the Tortoise came deliberately
over the line. Then Uncle Remus cried
out with infinite scorn, "Come along, little boy;
dat ain't worth shucks; dat ain't Brer Rabbit,
nohow. I 'low dat rabbit's stuffed."</p>
<p>"But, Uncle Remus," said Miss Muffet, "perhaps
you will like the Fables better when you get acquainted
with them. I'm sure they have always
borne a good reputation. And now I should like
to introduce you to Mr. Esop; it's such a pleasure
to bring together people of the same tastes. Mr.
Esop, allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Remus.
I am sure that you will feel a common interest in
Zoölogy."</p>
<p>Miss Muffet felt a little frightened at making
such a formal speech, but she knew that she was
showing the quality called "tact," which is something
very useful in a hostess. To tell one's
guests what they are expected to talk about is
often a great convenience to them.</p>
<p>But Mr. Esop, the moment he heard the name,
drew back with an air that was quite chilling and
businesslike.</p>
<p>"Another of those early Romans out of a job!
He has just discovered that he is a Fable and is
looking for a situation." Then turning to Uncle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
Remus he said, "I'm very particular about my
Fables, and I want everything straight and plain
so that parents may
have no hesitation in
bringing their children.
I don't like to
mix up Myths with my
Fables, for the chances
are that the Mythical
Personage, instead of
having a Moral, may
turn out to be only a
Sign of the Zodiac.
This is always confusing
to the Public. I
suppose, Mr. Remus,
that you have brought
Mr. Romulus with you.
In the case of twins, I
give no consideration,
if I'm offered only a
broken lot. I must
have the full set, Mr.
Remus."</p>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;">
<img src="images/i037.png" width="200" height="425" alt=""I must have the full set"" title="" />
<span class="caption">"I must have the full set"</span>
</div>
<p>Uncle Remus's feelings would have been much
hurt if he had not at that moment caught sight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
of Mowgli accompanied by Baloo and Bagheera.
Just how it happened Miss Muffet could never find
out, but before she had time to introduce them
they had become fast friends, and Uncle Remus
only chuckled when she asked him if she might
have the pleasure of making them acquainted.</p>
<p>"Nebber you mind 'bout us, we mus' hab met
befo'. I disremember whar, but it mus' hab been
somewhar down de big road."</p>
<p>And the old man laughed at the thought that
there ever was a time when he didn't know Mowgli.</p>
<p>At the mention of the big road Mowgli began to
sing the "Road Song of the Bandar-log." It was
a very strange song, and not at all like those that
her music teacher taught her, but for all that Miss
Muffet felt that it was just the kind of a song she
would sing if she were a Bandar-log.</p>
<p>Uncle Remus was in an ecstasy, and the Little
Boy shouted for joy. Every one praised it except
Sandford and Merton, who said that it didn't give
any useful information except that monkeys had
tails, a fact which was already well known, being
mentioned in all the Natural History books. For
their part, when it came to poetry they preferred some
fine passages in Dr. Young's "Night Thoughts."</p>
<p>A great many boys and girls who were on their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
way to the pavilion had remained outside listening
to a pleasant gentleman who was telling them
anecdotes about the Wild Animals he had known.</p>
<div class="figright" style="width: 175px;">
<img src="images/i038.png" width="175" height="172" alt="Telling anecdotes" title="" />
<span class="caption">Telling anecdotes</span>
</div>
<p>This troubled Mr. Esop, who, though an excellent
man, was inclined
to be jealous. Miss
Muffet went out to remind
the children of
the Morals, but in a
little while she became
as interested as the rest
of them.</p>
<p>"His way of talking
is different from Mr.
