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Project Gutenberg's The Green Forest Fairy Book, by Loretta Ellen Brady
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Green Forest Fairy Book
Author: Loretta Ellen Brady
Illustrator: Alice B. Preston
Release Date: March 2, 2011 [EBook #35458]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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<a name="Frontis" id="Frontis"></a>
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<span class="caption">"And now, Yvonne, to set your mind at rest,
gaze into the pool at your feet."<br />
<i>Frontispiece.</i>—<i>See Page 168.</i>
</span>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>THE GREEN FOREST FAIRY BOOK</h2>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
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<h2>THE<br />
GREEN FOREST<br />
FAIRY BOOK</h2>
<h3>BY</h3>
<h2>LORETTA ELLEN BRADY</h2>
<h4>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY<br />
ALICE B PRESTON</h4>
<h4>LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY<br />
BOSTON</h4>
<hr style="width: 15%;" />
<h4><i>Copyright, 1920</i>,<br />
<span class="smcap">By Little, Brown, and Company</span>.<br />
<br />
<i>All rights reserved</i></h4>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p class="center">TO THE BOYS AND GIRLS<br />
OF LITTLE JIM WARDS<br />
SAN FRANCISCO CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL<br />
IN LOVING REMEMBRANCE OF<br />
OUR TWILIGHT STORY-HOURS<br />
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
<tr><td align='right'></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Prologue</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='right'>I</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Dame Grumble and Her Curious Apple-Tree</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='right'>II</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Tale of the Northland Kingdom</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='right'>III</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Little Tree that Never Grew Up</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='right'>IV</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Tale of Punchinello</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='right'>V</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Strange Tale of the Brown Bear</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='right'>VI</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Beggar Princess</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='right'>VII</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sweep and Little Sweep</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='right'>VIII</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Kings and Queens and Peasant Folk</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='right'>IX</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Goose Girl and the Blue Gander</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='right'>X</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Little Brown Man</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='right'>XI</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Tale for Halloween</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td></tr>
</table></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
<tr><td></td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>"And now, Yvonne, to set your mind at rest gaze into the pool at your feet"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Frontis"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>"Oh, you wicked creature!" Dame Grumble would exclaim when he began to shake the Apple Tree</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>For many days these three companions journeyed on through soft white clouds</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>From this bag the Night Wind begged a dream for the Little Tree</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>"Look, look, dear Punchinello!" little Beppo cried. "I am no longer lame"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>"Hide me, Little Sweep," cried Red Cap. "My brother is after me"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>So at last, after much thought, the goose girl did as the blue gander bade</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>It was the gayest company one ever could imagine, as they marched along</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td></tr>
</table></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h1>THE GREEN FOREST<br />
FAIRY BOOK</h1>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
<h2>PROLOGUE</h2>
<p>Long, long ago, when all the world was young
and there were but few people dwelling on it,
the strangest things could often come to pass.
Then fairyfolk still lived in the greenwoods
and elves sang and danced in the soft summer
dawns. Then trees could sing and flowers
speak and birds would carry messages about
the world; wild beasts were often loyal friends
to men and helped them in their difficulties.
In these old days, most noble dukes and earls
would fall in love with dairymaids whose gentle
ways and manners charmed their hearts.
Sometimes great kings grew weary of the splendor
of their courts and left their thrones to
live as simple peasants. Each princess had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>
a fairy godmother who showered her with magic
gifts. Then wise men read the stars and seers
would gaze in crystal bowls to tell the coming
good or ill they saw.</p>
<p>In those old days, the housewives left a bit
of bread and cheese upon the pantry shelf each
evening, that the brownie who was said to dwell
in every kitchen might have a midnight feast.
These brownies, 'twas said also, would make
much mischief if they were not treated very
well. In early dawns, when fields of flowers
were asparkle in the sun, the milkmaids used
to bathe their eyes and ears with dew that they
might see the fairyfolk forever afterward and
hear them sing at midnight in the glen. The
farmers' boys would search among the hedges
in hopes of meeting The Red Caps who were
said to bring much luck. These Red Caps
too were said to give a magic purse of gold to
those they fancied,—a purse that was always
brimful no matter what was spent from it.
The witches still rode broomsticks through the
skies and there were wishing wells and magic
charms and spells.</p>
<p>In those delightful days of which I tell, there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>
were not scores and scores of books as there
are now. Travelers journeying about the
world told tales of the wonders that they saw
and heard. It was not then thought strange
that kings and queens or royal counselors and
such wise folk should love to hear these wonder
tales. In those dear days, indeed, the grown
folk all loved wonder tales as well as children
love them now and were not worse because of
it. Sometimes these wonder tales were told
by magic chairs or chests; sometimes by birds
or beasts that were enchanted and had power
of speech.</p>
<p>It has been related that in those olden days
there was a lovely bird with plumage all of the
purest gold and it was called The Golden
Bird. The Golden Bird had a voice so rare
and sweet that when it sang the nightingales
stopped midway in their songs to listen. The
Golden Bird likewise possessed the gift of
speech and could tell wonder tales the like of
which were never heard before or since. When
it began to sing in any land, news that The
Golden Bird had come spread swiftly everywhere.
The king would then declare a holi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>day
which lasted all the time The Golden Bird
was in the land. The people hastened to the
greenwood and there beneath the trees would
listen while The Golden Bird told wonder tales
and sang for their delight. And thus, The
Golden Bird flew all about the world, to every
land and clime, beloved by all folk everywhere.</p>
<p>But sad to tell, at last there came a time
when The Golden Bird was seen no more. The
folk of every land looked anxiously for its return
and thought it stayed too long in other
places. But years passed by and still The
Golden Bird came not. Then travelers journeying
about the world declared The Golden
Bird was nowhere to be found and all the people
mourned at these sad tidings. Some thought
the lovely bird had perished at some greedy
hunter's hand; others said the world had grown
too wicked for The Golden Bird to dwell here
any longer. However, what had happened to
the lovely creature, no one ever knew.</p>
<p>But sadder still to tell is this: When The
Golden Bird was seen to fly about the earth
no more, the people did not hold its memory
dear. As time passed on and it came not, they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>
thought about it less and less and very few recalled
the wonder tales The Golden Bird had
told. Then as the world grew older and all
folk began to doubt about the fairies and to
scoff at wishing wells, The Golden Bird was
quite forgot by all save one. This one, a little
girl who tended flocks upon a mountain, gazed
in the clouds at dawn each day in hopes to see
The Golden Bird come soaring. Sometimes she
wept because The Golden Bird came not. At
last, to please the child, her aged grandame,
who had heard The Golden Bird tell wonder
tales when she had been a child, took pen and
ink and wrote them down as she remembered
them. She wrote, 't is said, a hundred tales
or more but through the ages that have passed
between they have been lost, until there are
but eleven; these are the eleven that I have
set down in The Green Forest Fairy Book.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
<h3>DAME GRUMBLE AND HER CURIOUS APPLE TREE</h3>
<h4>I</h4>
<p>Long, long ago, in a country quite close to
the top of the earth, where the North Wind
blew fiercely each spring, there lived a woman
called Dame Grumble. Now Dame Grumble
had an Apple Tree which she loved exceedingly,
although it vexed her beyond all compare. It
was a very fine large tree, and well shaped for
shade, just the sort of tree that should have
yielded a bushel or two of fruit each autumn;
but it did not. Each year when the cuckoo
flew over the earth, calling the trees and flowers
to waken because spring was come again, the
Apple Tree would be covered with clouds upon
clouds of fragrant, pinky-white blossoms. Then
Dame Grumble's heart would rejoice. But
no sooner was the Apple Tree thus bedecked
than the North Wind would blow furiously,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>
tearing off the blossoms and carrying them off
in clouds. The curious part of it all was this:
When a few of the blossoms chanced to fall to
the ground, they made a chinking sound like
that of small coins in children's banks. Then
when these blossoms had withered, Dame
Grumble would find nice, new shining pennies
where they had lain. From this she supposed
the Apple Tree would one day bear apples of
gold.</p>
<p>Now Dame Grumble, it must be confessed,
was not very amiable. Indeed, it was from
her nature that she drew her name. Some
said Dame Grumble complained from the time
she rose in the morning until she sought her bed
at night. Even then she complained of her hard
pillow or thin coverlets until she fell asleep.
Her poor son, Freyo, thought his mother must
surely grumble all night in her dreams, for on
waking each day she began directly where she
had left off the night before. Many a time this
poor lad wished that he were not lame, but
could go out in the world to seek his way for
himself. Dame Grumble led him a dreadful
life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p>
<p>If the day were hot, Dame Grumble thought
longingly of the days when the snow lay on the
ground and she sat in comfort before the blazing
logs. But when the winter came again, she
complained bitterly because she had to break
the ice on the well each morning. She declared
it was a shame, since she had but one son, that
he should be lame, and thus be a burden instead
of a staff. Her ceaseless scolding and carping
often made poor Freyo so miserable that he
would put aside his wood carving, for he had
no heart to work. If the East Wind blew ever
so lightly, Dame Grumble complained that it
gave her strange pains in her face, and would
wish instead for the West Wind, which she
thought mild and gentle. But when the West
Wind blew over the forest and fields and dried
the linen she spread on the hedges, Dame
Grumble cried out that he was a thieving creature.
She would hasten to gather her dried
linens, vowing all the while that the West
Wind would steal them if he dared. Oh, there
was no pleasing Dame Grumble! Freyo, her
son, was well aware of that.</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 509px;">
<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="509" height="800" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption">"Oh, you wicked creature!" Dame Grumble
would exclaim when he began to shake the
Apple Tree.—<i>Page 9.</i>
</span>
</div>
<p>Now seeing that Dame Grumble was of a
disposition to grumble and complain when there
was no cause at all, you may have some idea
of her bitter feeling when the North Wind
robbed her of her apple blossoms each spring.</p>
<p>"Oh, you wicked creature!" Dame Grumble
would exclaim when he began to shake the
Apple Tree. "Just wait, and some day I will
catch you and shut you up in some dark place
where you shall remain forever. No one would
miss you. The North Wind is the most hated
wind that blows!"</p>
<p>"Indeed, Dame Grumble!" the North Wind
would reply. "How would the boys and girls
ever skate if I did not blow in winter time?
How would the forest and orchards ever have
time to make their new green leaves and flowers
for the springtime, if I did not lock the earth
tight each winter? You make a mistake,
Madam. The North Wind would be keenly
mourned and missed. But beware! Some
day I will catch you and carry you off to a certain
desert island in the middle of the sea, and
there you may complain for all your days."</p>
<p>Then the North Wind would roar and blow
his hardest, and Dame Grumble's petticoats<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>
would spread out like sails, until she feared she
might be blown away, and would seek refuge
in the cottage. There in anger she would watch
the clouds of blossoms blown from her favorite
tree. When the North Wind had gone off
again, she would rush out and scold the Apple
Tree severely.</p>
<p>"Oh! Such a tree!" Dame Grumble would
exclaim in vexation. "If you would but cling
more firmly to your blossoms, at least a few
would remain on your branches, and then I
should have a golden harvest. From the pennies
I find where your blossoms have withered, I
am quite sure that you would bear apples of
gold, if you bore apples at all. Then I could
sell these golden apples and make a fortune for
myself."</p>
<p>"But, Dame Grumble," the Apple Tree would
protest, "you cannot withstand the North
Wind, either. Your petticoats spread out like
sails, and you can scarcely keep your feet on
the ground."</p>
<p>"And what of that?" Dame Grumble would
answer crossly. "I have but two feet, while
you have roots as numerous as your branches.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>
Moreover, they reach far down beneath the
earth, and there spread far and wide as your
topmost boughs. You are stronger than I.
You should fight the North Wind, who is naught
but a wicked robber in disguise. I am sure
that he has stored up a fortune in pennies from
my blossoms that he has stolen this many a
long year." Then Dame Grumble would shake
the Apple Tree until Freyo would beg her to
stop.</p>
<p>It must not be supposed that Dame Grumble
did not contrive various ways to save her blossoms
from her enemy. Indeed, she spent many
hours every day thinking of plans to defeat
the North Wind, but she had never succeeded.
All one winter she worked in the cold and snow,
chopping tall thorn branches to make a barrier
about the Apple Tree. "Thorn branches are
very strong, and will protect the Apple Tree,"
thought she. Freyo told his mother this was
useless work, but she would pay no heed to what
he said.</p>
<p>"Then, Mother," pleaded the poor lad, "since
you will not stay indoors this bitter weather,
please bring me a branch of walnut from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>
forest. I would like to carve a clock-case in
a certain design I have in mind. If I had but
proper tools for wood carving and a store of
oak and walnut, I might one day make a fortune
for you. Then you would have no longer
need to quarrel with the North Wind about
the blossoms."</p>
<p>"Oh, hold your silly tongue!" cried Dame
Grumble. "A great simpleton I would be to
sit here quietly and wait for you to make a
fortune with your bits of woods! Each year
the North Wind steals a fortune in pennies
from me, and I mean to try to stop him if I
can. Should I find a bit of walnut that will
fit into my pocket, you may have it; otherwise
you must do without."</p>
<p>Poor Freyo had but few tools, and those few
were very poor; nevertheless, he had skillful
fingers and could carve lovely pictures in wood.
Dame Grumble always laughed scornfully when
the lad spoke of the fortune he hoped one day
to make. To her mind, wood carving and
clumsy chests and clock-cases were naught but
folly. She rarely remembered to bring Freyo
a branch of wood from the forest. Dame Grum<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>ble
was always thinking of her blossoms and
her enemy, the North Wind, and had no time
to think of Freyo. So the poor lad had to content
himself with bits of wood he found in the
chimney corner, and he carved frames and treasure
boxes from these.</p>
<p>Now, as we have told, all one winter Dame
Grumble worked diligently dragging thorn
branches from the forest, until she had a great
heap. When the snow began to melt, she
planted these branches of thorn about her favorite
tree. Then when the Apple Tree was
decked once more in clouds upon clouds of fragrant,
pinky-white blossoms, the North Wind
came roaring over the fields and lanes. He
laughed loudly when he saw the barrier of thorn
branches.</p>
<p>"And so, Dame Grumble," cried the North
Wind, "you do not know my strength better
than this!" Seizing a branch of the thorn,
he tore it from the ground as though it had
been a twig and hurled it in the air. Then
he did likewise to the rest, and in half an hour
he had torn up every vestige of Dame Grumble's
barrier.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>
<p>"Many times I have left you a few blossoms,
Dame Grumble," he cried, as he blew on his
way, "but you have never thanked me for the
pennies, so this time you shall have none."</p>
<p>Naturally Dame Grumble was more vexed
than ever before. She shook the Apple Tree
with fury and left off only when she was too
weary to shake it longer. All evening she scolded
so bitterly that Freyo wished himself far away.
Life with this scolding dame was far from pleasant
for the poor lame lad. Still he never
complained. "Mother complains enough for
both," thought he.</p>
<p>When Dame Grumble arose next morning,
she had another plan in mind. "My son," said
she, "I am going on a journey to seek in all
places for the fortune in pennies which my
wicked enemy, the North Wind, has stolen
from me. When I have found it, I shall return,
and all things will be well. I shall buy
you a fine coach and build a noble house where
we shall live like kings and queens, and there
we shall be very happy, I daresay."</p>
<p>"But, Mother!" cried Freyo in dismay, "the
North Wind travels all over the earth, and that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>
you cannot do. When winter comes what will
you do for shelter? Besides, I do not long for
a coach, but for a crutch instead; and as for
happiness—it is to be found in kind hearts
rather than in noble houses. In our little cottage
we could be as happy as kings and queens,
if you would but leave off scolding and be content."</p>
<p>"That shows how little you know!" replied
Dame Grumble. "I cannot be content without
a fortune, and a fortune I mean to have.
If I have not found the hollow that I seek before
winter comes again, I shall return. But I
have a feeling that my search will not be all
in vain." Then, bidding Freyo take good care
of the cottage, Dame Grumble tied on her bonnet
and shawl and set out on her journey.</p>
<p>When Dame Grumble had gone, Freyo was
greatly puzzled. He was not sure that he was
really lonely. He missed his mother's presence
about the cottage because she was a famous
housewife, always busy with some savory broth,
or baking great loaves of brown bread. However,
he was relieved that he did not hear her
sharp tongue scolding all day long. He care<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>fully
tidied the kitchen until it looked spotless
and shining, as though Dame Grumble herself
had done it. Then he sat down before his
bench. While he was working, Freyo paused;
he thought he heard his name called softly.</p>
<p>"Freyo, Freyo!" spoke a gentle voice. "Only
come to the door, and you can see me. I have
something to tell you that will make you happy.
Please do come!" Freyo set down his work and
hobbled to the door.</p>
<p>"It is I, the Apple Tree," spoke the voice
again; "come nearer that I may talk to you.
You have always been kind to me, when Dame
Grumble has abused me, Freyo, and now I shall
reward you."</p>
<p>Freyo made his way to the Apple Tree, and
she continued: "Do you see my two stoutest
branches quite close to the ground? These I
mean to give you for crutches."</p>
<p>"Oh, Apple Tree!" cried Freyo. "I would
not cut off your branches! I would not give
you such pain."</p>
<p>"But cutting off these two branches of mine
will cause me no great pain," the Apple Tree
insisted. "They are over-heavy, and next<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>
spring when the North Wind blows, I fear that
he will snap them off. What the North Wind
cannot bend he will break, as well you know.
When you have made your crutches, you may
go to the forest and gather more wood for your
work of wood carving, until you have the store
that you desire."</p>
<p>At last Freyo was persuaded. The branches
were cut, and all day long he sat beneath the
Apple Tree, while he fashioned a pair of crutches.
By evening they were finished, and when he
slept that night, Freyo dreamed of wandering
in the greenwood; he had never yet been so
far from the cottage door.</p>
<p>"How well you have done!" exclaimed the
Apple Tree next morning, when Freyo stepped
out briskly on his crutches.</p>
<p>"And you too have done well," replied the
lad. "I see two tufts of green leaves already
at work to cover the places where I cut your
branches." He waved farewell to the Apple
Tree and set upon his way. Freyo was gone
the whole day long. When the sun set that
evening, he had not returned, and even when
the moon rose slowly, still he did not come.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>
The Apple Tree began to worry and to fret lest
her branches had not proved strong enough for
crutches. Then presently she saw Freyo with
a heavy pannier strapped upon his back; but
not one bit of oak or walnut wood had he.</p>
<p>"Ah, Apple Tree!" cried he, "never in my
life have I been happy as I was to-day. Only
to wander beneath the trees and see the blue
forget-me-nots that make a lovely carpet underfoot,
or to hear the birds sing sweetly was like
paradise. I wished the whole world were one
great forest, and that the time were always
spring. I could not bear to come away!"</p>
<p>"But Freyo," said the Apple Tree, "you have
brought nothing for your work! How will you
make chests and clock-cases?"</p>
<p>"I could not find it in my heart to cut the
smallest twig," confessed the lad. "The trees
looked all so beautiful and stately that it seemed
to me a shame. Instead I gathered brown bells
and forget-me-nots to plant about your roots.
I am sure you must be lonely in this bare wind-swept
spot, and they will serve for company."</p>
<p>"Now that was kind," replied the Apple Tree,
"but you must now give heed to what I say.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
In the forest there are many trees that will
gladly give you a fine branch or two. When
next you go there, tell them that you are the
friend of the Apple Tree whose blossoms fall
to earth with a chinking sound, like small coins
in children's banks. Then they will know
you and will be generous as I have been. Besides,
I warn you that at the first approach of
winter, Dame Grumble will return. She will
be crosser than ever, for she will never find the
fortune in pennies that she seeks. Now be
advised, Freyo, and gather a goodly store of
oak and walnut while you may."</p>
<p>When Freyo went again to the forest, he told
the message of the Apple Tree to the tall pines
and low bending oaks, and to shady maples
too. These trees all gave him such a bounteous
supply of boughs and branches that Freyo soon
had store to last him for his carving a whole
year or more.</p>
<p>'T was well he had. One day as he sat working
beneath the Apple Tree, he noticed that
the leaves fell fast and that the wind blew chill.
Another morning, when the maples on the hillsides
flamed like fire, Freyo heard a shrill familiar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>
voice borne on the air, and presently Dame
Grumble herself appeared before the cottage
door.</p>
<p>Now, as the Apple Tree had foretold, Dame
Grumble was crosser than ever. She had not
found the fortune in pennies she had sought,
and she was out of humor with her journey.
She vowed she had not had one pleasant moment
from the time she had set out; she said
that she had longed unceasingly for her little
cottage. Dame Grumble solemnly declared
that she had done with journeys forevermore
and looked forward to great happiness, now that
she was home at last. She praised Freyo's
housekeeping and said the cottage looked as
tidy as a pin. When she had laid aside her
bonnet and shawl, she began to make a fine
supper for him.</p>
<p>"How nice that you have crutches, my son,
and can get about so well!" she cried with
pleasure.</p>
<p>"Are they not a blessing, Mother?" asked
Freyo. "They are not bad for a poor lad who
never before had seen a crutch, but made them
just as best he knew."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>
<p>Dame Grumble continued to praise the
crutches and to admire them until she learned
that they were made from branches of the Apple
Tree. Then she was furious; her anger knew
no bounds. She rushed out to the Apple Tree
and shook it with all her might. Then she ran
in to throw the crutches in the fire, but this
Freyo would not permit.</p>
<p>"The Apple Tree herself gave me her branches,
Mother," said he, "and the crutches are mine."</p>
<p>"Give them to me at once, I say!" stormed
Dame Grumble. "The Apple Tree is mine,
and consequently her branches are mine also.
I must punish you for this disobedience. Do
you not know that I prize the Apple Tree above
all else on earth? Do I not expect a harvest of
golden apples from it some day? Now when
that day is come, I shall not have nearly so
many, because of your wickedness. Why did
you cut as much as a twig from the Apple Tree?"</p>
<p>"Mother," answered Freyo, "if there be any
harm done, it is done. To burn the crutches
will not make the branches grow upon the Apple
Tree again." Dame Grumble first commanded
and then entreated that her son give her the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
crutches to burn, but Freyo was firm. At last
she burst into tears.</p>
<p>"Oh! Oh!" she sobbed. "It is not enough
that I have had many troubles and cares in the
past; each year my wicked enemy, the North
Wind, steals a fortune in pennies from me!
And now added to this I must suffer disobedience
from my own ungrateful son." She sobbed and
wailed until Freyo was nearly distracted.</p>
<p>"Oh, Mother!" he begged. "If you would
only cease your weeping and look at these wonderful
things I have made in your absence.
Here is a clock-case with the four seasons carved
upon it. The hours are told by twelve lovely
nymphs dancing through the forest; it is a
treasure worthy of a king. Some day a duke
may come a-riding by and fancy it—then,
who knows—my fortune may be made, and I
would give it all to you, Mother."</p>
<p>In spite of all his pleadings, however, Dame
Grumble would not look at his treasures. She
was so deep in her woes that she could think
of nothing else. She would not touch a crumb
of supper but said mournfully that she had no
heart for either food or drink.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p>
<p>Freyo sat before the fire, sad and desolate.
With the scolding dame's return, the quiet and
contentment of the little cottage had fled.
"Ah," sighed the poor lad, "I have no doubt
that Mother is right; perhaps I am wicked and
ungrateful after all."</p>
<h4>II</h4>
<p>During the winter that followed, Dame
Grumble led her son a dreadful life. He could
no longer talk to his good friend, the Apple
Tree, for she was sleeping her deep winter's
sleep and would not waken until the spring.
So while the snow whirled high without and
piled itself in drifts at door and chimney, Freyo
sat patiently carving his great oaken chests and
settles. When he carved fields of wheat with
wild fowl flying over, the poor lad fancied himself
afield once more; when he carved forest
scenes, he lived again the memories of his
happy summer. If Dame Grumble spoke to
her son, it was but to call him wicked and ungrateful.
She often vowed she would forgive
him if he would but give her the crutches to
burn. But Freyo had a plan in mind. With<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>
the first sign of spring, he meant to be off and
seek his own way in the world, and this he could
never do without his precious crutches. The
poor lad had no desire to spend another winter
with this cross, fault-finding dame.</p>
<p>Now, as was her usual fashion, Dame Grumble
spent much time in planning means to spare
the blossoms of the Apple Tree. It happened
that on her journey she had found a book which
told of orchard trees and how to care for them.
So in this book Dame Grumble now began to
study diligently. She found a picture of an
apple tree encased with strong, coarse netting.
This strong, coarse netting, so the book said,
would protect the fruit and blossoms from all
harm. Accordingly, Dame Grumble sat her
down before her wheel and spun endless miles
of heavy thread. From this she next wove
yards upon yards of strong, coarse netting.
Often and often Freyo begged his mother to
cease this useless labor. The North Wind
would soon tear the whole thing into shreds,
said he. You may be sure Dame Grumble
always had a sharp retort for him.</p>
<p>"Had I a son who was a comfort and a bless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>ing,
I have no doubt that he would long ago
have found a way to save my precious blossoms
from the North Wind," she would say. "I
daresay, too, that I would have had a harvest of
golden apples long since. Even now I might be
dwelling in some noble mansion with slaves to
do my bidding and a different carriage for
every day in the week!"</p>
<p>So the winter dragged on wearily. At last
the snow began to melt, and the sunbeams to
make bright spots on the kitchen floor. The
hedges here and there showed patches of green
leaves; the birds returned from the southland
whither they had gone for the winter. Forget-me-nots
and brown bells blossomed about the
Apple Tree, and the green grass for miles about
was thick with yellow buttercups. It was then
the Apple Tree awoke from her winter's sleep
and decked herself in clouds of fragrant, pinky-white
blossoms. Then it was that Dame Grumble
went forth from her cottage with yards
upon yards of strong, coarse netting with
which she covered her favorite tree. Seeing
the bare places that marked the two missing
branches, she cried out afresh that she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>
a sad, sorrowful woman and had too many
cares.</p>
<p>While Dame Grumble was thus occupied,
Freyo unlocked the cupboard where he had
hidden his precious crutches. But, alas! The
wood of the Apple Tree was not suitable for
such use, and the crutches fell to pieces when he
touched them. Freyo tried to mend them here
and join them there, but it was in vain. They
broke again in other places. Now when Dame
Grumble learned this, she vowed it was a just
punishment for Freyo's disobedience. However,
with her usual perverseness, she took no
more interest in the crutches. She did not
trouble to burn them, and there they lay in the
cupboard for many a long day.</p>
<p>"You will obey your mother when she commands,
another time, I daresay," she would often
remark, and point to the useless, broken things.</p>
<p>Now that spring was come, it was not long
before Dame Grumble's old enemy, the North
Wind, came also. Shouting and hallooing he
blew over the fields and forests one sunshiny
day, and when he reached the Apple Tree, he
stopped still in amazement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>
<p>"Ho! Ho! Ho!" laughed the North Wind,
"who has thus cleverly covered the Apple Tree?"</p>
<p>"I have!" shouted Dame Grumble from
within her cottage, where she had run to hide.
"Now you had best be off, for you can never
undo this strong, coarse netting I have woven;
it is tied in a thousand tight knots!"</p>
<p>"Ah! is it indeed, Dame Grumble?" inquired
the North Wind with mock politeness.
"Will you kindly have patience for a little until
I try my skill?" With that he blew a blast
that unloosed all the yards upon yards of strong,
coarse netting and bore them off like puffs of
thistledown. Dame Grumble's heart sank; but,
strange to say, the North Wind did not blow
away the blossoms of the Apple Tree. Instead,
he lingered about the cottage until night fell
and played all manner of tricks to bring Dame
Grumble running out. He blew soot down the
chimney and blackened the clean-scrubbed
kitchen floor; he put out her candle when she
had lighted it for evening; and whisked her
linen from the hedges into the fields and far
away. Not one word of anger or reproach
would Dame Grumble utter, even so. If the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>
North Wind would but spare the blossoms of
the Apple Tree, nothing else mattered. At last
the North Wind grew weary of his teasing and
departed.</p>
<p>"Just you wait, Dame Grumble!" he called
in farewell. "Some day I shall catch you unaware,
and I will carry you off to that desert
island that waits to welcome you as Queen of
Grumblers!" Then he blew on his way.</p>
<p>Dame Grumble waited, fearful lest perhaps
he would return, but the North Wind returned
no more that spring. The blossoms on the
Apple Tree began to wither, and presently tiny
fruit began to form on its branches. It seemed
at last as though Dame Grumble would gather
the harvest of golden apples for which she had
so longed; but even so, this cross, fault-finding
dame was not content.</p>
<p>"Alack!" she often mourned, "if I had had
this strong, coarse netting years ago, I would
have had many a golden harvest long ere this.
Without doubt this covering hath a charm above
the power of the North Wind. Had I a son to
assist me, I daresay he would have thought
about it long since."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
<p>"But, Mother, I cannot help it that I am
lame and do not assist you," sighed Freyo.</p>
<p>"But you can help it when you are wicked
and disobedient; and wicked and disobedient
you were when you cut the two stout branches
of the Apple Tree. For now, though I shall
gather golden apples, there will not be nearly so
many because of your rash act."</p>
<p>So the springtime passed and the summertime
came. Day by day the fruit on the Apple
Tree grew larger, and day by day Dame Grumble
took pencil and paper to count the number of
apples that hung upon each branch. She tried
each day to reckon just how many more she
would have had but for the branches Freyo had
cut off, and every day she grew vexed afresh.
Dame Grumble would not permit Freyo to go
near the Apple Tree. She vowed he might take
a notion to cut down the whole tree, for all she
knew.</p>
<p>The summer grew older; the meadows turned
brown, and the fields grew bare. Dame Grumble
watched eagerly for a sign which would
show that the apples were turning to gold; but
no sign she saw. The apples turned bright red<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
instead. The summer began to wane, and a
sharp chill in the air warned Dame Grumble
that winter was not far away. The maples on
the hillsides flamed crimson and scarlet once
again, and yellow leaves fell from the poplar
trees like rain.</p>
<p>"Now can it be that you are going to disappoint
me!" exclaimed Dame Grumble to the
Apple Tree. "Why, pray, do not your apples
turn to gold?"</p>
<p>"How you talk, Dame Grumble!" replied
the Apple Tree. "You will be disappointed
no matter what happens! Though I gave you
a thousand golden apples, you would never
cease to mourn that you might have had a
hundred more had not Freyo cut off my two
branches. Then you would make the poor lad's
life more miserable than ever. I sometimes
wonder that you are not ashamed to plague and
torment him as you do. You do not deserve
golden apples, and I will not give you golden
apples. So you had best make haste and gather
these red apples of mine before the frost will
nip them."</p>
<p>But this Dame Grumble would not do. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>
was assured that the red apples would turn to
gold, in spite of the Apple Tree. For if young
and tender blossoms yielded bright new shining
pennies, did it not follow that the ripened fruit
would be of purest gold? Dame Grumble so
believed. "The Apple Tree does not love me
and never did," she thought within herself; "it
is but a plan to make me angry."</p>
<p>By and by the leaves fell from the Apple
Tree itself, until its branches were quite bare
and brown. The apples shone tantalizingly
red, and then Dame Grumble realized at last
that they would never change to golden, as she
hoped. Now this new disappointment, you may
be sure, did not tend to sweeten her disposition.
All day she sat gazing mournfully at her favorite
tree and wept bitter tears at her new loss.</p>
<p>"Oh, Mother, pray do not weep so!" begged
Freyo. "You will make yourself ill. My store
of wood is gone; but if you would bring me two
stout branches from the forest, I would fashion
another pair of crutches for myself. Then I
would set off to make a fortune to take the place
of this fortune you fancy you have lost."</p>
<p>"Fancy I have lost!" repeated Dame Grumble<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>
scornfully. "The fortune I <i>fancy</i> I have lost!