Esop's, but I am not
sure but he may be right. At any rate, I am glad
to hear some one who speaks respectfully about animals,
and who doesn't say anything behind their
backs that he wouldn't say to their faces. He
always remembers that they are persons and have
feelings. Then when they do things, he doesn't
blame them or call them bad names. That's one
thing I don't like about Mr. Esop. He isn't
quite fair, and he is always accusing them of
Folly."</p>
<p>"It's remarkable how small the world is, after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
all," said the pleasant gentleman, when more than
a score of persons told him that the Wild Animals
he had known were among their most intimate
acquaintances, and that they had met them under
a great many different circumstances. Then followed
a good deal of gossip about their family life
and the way they got their living. Miss Muffet
was glad to hear that they were all so kind to their
children, but the way they got their living troubled
her. She remembered what the spider said, that
"business is business," but that didn't make it
seem any more kind.</p>
<p>"It's the Law of the Jungle," said Mowgli; and
then he recited the law word for word just as he
had learned it.</p>
<p>"Can't they change it?" asked Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>"The Jungle people can't. It's too strong for
them."</p>
<p>From this the conversation drifted to hunting
for sport. The pleasant gentleman who knew so
many animals personally didn't like it. The Boy
Hunters, who had spent a great deal of time in the
woods, didn't agree with him. They said that the
proper way to become acquainted with animals was
to carry a gun. It showed that you entered into
the spirit of the thing. They fancied that it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
good for wild animals to be hunted; in fact, that
was what kept them wild.</p>
<p>Miss Muffet didn't think that was a very
good reason, though it sounded logical; and she
asked several of the Animals what they thought
about it.</p>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 250px;">
<img src="images/i039.png" width="250" height="191" alt=""It all depends on grammar"" title="" />
<span class="caption">"It all depends on grammar"</span>
</div>
<p>A Duck, a Dodo, a Lory, and an Eaglet, who had
come with Alice from Wonderland, were the nearest,
and she asked them first, but they refused to
answer on the ground that they never had thoughts
so late in the
evening. The
Lory said that
he had one at
home, but he
had forgotten to
bring it.</p>
<p>"You can't
make anything
out of these
Wonderland creatures," said Miss Muffet. "I can't
really feel that they are animals I have known,
though of course I know their names."</p>
<p>When Bagheera was asked his opinion, he only
growled that it was all in the day's work. But wise
old Baloo answered:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>—</p>
<p>"It all depends on grammar."</p>
<p>This made every one look very solemn, for they
realized now that it was a serious matter.</p>
<p>"First Person, Singular, I hunt. Second Person,
Thou huntest. Third Person, He or She hunts. So
long as you confine it to the First Person, it's proper
and right. When you go beyond that, it's carrying
it too far. When you get to the Second Person,
that's where the danger comes in."</p>
<p>This was such sound sense that they all agreed
to it, though Mr. Wolf declared that the First Person,
Plural, seemed to him to be more sociable.</p>
<p>"Does it make any difference about the moods
and tenses?" asked Miss Muffet.</p>
<p>"Passive—First Person, Singular, I am hunted."</p>
<p>There was a general cry of horror. "What
a dreadful point of view!" said the Dodo; "it
makes me shiver to think about it."</p>
<p>Even the wildest animals agreed that it was atrocious.
What was most remarkable was that the
Boy Hunters, who had been on the Orinoco and the
Congo and all the most dangerous places, admitted
that they had the same feelings.</p>
<p>"There's a limit beyond which hunting is not
true sport. It should not be allowed to go as far as
the First Person, Singular, in the Passive."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
<p>"I'm so glad that you agree about it," said
Miss Muffet. "I knew you would when you came
to understand one another. That's the great
good of being at parties; it makes us feel that
we are all more alike than we thought."</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 375px;">
<img src="images/i040.png" width="375" height="324" alt="Chapter IX" title="" />
</div>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">When</span> Miss Muffet began to be a little tired, Mr.
Spider asked her to take a stroll with him into the
open air. So he led her through a low archway
which brought them at last into the Child's Garden
of Verses.</div>
<p>"We had to make the entrance quite small," he
said apologetically, "to keep out the big boys.
They run over everything, and we should have to
put up those horrid signs,'Keep off the Verses.'"</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 342px;"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a>
<img src="images/i041.png" width="342" height="500" alt="Wynken, Blynken, and Nod" title="" />
<span class="caption">Wynken, Blynken, and Nod</span>
</div>
<p>"I am so glad that you have brought me into
the garden where I can see the verses growing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
Mamma told me that people make verses just as
they make the flowers on her bonnet. But I like
the kind that grow, don't you, Mr. Spider?"</p>
<p>Mr. Spider said that he was no judge of poetry,
but he was inclined to be of her opinion; which
made Miss Muffet very happy, for she had not been
used to having people agree with her,—at least
before she had a party.</p>
<p>It was very pleasant in the garden, for the
noisier children had not found it out. It was surprising
how many things were in it. There was a
little river with golden sand; and the tiniest mountain,
which looked as high as the sky when you
got the right point of view; and there were ships
and pirates and a beautiful cow. When you looked
in the right direction, you could see the big world
stretching away much further than the eye could
reach.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 319px;"><a name="prudent" id="prudent"></a>
<img src="images/i042.png" width="319" height="450" alt="He was a little prudent" title="" />
<span class="caption">He was a little prudent</span>
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 338px;"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>
<img src="images/i043.png" width="338" height="500" alt="The Rockaby Lady saying good-night" title="" />
<span class="caption">The Rockaby Lady saying good-night</span>
</div>
<p>Miss Muffet watched a wide-eyed little boy who
was wandering about and having such an adventurous
time as never was. Everything was so great
and strange, yet he wasn't a bit afraid, only now
and then when he turned a corner he was a little
prudent, as any traveler would be who had come
to the end of the world and was not sure that the
next step might not take him off the edge. But it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
never did, for no matter how far he went, there
was always a next step for him, as if the good
Scotch gardener who had laid out the paths had
known that such a great traveler was coming. As<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
she left the garden she heard him singing to himself
his glad little song,—</p>
<div class='poem'>
"The world is so full of a number of things,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I think we should all be as happy as Kings."</span><br />
</div>
<p>The idea of the little song was exactly the same
that Miss Muffet had had in her head for a long
time, though she hadn't been able to express it so
well. Even after she came back to the company,
she kept repeating the words to herself.</p>
<p>"I think the nicest part about being happy,"
she confided to the spider, "is that it keeps you
from being lonesome, and it makes you like such a
number of things."</p>
<p>"And such a number of people," added Mr.