I do not fancy I have lost a fortune; I know
full well I have lost a fortune. Besides, who
would give a copper farthing for your clumsy
chests and boxes!"</p>
<p>So all day long Dame Grumble dwelt on her
woes. At night she sat sighing in the chimney
corner until the little cottage quite close to the
top of the earth was as dull and gloomy as
though a thousand crows had settled suddenly
upon it.</p>
<h4>III</h4>
<p>Now it happened at this time, when all Dame
Grumble's troubles seemed too many to be
borne, that the good dame and her son enjoyed
a visitor. Visitors in that country quite close
to the top of the earth were very rare, you may
be sure. This visitor was not an ordinary sort
of person; far from that was he, indeed. Because
he journeyed ceaselessly about the earth
and was well known to folk of many lands, he
was called the Traveler. But though he roamed
thus everywhere, the Traveler seemed never
bound for any certain land or country but went
his ways just as the winds of heaven went theirs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>
The Traveler never remained long in any city
or village, nevertheless he stayed long enough
to do a kindness for some sad one, or to help
some poor one on his way. Few people ever
could agree about his age; the old thought him
young, and the young thought him old. However,
young and old alike agreed that the
Traveler seemed possessed of magic powers to
banish cares and troubles. Wherever he found
quarrels and spites, he left love and kindliness;
where he found envy, he left content; where he
went once, the Traveler always found a warm
welcome awaiting him on his return.</p>
<p>What was the secret source of the Traveler's
noble qualities was a mystery to all folk. Some
said the Traveler kept his cheerful spirit because
of a certain great cloak that he always wore.
This cloak, they said, was made of wool woven
from the fleece of fairy sheep and had great
powers of happiness. Others said that in a far-off
country the Traveler had drunk deeply of a
certain magic well, the waters of which were
said to bless one with a kindly heart forevermore.
Still others thought the Traveler's power
over cares and sorrow lay in the plain wood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>
staff he always carried. But though the secret
of his soothing charm was thus uncertain, certain
it was that the Traveler paid a visit to
Dame Grumble and her son one chill autumn
evening, and the story of it all is this:</p>
<p>It happened one day, as the Traveler was
walking along the road that led up to the country
quite close to the top of the earth, he chanced
to meet the North Wind. Now the North
Wind loved to tease and play his tricks on every
one, and so he seized the Traveler's hat and
blew it five fields off; he swept stinging dust
into his eyes and wrapped his cloak so tightly
around him that but for his staff the Traveler
would have stumbled. Though he was so
bothered and annoyed, the Traveler did not
complain. He loosed his cloak and wiped his
eyes of the dust, then once again he set upon
his way.</p>
<p>"Ah," said the Traveler, "it is a strong
wind that blows here; but how clean the road
is swept in consequence! It is also a good
wind."</p>
<p>The North Wind had expected blame instead
of praise and was abashed. So straightway he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>
brought back the hat, and then he blew gently
in the direction which would best suit the
Traveler's footsteps. So it was that this visitor
knocked at Dame Grumble's cottage one evening
just at candlelight. The Traveler begged
her hospitality, and Dame Grumble bade him
enter. She placed a chair before the hearth
and began to prepare a supper for him. All the
while she complained most bitterly that she
should thus receive a guest in her kitchen.
When she set forth the supper, Dame Grumble
sighed because the bread was brown instead
of white.</p>
<p>"Never sigh, Dame Grumble!" urged the
Traveler with his kindly smile. "Seldom have
I seen a pleasanter kitchen, and never have I
eaten better fare. Your brown bread is fit for
a king, and your broth would give courage to a
weary army!"</p>
<p>"That is all very well for you to say, good
sir," replied Dame Grumble sulkily, "but you
do not know all my troubles." She did not
often find one to give ear to her tale of sorrow,
and if the Traveler would, Dame Grumble
meant that he should hear her. Above all else<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>
in the world, Dame Grumble loved to talk about
her woes.</p>
<p>"Then perhaps after supper, when you sit
before the fire, you will tell me of your troubles,
good dame," said the Traveler. You may be
sure Dame Grumble agreed. Indeed, so eager
was she to begin that she hummed a lively
tune to hasten her work. At the unusual sound
of his mother's singing, Freyo left his bench to
learn the cause of it. When he saw the Traveler,
he greeted him with warmth.</p>
<p>"We do not often have a visitor, good sir,"
said he, "so I shall leave my work and join you
by the fireside."</p>
<p>"But first," exclaimed the Traveler, "you
must let me see this work of yours; you must
dearly love it, thus to be about it after darkness
has fallen and all men sit to take their ease."</p>
<p>"Good sir," replied Freyo, "my work is
wood carving, and I do love it better than the
whole world!"</p>
<p>The Traveler regarded the great chests and
clock-cases with deep admiration and begged
Freyo to tell him of his work; of whom he had
learned his skill; and whence his designs had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>
come. To these questions Freyo replied that
he did not know, he supposed he had taught
himself.</p>
<p>"Good sir," said he, "some folk make pictures
on a canvas with bright colored oils and
brilliant paints, and other folk make pictures
with fair words, as they tell wonder tales. I
have not skill like those, but I have dreamed
bright dreams and have loved to sit and carve
my dreams upon my chests of oak and walnut
wood. Think you that my skill is fair or that
my pictures would please aught beside myself,
who carved them?"</p>
<p>"I have no words to tell you how high I hold
your skill," declared the Traveler, "and as for
the pictures you have carved in wood, they
would delight a queen or please a king as well.
They are truly lovely."</p>
<p>"Then, good sir," replied Freyo, "to the
Apple Tree that stands before our door you
must give all this praise. The summer before
the summer that has just passed, this good tree
of her own accord did give me her two stoutest
branches, from which I made a pair of crutches.
Then I could wander in the woods from dawn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
till dark, and hear the birds sing songs the
whole day long. 'T was then I learned to
dream my finest dreams; it was like heaven,
sir!" The poor lad sighed in memory of the
happy time, and before he could say more,
Dame Grumble interrupted. The good dame
could no longer restrain her tongue or her impatience,
it seemed.</p>
<p>"Now, good sir!" cried she, "you have heard
my son; you must hear me. The Apple Tree
was not an ordinary tree, as my son knew very
well! He did wrong to cut the smallest twig
whilst I was gone.</p>
<p>"Each year, when the cuckoo came calling in
the spring, there was no finer sight in all the
world than the Apple Tree. So thick was it
with blossoms that scarce a branch or twig
could be seen. Its fragrance floated on the
breeze, drawing every bee and butterfly for
leagues and leagues about. Surely with such a
tree I might look for a bounteous harvest, one
would think. But, alas! No sooner was the
Apple Tree thus decked like a bride than my
wicked enemy, the North Wind, would come
and blow these blossoms far away. But mark<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
you now the wonder of my tale: a few blossoms
would sometimes fall beneath the tree, and
when they fell they made a chinking sound like
that of small coins in children's banks. When
they had withered, I always found bright, new
shining pennies where they had lain.</p>
<p>"Now from this curious fact I have believed
that when the Apple Tree would bear fruit, the
apples would be of gold. If young and tender
blossoms yield bright, new shining pennies, does
it not follow that the ripened fruit should be of
purest gold?"</p>
<p>"It would seem so, good dame," agreed the
Traveler. "What then were the apples—silver,
perhaps?"</p>
<p>"Indeed sir, no!" replied Dame Grumble
with deep feeling. "For all I know, in cutting
off the branches of my favorite tree, my wicked
son bewitched it. For though the Apple Tree
bore fruit this year, it bore naught but red
apples of a common sort; I scorn to gather
them!</p>
<p>"Oh, Oh!" wept Dame Grumble, bursting
into tears once again at the memory of her loss.
"Thus to have my own son so wicked and dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>obedient,
whilst I, footsore and weary, was
seeking for the fortune in pennies which the
North Wind had stolen from me these many
years! It is too much! I am sure, good sir,
you will agree that I have many troubles, and
that it is not right to call me Dame Grumble
because I sometimes speak of them."</p>
<p>"I had rather agree that you have also many
blessings, good dame," returned the Traveler,
with his kindly smile. "Come, let us draw our
chairs before the hearth, and perhaps you may
learn to see them too. There is nothing that
does so help us see our blessings as the bright
flames dancing up the chimney when all the
world without is dark and cold."</p>
<p>But ere she sat down, Dame Grumble recollected
yet another grievance. "And added to
my other troubles," she complained, "I have
a son who is lame and must be always a burden
instead of a staff."</p>
<p>The Traveler nodded gravely. "That is a
sorrow, I agree," said he, "and I have no doubt,
good dame, that your motherly heart must
often ache with the pity of it all."</p>
<p>To this Dame Grumble made no reply; she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>
began to think instead. For years her mind
had been so busy with the plans for her blossoms
and her golden harvest that it had quite forgotten
how to think of aught else. As for her
heart, it ached only when she thought of the
fortune in pennies that the North Wind had
stolen from her, and that she had not found.</p>
<p>"Then too, Dame Grumble," continued the
Traveler, "I must tell you that I think the
North Wind no more than a rough playful
fellow, and not wicked as you say. Only this
afternoon he stole my hat and ran away with it,
but before I had gone twenty yards, the amiable
fellow had brought it back to me again. And
since he blew me to your cottage door, I will
henceforth claim the North Wind for my friend."</p>
<p>"Then since it was the North Wind that
brought you to our door, I will no longer call
him my enemy, but instead will call him my
friend also," declared Dame Grumble with a
smile. In the firelight her face suddenly looked
so sweet and gentle that Freyo sighed deeply.
Dame Grumble heard the sigh, and asked her
son the cause of it.</p>
<p>"I sighed because I wished you would smile<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>
often, Mother," replied the lad. "You looked
so sweet and pleasant."</p>
<p>"And now," began the Traveler, "since we
are all so happy, let us begin to think about the
good dame's difficulties,—the fortune in pennies
which she sought and could not find, the
precious blossoms which the North Wind blows
away each spring, and the Apple Tree which
should have borne apples of gold, but which
bore red apples instead. For these three evils
we must find a remedy without delay."</p>
<p>Now all the while she had been sitting with
the Traveler by the fireside, because of his
magic power, Dame Grumble had been thinking
busily. Not of fortunes or of golden apples, or
yet of red apples either; instead, quite to her
own surprise, she was thinking of how wearied
she had grown of all these things. She wished
suddenly that she would never hear of them
again. Judge then of her son's astonishment
when she answered the Traveler in the following
fashion:</p>
<p>"Good sir, although I sat me down to talk
about my troubles, now that I have told them,
they seem light and trifling; I am indeed amazed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
that I have heeded them at all! Though for
years and years I have quarreled with the North
Wind because he robbed me of a fortune, I
seem suddenly to care no longer for fortunes or
gold or riches, or any such.</p>
<p>"For as I peer into the flames, it comes to
my mind that there are many in this world not
so blessed as I. Many a one is hungry and has
naught to eat, while my larder is filled; some
are cold whilst I sit in comfort before a fire of
pine knots that sputter and glow. I see now
that I have many blessings." Dame Grumble
did not know she had these thoughts because of
the Traveler.</p>
<p>"Ah!" cried the Traveler, "did I not say the
blazing logs helped one to see one's blessings,
and was I not right?"</p>
<p>"I have often fancied that was so, good sir,"
agreed Freyo, "and now, since my mother no
longer wishes to talk about her troubles, perhaps
you will tell us tales of your journeys;
you are a traveler and have seen far distant
lands."</p>
<p>"Pray do, good sir!" begged Dame Grumble
too. "It is long since my son and I have heard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>
tales of any sort. Also from your great wisdom
I have a notion that we shall be highly entertained."</p>
<p>So the Traveler told them tales of other lands.
He told of strange birds with bright-hued
feathers of such great length that they swept
upon the ground like queens' trains. He told
of burning mountains and of fiery lakes, of
lovely flowers blooming in the snow, and gardens
that grew underneath the sea. The wind
without howled dismally; within, the flames
leaped high and made queer elfin shadows to
dance on the walls; the clock ticked off the
minutes into hours, but still Dame Grumble
and her son sat listening, wrapt in wonder.
At last the candles snuffed out, and naught but
the back log smoldered and glowed in the
darkness.</p>
<p>"Now good sir," cried Dame Grumble, "I
am sure you must be weary." She bade him
take the best room, but the Traveler refused.
The comfortable chair in which he sat was all
he needed, he declared, and he bade the good
dame and her son good night.</p>
<p>When they awakened next morning, he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>
gone; but on the chair they found his staff.
Fastened to the staff there was a note which
bade Freyo use it in place of the crutches, and
said when he had no longer need for it to give
it to some other one that had.</p>
<p>"Mother," said Freyo, when he had read the
note over and over again, "would this not seem
to say that I might one day walk without the
aid of either crutch or staff? What think you
of it?"</p>
<p>"It would seem so, my son," replied the dame,
"and then how happy I would be!"</p>
<p>A knock at the door startled them both.
Dame Grumble, thinking it was the Traveler
returned, hastened to open; but it was not he.
It was a king's herald dressed in scarlet satin
and silver laces.</p>
<p>"I am the herald of King Silversword," said
he. He bowed low to Dame Grumble as though
she were a duchess.</p>
<p>"And I am Dame Grumble, at His Majesty's
service," answered Dame Grumble, with a bow
equally fine.</p>
<p>"Then hearken to my message," began the
herald. He unrolled a scroll of parchment, set<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
thick with king's seals and written all in silver
letters, and read the following proclamation:</p>
<p>"Know ye that the apple crop of the whole
world has failed. From north to south, from
east to west, there is not one apple to be found,
nay not for a king's ransom. Now that of itself
could be borne, none the less, for apples be
great luxuries. However, the little Princess
Silverstar, the only daughter of King Silversword
and Queen Silverland, has fallen ill and
craves constantly for red apples. The doctors
and the medical men hold no hope for her recovery
unless she has to eat the fruit she craves.
Wherefore, if good Dame Grumble will sell a
dozen or more red apples to His Majesty, King
Silversword, she may name any sum of gold or
portions of rich jewels in payment; nay, whether
she demand both gold and jewels, or even His
Majesty's entire fortune, it shall be hers in
exchange for her red apples."</p>
<p>"Come now, good dame, what do you say?"
asked the herald, as he rolled up the scroll once
more.</p>
<p>"I say, good Master Herald, that my red
apples are not for sale," the dame replied, "but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>
if they have a power to restore the little Princess
Silverstar, she may have them all. They shall
be a gift from me and my son Freyo."</p>
<p>Now the herald was amazed at this. From
the humble surroundings, he knew the good
dame and her son were naught but worthy
peasants, and he reasoned wisely that riches
would not be amiss. Accordingly, he tried to
persuade Dame Grumble to accept some gift,
a tract of fertile land, a noble mansion, or at
least a bag or two of gold; but Dame Grumble
was firm in her intention and would not be
persuaded.</p>
<p>"If my red apples have a power to heal,"
she declared, "they will have thrice that power
if given with a good heart instead of in barter
or exchange." So the herald besought her no
more. He called the servants and bade them
strip the tree, and then, with many thanks, he
hastened on his way.</p>
<p>"Oh, Mother!" cried Freyo, as they watched
the royal coach depart. "How fine of you to
refuse such riches! All your life you have so
longed for a fortune, too!"</p>
<p>"Indeed, my son," replied the good dame<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>
earnestly, "the only fortune I desire now is the
fortune that you will one day make for me.
However, I must confess that all the while I
spoke with the king's herald, it seemed that the
Traveler was close beside to tell me what to
say, and that the words were not my own.
Now, was that not a strange thing—and he
gone these many hours?"</p>
<p>As she went about her daily tasks, the good
dame seemed to have forgotten her old woes
and troubles and Freyo whistled like a thrush
as he sat working at his bench. The little
cottage had never known such a happy day.
Freyo's tools seemed to fly as though by magic,
and the gloom that had been slowly settling
down upon the little cottage quite close to the
top of the earth now seemed to take wings and
fly off. It was just at sunset when they heard
the blowing of horns and trumpets, and again
the coach of King Silversword drew up before
their door.</p>
<p>Freyo, wishing to hear news of the Princess
Silverstar, seized the Traveler's staff and hobbled
toward the door. But wonder of wonders!
No sooner had he leaned his weight upon it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>
than he grew tall and straight as a young
poplar tree. Like an arrow he sped from the
cottage door, and Dame Grumble rubbed her
eyes lest she should wake and find herself
a-dreaming.</p>
<p>"Now look you, good Master Herald!" she
cried in amazement. "You saw my son only
this morning, and he was lame as lame could be;
and now, behold, he walks as well as you or I!
Truly, say I, it is a day of miracles!"</p>
<p>"Thou sayest right, good dame!" declared
the herald. "It is to tell you of another miracle
that I have come hither. Only this morn
the little Princess Silverstar did eat but one of
the red apples, and to the delight and wonder
of the court, she began to grow stronger. When
she had eaten three or four, the doctors and
medical men pronounced her cured; they believed
that the red apples coming as a gift,
rather than for barter or exchange, had worked
an important part in this miraculous recovery.
To-night there is great feasting and rejoicing in
the land of King Silversword, and the praises
of Dame Grumble and her son are sung by rich
and poor and high and low alike." The herald<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>
then unrolled another scroll and read the following
proclamation:</p>
<p>"Wherefore His Majesty, King Silversword,
to show his gratitude, doth now create Freyo
the First Wood Carver of his kingdom and
master of all other wood carvers in the land."</p>
<p>Freyo could scarcely believe his good fortune
and begged the herald to read the scroll once
more. Then he began to shout with joy. "And
only to think, Mother!" he cried, "I am no
longer lame, but can walk about like all the
youths whom I shall meet at court."</p>
<p>"I am rejoiced!" declared Dame Grumble,
"but if there be feasting in all the lands of King
Silversword, there should likewise be feasting
in our little cottage. You are whole and
strong, and the Princess Silverstar is restored
to health through our gift. Let us be merry
too!</p>
<p>"And you, good Master Herald," continued
the good Dame, "though our food be plain, if
happy hearts alone be needed, there will be no
merrier household in all the world than ours
to-night. Will you not sup with us?" The
herald vowed he would be honored, and so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>
Dame Grumble popped another pudding in the
steaming pot, and they all sat down. While
the three ate and drank, the good dame and her
son recalled the wonder of their visitor the
evening before.</p>
<p>"One could scarce believe the change the
Traveler wrought upon my mind and heart,"
said the good dame. "Before he came, I was
scolding and complaining always from morning
until night. Yet since he entered into my door,
I have had scarce a vexatious thought."</p>
<p>"It would seem, good dame, that the Traveler
was some gentle spirit come from afar," agreed
the herald. "I do not doubt that he and his
magic arts are the secret cause of these miracles
we have seen to-day."</p>
<p>When he departed with the herald the next
day, Freyo left behind the Traveler's staff; the
good dame fancied it would be a guard against
the return of her low spirits. She leaned on it
as she stood by the cottage door and waved her
son a farewell and thought with pride how
handsome he was now that he was tall and
straight. Thus we must leave Dame Grumble
in the country quite close to the top of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
earth, and journey off with Freyo on the way
to seek his fortune.</p>
<h4>IV</h4>
<p>At the court of King Silversword, Freyo was
welcomed with much honor and ceremony.
Dame Grumble's gift to the little princess had
made a thousand good friends for him, it seemed.
King Silversword looked at him with eyes of
gratitude; Queen Silverland could not praise
him enough. The Little Princess Silverstar
took much pleasure in the tales that Freyo told
her of the North Wind and the Apple Tree.
Before many days had passed, Freyo had become
the child's favorite courtier, and was a
favorite of the whole Court likewise. The
noble lords vowed that Freyo had wisdom beyond
his years and vied with one another to do
him kindnesses. The noble ladies declared that
Freyo had a kindly heart as well as handsome
features. They said his gentle manners were
worthy of a duke's son. King Silversword gave
orders that a fine workroom be built at the top
of the royal palace and fitted with every sort
of tool that a wood carver might fancy. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>
also sent great ships a-sailing off to distant
lands to bring rare woods for Freyo's work.</p>
<p>When all things were in order, Freyo began
his first task for the great King Silversword:
it was to carve seven great chests which would
be used as dower chests for the little princess
by and by. So fine was the design upon each
chest, and so delicate and intricate the carving
and the traceries, that seven long years passed
before the seven chests were finished. In all
that time, although the princess grew to be a
lovely maiden, tall and stately, she still took
pleasure in the tales that Freyo told her of the
Apple Tree that grew up in the country quite
close to the top of the earth. Now when these
seven chests were shown at court, it was the
opinion of wise men and artists from far and
near that their equal could not be found in all
the world. King Silversword was greatly
pleased, and in reward he commanded that
Freyo be made Duke of Freyoland. Ten thousand
leagues of land in the country quite close
to the top of the earth were given him for his
domain, and a noble castle was likewise built
there for him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p>
<p>The seven dower chests were next filled full of
gold and jewels, and orders for a splendid ball
were given. Princes and dukes as well as lords
and marquises from every court on earth were
bidden to attend, and from this assemblage of
noble youths, the Princess Silverstar would
choose her husband. Some gossips at the court
declared it was assured that Princess Silverstar
would choose Prince Goldenmines, the
richest prince in all the world. Others thought
that she would surely favor Prince Palmire,
because he was so handsome. Judge then of
the surprise of all when Princess Silverstar
chose Freyo for her prince and begged her royal
parents to consent.</p>
<p>"Is it not to Freyo's noble gift, so long ago,
that we do owe our daughter's life!" exclaimed
these grateful monarchs. "How then shall we
deny him for our daughter's husband? Announce
the betrothal, heralds!"</p>
<p>Then straightway the wedding day was set.
Dame Grumble journeyed down from the country
quite close to the top of the earth and was
made welcome by Queen Silverland and her
noble ladies. (To be quite formal, we should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>
now call the good dame Duchess Freyoland, for
as mother of a duke, she had likewise become
ennobled. However, as the good dame liked
her old name best, perhaps we had best call her
just Dame Grumble after all.)</p>
<p>In order that all folk might rejoice in goodly
earnest at her wedding feast, the Princess Silverstar
besought her father two favors. First,
that he would forgive all debts and moneys
that his people owed the crown, and second,
that he would take no taxes for a whole year and
a day. She then commanded that every subject
be given fine new holiday attire and a well-filled
purse, according to his rank and station.
In all the history of the kingdom there was not
known a finer feast than this. The noble lords
and ladies rode and drove or danced at splendid
balls. The common people sang or played
games on the highways and feasted on the
village greens. Then when the seven days of
fun and feasting passed at last, and Freyo with
his lovely bride drove off to their castle, Dame
Grumble sat beside them in the royal chariot.
But not for long could the good dame content
herself in their splendid castle. Her heart be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>gan
to yearn, and she began to pine most sadly
for her home. Though Freyo and his lovely
bride begged her to stay and dwell with them
forever, the good dame would not hear of it.</p>
<p>"Ah, no, my children!" cried Dame Grumble.
"Long, long ago, 'tis true, I wished for a noble
house and fancied I would be happy as a queen
if I might live in one. Since the visit of the
Traveler, I have grown much wiser. I know
that I can be happy as a queen if I am but content.
So in my little cottage with the North
Wind and the Apple Tree for friends, I shall
dwell all my days."</p>
<p>So saying, Dame Grumble bade Freyo and
his lovely bride farewell, and leaning on the
Traveler's staff she set off for home. She
reached her little cottage on a bright spring day,
just when the Apple Tree was decked in clouds
of fragrant, pinky-white blossoms, and looked
as lovely as a fairy tree. Dame Grumble gazed
with satisfaction on her favorite tree, and as
she gazed it came to her mind that in all the
noble sights she saw at court, she had seen
nothing half so lovely as the Apple Tree in
spring.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>
<p>It was not long now before the North Wind
came roaring over field and forest in his usual
fashion, but when he saw Dame Grumble he
ceased suddenly. He asked most civilly how
the good dame did and whether she had liked
the life at court. To all his questions Dame
Grumble made most amiable reply and hoped
the North Wind's health was fair. For, if you
will believe me, these two old enemies were now
good friends. They had not had a cross word
or a quarrel since the evening of the Traveler's
visit long ago.</p>
<p>"And now, Dame Grumble," said the North
Wind, "for seven long years you have ceased
your scolding and grumbling, and if you will it
so, the spell that bound the Apple Tree may now
be broken. Only command me to cease my
mischief, and I will touch your blossoms nevermore.
Likewise command the Apple Tree to bear
you golden apples, and you shall have them."</p>
<p>"But North Wind!" cried the Apple Tree.
"First tell my mistress what you have done
with all the pennies from my blossoms. My
mistress has a heart of gold and needs not
golden apples."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p>
<p>Dame Grumble smiled with pleasure that the
Apple Tree should speak thus kindly of her.
Well she remembered the olden days when she
had often been most harsh with her favorite
tree, and she hoped the tree had now forgiven
her. "The Apple Tree praises my heart too
highly," said Dame Grumble modestly. "Still,
North Wind, I must own that I have been most
curious about the pennies from the blossoms
you have blown away."</p>
<p>"The pennies were not stored in some hollow
of the earth, as you supposed, long, long ago,
when you set out to find them," said the North
Wind. "Each springtime, when I blew the
blossoms of the Apple Tree around the world,
I dropped the pennies at the feet of poor children
who had none but me to love them. These
poor children then ran pell-mell to the nearest
sweet shop to spend their pennies and were
happy as larks in consequence."</p>
<p>"The Apple Tree is right!" declared Dame
Grumble. "For all the golden apples in the
world, I would not rob a single poor child of its
penny. So blow your fiercest, North Wind;
and Apple Tree, see to it that there be a penny<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>
for every orphan child on earth." The North
Wind obeyed, and Dame Grumble smiled to see
the lovely blossoms flying through the air like
April snow.</p>
<p>And so the good dame settled down to dwell
in peace and happiness. Kings' palaces and
dukes' castles were all very well, said she, but
after all, there was no place like home. As for
climate and a clear blue sky in summer, there
was no place to equal the country quite close to
the top of the earth, Dame Grumble thought.
Often and often, just at candlelight, Dame
Grumble peered into the dusk and gloom in
hopes of seeing the Traveler coming toward her
door; but he came not. Sometimes she asked
the North Wind for news of him, but he could
tell her little.</p>
<p>"I think," said the North Wind, "that the
Traveler still journeys round the earth, but
always in advance of me. Sometimes I travel
over cities where all folk are content, and where
there are no strifes nor quarrels. I hear folk
speaking of a noble traveler who has lingered
with them, and I have often thought it is the
Traveler whom we seek. If I should ever meet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>
him, I shall tell him that Dame Grumble waits
each evening to welcome him."</p>
<p>"But my mistress, and you too, North Wind,"
said the Apple Tree, "have you not heard it
said the Traveler visits only those who are sad
and sorrowful, or who are afflicted with cold,
selfish hearts? If that be true, he will return
to our little cottage no more; there is no need
for him."</p>
<p>Now it would seem that the Apple Tree was
right, for the Traveler returned no more. And
in all the world there was not such another
place for comfort and good cheer as Dame
Grumble's little cottage quite close to the top
of the earth where the North Wind blew fiercely
each spring.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
<h3>A TALE OF THE NORTHLAND KINGDOM</h3>
<h4>I</h4>
<p>Long, long ago, in a certain far-off region of
the world, there was a land of ice and snow,
and this land was called the Northland Kingdom.
There each year the ice broke on the
rivers and flowed out to the sea, and the snow
melted in the valleys. Then corn and rye and
other good grains would grow; but these mild
seasons were short, and for the most part ice
and snow abounded everywhere.</p>
<p>Added to this, in the time of my tale there
was no light in the Northland Kingdom. All
time was deep gray twilight or inky darkness,
and there was no day. Neither Moon nor Stars
had ever pierced the overhanging gloom and
mists, and the sun had never shone upon the
Northland Kingdom. Reindeer flitted silently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>
through this land of shadows, and great white
bears made their homes in icy caves by the sea.
When birds of passage reached this land of
darkness, they trilled their softest songs and
went to rest, and when they waked, they soared
away in search of brighter lands. But knowing
nothing of the light of day, the folk of this dark
land mourned not its lack and were content to
dwell ever in shadow. A thousand silver lamps
and myriads of waxen tapers gleamed always
in the palace of the king; and in the fields the
workers sowed and reaped by light of flaming
torches. The herders built great fires on the
hillsides, and in their light and warmth told
their flocks. The housewives spun by firelight.</p>
<p>Now in the time of which I tell, the good king
Tamna ruled the Northland Kingdom. He
was a wealthy sovereign even as the wealth of
kings is reckoned. King Tamna owned a thousand
mountains of gold and silver and the fish
of ten thousand streams. Herds of reindeer
and caribou beyond all counting were also his,
as well as the forests and plains over which they
roamed. Beside all this, King Tamna was
sovereign lord of one hundred princes of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>
Northland Kingdom. These hundred princes
paid King Tamna tribute; that is to say, they
brought him yearly certain portions of their
flocks and herds and of their grain and gold and
of all that was theirs, for such was the law of
the Northland Kingdom.</p>
<p>Now good King Tamna had a daughter, Maiden
Matanuska, Princess of the Silver Birches.
She was so called because her marriage portion
was a forest of silver birch that lay between
two swift-flowing streams and reached from
sea to sea. Some folk thought Maiden Matanuska
was part wood sprite, for in spite of dark
and shadows she would roam for hours in the
paths and lanes among the birches and was
not afraid. The Maiden Matanuska understood
the language of the trees and learned from
them just when the ice and snow would melt.</p>
<p>The silver foxes that roamed this forest were
her pets. They frisked and followed her about
like faithful dogs; and though their furs were
worth a king's fortune, Maiden Matanuska
would not consent to have them slain. For
this the silver fox were grateful and loved her
dearly. They taught her secrets never known<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>
before by men, and from their wisdom Maiden
Matanuska learned to tell when icy winds would
blow and snow begin to fall and when the grain
would grow again. Maiden Matanuska understood
the songs of birds as well, and when the
birds of passage sang of other lands, where there
was light of day, she listened eagerly. But
when she begged these birds to sing her more,
they answered her with sleepy chirps, for birds
would not sing long in that dark land.</p>
<p>It was from these sweet songs the birds of
passage sang that Maiden Matanuska came to
know that there was such a thing as light of
day. The more she heard, the more she longed
to see this marvel. While she wandered in her
birchen forest, she would dream bright dreams
of other lands, she knew not where,—lands
where ice and snow were not, but where gay
flowers bloomed instead, and there was day as
well as night.</p>
<p>"Oh, my father," said she with a sigh, "how
pleasant our land would be if all the shadows
and the gloom departed for a time and we had
light of day as well as night."</p>
<p>"Ah, yes, my daughter," said King Tamna,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
with an answering sigh, "but how to brighten
this dark land I know not. For your sake I
would that I could; but for myself, I care not.
Now I am growing old and soon must journey
all alone to lands where light or darkness matters
not."</p>
<p>"Oh, my father! Speak not of that time,"
cried Maiden Matanuska, bursting into tears.
She loved her father tenderly and knew he spoke
of the time when he must die. "If you were
not here with me, neither light nor darkness
would matter to me, and I should be desolate
and lonely."</p>
<p>"Then speak no more of your longing for
light," replied the king. "It grieves me that
I cannot give you what you most desire. But
before I have departed from this life, I hope to
see you wedded to some brave prince who will
love you and protect you in my place."</p>
<p>And though Maiden Matanuska vowed she
wished no prince at all, her father gave her protests
no heed. "There is a handsome youth
who wears a feather mantle with whom I see
you wandering in the forest. Who is he?"
King Tamna asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
<p>"He is Prince Kenai of the burning mountain,"
said the maiden. "He, too, has dreams
of light and tells me wonder tales which I do
love to hear."</p>
<p>"Prince Kenai is the poorest prince in all the
Northland Kingdom," said the king; "but if
his wonder tales please you, I shall say nothing."</p>
<p>Now, as may be supposed, there was no lack
of suitors for the maiden's hand. Indeed these
hundred princes of the Northland Kingdom each
longed to marry her. She was the fairest maiden
in the land, and moreover, she was as lovely of
mind and manner as she was fair of face.</p>
<p>There came at last a certain night when good
King Tamna sat in state to greet his tribute-bearing
princes, and Maiden Matanuska sat
beside her father. In robes of purple velvet
bordered deep with ermine and thickly sewn
with threads of beaten gold, with golden crown
and sceptre too, King Tamna looked a very king
of kings,—a monarch of great state and dignity.