Spider.</p>
<p>"Yes; all the different kinds. It's not because
they are so very pretty. You like the queer ones
too, and you are glad that the world's full of
them. There's Rumpelstiltzkin, he's not at all
like anybody else, and his features aren't regular,
but I'm glad he came to the party. He's so interesting."</p>
<p>Mr. Spider was sure that if he could get every
one to feel that way, it would make life easier for
the members of his own family. He agreed that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
the way to keep people from being cruel was to
make them happy in their own minds.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 326px;">
<img src="images/i044.png" width="326" height="475" alt="Flew away . . . into the night" title="" />
<span class="caption">Flew away . . . into the night</span>
</div>
<p>"And it's such an easy way," said Miss Muffet,
"I wonder that nobody has thought of it before."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 348px;">
<img src="images/i045.png" width="348" height="500" alt="Into his overcoat pocket" title="" />
<span class="caption">Into his overcoat pocket</span>
</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 282px;">
<img src="images/i046.png" width="282" height="450" alt="Red Riding-Hood's Grandmother began to dance" title="" />
<span class="caption">Red Riding-Hood's Grandmother began to dance</span>
</div>
<p>There is not time to tell of all that happened at
the party. As to refreshments, the Old Woman
who lived on victuals and drink declared that
victuals and drink were nothing to the good things
which Miss Muffet had provided. Before the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
evening was over the Pied Piper played so merrily
that even Red Riding-Hood's Grandmother began
to dance. The Twelve Dancing Princesses said
that it was the first time that they had been able to
dance as much as they liked. Before this they had
had to stop when they danced the soles off their
shoes; but this evening the spider had thoughtfully
provided each one with several pairs.</p>
<p>And how did it end? All of a sudden, lights
out, cobweb broken, and Miss Muffet left alone
with her curds and whey? Not at all. It ended
as all good parties end. The Rockaby Lady from
Hushaby Street suggested that it was getting late.
Then one by one the guests came to Little Miss
Muffet and told her what a good time they had had,
and how glad they were that Christmas comes once
every year. Wynken, Blynken, and Nod sailed
away in a wooden shoe. They were such dear
little fellows that Miss Muffet was sorry that she
hadn't noticed them till they came to say good-by.
Mr. Esop put out the lights in his pavilion;
and the Arabians mounted their camels and rode
slowly toward Bagdad, first making the Sultana
promise to tell them a story that would last through
the whole Arabian Night. The Wonderlanders
put on their queer bonnets and coats, all carefully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
wrong side out; and the Man Friday hoisted his
umbrella to keep the dew off Robinson Crusoe;
and Doctor Gulliver put all the Lilliputians he
could catch into his overcoat pocket; and Mother
Goose flew away with all her family into the night.
The little people from the North were the last to
get away, for it took them a long time to get on
their overshoes and fur coats and mufflers, but at
last they too had gone.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
<img src="images/i047.png" width="350" height="312" alt="A long time to get on their overshoes" title="" />
<span class="caption">A long time to get on their overshoes</span>
</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 336px;">
<img src="images/i048.png" width="336" height="400" alt="Closed her eyes" title="" />
<span class="caption">Closed her eyes</span>
</div>
<p>"I see by the moonlight
that it's almost midnight,"
said the spider. "It's time
for little girls to go to sleep."</p>
<p>Little Miss Muffet closed her eyes very tightly
indeed, but she didn't close her ears, so she heard
the first tinkle of sleigh-bells far away, and she
knew that Santa Claus was coming.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/i049.png" width="400" height="289" alt="The Spider" title="" />
</div>
<pre>
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