The Maiden Matanuska, robed in shimmering
gossamer white, her golden hair, that fell about
her like a cloak, crowned with a wreath of leaves,
and in her hand a holly branch, looked like some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
angel newly come from paradise. She seemed
some lovely maiden in a dream, who would perhaps
take flight and float away in the encircling
gloom and mists. These hundred princes knelt
before the throne and begged the lovely maiden's
hand in marriage.</p>
<p>At this the king was troubled, for clearly
Maiden Matanuska could not wed them all,
and how to choose among them he knew not.
At last the royal counselors advised him in the
following way:</p>
<p>"Now since these hundred youths be princes
all, and therefore suitable in rank to wed your
daughter, let Maiden Matanuska for herself
decide which one she'll wed."</p>
<p>When this was told, the Maiden Matanuska
sat some time in thought and then she spoke.
"I'll wed the prince who brings to me the thing
which I have never seen before, for which I
long with all my heart, and which I shall love
well."</p>
<p>The hundred princes then departed to their
various lands and began to seek among their
treasures to find the thing they thought would
please the maiden. Some princes brought her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>
toys of ivory wrought in wondrous ways, and
some brought robes of doeskin, soft as satin,
white as milk, embroidered all in beads of many
colors. But these proved not the thing for which
the maiden longed. Some princes brought her
great carved silver chests, and some brought
chains and bracelets made of purest gold; but
none of these were what the Maiden Matanuska
wished, and all these princes failed to win their
suit. So fared they all until at last there were
but three to try their fate,—Prince Kathalan,
Prince Katala, and Prince Kenai.</p>
<p>Now Prince Kathalan was the greatest warrior
of all the Northland Kingdom. He had won
a hundred battles and boasted that he would
win a hundred more. He gloried in his warlike
fame and doubted not that Maiden Matanuska
would favor him above all others.</p>
<p>Katala, who was wealthiest prince of all, rejoiced
because his slaves had lately found a
diamond mine, the like of which was never known
before in all the Northland Kingdom. Prince
Katala had great faith in the power of his riches
and was full sure that Maiden Matanuska would
smile upon his suit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p>
<p>Prince Kenai dwelt in the land of a burning
mountain whose fires destroyed his forests and
laid waste his lands, and the land itself, moreover,
was not enriched with gold or silver or with
any other metal. Because of this, Prince Kenai
was called poorest prince of all; but because
in all the Northland Kingdom none other dared
venture near this burning mountain, he was
counted bravest prince of all.</p>
<p>Of these three, Prince Kathalan spoke first.
"Oh, Maiden Matanuska, Princess of the Silver
Birch," cried he, "I bring to you this magic bird
of battle, my raven. Black as its wings are, wise
is the bird, and moreover it hath the gift of
speech and prophecy. With this magic raven
as my omen, no warrior can worst me in battle,
and I can conquer legions. So marry me, O
Maiden, and I will make you the most powerful
queen the world has ever known."</p>
<p>The Maiden Matanuska shook her head.
"You have not guessed my meaning rightly,"
answered she. "I care not to be a queen of
power, for such queens are unhappy, I have
often heard; and I hate the thought of battle.
So keep your magic raven, warrior prince. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>
love far better the gentle doves that flutter
around me in my forest."</p>
<p>Prince Kathalan departed in a rage, and Prince
Katala stood before the throne.</p>
<p>"Oh, Maiden Matanuska, Princess of the
Silver Birch," cried he, "I bring to you a golden
casket filled full of gems called diamonds which
you have never seen before, and which you will
love well, for they are truly lovely. And these
are not a thousandth part of all my wealth; so
marry me, O Maiden, and I will make you the
richest queen the world has ever known."</p>
<p>The gems within the casket flashed forth
purple fire and shone like brilliant stars; but
Maiden Matanuska sighed again.</p>
<p>"I care not for great riches, Prince Katala,"
answered she, "for I have riches of my own in
goodly store. As for thy diamonds,—though
they be truly lovely, as you say, I should as
soon love the icicles that cluster round my
casement in the storm. They are as hard and
cold."</p>
<p>Prince Katala departed likewise in a rage,
and Prince Kenai bowed low before the throne.</p>
<p>"And now what treasure do you bring to win<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>
my hand, brave prince?" asked Maiden Matanuska.</p>
<p>To which the prince replied, "I bring you
none, and neither do I seek to win your hand.
Your heart is what I do desire, O Maiden, for
I do love you truly and would die to serve you.</p>
<p>"Now in your father's halls are treasures
and all riches in great store. Fair silken banners
hang the walls to shut the cold drafts out; a
thousand gleaming silver lamps light the way;
great chests are filled full of ornaments of beaten
gold, as well as many other things my eyes have
not discovered. With all this wealth heaped
high on every hand, if you still long for that
which you have never seen, think you that in
my barren land it will be found? In my land
so poor that even crows forsake it?"</p>
<p>"Well said, brave prince," the king replied,
"and if you have not treasures such as men hold
dear, you have indeed a noble gift of speech.
But even so, some gift or token you must surely
bring, or otherwise you had not come at all but
stayed within your barren land. Come, tell
us what it is."</p>
<p>"I bring no treasure save the treasure of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
wonder tale which you will hear," said Prince
Kenai, and then began to tell.</p>
<p>"Within my land, as well you know, there
lies a burning mountain from which men flee
in fear, but which I love. Now when my mountain
has burst forth in flames, and tongues of
fire that reach to heaven light the sky of all the
world, I have seen wondrous things. I have seen
other lands far distant, where ice and snow are
not, but where the green grass clothes the hills
and plains; where poppies shaped like golden
chalices grow thick, and birds sing hour after
hour. And in these pleasant lands of which I
tell, there is a time of light as well as dark. This
time of light lasts many hours long and is called
day."</p>
<p>"Then tell me this, Prince Kenai," cried the
king. "How comes this light of day to other
lands? It comes not to this dreary realm of
ours, where it would be most welcome."</p>
<p>"I'll tell you that," replied the prince.
"There is a wondrous traveler called the Sun
who high up in the clouds does journey ceaselessly
about the world. He has great power
over night and causes darkness to break forth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>
in light wherever he does turn his face toward
any land.</p>
<p>"And now farewell, good king and Maiden
Matanuska, whom I love. I go to seek the
Sun and beg him to return with me and shine
upon the Northland Kingdom as he does on
other lands upon the earth. Then will we have
the light of day as well as night, and Maiden
Matanuska will have that which she has never
seen, for which she longs with all her heart, and
which she will love well. Farewell."</p>
<p>Prince Kenai wrapped his flowing feather
mantle around him and took leave of the king.
The Maiden Matanuska walked with him
through her forest where the silver birches grew
down to the borders of the sea, and there they
parted.</p>
<p>"Oh, my brave prince," wept Maiden Matanuska,
"my heart cries out against your going,
for since the day I met you I have loved you
dearly; but I was always fearful lest my father
bid me wed another because you had no fortune.
Therefore I set the riddle which only you did
guess. And now, may all good powers guard
you on your quest and bring you safely back to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
me. While you are gone, the waking hours
will often find me standing on this shore, awaiting
the glad sight of your return."</p>
<p>"My beloved maiden!" sighed the prince.
"With such sweet faith and love to bless me,
I cannot fail." He rent his flowing feather
mantle in two parts and wrapped a portion of
it around the maiden. "I would I had a richer
token for you, love," said he. "But even so;
this feather mantle is no mean gift. Who wears
it will be ever safe from icy blasts and snow and
cold and will be ever young and fair as on the
day they wore it first. Now kiss me in farewell
and promise me that when I do return and bring
the Sun, you'll marry me."</p>
<p>The Maiden Matanuska kissed him thrice and
promised, and springing into his boat, Prince
Kenai sailed away. She stood upon the shore
and blew him kisses and caresses, but soon his
form was lost in darkness and the mists, and
Maiden Matanuska was left forlorn.</p>
<h4>II</h4>
<p>Now in those olden days, when princes journeyed
around the world on errands for the maid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>ens
whom they loved, the space of time they
usually were gone was a year and a day. So
when a year and a day had passed, the Maiden
Matanuska often wandered through the birch
wood and stood upon the border of the sea.
She strained her gaze far to the south to see the
sight of any sail; but Prince Kenai came not.</p>
<p>She asked the birds of passage if they had
seen her prince, and sometimes they had news
of him. "Oh, tell me, ye wild Gulls, of the
wild skies," she asked, "do you know aught of
my brave Prince Kenai? He wears a feather
robe like mine and seeks in lands afar to find the
Sun for me."</p>
<p>"Ah, yes," replied the Gulls. "We've seen
a prince so dressed, and he was sailing westward
on the sea and seemed to seek the Sun."</p>
<p>"And found he what he sought?" cried
Maiden Matanuska eagerly.</p>
<p>"Alas!" the Gulls replied. "The truth is,
he did not. For many evenings when the
day was done, we saw this prince sail westward.
He hoped to meet the sun just where
the sky bends down to meet the sea, but
though he sailed for days and days, the place<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>
he sought seemed sailing too, and so he reached
it not."</p>
<p>"That is sad news," the maiden sighed.
"But when again you see my prince, tell him
that all my thoughts are his, and I am sure he
cannot fail."</p>
<p>Another time she asked a Kite-bird had he
seen Prince Kenai.</p>
<p>"Oh, yes, dear maiden," the Kite-bird made
reply. "And he was in the Southland, whither
he had gone to seek the Sun. But he was worn
and wearied with much wandering, and the
road was long; and by the time he reached there,
the Sun had long departed on his journey to
the Eastland."</p>
<p>"That is sad news, good Kite-bird," said the
maiden, "but when you see my prince again,
pray tell him that my hopes are his, and I am
sure he cannot fail to win his quest."</p>
<p>And still another time did Maiden Matanuska
ask an Auk to tell her of Prince Kenai.</p>
<p>"I saw him," said the Auk, "and from the
feather robe he wore I judged him first to be
some bird. In lands where scarlet poppies lull
the weary travelers to deep sleep, and waterfalls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
make thunder down the mountain sides, Prince
Kenai I saw toiling up a rocky slope where it is
said the Sun does rise."</p>
<p>"And did he reach the top of this steep slope?"
asked Maiden Matanuska.</p>
<p>"Now that I could not say," the Auk replied,
"for I was flying swiftly and paused not at all.
But this I know; the Sun's a mighty, glowing
being and is like to burn all those who venture
near his presence. Unless Prince Kenai have
some magic charm, I doubt if the Sun will heed
him."</p>
<p>"That is the saddest news of all," sighed
Maiden Matanuska. "But even so, I shall
not weep but pray for him instead. When you
next see my prince, good Auk, tell him that all
my love is his, and I'll await his coming though
he remain a thousand years."</p>
<p>"I shall," replied the Auk, and soared away.</p>
<p>And so the Maiden Matanuska waited while
the time sped on. Wrapped in her feather
mantle, she wandered through the birches like
a lonely spirit, and the trees were grieved for her.
She still dreamed dreams and loved to think
about the time when she would greet her prince;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
when the light of day would banish all the gloom
and shadows of the Northland Kingdom. Still
years passed on, and still Prince Kenai came
not. King Tamna feared him dead or that
perhaps he had lost his way and was a wanderer
forlorn; but Maiden Matanuska knew no fears.</p>
<p>"The journey to the Sun is long, my father,"
she would say, "and my brave prince no magic
hath to make it short. He will return and bring
with him this wondrous traveler whom he
seeks, and what a pleasant place the Northland
Kingdom then will be!"</p>
<p>But as the time went by there came great
sadness in the Northland Kingdom. The good
King Tamna laid him down to sleep one night
and never waked again. All folk both high
and low mourned deeply, for good King Tamna
had been like a kindly father rather than a king.
When at last the time of mourning passed, Lord
Boreas, cousin to King Tamna, came to rule
the Northland Kingdom.</p>
<p>Now Lord Boreas was a cruel sovereign, a
tyrant, and the people were unhappy under
his rule. He made harsh laws, and if these laws
were not obeyed, he punished with severity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
Lord Boreas, it was whispered, had an evil power
over the icy winds and rivers in the Northland
Kingdom, and few dared resist his will. His
anger, it was said, had caused many a village
to be blown into the sea and noble cities to be
flooded with a rush of waters. But while the
rule of this harsh king fell hard on all alike, on
Maiden Matanuska it fell hardest. Lord Boreas
was her guardian. He scorned the simple customs
of the good King Tamna and straightway
ordered all things to his liking. He planned to
fell the Maiden Matanuska's forest and build
a city in its place.</p>
<p>"However, my sweet cousin," said Lord Boreas,
"I'll wait until the next mild season is at hand.
Then when the silver foxes come from their winter's
sleep, my hunters shall lay traps for them
and slay them every one. Their skins will sell for
gold, and for your marriage portion you shall
have a noble city and ten thousand chests of
gold, and I myself will marry you and make you
queen."</p>
<p>Though Maiden Matanuska's heart was sad,
and she wept bitter tears for her loved trees and
pets, she made no protest at her cousin's words.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>
She feared his wrath, and so she bowed her head
submissively. But when the palace slept and
all was still, wrapped in her feather mantle,
she stole softly out. Down through the shadowy
lanes and misty isles among the silver birches
she sped, until she reached the border of the
sea. Then through the gloom she peered to see
the sight of any sail; but no sail she saw.</p>
<p>"Oh, my beloved prince," she wept, "I fear
that when you come 'twill be too late. For
rather than to wed my cruel cousin, I'll fling
myself into the sea and die!"</p>
<p>"Now, Maiden Matanuska, what grave sorrow
can this be?" a gruff voice spoke beside
her. It was old Reynard, chief of all the silver
foxes. He had stolen from the burrow to learn
how went the season and to know when he might
waken all his sleeping tribe.</p>
<p>"Oh, Reynard, my good friend!" exclaimed
the maiden. "Since first you did begin your
winter's sleep, I have had many sorrows. My
father, good King Tamna, is no more, and now
my cruel cousin Boreas rules the Northland
Kingdom." She told her tale of sorrows, and
old Reynard listened, all alert.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
<p>"Without a doubt, your cruel cousin Boreas
hath an evil power over the winds and streams,"
said he, when she had finished, "but he shall
learn it is not simple to outwit the cunning fox.
Now in the past, as you, dear maiden, have
protected me and all my tribe from harm, so
will we now protect you in your need. Come,
follow me; do as I bid, and all will yet be well."
So saying, old Reynard then led the maiden
down beneath the earth to where the silver foxes
still slept their winter's sleep, and birch roots
wound about in and out.</p>
<p>"Now, Maiden Matanuska," said Reynard,
"if you will place a feather from your mantle
at the root of every tree, they will be safe from
cold and icy blasts, in spite of all Lord Boreas
in his wrath may do. Then when that's done,
wrap you all warmly in what's left of it and
rest you safely with my people. When Prince
Kenai comes I'll waken you."</p>
<p>The Maiden Matanuska did as Reynard bid,
and far beneath the earth she hid herself from
cruel Boreas. 'Twas well she did, for when her
cousin found her fled, his anger knew no bounds.
He sent great parties out to search the land,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
and he himself, with flaming torch in hand, set
out to seek her in the forest. Among the birch
trees he found traces, showing that the Maiden
Matanuska passed that way. Upon a branch
he found a scarlet ribbon she had worn, and
in the thorn-bush was caught a silken scarf;
but though he sought for hours and called
her name, Lord Boreas could not find the
maiden.</p>
<p>"Because I do not know the winding paths
among the trees as well as you, you think to
trick me, Maiden Matanuska," he cried at last,
in fury, "but you shall know my vengeance
now." Then climbing up the steep slopes of a
near-by mountain, and summoning all his powers
of evil, he commanded thus:</p>
<p>"Rise, rise, ye rivers that flow swiftly to the
sea, until the birchen forest in the valley be all
flooded with a mighty rush of waters! Then
blow, ye chill winds, from the east and north
until these waters to a solid wall of ice are all
transformed."</p>
<p>The rivers, obedient at his command, then
rose swiftly and overran their banks so that
soon the tallest trees were all submerged, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
nothing but a lake was seen. The winds began
to blow their wildest, and the lake became a
solid bank of ice that threw off chilling mists.</p>
<p>Then Boreas called the people of the Northland
Kingdom and addressed them thus: "Behold
the fate of Maiden Matanuska and beware!
For so shall perish all who dare defy me."</p>
<p>The people wept and mourned in secret for
the maiden whom they dearly loved, but there
were none who dared cry out against the cruel
Boreas.</p>
<h4>III</h4>
<p>Meanwhile Prince Kenai, bent upon his
quest, was wandering still in lands afar. Each
morning in the dawn he saw the wondrous
traveler that he sought rise in the eastern sky
and scatter clouds of darkness; and each evening,
when the day was done, he saw the wondrous
traveler set far in the west and take with him
the day. But though Prince Kenai journeyed
all around the earth and halfway back again,
he found no road to reach the Sun, and he was
sad. Still he continued on his way with hope
and courage.</p>
<p>It happened once, while he lay sleeping on a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>
mountain, an eagle wounded by a poison dart
dropped down beside him.</p>
<p>"Ah!" cried the eagle bitterly, "from the
great cloak of feathers which you wear, I thought
you to be one of my own race. But since you
are a man and I am wounded and can fly no
more, I must prepare to die. You'll take my
beak and claws to show your fellow men your
skill at hunting and stuff my body to adorn
your walls. Alas! That I, a prince of air,
should come to this!" the great bird moaned.</p>
<p>"Fear not that I shall take your life, good
eagle prince," said Prince Kenai. "For though
I am not of your race, I am a prince of earth, and
to my mind all princes, whether of the earth or
air, should be as brothers."</p>
<p>Prince Kenai fetched water from a near-by
spring and dressed the eagle's wound with healing
herbs. For many days he did the same
until the pain grew less, and by and by the
great bird's wound was healed.</p>
<p>"Now, brother," said the eagle, when he could
fly once more, "you've served me nobly, and in
my turn I shall serve you to prove my gratitude.
You told me of your quest to reach the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>
Sun, and I will tell you this. There is no road to
reach the Sun that mortal man may tread. The
way lies through the clouds, and indeed, 'tis only
I and all my brother eagles that have strength
to travel there. So get you on my back without
delay, good Prince Kenai, and we shall start."</p>
<p>Straight upward soared the eagle through
the clouds, and when the day was nearly done
they reached the splendid mansion of the Sun.
Good luck was theirs, because the wondrous
traveler had returned from his day's journey
round the world and was well pleased to see
them. He bade them welcome and asked the
reason of their visit.</p>
<p>"Oh, Golden Sun," said Prince Kenai, "far
in my land which is the Northland Kingdom, I
learned that you had power over night and
brought the light of day to lands wheresoever
you did turn your face. Therefore I set out to
seek you and entreat you to return with me
and shine upon the Northland Kingdom, which
is a land of night and darkness. All around the
world I've followed you in vain, and never
would have met you had not this good eagle
borne me thither on his wings."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>
<p>"Prince Kenai does not tell the reason why,"
exclaimed the eagle. "He saved my life when
it was in his power to slay me, and, therefore,
I have brought him hither, as was his wish."
The eagle told his tale, and when the Sun had
heard, he praised Prince Kenai.</p>
<p>"Now see," the Sun declared, "the mighty
power of a kindly deed. Had you, Prince
Kenai, slain this noble bird, as most men would
have done, he had not brought you to my mansion,
and you could not have begged this boon
of me. For your reward, I'll go with you.
To-morrow morning when I rise, we'll start
for this dark land, and thou, my eagle, bear
Prince Kenai on thy wings that he may all the
faster lead the way."</p>
<p>For many days these three companions journeyed
on through soft white clouds and summer
skies until thick, gloomy mists came into view.
The wind blew chill as though from fields of ice
and snow, and the dull skies were leaden gray.
From this, Prince Kenai knew the Northland
Kingdom was at hand, although a pall of darkness
overhung the landscape, and nothing could
be seen.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 509px;">
<img src="images/i004.jpg" width="509" height="800" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption">For many days these three companions journeyed
on through soft white clouds.—<i>Page 86.</i></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>
<p>"I'll soon change this!" exclaimed the Sun,
and then began to shine full on the Northland
Kingdom. Straightway all the scene began to
change as though by magic. The lowering
mists dissolved and rolled away in rosy clouds
or formed gay-colored rainbows in the skies;
the skies themselves changed to bright blue, all
flecked with white instead of leaden gray. The
birds of passage wakened from their sleep and
sang their sweetest songs. Upon the mountain
side the snow began to melt away, and
many-colored flowers bloomed where it had
been. No bank of ice or snow, however high or
deep, was able to withstand the genial warmth
of all the beams the Sun poured down. The
wall of ice that bound the birchen forest broke
and with a roar plunged down into the sea.
Then upon the waves were seen a thousand
glittering banks of ice that seemed like noble
palaces afloat. The birch trees all began to bud
and bloom with silvery leaves that rustled
softly; and green grass, thick with violets, went
creeping underfoot.</p>
<p>On learning what had come to pass, old Reynard
wakened Maiden Matanuska and led her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
from the burrows until she stood once more
upon the border of the sea.</p>
<p>"Oh, my beloved Prince Kenai!" she cried,
as she beheld him. "Though in your absence
I have suffered many sorrows, now that you are
returned, I'll soon forget them all. How marvelous
is the light of day! And how divine the
Sun!"</p>
<p>"And tell me, maiden," said Prince Kenai,
"now that you see all around the light of day,
dost love it still as well as in the old dark days
when you did dream of it?"</p>
<p>"Indeed, I find the light which you bring
more lovely than my wildest dreams," she
answered. "To see the smiling skies, the blue
sea all a-sparkle with great glittering banks of
ice, the green grass thick with flowers everywhere,
and over all the Sun shine down in
wealth of golden beams—I knew not how to
dream a dream so fair; and next to thee, my
prince, I love the light of day above all else."</p>
<p>Here they heard shouts of cheer and praise,
and soon great multitudes of folk went running
through the forest. "A miracle! A marvel
'tis," cried they, "that Maiden Matanuska is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
alive!" And then, in deep amazement, they
listened to the tales the Maiden Matanuska and
Prince Kenai told. Such tales were rare, even
in those olden days of wonders. When both
were done, the Chief Counselor of the Northland
Kingdom spoke.</p>
<p>"Now listen, all good folk," said he, "and
learn that in this very hour the cruel Boreas,
fearing the great power of the Sun, has fled the
Northland Kingdom, and we are now without a
king. Whom shall we choose?"</p>
<p>"Prince Kenai! Prince Kenai!" cried the
people. "'Twas he who gave our Maiden
Matanuska the magic robe that saved her life;
and he it was who brought the Sun to brighten
our dark land. He was our benefactor; let him
be our king!"</p>
<p>"Wilt be our king, Prince Kenai?" asked the
counselor.</p>
<p>"If Maiden Matanuska marry me and be
your queen, I shall be king," said Prince Kenai.
"What say you, my loved one?"</p>
<p>"I'll marry you, my prince," she answered,
"for I do love you truly. Our feather mantles
which have so nobly served us in the past shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
be our wedding robes; the birds our royal
choristers; the birches tall our stately chapel
walls, and the blue sky above all, glowing with
the Golden Sun, shall be our ceiling. Your good
eagle and my good Reynard shall stand beside us
and let all folk both high and low be bidden to
our feast to wish us joy and happiness."</p>
<p>All things were done as Maiden Matanuska
ordered, and they were married on that very
day. A royal feast was made, and sports and
games were set; indeed there was a holiday that
lasted forty days. The Sun was bidden to
attend, and so well pleased was he that he
stayed in the sky above the Northland Kingdom
and set not once until the forty days had
passed, and all that time was burning daylight.</p>
<p>Then, when the holiday was done at last, the
Sun took leave. "Farewell, all folk, and you
good king and queen," said he. "And though
night come when I have turned my face from
you, fear not. For in the morning I will come
again and bring with me the light of day."
Which thing he did.</p>
<p>And from that time the Northland Kingdom
was no more a land of darkness and of gloom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>
The overhanging mists returned no more, and
when 't was night, the Moon and Stars shone
softly down. The Sun his face turned toward
there every day, and though his beams were
pale and wan when he was in the Southland, he
stayed each summer forty days and nights and
set not once; which custom he continues to this
very day.</p>
<p>Prince Kenai and the Maiden Matanuska
reigned many years and were beloved by all
their subjects. Though scores of years passed,
by virtue of their feather mantles they were
always young and fair as on the day they wore
them first. Indeed, 'tis said they never died,
though folk who dwell still in the Northland
Kingdom differ as to what became of them.
Some say that when Prince Kenai and Maiden
Matanuska grew weary of this life at last, they
wrapped their feather mantles round them, and
borne upon the eagle's wings, set off to visit at
the mansion of the Sun. But other folk declare
that on dark misty nights a pair resembling
them are often seen to wander through the dim
aisles of a certain birchen forest where the silver
foxes are found.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
<h3>THE LITTLE TREE THAT NEVER GREW UP</h3>
<p>Long, long ago, when the world was very
young, so young that the flowers and trees and
grasses had voices and talked with each other,
or sang with the breezes that blew softly around
them, there lived in the midst of a forest a very
little tree.</p>
<p>Now, though the Little Tree was straight as
an arrow and had glossy green leaves, she was
the most unhappy little tree in all the world.
She could not sing with the winds, and neither
could she speak to the other trees around her.
These other trees often spoke to the Little Tree
and asked her questions. When she did not
answer, they thought the Little Tree stupid and
sulky. These other trees that could sing and
speak began to grow tall, and after a time they
grew so high their topmost branches seemed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>
touch the sky. Then, even though the Little
Tree had spoken, they could never have heard
her. These other trees grew tall as giants.
The Little Tree grew each year, it is true; but
she grew so slightly that it could scarcely be
noticed. She was greatly ashamed of her small
stature.</p>
<p>As the seasons went on, the branches of the
tall trees grew so very thick that they shut out
the light down in the forest. Then the Little
Tree could not see the sun at all, and one by
one the ferns and flowers at her roots died from
the dampness, and the Little Tree was all
alone! Nothing broke the silence of the dark,
still forest save the calls of the birds when they
returned each year to build their nests, or the
sound of the branches swaying in the breeze.
Then there came at last one soft spring day
when the Little Tree waked from her winter's
sleep and began to sing. She was so happy
that she sang for hours; but alas! there was no
other tree to hear her or to answer her song.
So the Little Tree, though she now possessed
the voice for which she had longed, was more
lonely than ever before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
<p>At night, when all the world was sleeping,
and while the Night Wind roamed the forest,
the Little Tree would weep softly to herself
because she was so sad. Then, after a time,
her lament grew to be a song, a very sad song,
it is true; but oh, so very beautiful! The
Night Wind, who was fond of singing, came to
listen each evening for the Little Tree's lament,
and as he blew upon his way, he carried her
song to the Stars. Now it happened one night
the Little Tree was so sad and lonely that she
could not sing; instead, she wept until her tiny
branches shook with sobbing.</p>
<p>"Oh," mourned the Little Tree, "I am so
lonely here! I wish I could die. If only I
might burn on some cottager's hearth or warm
poor children's hands; but alas, I am the most
useless tree that grows!"</p>
<p>The Night Wind heard the Little Tree sobbing,
and going close, whispered softly to her:</p>
<p>"Oh, Little Tree, please do not be so sad.
What does it matter that your singing voice
came after all the other trees had grown too tall
to hear you, or that you are such a very little
tree? Your voice is so sweet and lovely that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
the birds of this forest now model their choicest
songs on yours. Each night I carry your songs
to the Stars, and they too have sung your lovely
music."</p>
<p>"Oh, Night Wind, do you tell me true?"
begged the Little Tree. "For I am such a
little tree, how can the Stars hear me?"</p>
<p>"They hear you thus, my Little Tree," replied
the Night Wind, and brushed aside the
branches of the tallest trees.</p>
<p>Then looking up, the Little Tree beheld the
Stars high up in the heavens shining down on
her. They seemed to smile and beckon as she
watched, and so she sang her sweetest songs to
please them. The Night Wind and the Stars
themselves sang with the Little Tree, and made
such lovely music that had any one been listening,
they would have thought they heard sweet
strains from paradise. But all this happened
when the world was very young, and there were
but few people dwelling on it.</p>
<p>"And now, my Little Tree," the Night Wind
said, when he had dropped the branches of the
tall trees once again, "pray do not wish for
some woodman to cut you down. I would miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
you sadly, if you were to go away from the
forest."</p>
<p>Farther on in the forest, the Night Wind met
the Spirits of the Woods. They were two
sister spirits robed in floating garments made of
mists. They roamed the forest and cared for
all the trees. They knew how long each tree
would dwell in the forest and when the woodman's
ax would fell it. The Spirits of the
Woods possessed a magic bag of dreams, and
from this bag the Night Wind begged a dream
for the Little Tree.</p>
<p>"Ah," he pleaded, "the Little Tree is so sad
and lonely, the other trees have grown so far
away they cannot hear her sing, and neither can
she talk with them. She would dearly love a
beautiful dream from this dream bag of yours,
Spirit."</p>
<p>"Ah, Night Wind," replied the Spirit doubtfully,
"there is but one dream left, and that is
the Little Tree's dream of the future. If we
give it to her, you must promise that you will
not answer her questions concerning it. For it
is a strange dream and will puzzle her greatly.
Will you promise?"</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 509px;">
<img src="images/i005.jpg" width="509" height="800" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption">From this bag the Night Wind begged a dream
for the Little Tree.—<i>Page 96.</i></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>
<p>"I promise," said the Night Wind, and blew
upon his way.</p>
<p>And after that night, the Little Tree was not
lonely or sad. She never became a joyous tree—her
youth had been too sorrowful for that—but
she was content. Each night, when all the
forest filled with creeping shadows, she sang her
songs to the Stars, and she came to love the
Night Wind dearly. Each night the Little
Tree dreamed the dream the Spirits of the
Woods had given her, and strange to tell, it was
always the same dream. It was such a pleasant,
lovely dream that sometimes the Little Tree
was puzzled, and wondered whether she really
lived in her beautiful dream, and only dreamed
that she lived in the forest.</p>
<p>Each night the Little Tree dreamed she
floated far away, until she reached a palace
which was set on a high hill. Within the palace
was a great hall richly hung with silken tapestries
and gleaming softly with light that shone
from carved crystal bowls. Within this palace
hall a great king and his court were seated, and
sweet strains of music floated on the breeze.
But the strangest thing of all was this: the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>
Little Tree often thought she heard her own
songs in this palace hall. She was not sure, but
she was greatly puzzled. She knew that she
had dwelled always in the forest, and how could
she know the music of noble lords and ladies?
Then one night in her dream the Little Tree was
startled to hear the sound of her own voice
singing the songs she had so often sung to the
Stars. She pressed eagerly to the palace window
to see within, but because of her branches
she could not go very near, and she could not
see. Then came the dawn, and her dream
floated far away.</p>
<p>All through the day, the Little Tree called
again and again to the tall trees and asked
them of her curious dream; but, of course, they
could not hear her. She waited eagerly to see
the daylight fade, and when the Night Wind
came, she questioned him:</p>
<p>"Oh, Night Wind," cried the Little Tree,
"will you tell me of my dream? I am sure I
heard my own voice singing; but how could it
be that noble lords and ladies within that
palace hall would listen to me? For am I not
the least of little trees?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
<p>But the Night Wind did not tell her truly.
He had given his promise that he would not,
and so he answered her, saying:</p>
<p>"Now that I do not know, my dear, but
though you are indeed the least of little trees,
you are the only Little Tree in all this world to
me. Of noble lords and ladies and their ways
I know nothing, for do they not shut me from
their homes and hearths when I would enter
and warm myself? But now, Little Tree, it
grows late; will you not sing for me?"</p>
<p>Thus with the Night Wind and the Stars for
company, the Little Tree lived on for many
years. From them she learned much wisdom
and came to know about the great world which
lay beyond the forest, and that all trees would
one day go there. And all this time the world
was growing older, and the forest was not so
silent as it had been in the time when the
Little Tree first dwelled there. Sometimes the
woodcutter's ax rang out, and the Little Tree
would hear a great tree come crashing down to
earth.</p>
<p>"Oh, why must I leave the freedom of the
forest and be torn limb from limb in some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
wretched mill!" cried one of the tall trees, as
he fell close by the Little Tree one day.</p>
<p>"Ah," replied the Little Tree softly, "you
would not wish to dwell forever in this forest,
would you? In the world there is much that a
great tree may do to bring happiness."</p>
<p>"Who is it that speaks to me thus gently?"
asked the Fallen Tree. "I do not know the
voice, although I thought I knew all trees growing
in this forest, for I was among the first trees
to grow here."</p>
<p>"And so was I," replied the Little Tree. "Do
you not remember the Little Tree that could
neither speak nor sing? I am she. For though
I am ages and ages old, I am scarcely taller than
yonder little fir of ten seasons."</p>
<p>"In those days we thought you stupid and
sulky, Little Tree," replied the Fallen Tree,
"but by your speech I now can see that we
were wrong. Who has taught you all your
wisdom, and have you not been lonely all these
years?"</p>
<p>"Indeed, I was very lonely," said the Little
Tree. "Even after I could sing, it was no better.
The flowers and ferns had died, and there was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
none to hear me or talk to me. One night I
wept and wished to die, and the Night Wind,
who is of a kind heart, cheered me with words
of praise. Since then I have never been sad,
for I have had a lovely dream each night, and I
have sung to the Stars."</p>
<p>But this the Fallen Tree could not believe,
and so he answered sharply:</p>
<p>"Now, Little Tree, how can that be? Tall
as I was, and high as I stood when I was monarch
of this forest, never once could I send my
songs to the Stars, although I tried to do so
many times. Now surely such a little tree as
you could not accomplish what a monarch failed
to do! You have learned wisdom without
doubt, and you sing very sweetly, I daresay;
but take care lest your dreaming lead you in
untruthful ways."</p>
<p>"Oh, pray believe me!" cried the Little Tree.
"Wait only until the twilight comes, and the
Night Wind himself will tell you so."</p>
<p>"More foolish talk!" scoffed the Fallen Tree.
"The Night Wind is but a feeble creature to a
monarch of the forest, such as I. When I stood
aloft in all my glory, the Night Wind could not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>
bend the smallest twig of mine unless I willed
it so."</p>
<p>"That is true, my friends," spoke a gentle
voice beside them. It was the voice of the
Night Wind, for all unknown to them, darkness
had fallen. "Because you were so proud and
held your branches firm against my gentle
breezes, never once did I carry your songs to
the Stars; but I have done so for the Little
Tree." Then he brushed aside the branches of
the tall trees, and the Little Tree sang to her
shining audience so far above in heaven. She
sang until the Fallen Tree slept, and then the
Night Wind gently dropped the branches until
the forest was all dark once more. Then he
kissed the Little Tree farewell and blew upon
his way.</p>
<p>Now, as more people came to dwell upon the
earth, more trees were needed every year to
shelter them. The forest was no longer dark
and silent. The woodman's ax rang out, and
here and there the sun shone down where groves
of noble trees had once stood. But even so,
the ferns and flowers and grasses did not bloom
again. The woodcutters made dusty roads and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>
trails, and heaps of dead leaves eddied in the
breeze. At last one day a certain king gave
orders that all remaining trees of this forest
should be cut down. He planned to build a
noble city where the forest stood. Now charcoal
fires flared all night, and herds of oxen
tramped the whole day through, and soon a
dreary waste of withering branches whose brown
leaves crackled dismally was all that remained
of the noble forest.</p>
<p>"Ah, Little Tree," the Night Wind mourned,
"there is no longer any need for me. When the
forest stood, it was my work and pleasure to
brush the fallen leaves and lull the trees to sleep.
Indeed, were it not for you, I would be desolate.
Each night I tremble lest I shall not find you
awaiting me."</p>
<p>"Ah, Night Wind," replied the Little Tree
softly, "it is because you love me that you fear
to lose me; but do not be troubled. I have seen
great trees fall to my right and to my left, and
small trees likewise, yet no one seems to want
me. I am such a little tree; I am sure that
you will find me here forever. That does not
grieve me, even so, for I have come to love you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
dearly, and it would break my heart to be
parted from you."</p>
<p>Then one dull winter's day, the Little Tree
felt a human hand laid on her slender trunk,
and she knew her fate had come. She was
such a little tree that it took but two blows to
fell her. When the Night Wind came again, he
found the Little Tree moaning with the pain of
her wounds. He caressed her tenderly and
begged her to say her pain was better.</p>
<p>"Oh, Night Wind, the pain is truly better
since you have come," whispered the Little
Tree bravely, and died in his arms.</p>
<p>When the Night Wind knew the Little Tree
was gone, he flung himself down on the earth
beside her, and wept and wailed so bitterly that
the Spirits of the Woods came from the ends of
the world to see what troubled him.</p>
<p>"Ah," sighed the first Spirit. "How sad
it is the Night Wind should be parted from
the Little Tree. Could we not make him a
mortal, so that he may meet her again in the
world?"</p>
<p>"Agreed," replied the second Spirit. So
while the Night Wind slept, the Spirits of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
Woods changed him to a mortal and called him
Robello.</p>
<p>Thus it was that some time later a youth
called Robello came to dwell on the outskirts
of the noble city which stood in place of the
great forest. Now this Robello did not till the
soil, and neither did he herd flocks on the hillsides.
Instead, at evenings, he played his
violin so sweetly and so sadly that some folk
could not tell his music from the wailing of the
winds. People from that region, as they passed
his cottage at nightfall, paused to listen to
Robello's playing, and many a one wiped a tear
from his eye at the memories it stirred. Robello's
fame began to go abroad, and wise men
learned in the arts of song declared that if
Robello but possessed a fine violin, the world
could hear no better music.</p>
<p>Now, at this time it happened that the king
(the same who had ordered the great forest cut
down) received the gift of a rare violin. The
maker of this violin vowed that its like was not
to be found the whole world over, for when
'twas touched with the bow, it sent forth a
sobbing sound like the cry of a broken heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>
The maker of this rare violin besought the king
and begged that no mere fiddler be allowed to
touch it, and that a music master should play it
always. The king agreed and accordingly commanded
that all who played the violin should
appear at the palace. Robello went in company
of a thousand other players.</p>
<p>The palace of the king was set on a high hill,
and as Robello entered, he seemed dimly to
remember it, although he knew well that he had
never been within its gates before. The king
and court sat waiting within a great hall richly
hung with silken tapestries and gleaming with
lights that shone softly through carved crystal
bowls. The violin players were gathered together,
and to Robello fell the lot of playing
first.</p>
<p>The king himself placed the violin in Robello's
arms, and slowly, as though in a dream, Robello
drew the bow across the strings. With the first
notes wakened memories that had long been
slumbering. Then as he played, Robello felt
the great hall grow dim, until at last it seemed
to fade away, and he saw naught but a vision:
the deep dark forest just at dusk, and he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>
once more the Night Wind caressing the Little
Tree.</p>
<p>"Ah, my Little Tree," he whispered, as he
bent lovingly above the violin. "This is the
dream that you did love so dearly. Do you
remember me?"</p>
<p>"Ah, Night Wind," sang the Little Tree,
"although they call thee by another name, to
me thou wilt be the Night Wind forever. He
who fashioned me thus spoke truly when he said
I sobbed like a broken heart, for my heart has
been broken with longing for thee. Let us sing
the songs we sang to the Stars so long ago."</p>
<p>Then Robello played as he had never played
before, and the violin sang as never violin had
sung before. When the last notes died away,
there were tears in the eyes of the noble lords
and ladies, and the king sat silent for a time.
At last he spoke, and ordered that all other
players be sent away, and declared that none
save Robello should ever touch this rare violin.</p>
<p>So Robello remained in the palace of the
king and was made chief musician to his majesty,
and never had the Little Tree sung so
sweetly in the forest as she sang now at Robello's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>
magic touch. Robello played at all court festivals,
and nothing had such power to soothe
the king as had Robello's music when he played
his violin at nightfall.</p>
<p>Then came a sad day when his servants went
to waken him and found Robello dead, his beloved
violin clasped closely in his arms. The
king and all his court mourned the passing of
Robello for many days. Then one evening,
just at dusk, they buried him with his beloved
violin still clasped closely in his arms, and
strewed his grave with boughs of trees. And
in that region, to this day, there are some folk
who say that when night falls Robello can still
be heard playing his violin within the palace
hall; but others say this is not right; it is the
Night Wind calling softly to the Little Tree that
never grew up.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
<h3>THE TALE OF PUNCHINELLO</h3>
<p>There lived once long ago, in days of jesters
and court fools and harlequins, a certain clown
called Punchinello. This Punchinello, like all
others of his trade, whitened his face and painted
it in grotesque fashion. He wore gay satin
robes of many colors all hung with silver bells
that jingled when he danced, and pom-pom
slippers turned up at the toes. This Punchinello
was a clown of clowns, and his droll dances
and his merry tricks and songs had made thousands
laugh.</p>
<p>Punchinello traveled around the world in
company with a circus. Whenever this circus
reached a city, it formed a great parade before
it entered. Then would the people throng the
streets and highways, eager for the show. They
clapped their hands when lions roaring in their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>
cages and elephants led by their keepers passed
along; but when this famous Punchinello, prancing
and twirling, came in view, the crowds cheered
wildly with applause.</p>
<p>"Oh, welcome! Welcome, Punchinello!"
they would shout.</p>
<p>The ladies threw him flowers and children
blew him kisses. Kings and queens had often
hailed him thus, for Punchinello pleased all folk.
Those who were sad and those who sorrowed
often sent for Punchinello when the circus show
was done, and he would dance and sing to cheer
them. But for this service he would take no
gold or present. So though he grew to fame,
this Punchinello grew not rich.</p>
<p>"It is enough that I can make sad faces glad,"
said Punchinello, and wrapping his great cloak
about him, he would steal away, leaving happiness
behind him.</p>
<p>"My store of wealth lies in the golden smiles
my antics bring," he often said, "and when my
merry songs and dances please the world no
more, I shall be poor indeed." But with his
light, fantastic dancing, and his songs and jests,
with his twirlings and his leapings,—was it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>
likely that the world would ever cease to smile
on Punchinello? The world is always fond of
fun and laughter.</p>
<p>"Punchinello is the greatest man in all the
world," some folk said when they had seen him
dance and heard him sing.</p>
<p>"That is not right," said others. "He would
be emperor if that were true; but Punchinello
is the greatest man in all the circus."</p>
<p>"But neither is that right," still others said.
"For if he were, he would be owner of the circus.
But Punchinello is the greatest clown in all the
world." And on this all folk agreed.</p>
<p>Now on its way about the world, the circus
chanced to journey to a city where a king and
queen held court. These royal folk and all
their court watched the gay procession from
their balconies and were delighted. The king
and queen sent heralds, saying on a certain night
that they would grace the show and to be sure
that Master Punchinello played before the royal
box. Then as the pageant wound upon its way,
with banners flying and with music of the fife
and drum, they passed a building where the
sick were tended. It was a hospital. No eager<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>
faces gave them welcome here, and lest they
should disturb the sick, the fife and drum ceased
playing. Punchinello fell to walking soberly
along. Suddenly he chanced to spy a tiny,
wistful face pressed to the window pane. Then
Punchinello bounded lightly up the ladder, and
leaping into the room, began to dance and twirl
about to please this little child.</p>
<p>"And does my dancing please you, little one?"
asked Punchinello when he paused.</p>
<p>"Oh, yes, sir!" cried the child. His name
was Beppo. "Please dance again for me. It
makes my pain grow better."</p>
<p>"Alas! I cannot, little one," said Punchinello,
pointing to the circus that was passing.
"I must make haste to join my friends again."</p>
<p>"Then would you come to-night when it is
dark and dance for me?" begged little Beppo.
"The pain is always worse when it is dark, you
know."</p>
<p>"Indeed, I'll come, my little one," said kindly
Punchinello, and his gayly painted face grew
sad. "Just leave your window open, little one,
and I'll steal in and dance for you and sing you
to the land of happy dreams."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>
<p>And that night, when the circus show was
done and all the lights were out, while other tired
players slept, this kindly Punchinello wrapped
his cloak about him and stole out underneath
the stars to visit little Beppo. The little lame
child was delighted with his songs and dances,
so kindly Punchinello vowed that he would come
each night and do the same, while the circus remained
in the city. Each night the child lay
waiting for him eagerly, and how he hugged
and kissed this Punchinello when at last he
came!</p>
<p>"Last night I dreamed of running through
the woods," cried little Beppo to him one night.
"I saw tall trees that seemed to touch the sky
and heard the birds sing in their nests. I never
had a dream like this before, and your sweet
songs did give it to me, Punchinello. Come,
dance and sing for me."</p>
<p>Then Punchinello danced his best. His slippered
feet like lightning flew; the bells upon his
robes rang out, and he would twirl upon his toes
until his many-colored baggy robes stood out
and he seemed like a brilliant human top. He
jumped, he twirled, he leaped high in the air<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>
and bowed before the little cot as though it were
a royal throne. When he at last grew weary,
he would stop, but then the child would beg for
more.</p>
<p>"Oh, please, dear Punchinello," he would
say, "just once again. It makes my pain grow
less to see you whirl." Then Punchinello could
not refuse, and he would whirl and twirl again
until he was too weary to do more. Folding
little Beppo in his arms, he sang him lullabies
until the child fell fast asleep. And so the nights
went on.</p>
<p>The nurses noticed that little Beppo's cheeks
grew plump and that his eyes grew bright. He
said his pain was better, and they thought it
was the medicine. They knew nothing of this
Punchinello. He entered each night through
the window and departed the same way. The
circus folk said Punchinello was not well and
told him he must rest.</p>
<p>"Our show would be as nothing if it were not
for you, Punchinello," they declared. "To-morrow
the king and queen will come to see us
play, so rest you well to-night that you may
dance your gayest for them." Though Punchi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>nello
promised, late that night, when all the
world lay sleeping, he stole away to dance for
little Beppo.</p>
<p>"Oh, Punchinello!" cried the little lame child.
"I'll tell you of my dream. I dreamed I wore
a spotted satin robe like yours and pom-pom
slippers turned up at the toes. I dreamed I
danced and twirled as lightly as you do yourself.
Now is that not a pleasant dream for one who
cannot even walk?"</p>
<p>"It is, my little one," said Punchinello.
"Come sit upon my knee and wind your arms
about my neck. Now tell me, has your pain
been less to-day?"</p>
<p>"Much less, much less, good Punchinello,"
said the child. "Indeed, I think your dances
and your songs have charmed it all away. I
think about my lovely dreams by day, and lie
and wait for you by night, and have no time
for pain, it seems. Come dance for me, my
Punchinello."</p>
<p>"To-night I'll sing instead, my little Beppo,"
answered Punchinello. He was weary, and when
he whirled his head grew dizzy. "I'll sing you
a song of ships that sail through seas of clouds;
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>and trees as sing the world to slow sleep when winds
do blow."</p>
<p>But little Beppo wished to see him dance.
"See, Punchinello," said he softly, "around your
neck I tie my locket. It is my only treasure.
They say my mother placed it on me when she
died. It has a bluebird painted on it which is
the only bird I've ever seen. Now wilt thou
dance for me, dear Punchinello?" He kissed
the clown's queer painted face, and Punchinello
danced.</p>
<p>And never had he danced so well before. As
though he heard afar the music that the fairies
make at midnight, he waltzed and twirled faster
and yet faster, pausing not at all. He pranced,
he leaped and spun upon his toe as though he
were a dancing doll wound up to dance so long.
The little lame child watched him eagerly, and
as he watched, as though he too heard magic
strains from fairyland, he sprung up from his
cot and straightway danced and whirled about
in Punchinello's footsteps.</p>
<p>"Look, look, dear Punchinello!" little Beppo
cried. "I am no longer lame but dance as well
as you yourself."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 509px;">
<img src="images/i006.jpg" width="509" height="800" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption">"Look, look, dear Punchinello!" little Beppo
cried. "I am no longer lame."—<i>Page 116.</i>
</span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
<p>But Punchinello, whirling like a leaf, made no
reply. He sang his gayest songs and leaped so
lightly in the air, there seemed to be a thousand
harlequins, and little Beppo followed lightly
after. Suddenly the child stopped, for Punchinello
was no longer dancing.</p>
<p>"Oh, my good Punchinello!" he exclaimed.
"Why did you run away? I'll follow after
you," and down the ladder he swiftly sped. He
saw the white tents shining in the moonlight.
"Indeed, I'll join the circus with my Punchinello,"
said he to himself, "and travel around
the world with him."</p>
<p>But alas! Poor Punchinello had not stolen
off, as little Beppo thought. For while in his
wild dance that charmed the lame child's pain
away, poor Punchinello felt himself grow ill.
His head grew giddy, and at last he fell upon
the floor, and there the nurses found him in the
morning. They placed poor Punchinello on the
bed where little Beppo had lain for so many
years, and wondered whence the clown had come.</p>
<p>And so it was the king and queen who went
next day to see the show were displeased because
the famous Punchinello was not there to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>
dance and jest for them. No other clowns or
harlequins would please their royal majesties,
and so they left in anger. They bade the circus
owner strip his tents and in that very hour depart,
and when another morning came, our little
Beppo found himself in a strange city with the
circus folk. At first these circus folk were puzzled
what to do with him, but as the child could
dance and cut droll capers, they made for him
a spotted satin suit and gave him pom-pom
slippers turned up at the toes. They would have
called him Little Punchinello, but this the child
would not allow.</p>
<p>"Good Punchinello was my friend," said
little Beppo. "And 'twas from him I learned
to dance before I ever walked. I will not take
his name, but I will seek him everywhere until
I find him."</p>
<p>Some circus folk thought Punchinello had
run off to join a show of traveling jugglers, and
others thought perhaps he had grown tired of
dancing and grimacing. Then by and by they
ceased to talk of him, and all forgot him, save
little Beppo.</p>
<p>Meanwhile poor Punchinello lay in a raging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>
fever. The nurses thought that he would die,
for he was very ill. But after a long time the
fever left him, and then they knew he would
grow better. He asked one day for little Beppo,
but they could tell him nothing of the child.</p>
<p>"We came to waken him one morning, but
the child was gone and you were lying ill," said
they. "We could not see how this could be,
for little Beppo was too lame to walk; but
though we searched the city, he could not be
found."</p>
<p>Another day poor Punchinello asked about
the circus, and again the nurses shook their
heads.</p>
<p>"The circus folk have gone long since," said
they. "The king was angry with them and bade
them go in haste, 'tis said. We cannot say
which way they went."</p>
<p>When Punchinello was all well at last; he rose
and donned his many-colored robes that jingled
when he walked. He had grown thin and pale,
and they became him poorly, but he had not
money to buy others. He wrapped his great
cloak all about him and started out to earn his
bread. Poor Punchinello was too weak to dance;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>
he could not plow or dig; he had not been so
trained. And so at last this famous Punchinello
stood upon the highways and sang for pennies
that good-natured people threw to him.</p>
<p>"I am the famous Punchinello," he would
sometimes say. "Have you not heard of famous
Punchinello of the circus?"</p>
<p>But those who heard him laughed in scorn.
"If you be famous Punchinello of the circus,"
they would say, "why sing you then for coppers
like a beggar, and where is the circus? You
are not Punchinello, but a fraud."</p>
<p>Thus poor and friendless, Punchinello started
out to seek the circus. His wanderings led him
into many lands, and often he met folk who told
him that the circus had passed there. But
Punchinello, journeying afoot, could never travel
fast enough to overtake the circus. His pom-pom
slippers soon were torn by stones along the
highway, and he went barefoot. His satin robe
of many colors faded and grew worn. Punchinello
patched here with yarn and there with
bits of leather cloth or sacking, until the colors
had all fled, and it was naught but rags sewn
all together. Poor Punchinello danced no more,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>
for ragged robes and dancing do not fit; but
even so, his voice was sweet and clear as ever.</p>
<p>"So I am not yet poor, despite my rags," he
would say bravely to himself. "For yesterday
I caught a golden smile from one who flung a
copper; and who knows? Perhaps to-day I
may again be favored."</p>
<p>Then one day in his wanderings Punchinello
awakened to the music of the fife and drum.
He saw gay banners flying and hurried to the
highway with the crowds. It was the circus he
had sought so long, and as he saw his old friends
marching by, poor Punchinello's eyes filled with
tears of joy. The lion tamers with their roaring
beasts strode by, the elephants in scarlet blankets
decked, the jugglers next, and then a little
dancing clown who stepped and pranced in
drollest fashion.</p>
<p>"Oh, welcome, Beppo! Welcome!" cried the
crowds, and Punchinello saw it was the lame
child he had known.</p>
<p>He darted from the crowd and cried, "Oh,
little Beppo, dost remember me? I am good
Punchinello."</p>
<p>But here the circus folk protested. "Be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>
off! Be off! You bunch of rags!" cried they.
"Our Punchinello was no beggar, and you are
not he."</p>
<p>"I swear I am!" cried Punchinello. "Do you
not know me, little Beppo?"</p>
<p>"When I was ill and could not walk," the
child replied, "a clown called Punchinello cured
me of my lameness by his merry songs and ways;
but his face I know not. He came always in the
night. When he danced, he danced so swiftly
that a million harlequins there seemed to be
about me: and when he held me in his arms, I hid
my head against his shoulder, because I loved
him dearly."</p>
<p>"Do you remember this, then, little one?"
asked poor Punchinello, and showed the bluebird
locket, "the only treasure you did own,
and which you gave to me?"</p>
<p>"I do, and you are my good Punchinello!"
little Beppo cried, and flung his arms about him.
He kissed the shabby creature and wrapped him
in his own fine scarlet cloak to hide the rags.
"How I have sought the world for you, dear
Punchinello, to tell you of my gratitude; but I
could never find you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p>
<p>The circus folk went running and crowded
round the pair. "Oh, welcome! Welcome, Punchinello!"
they exclaimed and shook his hand.
"A thousand welcomes. We have missed you
sadly and now you will be our clown again."</p>
<p>"But little Beppo is your clown. What of
him?" asked Punchinello.</p>
<p>"Oh, we shall both be clowns!" declared the
child, "like father and like son. Together we
shall dance those dances that you taught me
and sing those songs with which you charmed
the world."</p>
<p>And so this Punchinello found himself once
more in satin robes of many colors, all jingling
merrily with bells, and pom-pom slippers turned
up at the toes. His face he whitened and then
painted it in grotesque fashion, and with his
little Beppo he danced that night and made his
old-time capers and grimaces.</p>
<p>"Well done! Well done! Good Punchinello!"
cried the people. "We have missed you
sorely, but enjoy you all the more for missing
you." They laughed and cheered him wildly
until the show was done.</p>
<p>"And now," said Punchinello, as he laid him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>
down to rest that night, "I am the richest man
in all the world. A thousand golden smiles
were mine to-night, and better still I have the
love and gratitude of little Beppo whom I dearly
love. What more than that could Punchinello
ask? And so good night!"</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
<h3>THE STRANGE TALE OF BROWN BEAR</h3>
<p>Long, long ago, in the very far north, there
lived a mammoth Brown Bear. Never in all
the world was seen such a gigantic creature.
Brown Bear was so tall his eyes looked over tops
of trees, and his footprints were so deep that a
grown man could stand full height in them.
They were great pits.</p>
<p>Now Brown Bear owned a gold mine so rich
that the king envied it. Also Brown Bear loved
gold exceedingly, but as he had no hands he
could not dig for it. Therefore he lay in wait
for travelers journeying through the forest, and
seizing them, he would carry them off to be his
slaves and dig his gold. All folk suffered from
this cruel custom,—the rich and poor, the high
and low, the young and old. The king of that
land offered rich rewards to the hunter who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>
would slay this monster or to the trapper who
would snare him. But no arrow was made
strong enough to pierce the hide of Brown Bear
and no trap could hold him. So he continued
to carry off all captured folk to his gold mine
underneath the mountain side. 'Twas said that
Brown Bear had as many slaves as there were
subjects left in the kingdom. 'Twas also said,
the walls of Brown Bear's cave were lined so
thick with gold that they outshone the sun.</p>
<p>It happened one evening that a poor peasant
returning to his hut missed his little child. His
wife had lately died, and there was no one at
home to tend the little one. He asked the neighbors
of the child and learned that it had last
been seen running toward the forest. In deep
anxiety, the peasant hurried to the forest, but
though he searched all night and called, he could
not find his little one. When morning came at
last and it was light, he saw the child's bright
scarlet cloak beneath a tree and not far off the
mighty footprints of Brown Bear.</p>
<p>"Alas!" the peasant wept, "my little one
is carried off by this great monster. I do not
wish to live!" He seized the little scarlet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>
cloak, and weeping and lamenting pressed it to
his heart. Then when he could weep no more,
he rose and began to follow in the path of Brown
Bear's footprints.</p>
<p>"I'll seek this Brown Bear in his cave,"
thought he, "and if he make a slave of me, I
shall at least be with my little one, and if he
kill me, I care not."</p>
<p>For many hours then the peasant toiled
through brush and bramble, and when night
came, from weariness he stumbled and fell headlong
into one of the mighty footprints of Brown
Bear. He broke no bones, but for a long time
he knew nothing. When he awoke at last, he
found beside him a tiny baby bear that wept and
shivered with the cold.</p>
<p>"You, little one, are not yet wicked," said
the peasant; "and though your race has done
me injury, still if I warm and comfort you, so
may some good soul warm and comfort my own
little one whom I have lost."</p>
<p>He wrapped the baby bear all in the scarlet
cloak and fed it bread. Then when it slept he
took it in his arms and climbed out of the pit
and set upon his way once more. He had not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>
gone far when he reached a cave all lined with
gold, and this he knew to be the home of Brown
Bear. Caring nothing for his life, the peasant
boldly entered. When he was within, he saw
the wife of Brown Bear weeping bitterly.</p>
<p>"Why come you here, O Peasant?" cried the
wife of Brown Bear. "Do you not know that
my husband makes slaves of all men? Hasten
away before he returns lest he do you greater
harm than even that."</p>
<p>"I care not if Brown Bear make a slave of
me," the peasant answered. "Where is thy
husband now, and why do you weep?"</p>
<p>"My husband, Brown Bear, is out seeking in
the forest to find our little one, who wandered
off and who, alas, I fear is dead. Therefore
I do weep," she answered sobbingly, "and lest
you know it not, O Peasant, let me tell you this;
the loss of children is the greatest grief that ever
parents suffer."</p>
<p>"Indeed! I know too well what grief is that!"
the peasant cried, and bursting into tears, he
told the tale of his own woes. Now as he told,
the wife of Brown Bear fixed her great eyes on
the bundle wrapped in scarlet that he carried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>
<p>"What have you there, O Peasant?" she
asked eagerly.</p>
<p>"A tiny baby bear I found when I fell headlong
into one of Brown Bear's footprints," he
replied. "The little one did weep from cold
and hunger, and so I fed and warmed him. And
as I could not find it in my heart to let him die,
I took him from the pit with me."</p>
<p>"It is my little one! It is my little one!"
the wife of Brown Bear cried. She seized the
baby bear and hugged and fondled it with joy.
"But for your kind heart, Peasant, he must
have died down in the pit; so wait you till my
husband comes for your reward."</p>
<p>She raised her great voice in a mighty roar,
and presently Brown Bear came crashing through
the trees. He seized the baby bear and hugged
it as his wife had done, and when he heard the
story thanked the peasant warmly.</p>
<p>"Now for this service you have rendered me,
I'll give you all my gold, O Peasant," cried
Brown Bear. "For though I do love gold beyond
compare, I love my little one far more."</p>
<p>"And just as dearly do I love my little one
whom you did steal, O Brown Bear," the peasant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>
cried. "And likewise do all parents love their
little ones. Therefore if you will free all those
you hold as slaves, ten thousand homes will be
made happy as this home of yours to-night. I
ask this boon, and you may keep your gold which
you do love so dearly."</p>
<p>But Brown Bear would not have it so. "You
shall have what you ask and all my gold beside,"
said he. "For while I mourned because my
little one was lost, my gold brought me no gladness,
but instead did mock me with its brightness."
So saying, he flung open wide the door
that led beneath the mountain side and bade
his slaves go free. With shouts of joy these
folk ran to their homes, and all the forest rang
with their rejoicing. The peasant found his
little one and held him to his heart.</p>
<p>"My little one! My little one!" he cried.
"I wish no more reward than this, O Brown
Bear."</p>
<p>"But you shall have more, even so," said
Brown Bear, and gave to him the key of the gold
mine. "Now you are richer than the king himself,
and indeed, 'tis right that you should be.
For what his thousand hunters with their poi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>soned
barbs and cruel traps could never do, with
your kind heart you have accomplished, Peasant.
Go tell the king and all his subjects that they
need fear me nevermore. Through mine own
grief I know the sorrows I have caused, and from
henceforth I'll live in peace with man."</p>
<p>The peasant thanked him and with his little
one departed for his home, and there a multitude
of grateful folk were gathered to greet
him. And from that day the peasant was no
longer poor. As owner of the rich gold mine,
he now became a man of wealth. The king
respected him and made him noble because he
had done noble service for the kingdom. His
title was Duke Kindlyheart.</p>
<p>In closing this strange tale, I too must say
that Brown Bear kept his word and nevermore
molested travelers journeying through the forest.
Indeed, he grew so friendly with the king and
court that he fought all their wars for them and
brought them many victories. When Brown
Bear died at last, as creatures all must do, the
people wept for him, and all the kingdom put
on mourning.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
<h3>THE BEGGAR PRINCESS</h3>
<p>Once upon a time there lived a king who had
great wealth and also many daughters, among
whom he divided his kingdom before he died.
That is, he gave lands and estates to all but his
fourth daughter, the Princess Yvonne, who from
her lack of fortune was forced to seek her living
in the world. Having not a copper piece for
her pocket and no gold save the gold of her hair,
which, though it was very beautiful, nevertheless
would not feed or clothe her, she was forced to
beg her bread from door to door and became
known as Yvonne, the Beggar Princess. And
the reason of it all was this.</p>
<p>The king, being very wise, wished his daughters
to wed none but princes from the most
powerful thrones in the world. As soon as each
daughter reached the age to marry, the king in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>vited
to his court the suitors for her hand. The
first and second daughters married the princes
of their father's choice and went off to their
palaces rejoicing, and so likewise did the third
daughter. Because of their obedience, the king
was pleased and gave them land and great riches
for their marriage portions. He then turned
his attention to find a husband for his fourth
daughter, the Princess Yvonne, the fairest and
most charming of them all.</p>
<p>Now all unknown to her father, Yvonne, loved
Prince Godfrey of the Westland Kingdom.
They had often met in the forest, and there
they had vowed their love to one another.
Prince Godfrey had wished to ask for the hand
of Yvonne, but she, knowing her father's iron
will, begged him to delay.</p>
<p>"My father is a stern king and rules his daughters
in all things," said the princess. "He would
part us forever should it come to him that we
had dared to do aught without his consent. Return,
I pray you, to your kingdom and there
await my father's summons, for I have heard
him say that you would be bidden to his court
as suitor for my hand."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p>
<p>Prince Godfrey, much against his will, consented
to do as Yvonne asked. He kissed her
farewell and departed that very evening for the
Westland Kingdom. What befell him on the
homeward journey, Princess Yvonne never knew,
but she saw him no more. She carried his image
in her heart and could love no other prince,
though her father sent far and near for suitors
to please her. Knowing nothing of her love
for Prince Godfrey, at last the king placed her
refusals to a stubborn spirit.</p>
<p>"My daughter, Yvonne," said he, after she
had refused five princes in as many days, "how
do you know whom you love or whom you love
not? You, my fourth daughter, cannot pretend
to know as much as I, your father. Where
have you been to learn of this nonsense that
you call love?"</p>
<p>To which the princess made reply: "That I
cannot tell, my father, except that my heart
bids me marry only the prince whom I shall love
well, and of these princes you have brought
hither I love none at all. I pray you now, turn
your attention to the affairs of my younger
sisters, who are anxious to wed, and leave me for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>
a little longer in peace." She was so gentle in
her speech and so winning in her manner that
the king forgot his vexation and busied himself
with seeking suitors for his younger daughters.</p>
<p>They married according to his wishes and
pleased him exceedingly. With each marriage,
the king gave portions of his kingdom, until at
length there remained but two estates, and of his
nine daughters there were but two unmarried.
Again he sent for the Princess Yvonne, and this
time he spoke sharply to her.</p>
<p>"Now, Yvonne, my fourth daughter, I have
listened to your entreaties and given you your
will in all things, and still you are not wed. I
cannot compel you to marry if you do not wish
to please me; but this I tell you. To-morrow
there comes to this castle a prince who has both
gold and lands, and who moreover is handsome
and possessed of a sweet temper. If you wed
not him, I will give the remainder of my kingdom
to your youngest sister. Then you will
be left portionless, and what disgrace that will
be! A princess without a fortune is a sad creature,
and I advise you to try my patience no
longer."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p>
<p>Yvonne listened with tears in her eyes. She
dearly loved her father and wished to please
him, but her heart still treasured the image of
the absent Godfrey.</p>
<p>The following day, at her father's commands,
she dressed herself in her finest robes and bound
her hair with the royal jewels. Thus attired,
she went forth to the throne room to greet the
suitor who awaited her. The king was well
pleased with her appearance and smiled encouragement
to her, but alas for his hopes!
The Princess Yvonne burst into tears before the
court, thereby offending the suitor and bringing
down her father's wrath. He bade the weeping
Yvonne withdraw and commanded his youngest
daughter to appear in her place. So agreeable
was this youngest daughter that the
prince forgot his anger and fell in love with
her before a single day had passed. They
were married with great splendor and the king,
as he had declared, gave them the remainder
of his kingdom as a wedding gift.</p>
<p>Thus it was that the Princess Yvonne went
forth from her father's castle without his blessing,
without a fortune, without even a copper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
piece for her pocket, and without riches of any
sort save the bright yellow gold of her hair.
She had been raised in a castle and therefore
knew not how to spin or to weave or even to
embroider, which three occupations were considered
suitable for young serving women in
that day, so she was forced to beg her bread
from door to door; hence her title, Yvonne,
the Beggar Princess.</p>
<p>She left her father's kingdom and by and by
found service at a farm. The people were very
poor, and she did the work of three, but they
treated her kindly, and Yvonne worked cheerfully.
Early in the morning she drew water
from the well, and many a ewer she had carried
to the kitchen before the sun rose. She served
the table for the plowmen and took her own
meal in the pantry while she tidied up after they
had gone to the fields. All day long she baked
and brewed, or scoured pots and pans until they
shone like silver. In spite of her changed fortunes,
the princess remained as sweet-tempered
as in the days when she lived in her father's
castle and had naught to vex her from morning
until night. If the butter would not churn,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>
she would sing instead of scolding as the other
maids did, and presently the butter would come,
and such butter as it was too! When the loaves
burned, she did not cry out against the Brownies,
who were said to play tricks with the oven,
but received the scolding from her mistress
with humility. At night, no matter how weary
she might be from her long day, the princess
went willingly to fetch the cattle, for the walk
through the fields and forest cheered her.</p>
<p>It was in the forest she had first met Godfrey,
and it was in the forest he had vowed to love
her always. So as she sang her shepherd's song
and called softly to the straying herds, she was
with her absent prince in memory.</p>
<p>"He will come for me by and by," she would
whisper to herself sometimes, when she waked
suddenly from a dream in which Godfrey had
seemed very near. Other times she would be
frightened lest perhaps he might some day pass
her on the highway. "In my peasant's dress,
there is but little to remind him of the princess
whom he bade farewell in my father's
hunting forest," she would say. She had no
mirror and quite forgot her lovely face and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>
her golden hair, which a queen might well
have envied.</p>
<p>One evening in autumn, when the night falls
early and the darkness creeps on swiftly, the
princess wandered through the forest in search
of the cattle. She was tired, but as she walked
among the trees she grew rested, and presently
she began to sing. In the open spaces she called
softly, but no creatures came to follow her. The
wind sighed through the pines, and once she
started, thinking she heard some one call her
name. She stood quite still and listened, but
the wind died away and the forest was silent.
She wandered farther, and the trees grew more
dense. There was no moon to guide her, and
after a time, the princess perceived she had lost
her way.</p>
<p>"For myself, it does not matter," said she,
"I can find shelter in the hollow of some tree
and there be very comfortable until morning."
Never before had the cattle strayed so far but
that at the sound of her voice they would come
slowly down the paths and crashing through the
brush. They followed her like pets. She resolved
to call them once more and began to sing:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Oh, tell me, shepherds, have you ever heard,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A wee white lamb that cries at eve—"<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>but she broke off her song and caught her breath
sharply. An old mill stood before her in the
spot where a great oak had spread its branches
when she began her song! The mill sails turned
and creaked in the forest breeze, but there was
not a sound of life about the place. There were
no doors, and though the princess walked all
around the walls, she found no opening save a
sort of window heavily barred and crossbarred.
On the top of the walls glistened jagged lumps
of glass.</p>
<p>"It looks more like a prison than a mill,"
thought she, and then as she peered into the
opening, a voice from the dungeon beneath began
to sing. Yvonne's heart leaped for joy;
it was the voice of Godfrey, her beloved!</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Yvonne, Yvonne, my heart has ached with longing<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Since I bade you farewell in the forest.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Each night my spirit has stolen forth<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To kiss you in your dreams<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lest you forget me, because I came not.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A cruel king has stolen my throne and enslaved my land,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And until he is driven from it,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I must remain in this dungeon, bound by his evil spell.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Oh, Yvonne, fly to your father,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beg him send an army to help my people,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For they suffer greatly and I am powerless.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But before all, Yvonne, unbind your golden hair<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That its brightness may shine within these prison walls,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sing to me that your heart is still mine."<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>The princess unbound her hair, and in the
forest about the mill all became bright as
day. Then through her tears she sang of her
life, for she was deeply grieved to find Godfrey
in such a plight.</p>
<p>"To think that I who love you should be the
cause of all your woes!" cried Godfrey, when
he had heard her story. "Return to your father,
Yvonne. Tell him that you will wed whom he
wishes and forget me, for I have brought you
naught but tears and sorrows."</p>
<p>"Ah, my beloved," replied the princess,
"though I cannot see you and you be but a voice,
you are the voice of one who loves me, and
that to me is dearer than all the world. I cannot
return to my father, for now he is dead, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
my sisters have cast me off because I was portionless;
but I myself shall seek this cruel king and
beg him to set you free."</p>
<p>"Seek this cruel King Ironheart!" exclaimed
Godfrey in dismay. "Surely, Yvonne, you
know not what you say, for never in all the
world before was known such a tyrant! Men
he casts into prison, nor does he ever release
them, but condemns them to dig beneath the
earth that he may fill his treasury with gold;
women must toil all day in the fields and for
a few coppers; while their children die of hunger,
this King Ironheart has granaries filled full
of good grains. King Ironheart has vast armies,
each soldier of which is as cruel as his master,
and were you to go to the Westland Kingdom,
these same soldiers would seek you out and enslave
you with the rest of my people. You must
not go, Yvonne; as you love me, promise me
that you will not."</p>
<p>"The more you tell me of the sorrows of the
Westland Kingdom, the more I am resolved to
seek this cruel Ironheart. If I fail, I fail, but
what is my life to me unless you be set free,
Godfrey?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p>
<p>"But, Yvonne," pleaded Godfrey from his
dungeon, "think of my suffering, should you do
this for my sake. What powerful weapon have
you to use against this wicked Ironheart?"</p>
<p>"None but courage and a good heart," replied
the princess. "In the past they have
worked miracles, and so may they work miracles
now. Deny me no more, Godfrey, but tell me
the way to your kingdom, that I may all the
sooner return to free you, for I will not fail."</p>
<p>No words could move her, and at last Godfrey
gave her her will.</p>
<p>"Dress your feet in the slippers of bark which
you will find beneath a pine tree close to the
mill. They will serve you for your travels until
you return again to this forest," said he. "Then
watch closely in the east, and when the sun rises,
start at once to follow him as he journeys across
the sky, neither stopping nor staying, and at
sunset you will find yourself on the borders
of the Westland Kingdom. Should you grow
weary or should your courage fail you, Yvonne,
sing, and my spirit will fly to cheer you."</p>
<p>So with the coming of the dawn, Yvonne
bound her golden hair and dressed her feet in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>
the slippers of bark. She looked toward the
east for the first beam of the sun, and when she
turned once more to the mill it had disappeared.
In its place stood a great oak with green grass
smooth as a carpet growing beneath it. But
Yvonne had no time to marvel at this new wonder,
for the sun rose from the clouds and straightway
began its journey above the world. All
day long Yvonne followed after, now wading
shallow mountain brooks, now fording rivers
wide as any sea. Now she walked through
cool green forests and again over hot, sandy
desert plains. She grew weary and longed to
rest, but remembering Godfrey's words, she
sang instead. And so it was at sunset she found
herself upon the borders of the Westland Kingdom,
and too weary for aught else, she begged
shelter of a peasant woman and slept soundly
until morning.</p>
<p>The Westland Kingdom, in the days of Prince
Godfrey, had been the pleasantest place in all
the world, but now there was not a sadder spot
on earth. From his desert throne, King Ironheart
had long coveted its great forests and
fertile fields, its rich mines of silver and gold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>
beneath the earth. He had not dared meet
Prince Godfrey in open battle, for Godfrey was
a fierce warrior and his nobles were brave
soldiers. So it was secretly and in the dead of
night, when Prince Godfrey was away from his
land on a journey, that King Ironheart entered
the Westland Kingdom and conquered it by
force of arms. At the same time he caused
Godfrey to be imprisoned in the mill which
sank beneath the forest by day. Then having
done thus much, he offered riches and high
honors to all Westland subjects who would
swear allegiance to him as their sovereign lord.
The people with one accord refused to listen to
his ministers and remained faithful to Godfrey.</p>
<p>King Ironheart was furious, but he gave them
seven days in which to change their minds. At
the end of the seventh day, he called a council
of the Westland people and was gracious in his
bearing toward them; but from the highest
noble to the lowest peasant, there was not one
in all the kingdom who would bow the knee to
King Ironheart. From that day, the reign of
cruelty began. King Ironheart bade his army
drive the men to the mines beneath the earth,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>
and when this was done, he rewarded his generals
and soldiers with the palaces and houses
of the Westland people. Driven thus from
their homes, there was nothing left for the
women and children but to seek shelter where
they could find it. Some lived in wretched
huts; others toiled at cutting logs to build rude
cabins, and all were forced to work like slaves.
King Ironheart meant to punish the Westland
Kingdom and spared no one.</p>
<p>Though the castle of this cruel king lay but a
short distance from the entrance of the Westland
Kingdom, the road that stretched between
was filled with such sadness and sorrow that it
was many a day before the princess stood at its
gates. Little children struggled with heavy
burdens, and when she had helped these, other
little children with heavy burdens passed sadly
down the same road. Women toiled unceasingly
in the forest or drove the plow from
dawn until dark; King Ironheart's soldiers saw
to it that none idled. Yvonne had no coins to
buy bread, and again she was forced to beg
from door to door, but so willingly did she help
those who labored that the sad-faced women<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>
were glad to share with her their scant store.
A Westland woman, noting the slippers of bark,
asked her who she might be and from whence
she came; to which the princess made the following
reply:</p>
<p>"In my country I am called Yvonne, the
Beggar Princess. My father cast me off portionless
because I would not wed to please him;
and I seek the tyrant Ironheart, to beg him
quit the Westland Kingdom and to free from
his dungeon Prince Godfrey, whom I love with
all my heart."</p>
<p>When the Westland women heard her reply,
they marveled at her courage, but shook their
heads and advised her to give up her quest.</p>
<p>"You seek to move with pity one whose heart
is cold as his name would say!" they cried.
"King Ironheart laughs at mothers' tears and
takes pleasure in the wails of hungry children;
return to your home, Oh Yvonne, or this
wicked king will enslave you with this sad land."</p>
<p>"That I will not do," replied the princess
firmly. "With courage and a good heart, I
have come hither to beg mercy of King Ironheart.
If I fail, I fail, and here in bondage I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
shall remain with you who mourn Prince Godfrey,
for he is lord of my heart."</p>
<p>The princess delayed her errand no longer,
but rose with the dawn the following day and
was waiting early at the castle gates. On being
questioned by the soldiers, she said she had
come to seek King Ironheart. They asked who
she was, and she answered them truthfully that
she was Yvonne, the Beggar Princess.</p>
<p>"A Beggar Princess!" exclaimed the soldiers
in derision. "Who ever before heard of a
princess without gold?"</p>
<p>"This gold I have about me," replied the
princess, and she unbound her golden hair. In
the morning sun it shone brilliantly and dazzled
the eyes of King Ironheart, who leaned from his
balcony to learn the cause of the sudden bright
light. He saw the princess standing at the gate
and commanded that she be brought before him.</p>
<p>As she entered the throne room, though she
had not feared her father's wrath and was not
afraid to walk alone at midnight in the forest,
the princess was seized with a sudden fear that
left her almost speechless. It was not that
King Ironheart was hideous as monsters are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>
often hideous, nor was he misshapen; but beneath
his smile there lurked such cruelty and
malice that she feared her cause was lost before
she had begun to plead it. The thought of
Godfrey lying in his dungeon stirred her, and
she asked leave of his majesty to sing. King
Ironheart was pleased with her request and
graciously ordered his chief harpist to play the
airs for Yvonne. At the end of the entertainment,
the king's servants brought handsome
robes and gifts of gold for the singer whom the
king mistook for some peasant maiden.</p>
<p>The princess refused his gifts with dignity.</p>
<p>"My lord," said she, "I may not receive gifts
from you, for my rank is equal to your own. I
am Yvonne, the Beggar Princess."</p>
<p>"Then so much the better," replied the king
in a hearty tone. "I have long wished for a
princess whom my heart could love, and who
would not fall a-trembling at the very sight of
me. We shall be married at once, and I will
make war on your sisters this very day, to recover
the marriage portion which is yours by all
rights." He sent then for the coronation robes
and the crown of pearls, but again the princess<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>
waved away the bearer of his gifts. With her
singing, courage had returned, and she now faced
the tyrant king bravely.</p>
<p>"My lord," said she, "I have come hither
not to wed you, but to beg you to leave the
Westland Kingdom, for the people suffer greatly
because of your harsh rule; and to implore you
to free from his dungeon Prince Godfrey, whom
I love with all my heart."</p>
<p>King Ironheart was amazed that she should
dare to oppose his wishes, but secretly he admired
her courage and fearless spirit and determined
to win her for himself. He promised her
great riches and vowed to make her the most
powerful queen in all the world, but Yvonne was
firm. When he saw it was useless to urge her,
King Ironheart grew angry.</p>
<p>"And what powerful weapon or armed force
do you bring against me that I should thus do
your bidding, O Yvonne, Beggar Princess?" he
asked at length in sneering tones.</p>
<p>"None but courage and a good heart, my lord,
and those can work miracles," replied the
princess.</p>
<p>"Then," said King Ironheart, "if by miracles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>
you hope to accomplish your quest, perform to
my liking the task I now set for you, and when
it is finished I shall leave this kingdom and free
Godfrey from his dungeon."</p>
<p>He called a servant and directed him to bring
from the pantry a handful of corn, and when it
was brought he gave it to the princess.</p>
<p>"When it is spring, plant these kernels, and
in harvest time, if from your planting I do not
gather corn to fill to the overflowing every
granary in the Westland Kingdom, I will enslave
you with the rest of this land, and Prince
Godfrey shall remain in his dungeon until death
come to free him. Now go," commanded King
Ironheart, "and return no more until your task
be done."</p>
<p>The women who awaited the princess in the
market place sighed when they learned the
task King Ironheart had set. From one scant
handful of corn to fill every granary in the
Westland Kingdom! It was impossible. Even
Yvonne found it hard to keep a good heart with
the thought of the task before her. If she
failed, Prince Godfrey would remain forever
in his dungeon, and yet from one handful of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>
corn how should she reap a harvest for a
nation?</p>
<p>She tied the corn in a kerchief and carried it
next her heart lest some of the precious grains
should slip away. Each night she counted
them, and each night she rejoiced to find she had
still one hundred, the exact number King Ironheart
had given her. From her work at the
farm, the princess knew well the labor of the
fields and dairy, so she toiled the winter through
with the other women. One evening, as she
sat in the moonlight counting her precious
grains, she heard voices near by, but a hedge
hid the speakers.</p>
<p>"Ah," said the first voice sadly, "that one
hundred provinces, the fairest this side of Paradise,
should be so crushed beneath this cruel
King Ironheart! I would that he were driven
away, and that the good Prince Godfrey would
return to his own once again."</p>
<p>"Have patience," answered a second voice
which was exceedingly sweet and gentle.
"Know that for the space of the winter months
the Princess Yvonne hath carried next her heart
one hundred grains of corn from which the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>
cruel Ironheart hath commanded her to reap a
harvest for the nation. Now such is the power
of a good heart that when she hath planted
these grains, there will spring from them such a
harvest as never before was gathered in any
country. Then, according to his promise, King
Ironheart will free Prince Godfrey and quit the
Westland Kingdom forever."</p>
<p>The voices ceased suddenly as they had begun,
but on looking over the hedge, the princess
could see no one. She treasured the words she
had heard, and with a song in her heart, waited
until the winter should be gone. When spring
was come at last, she traveled with it through
the Westland Kingdom and planted a single
grain in the center of each province, until her
kerchief was empty. It seemed that the land
itself was weary of the cruel Ironheart and
longed once more for peace and happiness, for
such a supply of corn was never known in the
Westland Kingdom. In autumn, when it was
gathered into the granaries, there was more
than they could hold, and the king's servants
built storehouses to contain the surplus. Then
the princess went to King Ironheart to tell him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
that her task was done. He had heard of the
wonder from his ministers and had waiting for
her another task. The first he now declared
had been but child's play, and he vowed to
free Prince Godfrey when she should accomplish
the second.</p>
<p>"But, my lord, how can I believe you?"
cried the princess in dismay. "Even should I
accomplish the second task, when it is done will
you not set for me another and another, and so
on until the end of time?"</p>
<p>"Never fear, Yvonne, Beggar Princess," replied
King Ironheart with his cruel smile.
"This time I will keep my word right gladly.
Though I set Godfrey free a thousand times,
he will never marry you, for should you accomplish
this second task, you will be the ugliest
woman in all the world. Think twice before
you set about it," he warned. "If you fail,
you will be enslaved for the rest of your life;
and if you succeed, you will be hideous.</p>
<p>"Now you had best marry me and give up
this silly thing you call true love. It hath
brought you naught but tears and sorrow in the
past and will bring you no better in the future."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>
He smiled and looked graciously at Yvonne,
but she was unmoved.</p>
<p>"Because I loved Prince Godfrey, I defied
my father and became the Beggar Princess,
Yvonne," she answered scornfully, "and because
I loved Prince Godfrey, I came to his
land to beg his freedom of you who hold him in
cruel captivity. How then should I wed you?
Tell me what it is that you would have me do;
I care not whether I return from my task the
ugliest woman in all the world!"</p>
<p>"Then listen well to what I say," replied the
king, "for I shall not tell you twice. My kingdom,
which lies just beyond the borders of the
Westland Kingdom, is naught but a great desert
plain. There are on this plain neither rivers
nor springs, but instead the wind blows the
sand in clouds above it all day long, and nothing
will grow in such a place.</p>
<p>"Seek this plain, and when you have found
it, cause springs and rivers to water it, the
better to nourish a forest which you must plant
there to please me. In the heart of this forest
build for me a splendid palace, the outer walls
of whitest marble and the inner walls of purest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>
gold. Thousands of red roses must climb to
the towers of the palace. When you have done
thus much, trouble not yourself to furnish it
for me, but return to me, and I promise that I
shall betake myself and my court to my own
kingdom and quit this land forever and ever.
I am weary of a people who smile never but
weep from sun to sun for their absent lord."</p>
<p>"But Prince Godfrey; what of him?" asked
the princess.</p>
<p>"Ah," laughed King Ironheart, "I shall tell
you also the secret charm that will cause his
chains to fall from him and his dungeon doors
to open wide." He bade the princess farewell,
and his smile was more cruel than she had yet
seen it. Nevertheless she departed from his
presence full of courage.</p>
<p>The women were again waiting her in the
market place, and when they heard the second
task, they despaired of seeing again their rightful
lord and sadly resigned themselves to their
fate. They followed the princess to the gates
of the kingdom, and as she was about to depart,
an old wise woman gave her a bag, saying:</p>
<p>"Within this bag are pine cones and acorns<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>
of marvelous power. When you have caused
the first springs to water the desert plain, at
nightfall dip these into the waters, plant them
and by morning a forest of oak and pine will
spring from them."</p>
<p>The princess took the bag and thanked the
wise woman. Strange to say, she was hopeful
about her task.</p>
<p>"Who can tell?" thought she. "One task
that seemed at first impossible I have already
finished." So she sang cheerfully as she went
her way. In her mind she pictured the delight
and joy of Prince Godfrey when she should go
again to the mill in the forest to tell him that he
was free. For three days and three nights she
traveled, and on the morning of the fourth day
she reached the great desert plain. It was even
more desolate than King Ironheart had said.
Great stretches of burning hot sands spread
far and wide, and the sky, where it bent down
at the horizon, seemed copper-colored. The
blazing sun beat fiercely over all, and there was
neither bush nor tree for shade. When the sun
set, darkness came swiftly and without the
gray softening shades of twilight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p>
<p>The princess sat sadly and watched the stars
come out. In the deep blue sky above the
desert they shone like gold.</p>
<p>"Their happy gleaming seems to mock the
heart of one as sad as I," sighed she. Now that
she was upon the desert plain she wondered
how or where she was to begin King Ironheart's
task.</p>
<p>"The gleaming stars mock no one," said a
voice close beside her, "but instead they shine
brightly to cheer all those who sorrow."</p>
<p>The princess turned to see the speaker, but
she was alone on the plain.</p>
<p>"I am the Spirit you heard by the hedge one
moonlight night," spoke the voice again. "Do
you remember?"</p>
<p>"I remember well," replied Yvonne, "and
oh, Spirit, had the cruel Ironheart kept his
promise, Godfrey would even now be free of
his dungeon; but alas! The wicked king hath
set me still another task."</p>
<p>"It is to help you with that task that I have
come," said the Spirit. "Each night when the
stars begin to shine in the heavens, expect me,
until your task be done; and now to begin as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>
the king commanded, I must have the blue
from your eyes to make the rivers and lakes."</p>
<p>"The blue from my eyes!" cried the princess
in dismay. "Truly the cruel Ironheart hath
said it rightly. I shall be the ugliest woman
alive! But it is to free my beloved Godfrey,
so take it, Spirit!" She felt a movement of the
air close beside her and an invisible hand was
drawn across her eyelids. At the same moment
she heard the singing of a brook near by and in
the distance the roaring of a waterfall.</p>
<p>Remembering the wise woman's advice,
Yvonne dipped the acorns and pine cones in the
brook and planted them in the desert sand before
she slept. In the morning she awoke in a
wilderness of forest, and the plain, no longer
barren and desolate, was alive with birds that
sang, and wild deer that ran among the trees.
The princess sought the heart of this forest, and
there when night had come she awaited the
Spirit. When the stars began to shine, it came
as it had promised.</p>
<p>"The outer walls of the palace must be of
whitest marble," said the Spirit, "and for that
I must have the whiteness of your neck and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>
throat." Though the princess shuddered, she
consented, and the invisible hand was passed
over her neck and throat. No sooner had it
done so than in the open space among the trees
she could see the outlines of a great building
whose walls gleamed in the moonlight.</p>
<p>"And now," continued the Spirit, "if you
have no wish to wander through this forest of
oak and pine, but long instead to have done
with your task, give me at once the gold of
your hair and the red from your lips, that I
may finish the inner walls of the palace and
cause thousands of red roses to climb to the
towers."</p>
<p>"The sooner I finish my task, the sooner
will King Ironheart free Godfrey from his dungeon,"
replied the princess. "While he lies in
chains, the red of my lips and the gold of my
hair bring me no pleasure; so take them quickly,
Spirit." The same hand was passed over her
hair and her lips and the Spirit spoke again.</p>
<p>"Now look at the palace to see that it is all
King Ironheart desired," it said. "Then when
you are satisfied we shall start at once to tell
him that your task is done. I shall remain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>
with you to cheer you until you go again to the
mill in the forest."</p>
<p>Yvonne did as the Spirit bid. She found the
palace of great splendor, and myriads of red
roses blossomed over its white marble walls.
Within all was bright as day; the golden walls
glittered like a thousand suns.</p>
<p>"Even the tyrant Ironheart could ask no
more," said she. "Lead the way, Spirit, and I
shall tell him that I have finished my task."</p>
<p>Traveling by a short road known only to
the Spirit, the princess reached the Westland
Kingdom the next day, and was on her way to
the castle when the women went down to
the fields to work. They regarded Yvonne as
one they had never seen before, and she was
puzzled for the reason.</p>
<p>"Alas!" cried the Spirit sadly. "You are
fair of face no longer, Yvonne. They do not
know that they have ever seen you before."
Then straight past the guards and into the
presence of King Ironheart the Spirit led her.</p>
<p>King Ironheart cried out in fury as the
princess entered the throne room. "Old crone!"
he exclaimed. "How dare you to come into my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>
presence? Do you not know I cannot abide
old age or ugliness? You shall be punished."</p>
<p>"Old age," echoed the princess. "I am not
old. I am Yvonne, the Beggar Princess, whom
you bid turn the desert plain into a wilderness
of forest and build therein a splendid palace
for you."</p>
<p>Then the cruel king laughed heartily.
"Never," cried he, "have I been so diverted.
Go at once to the mill in the forest where the
sun rises, O Yvonne, Beggar Princess, and at
the very sight of you the walls will fall. Tell
Prince Godfrey that I have departed his land
and have betaken myself and soldiers to the
splendid palace which you so kindly built for
me. However, let me first reward you with
this gift." Before the princess was aware, he
had flashed a mirror before her face.</p>
<p>Yvonne gazed spell-bound as she beheld her
changed image.</p>
<p>"Oh!" cried she, "you are more cruel than I
had even supposed. But for you I had never
known how hideous I have become. Truly I
am the ugliest woman in all the world!" She
wept and covered her face that she might look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>
no more in the mirror which King Ironheart
continued to hold before her gaze. The Spirit,
with pitying words, led her from the castle and
tried to comfort her; but at the sight of her
changed image, Yvonne's courage had fled. Even
when the glad shouts of the Westland people
told her that Ironheart was departing the kingdom,
she did not smile. She wept all the way
as she journeyed sadly to the forest where the
sun rose. She now longed only to free Godfrey
and then to die.</p>
<p>"For," thought she, "though he be gallant
enough to wed me in pity for my hideous countenance,
I love him too dearly, and I could not
bear that all the world should look with loathing
on his queen."</p>
<p>Late one night the princess entered the forest
where she had gone so often to seek the herds,
and at midnight she stood before the mill. It
was dark and dreary looking as ever, and no
sign nor sound of life could be seen about it.
Standing close to the window-like opening she
began to sing:</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Prince Godfrey, my beloved,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I have come to set you free.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">The wicked Ironheart hath at last departed your land<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the Westland people await your return with all joy."<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>She heard his voice from the dungeon beneath
and listened eagerly for his reply.</p>
<p>"Oh, Yvonne," cried Prince Godfrey, "your
voice is sad when it should be glad. For even
now my chains have fallen from me and I am
hastening to the door of my prison unhindered."
The mill sank into the ground, and Yvonne
trembled with joy as she saw Prince Godfrey
coming toward her. He passed her without
a glance and then returned to ask eagerly:</p>
<p>"Old crone, hast seen aught of a beautiful
princess who sang from this spot not a moment
since?"</p>
<p>Yvonne, seeing that he knew her not, pointed
silently down a path, and away sped Godfrey.
Then away sped Yvonne down another path
and ran until she found a hollow tree. There
she crept in and laid her down to sleep.
"Though Godfrey search the whole night, he
can never find me here," said Yvonne to herself.
"Then in the morning I shall go to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
farmer's wife and herd cows once again. None
will be there to mock my ugly features, and
since my beloved prince is freed at last, I am
content." But though she spoke so to herself,
it would seem otherwise, for Yvonne wept
bitterly until at last she fell fast asleep.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Prince Godfrey shouted her name
and searched the forest in vain. At last he
sat to rest and a voice beside him spoke.</p>
<p>"You seek Yvonne, the Beggar Princess,"
said the voice. "I can take you to her if you
so wish."</p>
<p>"But I see no one!" cried Godfrey in amazement.
"Who is it that knows my secret
thoughts thus?"</p>
<p>"I am the Spirit with which Yvonne set out
to rid your land of the tyrant Ironheart, and
with which she gave her beauty that you might
be freed of your prison. The old crone whom
you passed in this forest was none other than
Yvonne." Then the Spirit recounted the tale
of the trials and sufferings that Yvonne had
borne. Godfrey listened with dismay.</p>
<p>"And now," concluded the Spirit, "fearing
that you would feel bound to wed her in spite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>
of her changed face and hideous features,
Yvonne has hidden herself in the hollow of a
tree not far from this spot. Shall I lead you
thither, Godfrey, or will you journey to the
Westland Kingdom alone?"</p>
<p>"Ah, Spirit!" cried Godfrey sadly, "I would
have died within my dungeon rather than gain
my freedom at such price. However, what is
done is done, and no regret or vain repining may
undo it. So lead me quickly, Spirit, that I may
tell Yvonne how I do honor and love her for her
noble heart and courage."</p>
<p>Now the Spirit was pleased that Godfrey
should speak so. Then, because it was a good
spirit, and had no wish to see folk sad or unhappy,
it resolved that these two mortals had
suffered trials sufficient. So while the Spirit
guided Godfrey through the shadowy aisles of
dusky cedars, it caused the earth to tremble
mightily three times. Great crashes like those
of thunder accompanied each tremor; Yvonne
fled frightened from her hiding place and found
herself face to face with Godfrey. At the sight
of his beloved one, Godfrey knew no fears and
cried out in delight and joy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p>
<p>"Oh, Yvonne! The Spirit did but try me,"
he exclaimed. "Thou art thrice as lovely as
the dawn itself which now appears in yonder
sky!"</p>
<p>But Yvonne would not heed his words, and
covered her face with her hands. Weeping and
lamenting, she begged him to leave her. "Pray
do not mock me, Godfrey," she cried, "I cannot
bear that you should see my face. Indeed
I am become the ugliest woman in all the world.
Let me go, as you love me. But for my fright
at the violent trembling of the earth I had
remained safe hidden until you had departed
for the Westland Kingdom."</p>
<p>"Then but for the violent trembling of the
earth, I had lost you forever!" cried Godfrey.
"So I bless the one who sent the earthquake."</p>
<p>"Then you bless me and I am free at last to
fly to paradise," said the Spirit. "I caused the
earth to tremble. I wished the tyrant Ironheart
to cumber it no more. At the first
tremor, in the forest of oak and pine, the ground
opened wide in a great chasm. At the second
tremor, the forest as well as the palace of King
Ironheart were swallowed up in this great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
chasm. At the third tremor, the chasm closed
itself and there now is nothing in that spot
but a hot arid desert plain where the wind
blows the sands about in clouds the whole day
long."</p>
<p>"Then King Ironheart is no more?" asked
Prince Godfrey.</p>
<p>"King Ironheart and all his wicked followers
lie deep beneath this arid desert plain of which
I tell," declared the Spirit. "And now, Yvonne,
to set your mind at rest gaze into the pool at
your feet."</p>
<p>Yvonne gazed downward and there beheld
an image, so beautiful that she turned to see the
fair maiden whom she fancied had peeped over
her shoulder. The image of Godfrey smiling
beside her assured her at last that it was her
own face she saw, and Yvonne's joy knew no
bounds.</p>
<p>"Oh, Spirit!" she cried. "You have done
many kind things for me, but this gift of beauty
thou hast given me surpasses all! I am the
happiest woman alive, for now I know I am
worthy to be Godfrey's queen."</p>
<p>"I did but give you what was yours, Yvonne,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>
returned the Spirit, "and now farewell, for soon
the sun will rise and I am off to paradise."</p>
<p>"But, Spirit, will you not come with us to
the Westland Kingdom?" begged Yvonne.
"What shall we do without you to help us with
our trials? Pray stay."</p>
<p>"Nay, Yvonne," replied the Spirit. "Continue
in the way you have begun; remember
always, courage and a good heart can work
miracles and there will be no need of me. Farewell!"</p>
<p>"Farewell, farewell, Spirit!" called Godfrey
and Yvonne together. Then as the sun rose
from the clouds they heard an answering echo
of farewell. So singing for joy, hand in hand,
Prince Godfrey and Yvonne the Beggar Princess
followed the sun on his journey to the
Westland Kingdom, where they lived forever
after, and where to this very day 'tis said by
some that their descendants reign.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
<h3>SWEEP AND LITTLE SWEEP</h3>
<h4>I</h4>
<p>Once upon a time, in days long ago, there
lived a Chimney Sweep and a little Crossing
Sweeper. This Chimney Sweep was called
"Sweep." He had a very black face, from the
soot he swept down tall chimneys, but he had
a kind heart and dearly loved this little Crossing
Sweeper, whose name was Little Sweep. Little
Sweep had a grimy, gray face from the ashes
she threw on her muddy crossings, and as for
her heart,—I suppose it was kind. Sweep
thought it kind, and Little Sweep vowed she
loved Sweep tenderly.</p>
<p>Now Sweep was his own master and owned
a smart little donkey cart, all filled with brooms
and brushes; but Little Sweep had a dreadful
master, who beat her often and gave her scarcely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>
enough to eat. Sweep lived in a snug little
garret, and Little Sweep lived in a cold bare
attic just across the way. The street was so
narrow that the two could chat quite easily
with one another. On holidays, when Sweep,
so black and sooty, and Little Sweep, so gray
and grimy, rode forth in the smart little donkey
cart, the people all stared and vowed it was
seldom one could see a couple so well matched.</p>
<p>Every morning Little Sweep was out with
her broom, before the sun was up. Her master
would beat her if she dared lie late abed. Now
Sweep had no need to rise so early. His trade
of sweeping down tall chimneys did not begin
until later in the day. Nevertheless this
amiable fellow bought himself a clock with a
loud ringing bell, and when this clock rang out
at five each morning, he would throw bread
and buns to Little Sweep just over the way.
Little Sweep would eat the bread and buns most
eagerly, for she was always very hungry.
Sweep bought her red mittens to warm her
poor hands, and wept when he learned that her
cruel master had taken them from her and sold
them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p>
<p>"Ah, Little Sweep," he would say, "when
my golden dollars fill the stocking, we shall be
married, and you will sweep crossings no longer.
Instead, you will sit at home in a neat little
cottage and brew me soups and make strong
soaps to wash my black face. Then on holidays
we shall both ride forth, all clean and shining."</p>
<p>"Oh, please hurry then, and sweep ever so
many chimneys, that the stocking may very
soon fill with golden dollars!" Little Sweep
would reply. "My master grows crosser every
day, and I cannot bear my life."</p>
<p>"But you forget me," answered Sweep. "Is
not my garret window just across from yours,
and do I not throw you bread and buns each
day?"</p>
<p>"Indeed, if it were not for your bread and
buns, I know that I would die," declared Little
Sweep. "My master does not give me food
enough to feed a robin."</p>
<p>"And I would buy you more bread and buns,"
sighed Sweep, "except that bread and buns cost
pennies, and if I spend too many pennies, the
stocking will never fill with golden dollars."</p>
<p>Now in those olden days, as no doubt you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>
know, kings and queens and noble folk stored
all their gold in great carved chests of oak and
walnut; but humble folk like Sweep hid their
savings in a stocking.</p>
<p>One day when Sweep swept down the
chimneys of a rich baker, the rich baker gave
him seven tarts and a plum cake, for a present.
You may be sure that Little Sweep enjoyed a
feast that night. Her cruel master had gone
off for the day and had locked her in her room
with only bread and water. When Sweep
learned that, his kindly heart was touched; he
gave Little Sweep the whole plum cake and
kept but one tart for himself. That was the
manner of man Sweep was. Everything for
Little Sweep and nothing for himself. When
he swept tall chimneys in the shops of merchants,
Sweep would buy some bits of linen or
some ends of lace for Little Sweep. These
Little Sweep would fashion into curtains and
tidies for the little cottage of their dreams.</p>
<p>Now it is a curious thing to tell, but nevertheless
quite true, that though Sweep's stocking
filled at last, and there were even two golden
dollars more than it could hold, still Little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>
Sweep lived in her cold bare attic. And still
her master beat her. The reason of it all was
this. Sweep and Little Sweep could not agree
upon a cottage. Sweep wished a cottage with
many chimneys, in order that he might work at
his trade. Little Sweep, on the other hand,
who hated ashes and everything to do with
chimneys, wished for a house with all glass
doors and windows and no chimneys at all!
Plainly the cottage to suit these two could not
be found. Then Sweep decided on a sage plan.</p>
<p>"Now do you be content with a house of
fewer glass doors and windows, Little Sweep,"
said he, "and likewise I shall content myself
with fewer chimneys." So again they set out,
and this time soon found a cottage to please
them. Little Sweep swept the crossings before
it; Sweep swept down the chimneys. Then
at the doors and windows Little Sweep hung up
the curtains she had made, and pinned the
tidies to the backs of the chairs. Sweep bought
a ham and a bacon, and likewise a loaf of white
bread, and behold, they were ready to be
married!</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 509px;">
<img src="images/i007.jpg" width="509" height="800" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption">"Hide me, Little Sweep," cried Red Cap.
"My brother is after me."—<i>Page 175.</i>
</span>
</div>
<p>Sweep was very happy because his darling
would sweep no crossings, and neither would her
cruel master beat her any more. Little Sweep
rejoiced because she did not like her trade; she
was sure that she would never again be hungry,
for Sweep would buy her all the bread and buns
she could desire. Sweep took the two extra
golden dollars and spent them both on finery
for Little Sweep. He bought her a little gray
wedding frock (to match her grimy, gray face,
you know), some blue cotton stockings, and a
red ribbon for her hair. For himself he bought
only a gay green feather to wear in his hat and
a bottle of oil to polish his holiday shoes. Always,
you will notice, he gave everything to
Little Sweep.</p>
<p>Then the day before their wedding day, some
very strange things came to pass. Little Sweep
was standing at her crossing when a tiny little
man, dressed out in green and wearing a bright
red cap, flew through the air and perched upon
her broomstick.</p>
<p>"Hide me, Little Sweep," cried Red Cap.
"My brother is after me."</p>
<p>"Hide in my pocket," replied Little Sweep,
and no sooner had the first Red Cap crawled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>
into her pocket than a second little creature,
larger than the first, flew through the air and
perched upon her broomstick.</p>
<p>"Tell me, Little Sweep," cried the second
little creature angrily, "have you seen my
brother flying north or east or south or west?"</p>
<p>Now as Little Sweep had heard that Red
Caps often did great things for those who befriended
them, she stood silent.</p>
<p>"Stupid!" cried the second little creature,
when she did not speak. Then off he flew as
suddenly as he had appeared, and out from
Little Sweep's pocket crawled the first Red Cap.</p>
<p>"Ugh!" exclaimed Red Cap, brushing his tiny
beard and dusting his green satin suit. "How
comes it that your pocket is so very dusty?"</p>
<p>"I must keep ashes in it for my trade of sweeping
crossings," replied Little Sweep. "I hate it."</p>
<p>"Then perhaps I might find you a better
trade," said Red Cap, gazing thoughtfully at
Little Sweep's gray grimy face and raggedy
garments. "We Red Caps, although we be
very little folk, be very powerful folk, you
know."</p>
<p>"Yes, I have heard that you grant wishes to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>
poor folk sometimes," replied Little Sweep;
"is that true?"</p>
<p>"It is," said Red Cap, nodding gravely.
"Make three wishes now, and I will grant them
for you."</p>
<p>Now fairy lore is filled with tales of folk who
had three wishes given them, and, as you have
perhaps remarked, these folk have often wished
too hastily and consequently wished unwisely.
The old woman who wished for black puddings
is one, and the man who wished his mill to
always grind salt is another. And there are
scores and scores of these unwise folk that I
could name. But Little Sweep was not like
one of these. She leaned upon her broom and
paused some time in deepest thought. At last
she spoke.</p>
<p>"First," said she, "I wish to be a beautiful
princess, dressed in robes of satin sewn with
gold, my face all clean and shining, and on my
head a coronet of pearls."</p>
<p>"Second, I wish to dwell within a splendid
castle by the sea and have a hundred rooms all
filled full of gold and treasures, and a thousand
slaves to do my bidding.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p>
<p>"Third, I wish my old master to sweep
crossings in my place. That is all."</p>
<p>"It is enough!" cried Red Cap in amazement.
"To look at you, who would ever think you
would even know enough to wish such powerful
wishes! My store of magic power will be quite
gone when all you wish is done; but even so,
I have promised, and we Red Caps always keep
our promises. Go home and wait quietly."</p>
<p>So Little Sweep flung down her broom, although
it was but two o'clock in the afternoon
and she had yet to work until sundown, unless
she wished a beating. Her old master was
seated in the kitchen, stirring up a bowl of
porridge, when she entered.</p>
<p>"Lazy one! Idle one!" he cried out in
anger as she entered. "Is it thus you leave
your work at midday? But I have something
to make you lively." He seized the rope. But
for once in her life Little Sweep was not afraid.</p>
<p>"You had better not," said she boldly. The
old master heeded her not, however, and raised
the rope to strike. Before it fell, he screamed
in amazement! Little Sweep's rags fell from
her suddenly, and she stood before him, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>
beautiful princess robed in satin, and on her
haughty brow a coronet of pearls.</p>
<p>"Oh! Oh!" cried the old master in dismay.
"Had I known you were a beautiful princess
in disguise, never, never would I have beaten
you; neither would I have starved you, you
may be sure."</p>
<p>"That makes no difference now," replied the
haughty princess with spirit; "why did you
beat me at all?" As she spoke, the old master
screamed again, this time in wildest terror.
His garments changed suddenly to sweeper's
rags, and into his hands flew the very broom
that Little Sweep had just flung down! In
this poor guise the old master fell upon his
knees and humbly begged a penny of the haughty
princess. But again she would not heed him.</p>
<p>"Out of my way, simpleton!" she exclaimed.
"Now go and sweep crossings in my place, and
may your new master beat you even as you beat
me!"</p>
<p>With that the new master entered the kitchen,
and finding there the old master dressed in
sweeper's rags, sent him off with a cuff to go
about his work. A coach of pearl with silver<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>
trimmings drew up before the door, and away
went the haughty princess to her castle by the
sea.</p>
<p>There, as she had wished, she found a hundred
rooms filled full of gold and treasures, and likewise
found a thousand slaves to do her bidding.
But in the midst of all her glory and magnificence,
the beautiful princess was greatly
worried. Can you think what troubled her?
It was exactly this. She had not a name
suitable for her fine situation. "Little Sweep"
would never do for a beautiful princess, dwelling
in a splendid castle by the sea; also she was
vexed lest her thousand slaves should perchance
learn that she had once swept crossings,
and so despise her. While she sat thinking
thus, and greatly troubled, she heard soft
chimes sounding through the castle halls.
Presently a servant dressed in crimson plush
and golden lace entered and bowed low before
her.</p>
<p>"Will the Princess Cendre be pleased to
dine?" asked the servant humbly, and so
it was that the haughty princess learned her
new name. From that time forth she quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>
forgot that she had ever been called "Little
Sweep."</p>
<p>"Lead the way, slave," she commanded
haughtily, "and the Princess Cendre will follow."</p>
<p>Then down to a great dining hall she went.
Upon the walls were many mirrors, and the
table was laid with dishes of beaten gold. The
Princess Cendre (for we may never again call
her Little Sweep, unless we wish to make her
very angry) gazed with delight at her image
reflected in the mirrors and ate with greatest
satisfaction from the golden dishes. When at
last the meal was done, musicians played sweet
airs for her pleasure. Princess Cendre enjoyed
the music, but oh, much more did she enjoy
gazing about the splendid hall wherein she sat!
A thousand tapers made all as bright as day;
the walls were hung with silken tapestries, and
curtains made of lace as fine as cobwebs covered
all the windows. It was while she sat gazing
thus that Princess Cendre suddenly bethought
her of the little cottage Sweep had furnished
for her. Then it came also to her mind that
to-morrow was her wedding day.</p>
<p>"Well, to be sure," thought she, "if all these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>
wondrous things had never happened, I would
have married Sweep. But now that would
never do. Sweep could not expect it. His
black face would ill become my splendid castle
by the sea."</p>
<p>The musicians then sang good-night songs,
and Princess Cendre sought her room once
more. There on a table she found several books
with her title, "Princess Cendre," stamped in
golden letters on the covers. She was more
than pleased to see how it was written; she
had been wondering how she would even manage
to spell this fine new name of hers. Before she
slept that night, she took pen and paper and
practiced writing "Princess Cendre" a hundred
times, that she might do it gracefully forever
after. (While she had been a wretched little
Crossing Sweeper, she had not learned much in
books, you know. So it was that she did not
know that "Princess Cendre" meant naught
but "Princess Sweep" in a foreign language.)</p>
<h4>II</h4>
<p>Now we must leave this selfish Princess
Cendre sweetly sleeping in her castle by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>
sea and make our way back to Sweep's snug
little garret once again. On the night of this
eventful day Sweep returned home from his
labors very late. There was no light in the
attic just across the way, but he was quite
content. He thought, of course, his Little
Sweep was safely tucked up there. Before he
ate his bread and cheese, he tossed three sugar
cookies in at her window, and then set about
polishing his shoes and making himself extra
smart for the morrow. Sweep's candle burned
very late; but even so, when he lay down to
sleep at last, he dreamed such dreadful dreams
that he was glad when morning came. He
dreamed that he had lost his Little Sweep, and
that he married in her stead her broomstick
dressed up in the little gray wedding frock.
The clock with the loud ringing bell wakened
him at last, and Sweep dressed himself in all
his holiday attire. Then he called softly to
the attic just across the way.</p>
<p>"Wake up, my Little Sweep," said he; "this
is your wedding day." He tossed in a bright
red apple, and presently a head was thrust forth
from the attic window opposite. Not Little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>
Sweep's, as of course he had expected, but the
shocking, tousled head of the old master.</p>
<p>"Ah, kind Sweep!" exclaimed the old master,
"I do most greatly thank thee for the sugar
cookies and the red apple."</p>
<p>"But those sugar cookies and red apple were
not for you, old villain!" cried Sweep. "They
were for my darling Little Sweep. Give them
to her at once, I say."</p>
<p>"Oh, pray, good Sweep! I cannot give the
sugar cookies or the red apple to Little Sweep,
because I have already eaten them myself;
besides, she is no longer here, you know,"
replied the old master, and then began to tell
the tale of wonders he had seen the day before.</p>
<p>Sweep listened in amazement. "Now if I
find you have not told me true," cried he,
"I will surely do you a mischief!" Then down
the stairs he sped, and over across the way.
There, as the old master had declared, Sweep
found the new master in the kitchen. The
new master was a pleasant youth, and of
amiable manners. He invited Sweep to stay
and eat breakfast with him, but Sweep, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>
you may suppose, was of no mind to eat. Instead,
he begged for news of Little Sweep.</p>
<p>"Indeed, I have seen no such person here,"
replied Master Jasper, "but this I did see,
which did most greatly astonish me. Yesterday,
as I came into this kitchen, a beautiful princess
robed in shining satin swept past me, and
stepping into a coach of pearl was whirled from
sight. That old villain yonder began to mumble
that this lovely princess had once been his
slave. Of course, I heeded him not, but fetched
him a sharp cuff on the ear and bade him go
about his work."</p>
<p>Sweep now begged leave to look up in the
attic, if the new master would permit. Master
Jasper gave him leave and led the way himself.
Sweep followed him with lagging tread. He
now began to fear that this strange tale might
be true after all. Sadly he gazed about the
cold, bare little room. There in one corner he
saw the bright-colored pasteboard box that he
had made for Little Sweep's poor treasures,
and close by, on a peg, hung the little gray
wedding frock and the red ribbon he had bought
her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p>
<p>"Alas!" mourned Sweep, "it is all my fault!
If my heart had not been thus so stubbornly
set upon a cottage with many chimneys, Little
Sweep and I would have been married long
since, and then, of course, all this magic would
never have happened." The honest fellow
wept bitter tears that left great tracks all down
his sooty face and made him look the very
picture of woe. Young Master Jasper felt
sorry for him. He too had lost his love, it
seemed, and so he sought to comfort Sweep as
best he could.</p>
<p>"Come, Sweep!" cried Master Jasper when
he had heard. "All is not yet lost. If Little
Sweep loved you as dearly as you say, then she
will only love you ten times more, now that
she is a princess! The thing for you to do is
this. Go seek until you find the castle or the
palace wherein she dwells. Who knows—why,
even at this very moment she may be crying
her eyes out, because it is her wedding day, and
yet Sweep has not come!"</p>
<p>These words cheered Sweep. His spirits rose,
and so he dried his tears at once and then set
out to seek the castle where his Little Sweep in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>
the guise of some fair princess might be dwelling.
But though he sought the whole day through, he
sought in vain. When it was growing late, he
left the crowded city streets and ways and
found himself among the open fields and lanes.
Then by and by, at twilight time, Sweep walked
beside the borders of the sea. There he sat
down to rest, for he was very weary. He tossed
aside his cap and sighed to think how happy he
had been but last night, when he thrust the gay
green feather in it. Then he became aware of
a voice speaking to him.</p>
<p>"I know where Little Sweep is dwelling,"
said the voice, and peering down, Sweep saw
a tiny Red Cap perched upon his knee. (It
was the very Red Cap that had hidden in Little
Sweep's pocket the day before.) "If you wish,
I can take you there," continued Red Cap in
a friendly fashion.</p>
<p>"Ah, Red Cap, if you only would!" cried
Sweep. "My heart is broken because I cannot
find my darling."</p>
<p>"Then close your eyes and do not open them
until I say," commanded Red Cap.</p>
<p>Sweep closed his eyes and felt himself a-sailing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>
through the air. He sailed so fast that he had
scarcely time to draw a breath before he felt
himself set down upon the earth once more.</p>
<p>"Now look about you," commanded Red
Cap.</p>
<p>Sweep obeyed. He found himself within
a stately hall of marble; the walls were carved
with gold and coral, all in intricate designs,
and there, upon a throne of ivory set with
gleaming sapphires, was seated Princess Cendre.
Her flowing robes of shimmering white seemed
made of moonbeams sewn together, so soft and
luminous were they. Her hair, black as a
raven's wing, was bound with ropes of pearls
and diamonds. The Princess Cendre sat so still
that Sweep at first believed she was some lovely
carven image he beheld. There was little to
make one think of Little Sweep, save that when
the Princess Cendre spoke, her voice was Little
Sweep's.</p>
<p>"What brings you hither, Sweep?" cried
Princess Cendre angrily, when she became
aware of him.</p>
<p>Sweep was astonished, but answered mildly,
even so.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p>
<p>"Ah, Little Sweep," said he, "now who
would think that fine new raiment and a face
all clean and shining would make this wondrous
change in you? But perchance, if you had ever
worn the new gray frock I bought you for our
wedding, I would have known about your
beauty."</p>
<p>"My name is Little Sweep no longer, but
Princess Cendre, I would have you know," she
answered coldly. "And what have I to do with
gray wedding frocks, I should like to know?"</p>
<p>"Why, Little Sweep," began Sweep in great
surprise, but she interrupted him.</p>
<p>"Princess Cendre, if you please!" cried she.</p>
<p>"Well, Princess Cendre, then," said Sweep.
"Have you forgot that this is our wedding day?
I thought perhaps you would be grieved as I
that we were parted, and so I came hither to
marry thee."</p>
<p>"To marry me!" exclaimed the Princess
Cendre in astonishment. "With your black
face, do you suppose that I would marry you?
I am the Princess Cendre, you must not forget.
And Sweep, if this be your wedding day, as you
say it is, my advice to you is this: Marry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>
the Crossing Sweeper of your choice, and if you
cannot find her, choose another. The city is
full of such poor wretches; there are two or
three at every corner."</p>
<p>Sweep could scarcely believe that he had
heard aright. He had not dreamed his Little
Sweep would treat him thus. He was surprised
and pained to hear her use so many harsh words
all at once. He had not thought she knew any.
In the old days when she had swept crossings
for a penny she had always been a gentle little
creature.</p>
<p>"Surely you are joking, just to try me," cried
poor Sweep. "If you had loved truly, as you
did often say, then though you did become
empress of all the world, you would love me
still. My face is no blacker to-day than it was
yesterday or the day before that. Do not treat
me thus coldly, Little Sweep, or you will break
my heart."</p>
<p>"And if you call me by that name again, I will
have my servants cast you from my topmost
turret and break your head," replied the Princess
Cendre in a towering rage.</p>
<p>"When I was naught but a Crossing Sweeper,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
beaten always and half starved, you gave me
bread and buns and bade me love you. To be
sure, I ate the bread and buns because I was
hungry. But now that I am become a princess
and no longer need your gifts, my heart bids me
to marry none but a prince. Moreover, the
prince whom I shall wed must be handsome and
charming, and his lands and wealth must be
greater than my lands and wealth, which are
very great indeed. So get you gone, now,
Sweep. You see how foolish was your errand."</p>
<p>Poor Sweep stood gazing silently at the
haughty princess, so fair to see and yet so hard
of heart. Presently Red Cap bade him close his
eyes again. Sweep closed his eyes and found
himself a-sailing through the air, and once again
he found himself upon the borders of the sea.</p>
<p>"Ah, Sweep, I am the cause of all thy misfortune,"
said Red Cap sadly.</p>
<p>"How so, my little friend?" asked Sweep.</p>
<p>"It is this way," said Red Cap. "If I had
not vexed my brother yesterday, he would not
have chased me so fiercely, and I would never
have sought shelter in Little Sweep's pocket.
Now, if I had not sought shelter in Little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>
Sweep's pocket, I would never have given her
three wishes, and she would never have become
the Princess Cendre, but would have married
you upon her wedding day."</p>
<p>"But even so, Red Cap," sighed Sweep sadly,
"you are not at fault. Had Little Sweep
desired, she might have wished me to be something
high along with her. But though she
has been ungrateful and selfish, too, I love her
dearly and cannot bear to say a harsh word of
her."</p>
<p>Red Cap was surprised at Sweep's gentle
speech. He had expected him to abuse Little
Sweep and say unkind things of the haughty
Princess Cendre. In all his dealings with
mortals (and he had many, for Red Cap was
nearly, if not quite, a thousand years of age),
he had noticed that mortals were prone to speak
ill of those who had injured them. "Without
doubt this black-faced Sweep is of noble heart,"
thought Red Cap, "but I shall try him even
further."</p>
<p>Aloud he spoke: "Now, Sweep," said Red
Cap, "I have no more magic of the sort that can
raise folk to wealth or high rank and noble<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>
station; but I have still great power to destroy.
Say but a word, and in an instant I will destroy
the castle by the sea. The Princess Cendre in
a flash will turn to Little Sweep; the old master
will be back in the kitchen, and young Master
Jasper will be in his uncle's house once more.
What do you say to this plan?"</p>
<p>"To that I must say no," said Sweep. "I
think it most unworthy."</p>
<p>"Then, Sweep, since you will have none of my
plan, I must be off," said Red Cap. "But hark
you; although I have not magic power in great
store, if you desire aid at any time, make but
a simple wish, and I will instantly appear to help
you. Now farewell!" he cried, and darted off.</p>
<h4>III</h4>
<p>Poor Sweep! Now that his Little Sweep
had treated him so cruelly, he became the saddest
man that one could ever know. For days and
days he did nothing, but would sit with his head
in his hands, staring at the wall, thinking only
of his Little Sweep. Nothing could arouse him,
until at last Master Jasper stepped across the
way and scolded him roundly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p>
<p>"Now, Sweep, this will not do!" cried Master
Jasper. "The bread and cakes and pies will
burn in the ovens all over the land, if the chimneys
be not neatly swept down. Then how the
housewives will scold, to be sure! Likewise will
the merchants say that Sweep is become a lazy
fellow, who sits idling all day long." Master
Jasper, it will be seen, was a sensible youth, as
well as amiable and agreeable.</p>
<p>So once again Sweep set out with his smart
little donkey cart all filled with brooms and
brushes. He found many a housewife angry because
he had delayed her spring house-cleaning;
but when these angry housewives looked at
Sweep's black face, so sad and sorrowful, they
had not the heart to upbraid him. Now, strange
to say, though Sweep was thus so dull and disconsolate,
his trade of sweeping down tall chimneys
thrived as it never had thrived before. He
swept tall chimneys in the north of the kingdom,
and in the south also. Likewise he could often
be seen driving his smart little donkey cart to
the east or to the west to sweep tall chimneys
there. The fame of Sweep's skill began to grow;
he swept the chimneys in the halls of dukes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>
and earls. Indeed, the king and queen commanded
Sweep to bring his brooms and brushes
and set to work about the palace. Their majesties,
it seemed, had been greatly troubled because
the royal kitchen chimney sent the smoke down
instead of up and made the royal cooks and
maidens sneeze and sputter all day long. So
skillfully did Sweep deal with this stubborn chimney
that ever afterward it sent the smoke sky-high,
as proper chimneys should. The royal
cooks and maidens sneezed and sputtered no
more, and their royal majesties were grateful
as could be. The king with his own hands
pinned a royal decoration on Sweep's sooty
sleeve. (But if I am to tell the truth, I must
tell too that from much soot and grime and dust
this royal decoration soon became as black as
Sweep's own sooty sleeve and could not be seen
unless one looked quite closely.)</p>
<p>Now that his trade was thriving thus excellently
and he had no longer need to buy bread
and buns for Little Sweep, Sweep's pennies
grew to golden dollars very rapidly. The golden
dollars in their turn soon filled the second stocking
full, and even filled a third before Sweep was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>
well aware of it. But even so, he took no pleasure
in his wealth; he sighed instead because he
had no longer Little Sweep to share it with him.
Then, lest he become a miser hoarding gold and
spending it not, Sweep at last bethought him
of a kindly plan. Throughout the kingdom
there were thousands and thousands of other
little Crossing Sweepers, two or three at every
corner waiting for a penny. These wretches,
Sweep knew well, were just as poor and miserable
as his own Little Sweep had been in days
gone by. According to his kindly plan, Sweep
now began to change his store of golden dollars
back to pennies once again. Then when
he met a little Crossing Sweeper standing
broom in hand, Sweep would fling a handful
of pennies to the little creature. Sometimes
he filled his donkey cart with bread and buns
and bright red apples to feed these little Crossing
Sweepers, in memory of his own lost Little
Sweep. Until at last from these good practices
Sweep became known as the friend of
all Crossing Sweepers, and was greatly loved
throughout the land.</p>
<p>So seven years passed by. Meanwhile Sweep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>
and Master Jasper continued friends. Sometimes
Sweep stayed to supper in Master Jasper's
comfortable kitchen; other times Sweep would
bid Master Jasper step across and smoke a pipe
or two with him. Then, one evening just at
dusk, Sweep returned from his labors and found
young Master Jasper packed and ready for a
journey.</p>
<p>"Where are you off?" asked Sweep, and
pointed to a musket flung beside a knapsack.</p>
<p>"Have you not heard the news?" cried Master
Jasper eagerly. "A whole year since, a savage
tribe invaded Yelvaland and carried off as
prisoner the young and lovely Empress Yelva.
Now as this lovely empress has neither father
nor husband nor brothers to protect her, and
her people cry for aid, all youths who long for
noble adventure are urged to fight beneath her
banners. Come join me, Sweep."</p>
<p>But Sweep shook his head. "It is not suitable
that I should fight for Empress Yelva,"
he replied. "My black face fits me for naught
but my trade of sweeping down tall chimneys."</p>
<p>"But you are wrong, Sweep," argued Master
Jasper; "a black face in battle is no great mat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>ter.
Stout hearts and strong arms are sorely
needed. Come, and we shall march and fight
together as brothers."</p>
<p>Again Sweep shook his head. "Indeed, good
Master Jasper," answered he, "I wish with all
my heart that I might fight with thee against
this savage tribe and aid the lovely Empress
Yelva; but alas! Who, save thee, would care
to march and fight beside a black-faced sweep?"</p>
<p>"A thousand would! Two thousand would—Nay!
ten thousand would be glad to march
with thee, Sweep!" exclaimed a shrill small
voice beside them. On peering down, Sweep
beheld a tiny Red Cap perched upon the poker;
it was the same that had befriended him so long
ago.</p>
<p>"Ah, Sweep!" continued Red Cap briskly,
"I took a fancy to you when we first met, seven
years ago, and had a notion then that I would
like to know you better. However, since in all
these years you have not wished a wish of me, I
could not have the joy of your acquaintance.
We Red Caps," he explained, "although we be
such powerful folk, cannot appear to mortals
without they wish for us, you know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p>
<p>"I had not known that," answered Sweep
politely, "or I would have wished some simple
thing just for the pleasure of a chat with thee.
But tell me, how is it that you thus appear before
me now?"</p>
<p>"Have you so soon forgot your wish?" asked
Red Cap. "Did I not hear you wish a moment
since to fight beneath the banners of the Empress
Yelva? It is to grant that wish that I
now come. And mark, since in seven years
you have wished no wish of me, my magic now
has grown to power tremendous. Behold thine
army!"</p>
<p>Sweep heard the measured tramp of many
feet, and looking through the gathering gloom,
beheld a line of forms that marched by, four and
four, and all were singing gayly as they went.
At first Sweep could not tell what manner of
soldiers these might be, but presently his eyes
became accustomed to the dusk, and he perceived
that this vast army was composed of
Crossing Sweepers armed with brooms instead
of muskets. Perched atop of every broomstick
he could see a tiny creature similar in looks and
dress to the Red Cap perched upon the poker.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p>
<p>"My brothers and my cousins and likewise
all my friends and uncles have come to help
thee too, Sweep," said Red Cap. "And thou,
good Master Jasper, throw aside thy musket,
for in Sweep's army, muskets and such like will
be useless things."</p>
<p>Good Master Jasper quickly did as Red Cap
had commanded and followed after Sweep.
Sweep shouldered his long brush and marched
proudly at the head of his strange army. And
thus began the journey into Yelvaland.</p>
<p>Now of that journey there is not much to tell.
To be sure, whenever it was time for breakfast,
dinner, or supper, the Red Caps clapped their
hands and there appeared a thousand tables
spread with all good fare. When night fell, or
when storms arose, the Red Caps likewise caused
a city of ten thousand tents to spring up on the
plains. The Crossing Sweepers enjoyed the
whole march as a holiday. In all their wretched
lives before they had not had such good things to
eat. Their hollow cheeks grew plump and rosy
with the winds and sun, and Sweep's heart rejoiced
to see the happy changes that came upon
his friends. At night when they sat grouped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>
about their campfires, the Crossing Sweepers
sang songs loud in praise of Sweep, whom they
declared had always been their friend and who
now was the cause of their pleasant holiday.</p>
<p>Now while Sweep and his strange army were
marching thus toward Yelvaland, the people
there were plunged in deep despair. The savage
troops had given their soldiers so many
drubbings and such bitter punishments in battle
that they had quite lost heart. Judge then of
their great joy when they beheld a friendly force
marching to their aid. But as this horde drew
near, and they perceived what manner of army
it really was, their hearts sank again.</p>
<p>"Alas!" sighed these discouraged folk of
Yelvaland, "of what avail against the savage
troops will be this ragged rabble that approaches?"</p>
<p>But when Sweep's army entered into Yelvaland
and began to lay about them with their
broomsticks, that was another story. Aided
by the magic power of the Red Caps, each broomstick
fell with the force of fifty giant fists and
resounded loud as thunder on the mountain
tops. The savage troops stood their ground<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>
but a short time and then fled in terror before
these strange and powerful weapons which they
had never seen before. (Savages do not sweep
their houses, you know, and so they knew nothing
of the useful broomstick.) Sweep, gallantly
leading his vast army, pursued the flying savages
and gave them battle all the while. So dextrously
and well did the little Crossing Sweepers
wield their brooms that on the third night, when
both armies had agreed to rest, these savage
troops rose up and stole off. Over the hills and
far away they fled and never again were heard
or seen from that day to this. The glorious
part of Sweep's great victory was that he had
not lost a single follower in battle!</p>
<p>"And now to free the young and lovely Empress
Yelva," said Sweep to Red Cap, "and then
our work is done."</p>
<p>"In all good time that too will be accomplished,"
answered Red Cap. "The Empress
Yelva lies hidden deep down in a well of her own
tears. This well lies close beside the gates of
Yelvaland, and so you had best face your army
right about and march there."</p>
<p>Then once again the Crossing Sweepers shoul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>dered
their brooms and marched gayly off to
Yelvaland. They reached the gates of the
kingdom just as the moon was sinking slowly
in the sky, and Sweep gave orders that they
wait until the dawn to enter.</p>
<p>"Come with me, Sweep," whispered Red
Cap; "the time has come to seek the Empress
Yelva," and led him to a well within a grove of
trees.</p>
<p>"Now, Sweep, attend me closely," warned
Red Cap, "for if you do not as I say, all will be
lost. When the moon's last ray will light the
waters of this well, plunge down into its depths
and bring the Empress Yelva up with you.
Lose not a second's time, for if the moonbeam
leave the well before you, the lovely Empress
Yelva must forever remain prisoner and yourself
likewise. Do you think that you are nimble
enough to try?"</p>
<p>"I know not of my nimbleness, but I will try,"
said Sweep, and plunged down headlong, as a
pale moonbeam shone down and silvered the
dark waters. Before the winking of an eye,
it seemed, he rose again, clasping the Empress
Yelva by the hand. The moonbeam tarried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>
long enough for Sweep to see the lovely maiden
he had rescued. Her eyes like two blue violets
shone with kindliness, her golden hair fell rippling
like a cloak about her, and when she spoke
her voice was like the chime of silver bells.</p>
<p>"Ah, sir!" exclaimed the lovely Empress
Yelva. "Although from your poor dress I
know that you are naught but a humble Sweep,
I honor you for your brave deed, and I shall
wed you."</p>
<p>At this poor Sweep was covered with confusion.
He had not dreamed the lovely Empress
Yelva would so much as deign to thank
him; had not the haughty Princess Cendre
scorned him? But even so his heart still longed
for his first love, and knowing nothing better
to do, the honest fellow told his sad tale to the
empress, as they stood beside the well. She
listened closely all the while.</p>
<p>"You have a noble heart, good Sweep," said
she when he had done, "and though you do not
choose to wed me, I bear you no malice, but
instead shall help you win your Little Sweep,
who has become the Princess Cendre."</p>
<p>"Alas, your worship!" said Sweep sadly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>
"that can never be. The Princess Cendre
would scorn my black face, no matter what my
fame or fortune."</p>
<p>"Why as to that, Sweep," cried Red Cap,
"have no more concern. The Empress Yelva's
tears, it would seem, are magic, for since you
have plunged down the well, your face is become
clean and white as though 'twere scrubbed
a dozen times. You are now a handsome fellow."</p>
<p>"And when I have rewarded you suitably, the
Princess Cendre will be more than glad to wed
you, rest assured, good Sweep," said Empress
Yelva. "But now the dawn is here, so let us
hasten that I may see my people and my own
dear Yelvaland once more."</p>
<p>You may imagine that there was wild rejoicing
when Sweep and his vast strange army
knocked upon the gates of the kingdom and demanded
that they open wide for Empress Yelva.
A holiday that lasted seven days was set, and
there were games and sports and pleasures.
The people sang and danced upon the highways,
and oxen were roasted whole upon great bonfires.
Sweep and all the Crossing Sweepers
were praised and honored throughout the length<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>
and breadth of Yelvaland, and all was merry as
could be.</p>
<p>When this great holiday was passed, as holidays
all do, the business of the court began again.
The Empress Yelva ordered that a cottage and
a piece of ground, as well as two bags filled with
gold, be given to each Crossing Sweeper in reward
for their brave deeds. The Crossing
Sweepers were so delighted with their gifts that
they never again returned to their own land
but dwelled in Yelvaland for all their days.
The Red Caps likewise were so pleased with
lovely Empress Yelva and so admired her kind
heart and sense of gratitude that they decided
from that day to make their home among the
forests of her realm.</p>
<p>"And now, Sweep," said the Empress Yelva,
when all this was done, "I have not forgot the
promise that I made thee." Accordingly she
made him prince. His title was Prince Sweepmore
and his domain of Sweepmost was twice
as great and twice as rich as was the domain of
haughty Princess Cendre. Sweep now was
dressed in crimson velvet. The Empress Yelva
from her treasure store gave him a golden sword<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>
all set with rubies that flashed forth flame and
fire in the sun. A hundred horses laden all
with bags of gold and pearls were also given him,
as well as a like number of servants to attend
him. Then once again Sweep set forth to marry
Princess Cendre.</p>
<p>"I grieve to see thee go, good Sweep," sighed
Empress Yelva as they parted, "but even so I
do admire thy faithful heart that bids thee go."</p>
<p>"And I likewise do grieve to go; and I thank
thee for thy gifts," Sweep answered. He bade
young Master Jasper farewell too. Young Master
Jasper had fallen deep in love with a noble
maiden of the Empress Yelva's court and was
about to marry her.</p>
<p>A royal messenger had been sent before to tell
these tidings to the Princess Cendre. Now,
strange to say, though the haughty Princess was
thus beautiful and wealthy, she was still unwed.
To be sure, many princes of small fortunes had
sought her hand, but of these the haughty creature
would have none. However, her selfish
ways had not pleased princes whom she had
desired to please, and so it was she sat alone
within her splendid castle by the sea. You may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>
be sure that she rejoiced when she learned that
Sweep was now a prince with land and riches in
good store.</p>
<p>"Ah!" she exclaimed, "his face is clean and
shining too, I hear, which is excellent. I could
not tolerate him otherwise; but as it is, I shall
delight to wed him." And so the haughty
princess sent for milliners and jewelers and for
bootmakers and dressmakers too. She bought
such silken hose and high-heeled shoes as must
have cost a fortune, and had her wedding dress
sewn thick with diamonds. When word was
brought that the new prince was come, she
donned this sparkling robe and received him
with great courtesy.</p>
<p>"Ah, Sweep!" cried she, "although I know
full well that Empress Yelva hath given thee a
fine new title, I love to call thee by the dear old
name I used to know. Tell me of thy life since
last we parted. I have heard the Empress Yelva
desired to marry thee herself. The forward
creature! I blush for her that she should be
so bold. She must be very plain of face indeed
if she must go a-seeking for a husband."</p>
<p>To these sharp words Sweep made reply:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>
"Indeed, the Empress Yelva is so fair of face
that neither tongue nor pen can well describe
her beauty. Moreover, she is so kind of heart
and gentle of manner that though she were as
plain as plain, I still would think her lovely!"</p>
<p>"Indeed!" returned the haughty Princess
Cendre and gazed with satisfaction in her mirror.
"However, it is not to chat about this forward
creature that you have come hither; it is to
wed me. Come, my bishops are in readiness;
my guests are waiting."</p>
<p>Now, when Sweep at last beheld this haughty
Princess after seven years of longing, he found
a curious change had come upon him. He became
aware that he no longer loved her, and
that her haughty manner and her spiteful speech
distressed him. At last he saw her as she really
was, an ungrateful, cold-hearted creature who
thought of no one but herself. (Although
Sweep knew it not, the waters of the well had
wrought this change in him. You may be
sure that Red Cap was aware of it!) So
though his heart was grieved to give another
pain, Sweep determined to speak his mind
quite plainly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p>
<p>"Ah, Princess Cendre," said he, "I fear me
you must tell your guests that you have changed
your mind and bid your bishops go. For since
my black face has been changed as though by
magic, it would seem my heart and mind by
magic were changed too. I know now that thou
art too cold and proud to be my princess; a princess
should delight to make folk happy, and that
I fear me you would never do."</p>
<p>The Princess Cendre was enraged at this talk.
We well know that she had a dreadful temper
when it was aroused, and she chose to rouse it
now. She stormed and she scolded; she threatened
Sweep and she denounced him; but she
could not move his resolution.</p>
<p>"You have come hither to wed me. This is
my wedding day, and you shall not ride away!"
cried she.</p>
<p>"Nay, but I will," returned Sweep. "Once
before I came hither to wed thee on thy wedding
day, and once before I rode away. And so
farewell!"</p>
<p>Away rode Sweep with all his train, and stopped
nor stayed until he reached the gates of Yelvaland.
A herald told the news of his approach,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>
and Empress Yelva with her noble lords and
ladies went forth to welcome him. Sweep fell
upon his knee and humbly begged the lovely
maiden's hand in marriage, and Empress Yelva
smilingly consented.</p>
<p>"Indeed, dear Sweep!" declared the Empress
Yelva, "I had a notion all the while that you
would soon return, and had our wedding feast
prepared!" (Now could it have been that the
Red Caps whispered of the magic change the well
of her own tears had caused?)</p>
<p>Then straightway Sweep and Empress Yelva
were married. Young Master Jasper and the
noble maiden were married too; it was a double
wedding. Another feast was held, so bounteous
and so magnificent that all previous feasts
seemed poor and mean by comparison. Sports
and games were set, and prizes of great value
were awarded. Each nobleman received a bag
of diamonds as a gift, each noble lady a rope of
pearls. The common people, one and all, were
given each a bag of golden coins that they too
might make merry. The lords and dukes danced
on the highways with the dairymaids; the Empress
Yelva and her ladies trod minuets with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>
shepherd lads and farmer boys, and all was
merry as a marriage feast should be.</p>
<p>Sweep now was Emperor. He wore a robe
of purple bordered deep with ermine, and held
a sceptre clustered thick with diamonds when
he sat at court. With Empress Yelva by his
side, he now rode forth in a splendid chariot of
gold and royal enamels. But though he was
thus raised to high rank and great wealth, Sweep
was as amiable and as kind of heart as he had
been when he swept down tall chimneys for his
living and drove his donkey cart all filled with
brooms and brushes. To tell the truth, however,
Sweep had little opportunity to do kind
deeds. There were no poor folk to be found in
Yelvaland. The Empress Yelva governed her
realm too well and wisely for that. Now it
happened on one winter's day, when all the
ground was white, Sweep noticed that the frost
hung thick and glistened on the branches of the
firs and cedars.</p>
<p>"It seems to me, my dear," said Sweep to
Empress Yelva, "that it would be most suitable
if we should build some houses for our little
friends, the Red Caps, who are dwelling in our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>
forest. I fear me that they suffer greatly from
the cold."</p>
<p>The Empress Yelva thought this plan most
excellent, and soon the royal carpenters and
joiners were set to making tiny little houses.
When these were made, the royal painters colored
them bright green with bright red roofs, which
was quite like the costume of the Red Caps,
if you will remark. The Empress Yelva and
her noble lords and ladies then hung these tiny
houses in the branches of the firs and cedars,
and they looked like so many brightly colored
bird-houses. When the Red Caps flew home
that night, they were delighted; they guessed
at once for whom these tiny houses were meant.
They praised Sweep and complimented him on
his kind heart and his thoughtful ways.</p>
<p>"We Red Caps do many kind things for mortals,"
they remarked most sagely to each other,
"but it is seldom mortals ever think to do kind
things for us. It is quite fitting that Sweep
should be Emperor; he hath a noble heart, as
sovereigns all should have."</p>
<p>It happened then upon another day, while
still the snow lay thick upon the ground, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>
Princess Cendre and her servants went a-riding
through this forest. The haughty princess
marked the tiny brightly colored houses, and
asked what they might be. A forester near by
made answer thus:</p>
<p>"Now if your royal highness please," said
he, "Sweep, our good Emperor, hath caused
these to be made for our little friends, the Red
Caps. They suffered greatly with the cold, he
thought."</p>
<p>"Indeed!" exclaimed the Princess Cendre.
"Then your little friends, the Red Caps, must
suffer from the cold again, I fear. I have taken
a great fancy to these pretty toys and mean to
hang them in my own forests, that my goldfinches
and nightingales may dwell therein in
winter, instead of flying to the southland."
She then desired her servants to cut down the
tiny, brightly colored houses and rode off, little
thinking of the mischief she had done.</p>
<p>That night, when the Red Caps flew home,
they were agitated and buzzed about like so
many angry little bees. They missed their tiny
comfortable houses and shivered with the cold.
They knew, of course, who had done this. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>
knew all things—these Red Caps of the olden
days.</p>
<p>"Now this haughty Princess Cendre is impossible!"
they declared most wrathfully. "She
cares not though we freeze to death; although
we have done noble things for her, she has quite
forgot them. She has been princess long
enough!" they cried. "Let her be Little Sweep
again," and they clapped their hands in anger.</p>
<p>Then in that instant vanished the splendid
castle by the sea, and Princess Cendre's robes
of satin fell from her. She found herself dressed
out in sweeper's rags, and once more, broom in
hand, standing on her corner. The old master,
back within his comfortable kitchen again, was
disposed to treat her no better than he had before;
and so, for all her days, Little Sweep was forced
to dwell within her cold, bare attic. But there was
no kind Sweep to toss her bread and buns each
day nor buy her bright red apples or plum cake.</p>
<p>Sweep, on the other hand, lived long and
happily as Emperor. He and the lovely Empress
Yelva, it is said, were blessed with twenty
children, all of whom inherited Sweep's noble
nature and his kindly heart.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
<h3>KINGS AND QUEENS AND PEASANT FOLK</h3>
<p>Once upon a time, in a splendid palace on
the top of a high hill, there dwelled a very old
king and his wife, who was likewise a very old
queen. Now this royal old couple lived in
great state and luxury. Their diamond crowns
glittered and sparkled like the sunbeams on a
summer sea; and their trailing velvet robes
were so thickly embroidered with gold that they
stood alone. This very old king and his wife,
the very old queen, had a coach of gold and glass
drawn by eight white horses in silver harness.
But with all this splendor and magnificence,
this royal old couple were not happy or contented.
Indeed they were called Queen Grumpy
and King Crosspatch, which names were most
suitable, for they were discontented and disagreeable
as the day was long.</p>
<p>Queen Grumpy fretted because she had a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>
hundred ladies-in-waiting. She said they bothered
her. King Crosspatch scolded and sulked
because Lord High Chancellor would not permit
him to smoke a briarwood pipe. They both
declared their diamond crowns gave them a
headache, and they were tired of their trailing
velvet robes. Queen Grumpy and King Crosspatch
refused to ride in their royal coach of
gold and glass. The eight white horses trotted
too swiftly and shook their old bones about. So
this very old king and this very old queen went
afoot; but even so, they complained and scolded
because all the roads about the palace led either
up a hill or down, and they puffed and panted
for breath before their walk was done.</p>
<p>Now often and often at sunset, as they rested
on their way up the high hill, Queen Grumpy
and King Crosspatch looked with longing on a
certain snug little cottage down in the valley.
Within this snug little cottage lived a very old
man and his very old wife. They were peasants.
There were rows and rows of sunflowers and
hollyhocks before this snug little cottage and
behind, while to the left and right stretched
green pastures thick with blackberry vines.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p>
<p>"Ah, my dear!" King Crosspatch would sigh,
as he watched the old man at work. "How
pleasant it must be to live in such a snug little
cottage. That old man goes every evening to
fetch the cows. How I wish I were that old
man!"</p>
<p>"Indeed, yes!" Queen Grumpy would reply
with an answering sigh. "How I wish I were
that old woman. She goes about from morning
until night, so brisk and blithe. She can bake
bread and churn butter herself; she is not
bothered with a hundred ladies-in-waiting as
I am."</p>
<p>Now most remarkable to tell, often as Queen
Grumpy and King Crosspatch gazed thus longingly
at the little cottage so snug, and wished
themselves the old man and the old woman, the
old man and the old woman gazed just as longingly
on the splendid palace and wished themselves
King Crosspatch and Queen Grumpy.
For if you will believe me, this old man and his
old wife were a most discontented couple too!</p>
<p>So it happened one evening, when Queen
Grumpy and King Crosspatch were walking
down the hill, they met the old man and his old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>
wife climbing up. So while they sat to rest on
a stone stile, these four discontented old folk
fell to talking.</p>
<p>"Ah!" exclaimed King Crosspatch to the old
man, "I have often watched you fetch the cows
home from pasture in the evening, and what
fun it seems, to be sure! Then you often go
a-berrying too. You should be very happy."</p>
<p>"Indeed, Your Royal Highness, I am not!"
replied the old man with bitter feeling. "I am
tired of fetching cows, and I would like to sit
still all day with folded hands. I often wish
I were you. As for going a-berrying; I go only
because I am so fond of blackberry pie. There's
one for my supper to-night," he added, and
smacked his lips with relish. And then, oh,
how King Crosspatch envied the old man!
King Crosspatch had longed to eat blackberry
pie all his life, but the court physician would not
permit such ordinary food on the royal table.
So the poor old king had never had even a taste
of a blackberry pie.</p>
<p>"And you too," said Queen Grumpy to the
old woman, "you should be very happy. You
loop your dress above your red flannel petticoat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>
and trot round all day, baking bread and churning
butter. You have nothing ever to vex or
worry you."</p>
<p>"Nothing to vex or worry me!" repeated the
old woman in astonishment. "Why, I am
vexed that I must churn my butter, and at this
very minute I am worried lest the loaves I left
baking in the oven may burn before I am home
again. And indeed, Your Royal Highness, I loop
my dress above my red flannel petticoat only
because I must. A hundred times a day I wish
I were you and could wear trailing velvet robes
sewn thick with gold!"</p>
<p>Now as these four discontented old folk
talked on, a curious plan popped into their
heads. They decided to change places. Accordingly,
Queen Grumpy took the old woman's
dress and looped it above the red flannel petticoat;
the old woman buttoned herself into
Queen Grumpy's trailing velvet robes. King
Crosspatch put on the old man's battered hat;
the old man set the sparkling diamond crown
above his sunburned brow, and all was done.
Then singing and laughing, these four old folk
went on their separate ways. All four felt as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>sured
that they were really walking on the road
to happiness at last, and all were very pleased
and jolly in consequence.</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Oh, there's no place like a palace,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A palace, a palace!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Oh, there's no place like a palace<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon a hill so high!"<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>sang the old man and his old wife as they
climbed up the steep hill.</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Oh, there's no place like a cottage,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A cottage, a cottage!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Oh, there's no place like a cottage<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Down in a valley green!"<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>sang King Crosspatch and Queen Grumpy, and
they went trudging down. Then when they
reached the snug little cottage, how pleased they
were to be sure! Everything was so cozy and
comfortable to behold. The kettle on the
hearth was boiling, and the loaves in the oven
were browning; the bird in the cage was singing,
and the cat on the cushion was purring.
The table was laid with all manner of good
things for tea.</p>
<p>"The blackberry pie! The blackberry pie!
My dear, let's have it at once!" cried King<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>
Crosspatch, and went searching through cupboard
and larder to find it.</p>
<p>"Wait just a moment until I have made the
tea," answered Queen Grumpy, busily bustling
about the kitchen. She made the tea, and he
found the blackberry pie, and then they both
sat down to supper. There were ever and ever
so many good things on the table. There were
cold roast fowls and quince preserves; there were
strawberry tarts and plum as well; there was
fresh new butter, and there was thick sweet
cream. Queen Grumpy and King Crosspatch
ate them all and then began to think about
dessert!</p>
<p>"Now would you mind, my dear, if I should
eat all the blackberry pie myself?" asked King
Crosspatch of Queen Grumpy. "You see, I
have only read about blackberry pie in books
and have never tasted one in all my life before."</p>
<p>"Not at all, my dear!" replied Queen Grumpy
most amiably. "I intend to eat all this ginger
cake which I have never seen or tasted before."
And so this royal old couple continued to eat
until both larder and cupboard were bare.</p>
<p>"How fine this little cottage is and how very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>
snug!" said Queen Grumpy, seating herself in
a rocker before the blazing logs. She began to
knit on a gray wool sock she found. "I think
we shall be very happy here."</p>
<p>"And I think so too," agreed King Crosspatch.
"We have eaten a fine supper in a very
few minutes and without any fuss of footmen
or ladies-in-waiting either." He found a briarwood
pipe and began to doze peacefully in deep
contentment. Queen Grumpy knitted busily
until the logs burned low, when she began to
nod and doze also. Then they both went to
bed.</p>
<p>But the beds in the snug little cottage were
not of the excellent quality of its cold roasted
fowls and new butter and jam. The mattresses
were rough affairs. They were stuffed here
with corn husks and there with straw and yet
again with goose feathers, which pricked Queen
Grumpy and King Crosspatch like so many
pins. On these rough husky beds the royal old
couple tossed restlessly until morning. They
vowed they did not sleep a wink. (Perhaps
they had eaten too much blackberry pie and
ginger cake; what do you think about it?)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>
When it was daylight at last, King Crosspatch
clapped his hands to call his servants to attend.</p>
<p>"Ah, my dear!" said Queen Grumpy, "have
you forgotten that we are no longer royal folk
but simple cottagers instead?"</p>
<p>"Indeed, I had quite forgotten all about it,"
replied King Crosspatch. "Well, I am glad
we are," and he began to dress.</p>
<p>Together they set about making breakfast;
but again the breakfast proved a different matter
from supper. You will remember that they
had eaten everything in the cupboard and
larder the night before. There was no milk,
for they had forgotten to milk the cow, and
neither were there eggs. They had neglected
to search the nests. Moreover, the wood box
was empty, and the fire was out.</p>
<p>"Now do you go out and chop some wood for
the fire, my dear," said Queen Grumpy. "I
shall milk the cow. I have always liked to look
at pictures of milkmaids." She took the pail
on her arm and went in search of the three-legged
stool. Then she seated herself beside
Bossy-Cow and began to milk. But sad to
tell, Bossy-Cow, who herself was rather dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>agreeable,
waited until the pail was nearly
filled, and then she gave a sudden kick. Such a
vicious kick it was, too! It upset the milk-pail,
three-legged stool, Queen Grumpy and all,
and frightened the poor old queen half out of
her wits. She began to scream so loudly that
she quite frightened King Crosspatch, and the
hatchet slipped and chopped a bit of his little
finger.</p>
<p>"Oh! Oh! Oh!" wailed King Crosspatch at
the very top of his voice. "I think this hatchet
is bewitched! Oh! Oh! Oh!" he wept, holding
up his little finger. (It was not much of a
cut; just a little scratch; but he was a great
crosspatch, you know.) "Oh, what shall I do?
What shall I do?" he wailed. "With this terrible
cut on my little finger, I can't do anything
at all!"</p>
<p>"There now, there now," petted Queen
Grumpy soothingly. "Don't chop any more
wood. There are still a few drops of milk left
in my pail, and we shall drink that and eat
bread for our breakfast." She led her weeping
husband within the snug little cottage, but
when she looked in the oven she found another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>
disappointment. Queen Grumpy had forgotten
to take the loaves out of the oven the night
before, and they were burned to a crisp.</p>
<p>"Oh, this plagued cottage!" exclaimed Queen
Grumpy, thoroughly vexed. "Everything goes
wrong here. I wish I were back in my own
palace once more! I would never sigh again to
leave it."</p>
<p>"Neither would I," agreed King Crosspatch,
drying his tears suddenly. "Let's go back!"</p>
<p>They made up their minds in an instant, and
slamming the door of the snug little cottage,
they began to climb the steep hill to their
splendid palace. Every step of the way they
were in a perfect torment of fear lest the old
man and the old woman would refuse to change
places again.</p>
<p>"That old woman will never want to give
me my trailing velvet robes," said Queen
Grumpy, as they sat to rest on the stone
stile.</p>
<p>"And I have been thinking that the old man
will fight to keep my diamond crown," said
King Crosspatch anxiously. But at that very
minute they heard voices, and behold! around<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>
the turn in the road came the old man and old
woman, hurrying as though an army were after
them. The old man was thumping his stick,
and the old woman was making angry gestures
with her hands; and both the old man
and the old woman looked very cross and ill-humored.</p>
<p>"Ah, here you are!" exclaimed the old man,
stopping short before the stone stile. "Now
give me my hat and take back your hateful
crown without any further nonsense! I could
not sleep a wink last night, because it was so
heavy on my head. Such a hateful palace too!
I never saw the like! I could not smoke my
briarwood pipe which I brought along for
company, and this morning two villains were
like to drown me in a pool before I was fully
awake."</p>
<p>"They did not try to drown you," replied
King Crosspatch haughtily. "That pool was a
bath. Here is your hat; give me my crown."</p>
<p>"You may call it a bath or not, just as you
choose," declared the old man warmly, "but
let those two villains drown you instead of me,
is what I say! I was never so disappointed in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>
all my life as I was with your palace. The
royal throne was hard as stone; the royal
beds were soft as dough; everything was
wrong."</p>
<p>Meanwhile Queen Grumpy and the old woman
were having a time of it.</p>
<p>"Your cow has no manners," complained
Queen Grumpy. "She kicked me, and she
spilled the milk. I should behead her if she
were mine."</p>
<p>"Would you, indeed?" asked the old woman
scornfully, "and drink water and eat bread
without butter all the rest of your life, I suppose?
Let me tell you, Your Royal Highness,
that your servants are lazy and good-for-nothing!
I saw dust on the tops of all the doors
and windows, and the silver flagon was not
polished as brightly as my old pewter pots.
Your royal cooks make griddlecakes heavy as
lead; you had best behead them instead of my
good Bossy-Cow." Then she added, "Did you
feed my bird and give him water?"</p>
<p>"I could hardly feed myself in that awkward
cottage of yours!" retorted Queen Grumpy.</p>
<p>"Oh, my poor bird!" exclaimed the old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>
woman. "Here, hurry and give me back my
own dress that I may loop it above my red
flannel petticoat and be comfortable once more.
I suppose you took the bread out of the oven
in time—did you?"</p>
<p>"I forgot it, and it burned," sulkily replied
Queen Grumpy, buttoning herself into her
trailing velvet robes.</p>
<p>"Oh, what stupid folk are kings and queens!"
cried the old woman in a passion. "Come
along, husband," she called, and down the hill
they went.</p>
<p>"And what stupid folk are cottagers!" called
King Crosspatch after them. "Come along,
wife," said he, and up the hill they went.</p>
<p>And so these four old folk again went on their
separate ways. All four were sure that they
were walking on the road to happiness at last,
and so all were very jolly and smiling in consequence.</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Oh, there's no place like home!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Oh, there's no place like home!"<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>sang the old man and his old wife, as they
went trudging down to the little cottage so
snug.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Oh, there's no place like home!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Oh, there's no place like home!"<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>sang Queen Grumpy and King Crosspatch, as
they went climbing to their splendid palace on
the top of a high hill; and there we will bid
them all adieu!</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
<h3>THE GOOSE GIRL AND THE BLUE GANDER</h3>
<p>Once upon a time there was a goose girl who
tended her flock in a green meadow. The
meadow was dotted with forget-me-nots and
yellow buttercups, and the sun shone down on
it; her geese were fine blue geese and uncommonly
knowing. She should have been the
happiest goose girl in all the world, but she was
not. She thought not of the beautiful meadow
nor of her geese that were a pleasure to tend,
for they were so wise and always did her bidding;
but instead this goose girl wept every day because
she longed to marry a certain lord who
lived in a gray stone castle at the top of a high
hill. All day long she sat looking at this castle,
and her eyes could see nothing else for admiration
of it. She dreamed dreams a hundred
times a day, in which she married the lord, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>
was cross with her geese because she had to
tend them.</p>
<p>Now when the lord of the castle went riding
by the green meadow, this silly goose girl would
run after the carriage, shouting his name and
throwing bouquets of wild flowers to him.
But alas! The carriage always whirled by so
quickly that the lord heard her not, and the
bouquets of wild flowers fell in the dust by the
roadside. Each time the goose girl wept and
threw sticks at her geese because she had been
disappointed, until they fled to shelter.</p>
<p>"It is the stupid coachman's fault," said the
goose girl to herself one day, after she had
chased the carriage for a long distance. "My
lord is within, of course, and cannot hear me,
for the windows of glass shut out all sound."
She knew that maidens often wrote letters
when they were unable to obtain speech with
those whom they fancied, and she resolved to
write to the lord of the gray stone castle.</p>
<p>She spent her year's earnings on some pink
paper with red hearts lovingly entwined on the
border, and that her letter might be colorful
and splendid, she bought also some purple ink.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>
Then the goose girl sat before a flat rock and
strove to compose such a letter to the lord that
he would stop his carriage the next time he rode
by the meadow.</p>
<p>"The first day he will ask me to ride with
him, and the second day he will ask me to wed
him," thought the goose girl, as she sat gazing
at the gray stone castle. "The third day I
shall ride with him a bride to yonder castle,
where I shall dwell forevermore and have
naught to do with geese but to eat them
roasted!"</p>
<p>Her geese, thinking perhaps she had spread
on the rock something fine to eat, crowded
about her, but she drove them off. They
bothered her, and she wished to give her mind
to the letter. One large blue gander remained
near, in spite of her angry motions and cross
words. The goose girl was about to begin her
letter when she remembered that she had
brought no pen.</p>
<p>"Ah me! What shall I do?" she cried. "I
shall have no more earnings for another year,
and by that time my lord may be wed to some
fair maiden, and I will surely die of a broken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>
heart!" She covered her face and wept aloud
at her misfortune. Suddenly she began to
laugh instead.</p>
<p>"Oh, that I should be so foolish!" she exclaimed.
"Here waiting my hand I have a
hundred pens." She seized the large blue
gander and plucked a fine quill from under his
wing, but no sooner had she done so than the
bird began to speak.</p>
<p>"That is not right," declared the gander.
"You have taken what belongs not to you
but to me. Put back my quill, or I shall be
vexed."</p>
<p>"And who is there to care?" replied the
goose girl rudely. "When I have written a
letter to my lord of the gray stone castle, you
shall have your quill and not before."</p>
<p>She began to speak her thoughts aloud, as
goose girls often do, and started once more to
compose the letter. "To my dearest lord of
the gray stone castle, whom I love with all my
heart, but who whirls past me as I sit tending
geese in the meadow," she planned to write, and
dipped the quill in the purple ink. To her dismay
the pen wrote not at all as she planned,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
but seemed possessed of a spirit to go of itself.
It wrote with a remarkable flourish:</p>
<p>"Dear gander!"</p>
<p>But the goose girl pulled it from the paper
before it could write more.</p>
<p>"What manner of pen is this?" she cried in
vexation.</p>
<p>"It is not your quill," said the blue gander.
"I am its master, and it will write letters to
none but me."</p>
<p>"Well, upon my word!" declared the goose
girl. "You are the most forward creature I
have yet seen, and this is what you will get."
She took a long branch and beat the gander
until he hid from sight in the bushes. Then
again she strove to write her letter, but again
the pen was possessed of a spirit of mischief.</p>
<p>"Oh! Oh!" wept the goose girl, "I have
spent all my earnings on splendid pink paper
with red hearts lovingly entwined on the border,
and purple ink I bought also that my letter
might be fine as a valentine. But, alas! I am
bothered with a stubborn quill that will not
write as I think. If I write not my letter to my
lord, he will never know of me. Then he will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>
never marry me, and I shall dwell forever in my
wretched hut instead of the gray stone castle,
as I have desired."</p>
<p>"You weep because you cannot marry the
lord who lives in yonder gray stone castle,"
said the blue gander, poking his long neck from
the bushes where he had fled. "Let me give
you some advice. A wretched hut is not a
pleasant place, 'tis true, but your manners suit
it better than the castle of your dreams."</p>
<p>"Hold your tongue, forward bird!" screamed
the goose girl in anger. She seized a clod of
earth and hurled it with such force that had
it struck the gander, he would have fallen flat
in his tracks; but luck was with him, and he
dodged.</p>
<p>The next day and the next day after that the
goose girl sat down to write before the flat rock
in the meadow; but the quill was stubborn as
ever. She spoiled all but one sheet of the
precious pink paper. Then once more the blue
gander spoke to the goose girl.</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 509px;">
<img src="images/i008.jpg" width="509" height="800" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption">So at last, after much thought, the goose girl
did as the blue gander bade.—<i>Page 237.</i>
</span>
</div>
<p>"You have spoiled many sheets of your
precious pink paper," said the gander, nodding
his head and cocking his eye in the wisest sort
of way. "Why will you not let the quill write
a letter to me,—if only to see what will happen?"</p>
<p>"But then I shall have no more paper on
which to write to my lord, and I shall dwell
forever in my wretched hut instead of the castle
of my dreams," answered the goose girl.</p>
<p>"Mayhap there might be a betwixt and between,"
remarked the gander sagely. "Write
the letter and hand it to me with a bow."</p>
<p>So at last, after much thought, the goose
girl did as the blue gander bade. She dipped
the quill in the purple ink, and immediately it
touched the paper it began to write such a
marvelous letter as never before was seen or
read! It called the blue gander all manner of
tender names and vowed he was handsome and
knowing. At the end, this remarkable quill
wrote the goose girl's name with a flourish so
fine that she was pleased in spite of herself.
She folded the letter and handed it to the
gander with a bow.</p>
<p>No sooner had she done this than the blue
gander spread his wings and flew away in the
clouds, and in his place stood a handsome<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
shepherd lad dressed in blue corduroys. He
had a hundred sheep in the fold that followed
him, and in his hand a bag of silver.</p>
<p>"Dearest Goose Girl, wilt be mine?" asked
he. "Yonder is my cottage, where I am sure
we shall be very happy."</p>
<p>The goose girl was amazed at the change.
But so handsome was this young shepherd lad,
and so winning of speech and manner, that all
thoughts of the gray stone castle and the lord
tumbled out of her head. She gazed with delight
at the little cottage to which the shepherd
lad pointed. Blue smoke was curling from its
chimney, and a bluebird was singing in a cage
beside the kitchen door.</p>
<p>"We shall be married at once, shepherd lad
of my heart," she answered him sweetly, "and
I shall make you griddlecakes for your supper."</p>
<p>So the goose girl and the shepherd were married
and went to live in the little cottage. Indeed,
for all that I know, there they may be
living to this day, for I have met no one who
has ever told me of the death of either.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
<h3>THE LITTLE BROWN MAN</h3>
<p>Once upon a time, there lived at the top of a
very tall tree a little magic sprite. Now this
magic sprite was called the Little Brown Man,
and the tree was called the Tall Pine Tree. The
Little Brown Man was so very small that had
you ever seen him skipping and hopping about
in his tree, you would have thought him some
lively little brown squirrel. The Little Brown
Man was always busy as a bee and twice as
cheerful. He spent his days sweeping away
the withered pine needles so that fresh new
green needles might grow. With his cunning
hands and powers of magic he mended broken
places in the bark with healing herbs. At
night the Little Brown Man rested from his
labors. He curled himself up in the topmost
boughs of the Tall Pine Tree, and the tree would
rock him gently and sing him songs about the sea.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p>
<p>Thus the Little Brown Man, scarce bigger
than my hand, and the Tall Pine Tree so high
lived on in peace and happiness until an evil
time befell them. It happened on a black
winter's night, when the Storm Wind in a rage
went crashing through the forest. Lashing the
heavy branches of the tallest trees, he tore them
loose and flung them to the ground as though
they had been but so many twigs. Uprooting
tiny trees and saplings by the score, the Storm
Wind tore his way along until he reached the
Tall Pine Tree. There he saw the Little Brown
Man asleep in its topmost boughs.</p>
<p>"Ha, Little Brown Man!" laughed the Storm
Wind wickedly. "At last I've caught you
unaware, and I will do you mischief!" So saying,
he blew a furious blast and flung the Little
Brown Man to the ground beneath. Then, in
a wailing voice, the Storm Wind wove a spell of
deep enchantment round the Little Brown Man,
singing thus:</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Flaming eye and hand like claw,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You'll dwell at your tree top no more;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No child at your approach will stay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Your face will scare them all away.<br /></span>
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span><span class="i0">But 'til some child bids you good-day,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You'll dwell down on the ground so low,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And to the Tall Pine cannot go!"<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>And then the Storm Wind blew away.</p>
<p>For a long time, the Little Brown Man lay
still as one dead, for the fall had hurt him
cruelly. The Tall Pine Tree wept bitterly at
the little sprite's misfortune, and by and by
its tears, falling like rain, wakened the Little
Brown Man. But alas! The Storm Wind's
wicked spell had changed him, and the Little
Brown Man with flaming eye and clawlike
hand was very fierce and terrible to look
upon.</p>
<p>"Oh, tell me, my Pine Tree!" cried the Little
Brown Man in dismay, "how am I changed
thus? My hands are hands no longer, but
claws like those of wild beasts; my eye flames
redder than the wicked wolf's! I cannot hop
or skip; indeed, I scarce can hobble, so bent
and twisted have I grown."</p>
<p>"Alas, my Little Brown Man!" the Tall Pine
Tree replied. "While you did sleep, the Storm
Wind tore you from my topmost bough, and
wove this wicked spell around you. Until some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>
child will speak to you a kindly word, you must
remain thus bound by this evil spell."</p>
<p>In spite of his twisted back, the Little Brown
Man tried again and again to climb into the Tall
Pine Tree, but all his efforts were in vain.
Wearied and tired out at last, he made himself
a nest among the withered pine needles and
began to wait for the magic word to break the
Storm Wind's evil spell.</p>
<p>At last the winter passed. The snow began
to melt; the brook, freed of its coat of ice, began
to sing and chatter as it splashed along;
the birds built nests; the sun shone down; the
pussy willows, gray and brown, began to bud
and bloom. Then boys and girls came out to
play beneath the trees and gather buttercups
and bluebells. The Little Brown Man's heart
rejoiced, for he was sure the evil spell that bound
him soon would end. Whenever happy children
played beside the Tall Pine Tree, he would
hobble toward them, saying:</p>
<p>"Good day to you! Good day to you, my
children!"</p>
<p>But alas! The boys and girls were frightened
of his clawlike hands and flaming eye, and so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>
they screamed and ran away. Thus springtime
went, and summer followed after; the maple
leaves flamed red and gold in autumn, and
winter came again to wrap the forest in its
cloak of snowy white. Still the magic words
to break the Storm Wind's spell remained unspoken.
Thus years and years rolled on. In
winter now the Storm Wind tore the branches
of the Tall Pine Tree and flung them to the
ground. The Little Brown Man, with his
cunning hands and powers of magic, could no
longer bind them fast. The Tall Pine Tree,
once so green, grew old and rusty looking,
because the Little Brown Man could no longer
sweep the withered needles from its boughs.
The Little Brown Man, down upon the ground,
was in despair. It seemed the wicked spell
would never be broken. No children ever
lingered near the Tall Pine Tree. Indeed,
when once they passed that way, they never
came again. They thought the Little Brown
Man was a wicked pixie who would do them
harm.</p>
<p>Then at last the Little Brown Man peered
from his nest one bright morning and saw a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>
girl walking slowly toward the Tall Pine Tree.
Little Nannie always walked very slowly, because
she was quite lame, and leaned upon a
crutch. Sometimes she paused to watch a bee
or butterfly; sometimes she leaned against
a tree to rest, and all the while the Little Brown
Man watched her eagerly. At last she reached
the Tall Pine Tree, and then he hobbled forward,
saying:</p>
<p>"Good day to you! Good day to you, my
child!"</p>
<p>His flaming eye and clawlike hand so startled
Little Nannie that she dropped her crutch;
but when she saw that the Little Brown Man
was also very lame, she was sorry for him, and
so she answered bravely:</p>
<p>"Good day to you, good sir! I hope your
health is fine," and so the magic words were
spoken.</p>
<p>The Little Brown Man could scarcely believe
his ears and began to caper about and prance
with glee. Then presto! In a twinkling vanished
all his ugly features, his back grew straight,
and he was once more kindly-eyed.</p>
<p>"Oh, Tall Pine Tree! Oh, Tall Pine Tree!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>
he cried in joy. "Behold now I am free to
climb up to your topmost boughs once more!"
But in his joy the Little Brown Man did not
forget Little Nannie, who stood staring, wide-eyed,
at the wonders she had seen.</p>
<p>"And now, my child!" cried he, "what can
I do to serve you?"</p>
<p>"Oh, please, sir," answered Little Nannie
timidly, "if you would give me my crutch,
I would be most grateful. I am so lame that
I cannot stoop to pick it up myself."</p>
<p>"Your crutch!" screamed the Little Brown
Man in a passion of rage. "It is a wicked stick
that holds you back when you would run and
play, and so I treat it thus!" He seized the
crutch and flung it in the brook, and there it
floated swiftly in the current.</p>
<p>"Oh, Little Brown Man, what have you
done!" wept Little Nannie. "Now I can never
wander in the forest any more, but must sit
always in my chair. I cannot walk without my
crutch, and my mother is too poor to buy me
another." She leaned against the Tall Pine
Tree and sobbed aloud.</p>
<p>"Stop, stop, Little Nannie!" cried the Little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>
Brown Man, "I meant you no harm, as you
will see. Now tell me this: Is it your wish
to walk always with a crutch? If so, say but
a word, and I will bring it back again, for now
my powers of magic are returned."</p>
<p>"Oh, Little Brown Man!" answered Little
Nannie through her tears, "I do not wish to
walk always with a crutch; indeed, I often
weep because I wish to run and play like other
boys and girls."</p>
<p>"Then try and see if your wish come true,
Little Nannie," commanded the Little Brown
Man.</p>
<p>Little Nannie took a step forward, and then
another and another, and found her feet like
wings. So, singing and laughing, she danced
home through the forest, the happiest child in
all the world. When she reached her gate, she
cried out:</p>
<p>"Oh, Mother! Mother! Come quickly and
see! I can run and play like other boys and
girls! The Little Brown Man has granted my
wish to me!"</p>
<p>"My child!" cried her mother in amazement,
"this is the work of a good fairy without doubt!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>
And what did you say to thank the Little Brown
Man?"</p>
<p>"Oh, mother, I was so happy I forgot,"
replied Little Nannie, hanging her head.</p>
<p>"Then let us go in search of him at once,"
said her mother.</p>
<p>So hand in hand they sought the Little Brown
Man, but though they called loud and long at
the foot of the Tall Pine Tree, they could not
find the Little Brown Man. For at the magic
of a kindly word, he had flown to the topmost
boughs, and there he dwelled for evermore.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
<h3>A TALE FOR HALLOWEEN</h3>
<p>Babette and Antone were the children of a
very poor woodcutter. They lived in a little
cottage on the side of a steep mountain, and
the mountain looked upon a great forest. Now
though their father toiled in this forest from
dawn until dark, he could earn but little. Wood
in that region was plentiful, and woodcutters
were numerous. Their mother made fine laces
which Antone carried to the market to sell; but
in spite of all their efforts, the poor parents
seldom could give their children more than
bread and broth to eat. Often indeed the broth
was lacking if the woodcutter found no hare in
the traps he set. Babette and Antone, however,
were happy little children and never thought
of their poverty. But it worried the woodcutter
that Antone was ten years old and had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>
not yet gone to school. Antone's mother taught
him to read and write, that the other boys and
girls would not be too far beyond him, and
Antone studied his lessons diligently. Often
as he sat doing his sums on the hearthstone,
with a bit of charcoal for a pencil, his mother
would sigh sadly. Antone did not like his
mother to be sad, and so he always laughed to
cheer her.</p>
<p>"Never fear, Mother," he would say. "Soon
I shall send myself to school. My vegetable
patch does finely. Then, when I am a great
scholar, you shall be poor no longer. My father
shall have a team of oxen and you a fine satin
gown; Babette shall have a dozen real dollies
instead of the turnip dollies she now rocks in her
dolly cradle."</p>
<p>"Ah, Antone, my son," his mother would
answer with a sigh, "unless you make your
fortune as a maker of toys, I fear you will have
no fortune at all. Your fingers are as clever
as a wizard's even now; and though you are
past ten, we cannot spare you to go to school."</p>
<p>It was true, as she said. Antone made boats
from bits of cedar wood, and when he had fitted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>
them with sails you could not tell them from
any that had come out of a shop. He carved
a doll's cradle from a pine knot, and for a dolly
painted the white face of a turnip until one
would think it was the face of some fair maiden,—so
blue were this turnip dolly's eyes and so
pink her cheeks, her hair of golden corn silk fell
in such waves and her robe of young cabbage
leaves was so green and beautiful. Then as
often as this turnip dolly faded and began to
shrivel, Antone made another, which Babette
declared was always more beautiful than the
one before. Babette had never been to the
village and therefore knew nothing of real
dollies. She loved her turnip babies tenderly
indeed; she always carried them in her arm
when she went with Antone to meet their father
and sang them little songs as she rocked them
to sleep.</p>
<p>Now it happened one night in the season of
Halloween that Antone sat carving jack-o'-lanterns
to sell in the village. Babette, who
was rocking her dolly to sleep, sat watching
him. Being but six, she knew nothing about
the fun which comes with Halloween, and so she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>
listened round-eyed with wonder to Antone,
who knew all things about jack-o'-lanterns.
When she heard that boys and girls dressed like
goblins and witches frolicked in the village
streets, Babette made up her mind to frolic too.</p>
<p>"How fine it must be!" she cried, clapping
her hands. "Halloween must be quite like
Christmas!"</p>
<p>"Not quite so fine as Christmas, Babette,"
answered Antone, as he carved the teeth in the
last jack-o'-lantern, "but Halloween is very
fine nevertheless. It is comical to see the jack-o'-lanterns
bobbing up and down with their
faces grinning in the candle light. And on
Halloween the boys and girls play pranks on
their elders that they would be well switched
for at any other time; but every one laughs
and is gay on that night." Antone finished the
jack-o'-lantern and piled it with a dozen more
in his little cart. He would sell them all in the
village when he took his vegetables to market
the next day; no one else could carve such
splendid pumpkin faces as Antone.</p>
<p>"Then let us go and play pranks in the village
too, Antone," cried Babette. "Mother will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>
make us goblin dresses, and there is still one
great pumpkin in your garden for a jack-o'-lantern.
Oh, what a frolic we shall have!"</p>
<p>"Babette!" exclaimed Antone in astonishment.
"Wherever did you get such a notion?
The frolic in the village is not for us. Mother
has no time to make us goblin dresses, and if she
did, she has no goods; besides, how should we
find our way home through the forest?"</p>
<p>"You know the way through the forest,
Antone," insisted Babette, "and if Mother cannot
make us goblin dresses, we can go without.
It will be dark and our jack-o'-lantern will be
as fine as any. Do come," she begged, "I have
never been to a Halloween frolic."</p>
<p>"Now, Babette, I tell you we cannot go to
the village to-morrow night," answered Antone.
"I could not find my way home through the
forest after dark, and we would both be lost.
Be a good girl and do not tease any more."</p>
<p>Antone spoke sternly, and Babette burst into
tears. She was very fond of her own way, and
when she could not have it, sometimes she was
a very naughty little girl. She sobbed and
wept so piteously that Antone found it hard to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>
refuse her. However, he dared not go to the
village at night, as he feared to lose his way in
the forest. So Antone trotted Babette on his
knee and whispered that he would buy her
chocolate; but she only wept the harder.</p>
<p>"Now, Babette!" cried Antone at last, when
Babette showed no signs of stopping, "I cannot
take you to the village; but if you are a
good girl and stop crying at once, I will make
a little Halloween frolic just for you and me.
Now promise me you will not cry any more."</p>
<p>Babette dried her eyes and promised. She
wished a Halloween frolic, but whether she
frolicked at home or in the village mattered
not at all.</p>
<p>"Will we wear goblin dresses or ghost dresses,
Antone?" she asked.</p>
<p>Antone puzzled a moment before he answered.
"Oh, ghost dresses, I think," said he.</p>
<p>The next day Babette was very good. She
helped Antone gather his vegetables for market,
and when he returned sat beside him quietly
while he carved the last pumpkin from his
garden. When the jack-o'-lantern was finished,
Antone lighted the candle just for one second<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>
so that she might see it grinning in the light.
Babette clapped her hands; but he held up
a warning finger. The Halloween frolic was
to be a secret. After supper the children went
to bed as usual, but instead of undressing, they
pulled their white nightdresses over their heavy
coats.</p>
<p>"They will do for ghost dresses," whispered
Antone when all was still, and they crept softly
out. In the moonlight the jack-o'-lantern was
grinning broadly to greet them.</p>
<p>"Pumpkin is smiling at us," laughed Babette.
She was very happy, for her frolic was about
to begin.</p>
<p>Antone struck a match to light the candle,
but there was no candle in the jack-o'-lantern.</p>
<p>"I put the candle in; I know I did," said
he in surprise. He searched in the dark, and
Babette stopped her laughing. Antone looked
about, and there beneath the bench lay the remainder
of his precious candle. It was chewed
to bits, and the wick was in shreds.</p>
<p>"Oh, Babette!" cried he. "A wicked rat
has stolen our candle, and I paid a whole penny
for it too!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p>
<p>"Oh, the bad rats!" cried Babette, bursting
into tears. She stamped her foot and sent
the jack-o'-lantern rolling off the bench. It
struck the earth with a bump and dented its
nose a trifle.</p>
<p>"Now, Babette, what a baby you are! See
what you have done!" cried Antone. He
stooped to pick up the pumpkin, but the pumpkin
was too quick for him.</p>
<p>"Oh, no, you don't," laughed Pumpkin in a
thick throaty sort of voice. "Babette smashed
my nose a little, but that's no matter on a Halloween
night. Good-by, boys and girls," he
called airily and rolled swiftly down the hill.</p>
<p>"You come back here; you're my pumpkin,"
cried Antone and started after the runaway.
Babette followed, weeping and crying aloud.</p>
<p>"Oh, my Halloween frolic! Oh, my Halloween
frolic!" she mourned. "Now we have
no jack-o'-lantern and no candle either."</p>
<p>"But just you wait until he rolls down into
the vegetable garden," shouted Antone, as he
chased the swiftly rolling pumpkin. "He'll
have to stop at the hedge." He took his little
sister's hand that she might run faster. Pump<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>kin
rolled along just in front of them but always
just out of their reach. When he reached
the hedge, he gave a great leap and landed directly
in the vegetable patch.</p>
<p>"Come on, you Turnips! Come on, you
Carrots!" called Pumpkin, as he rolled along.
At his words the Carrots and Turnips tore themselves
from their beds and followed after him,
shouting.</p>
<p>"Come on! Come on!" called Pumpkin, and
Parsnips and Beets followed the Carrots and
Turnips.</p>
<p>"Look at Antone following us," yelled Pumpkin,
and all his vegetable followers turned and
laughed in derision.</p>
<p>"Ordinary nights you may be master, Antone,"
cried they, "but not on Halloween. This
is our night."</p>
<p>"Well, you wait until I catch you and then
see how hard you'll laugh," called Antone angrily.
To see his vegetable patch laid waste
made him furious.</p>
<p>"But you'll wait until you catch us before
you punish us, won't you, Antone?" they answered
mockingly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p>
<p>"Oh, it's Halloween! It's Halloween!"
sang Pumpkin, turning handsprings as he rolled
along, and the rest of the vegetables did cartwheels
as they went careering after him. They
looked like a dozen market stalls upset on the
hillside, and poor Antone nearly wept when he
thought of his loss. He followed them with
determination. Antone was not a lad to give
up easily.</p>
<p>"Follow me! Follow me!" sang Pumpkin,
as he led the way to a tiny door that opened
beneath the forest. Turnips and Carrots
squeezed through, and Antone, fearing to be
left behind, caught up Babette and ran faster.
Just as he reached the little door, a rough Potato
tried to slam it in his face. But Antone was
too quick for him. He ran through and climbed
down the hole into the underground forest.
There he continued the chase, but the ground
here was springy and elastic, and with each
step Antone began to gain on the vegetables.
Babette's fatigue left her, and she shook herself
free of Antone's hand.</p>
<p>"We'll catch up to them," declared Antone
as they ran along. Even as he spoke, Potato<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>
stubbed his toe, and Babette caught him. She
held him firmly, although he squirmed and tried
his best to get free.</p>
<p>"Help! Help!" bawled Potato, when he saw
he was a prisoner. "Oh, Pumpkin, wait for
me!" he cried. The tears streamed from every
one of his eyes, and he looked truly sad. At
his cries Pumpkin turned around, and all the
vegetables followed their leader.</p>
<p>"Come now, Antone," began Pumpkin in a
persuasive voice. "You might let us have one
night off, you know. Halloween is our night."
Somewhere on his run, Pumpkin had picked up
two twigs, and on these he now balanced himself
rather unsteadily and thrust his leaves in the
place where his pockets would have been if he
had had pockets. He looked so very jolly and
his grin was so very broad that Antone was inclined
to give up the prisoner; but just then
he thought of the ruined vegetable garden and
grew angry again.</p>
<p>"It is all very well for you to be polite, Pumpkin,
and try to beg off your friend," said Antone,
"but this is the very fellow that tried to slam
the door in my face not two seconds ago."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p>
<p>"Oh, Antone," cried Potato, "that's wrong.
It was three seconds ago as true as I live. I
looked at my watch just as I was trying to pinch
your nose in the underground door, and it's
quite three seconds ago; maybe it's four."</p>
<p>"Oh, hush up!" cried Pumpkin. "That's
no way to talk when you are trying to beg
off. Let him off for my sake, Antone," he
continued in a most winning voice. "You'd
get everlastingly tired of being in bed yourself;
you know you would. See if you wouldn't
take the first chance to kick up your heels if you
could get it."</p>
<p>"But, Pumpkin," replied Antone, "think
of my vegetable garden; it is ruined. I was
saving all my vegetable money to go to school,
and now I cannot go for ever and ever so long.
Besides, how could I know you got tired of being
in a bed? You never spoke to me before."</p>
<p>"Well, I speak to you now," replied Pumpkin,
"and as for your vegetable patch, we'll all
make that up to you, won't we, boys?"</p>
<p>"We will! We will!" called the vegetables
in chorus, and the Potato in Babette's little fist
yelled the loudest of all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p>
<p>"There, now, you see we mean no harm," declared
Pumpkin, "so let Potato go. Then you
can both join us in our Halloween frolic."</p>
<p>At the magic words "Halloween frolic," Babette
put Potato down at once. She was
bound to have her fun, and, after all, the vegetables
seemed to be a jolly lot. So peace was
made, and the children followed the bobbing
Turnips and Onions. Then shouts were heard,
and Pumpkin ordered a halt. Presently they
were joined by a dozen or more Cabbages.</p>
<p>"You're nice ones!" panted the Cabbages.
"There we sat in the storeroom waiting for you
to call us, and the first thing we knew we saw
you pelting off down the hill like mad things."</p>
<p>"My gracious!" said a very stout Cabbage,
who was terribly out of breath, "I'll have to
take off my outer leaves before I go another
step. I feel as though I were boiled."</p>
<p>Antone recognized the Cabbages at once.
"You are Father Minette's cabbages, are you
not?" he inquired politely as they marched
along.</p>
<p>"Why, if it isn't little Antone, the woodcutter's
son!" exclaimed the very stout Cabbage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>
"Yes, we come from Minette's farm. Mother
Minette saved us for pickle, but we fooled her
and slipped out of the storeroom when she was
not looking. Oh, we Cabbages are not so green
as we look!" The Cabbages all laughed, and
Antone was surprised to find that he laughed
too.</p>
<p>As they went marching on, Pumpkin sang
and danced in the lead, and Onions and Carrots
echoed his hearty songs. Presently great black
cats with shining yellow eyes stepped from behind
the trees, and each cat was soon joined by
its mistress, who was no other than a real witch
in tall peaked hat and carrying a broomstick.
The Cabbages, who were a friendly lot, introduced
Antone and Babette to these witches,
and the witches seemed pleased to meet the
children.</p>
<p>"They do not seem to be wicked witches, do
they, Antone?" whispered Babette.</p>
<p>"Oh, my dear," replied a witch who overheard,
"we are not a bit wicked on Halloween,
you know. Any other night, I would probably
do you a mischief. It is my nature, you know."
She reached in her bag and handed Babette a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>
peppermint. Babette, who was very fond of
peppermint, ate it up with all haste.</p>
<p>"You shouldn't do that, my dear," reproved
the witch. "It is seldom witches give peppermints,
and when they do the peppermints should
be treasured. Here is another to keep for your
pocket, and then you will never be without a
peppermint when you want one." And she
handed Babette another. Babette curtseyed
so prettily that the witch was charmed and took
her to ride on her broomstick.</p>
<p>It was the gayest company one ever could
imagine, as they marched along. Every vegetable
was singing a different Halloween song in
a different key, and they all had voices that
sang out of tune by nature. Babette, her little
white nightdress flying in the breeze, was riding
on the witch's broomstick and singing loudly
as the rest. When they reached the dancing-floor
it was lighted with millions and millions
of glowworms, and an orchestra of ten thousand
frogs hummed lively tunes in their throats.
Pumpkin seized a handful of glowworms and
put them in his head. Then with his features
all aglow he cried out:</p>
<p>"Ready for the dance!"</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 509px;">
<img src="images/i009.jpg" width="509" height="800" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption">It was the gayest company one ever could imagine,
as they marched along.—<i>Page 262.</i></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p>
<p>Instead of taking partners, the vegetables
just plunged on to the floor and began to jump
about like mad. If they fell down they did not
jump up at once but rolled around the floor
most good-naturedly. They looked so like
vegetables boiling about in a great soup kettle
that Antone thought he should die of laughing.
The witches took their brooms and began a sort
of "ladies-change" figure while they chased
their cats around the edge of the circle. Babette
danced hardest of all. She knew no more of
dancing than any Carrot or Parsnip, but she
capered wildly, singing at the top of her voice.</p>
<p>"Come and dance too, Antone," called Babette,
as she went jumping past her brother, but
he shook his head and laughed.</p>
<p>"I am too big for such nonsense," said he.
"I am ten, you know."</p>
<p>"What nonsense!" cried a witch who was
chasing her cat close by. "Ten is exactly the
right age to have fun." She raised her broom
playfully, and before he knew it, she swept Antone
into the middle of the dance. Pumpkin,
his grinning features all aglow, went flying past<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>
and made Antone feel proud. Pumpkin was
certainly the handsomest vegetable of the lot.
As the night grew later, the frogs hummed faster,
but hum as fast as they would, they could not
keep up with the frisky vegetables. Beets and
Cauliflowers continued to bob up and down like
mad; Cabbages from Minette's farm lost leaf
after leaf; Carrots and Onions grew battered
from much tumbling about, and the merry din
of song and laughter grew louder and louder.</p>
<p>"Let's play Blind Man's Buff," called Antone.
"I'll be 'it' and show you how to play."
He tied the handkerchief over his eyes, and the
witches and their black cats went darting hither
and thither. The vegetables were so pleased
with this new game that they would play nothing
else. They might have been playing it yet had
not a cock crowed suddenly.</p>
<p>"Good gracious me!" cried a witch. "The
glowworms are all gone out. It's nearly morning.
All who are going back to the vegetable
patch had best be on their way."</p>
<p>"Not I!" cried Pumpkin. "I've done with
vegetable patches forevermore."</p>
<p>"Not we," exclaimed the Cabbages. "We're<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>
going to turn savage and be wild cabbages for
the rest of our days! We shan't go back to
Mother Minette's pickle jars." Straightway
every vegetable began to raise its voice and declare
it would not go back to Antone's patch.</p>
<p>"Oh, hush, all of you!" cried the witch.
"Stay in the woods for the rest of your life if
you like. It is nothing to me; but what of
Antone and Babette? Who is to take them
home?"</p>
<p>"Well, ma'am," replied Pumpkin with a low
bow, "we thought that you might be good enough
to give them a ride home on your broomstick."</p>
<p>"But Pumpkin!" cried Antone in dismay,
"you promised to make it up to me if I let Potato
go, and I think you should all return with
me. I shall not have any vegetables if you all
remain in the woods."</p>
<p>"Never worry about that, Antone," replied
Pumpkin with a lordly air. "Here is a purse for
each of you, and if you take good care never to
lose them, you will have plenty of gold forever.
Isn't that true, boys?"</p>
<p>"True as we're not going back to the farm,"
cried the Cabbages. "You had best hurry and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>
plant yourself before it grows daylight, Pumpkin,"
they warned and began to dig holes in
the earth. Before Antone and Babette had
mounted the witch's broomstick, all the Carrots
and Turnips and even Pumpkin were all tucked
up in their sandy beds. They called a faint
good-by as the children sailed off with the
witch.</p>
<p>"Oh, what a beautiful Halloween frolic,"
sighed Babette as she leaned her head on Antone's
shoulder and fell fast asleep.</p>
<p>The broomstick flew with the swiftness of
an eagle, and the witch warned Antone to hold
Babette with a firm grasp. One by one the
stars went out as they sped across the sky.
The black cat steered and seemed to know the
exact way to the woodcutter's cottage, for just
as the dawn was breaking the broomstick glided
down to Babette's window. The witch shook
hands with Antone, and the black cat politely
jumped off to help Antone with his little sister.
Before the good creature could mount again,
the broomstick was off like whirlwind, and it
was left behind.</p>
<p>"This broomstick is so wild I cannot stop it,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>
called the witch from the clouds. "Keep good
care of my cat until next Halloween."</p>
<p>Antone put Babette in her little crib and made
the black cat a comfortable bed in the kitchen.
Then he lay down to sleep and dreamed of the
Halloween frolic until he was wakened by his
mother.</p>
<p>"Come, Antone!" she cried. "I have good
news for you. Only look from the window and
see the great black cat without a single white
hair that sits washing his face in the sun. Such
a cat coming to us on Halloween will surely
bring us good luck! But come, my child, get
up, for the sun is high, and it is time for you to
dig your vegetables for market."</p>
<p>"My vegetables have gone wild in the forest,"
muttered Antone, "but it is no matter, for here
is a bag of gold which they gave me. The cat
is the black cat of the witch who brought us
home on her broomstick; so let me sleep, Mother,
for I am weary with dancing at the Halloween
frolic." He closed his eyes and slept again,
while his mother examined the leather bag.</p>
<p>"Antone, my son!" she screamed. "Here
is gold yellow as a pumpkin! Where have you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>
been to gather such wealth?" She shook him
and gave him no peace until he waked fully and
told the story. Even then his mother did not
believe it, but threw up her hands and wept
that her son should thus rave with fever.</p>
<p>The woodcutter and Babette came running
to see what had happened, and at the sight of
the second bag of gold the poor woman grew
calmer. Babette showed the peppermint which
the witch had given her, and the mother doubted
no more.</p>
<p>"To receive a peppermint from a witch is
surely a mark of great favor," said she, and began
to laugh through her tears. "I thought I was
dreaming or that Antone raved of fever, for
never in my life had I seen so much gold."</p>
<p>"It is like the fairies to bless the children of
the poor," said the woodcutter. "Now Antone
will go to school, and Mother will have a handsome
dress and shawl."</p>
<p>"And is it not as I said?" cried his wife. "A
black cat coming on Halloween would bring us
good luck, and here is the luck already!"</p>
<p>It would have been hard to find a happier
family than the woodcutter's as they set out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>
for the village that day. When it was told
that the woodcutter was looking for a pair of
oxen, some folk laughed outright. The woodcutter
was too poor to feed a pair of canaries,
they declared; but when it became known that
the woodcutter's wife had bought a new dress
and a golden ring, they began to wonder who
had died and left the woodcutter a fortune.
Antone told the tale of their wealth to those
who questioned him, and straightway the village
children ran to throw their jack-o'-lanterns
from the roofs and high places. But their
pumpkins broke or stayed on the ground below
where they had fallen (it was no longer Halloween,
remember). At noon, when the woodcutter
and his family sat down to dinner in the
village inn, the landlord threatened to charge
a penny from all who stood gazing through the
windows. Some folk scoffed openly and declared
it was a tale to tell children and dullards;
but there were the two leather bags filled with
gold. The greatest marvel of all was, that no
matter how much the woodcutter or his wife
spent from these, the bags always remained
brimful of gold!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p>
<p>Antone chose a pair of steel skates in the
village shop and bought an armful of books for
which he had longed. Babette, however, with
her usual perverse ways, would have none of
the dollies in the village toy shop. They were
ugly, she declared, and their cheeks were not
pink and beautiful as were the turnip dollies
Antone made for her.</p>
<p>And ever after that the woodcutter and his
wife were no longer poor folk. They had white
bread and even butter every day of their lives,
and on Sundays and holidays they had roasted
fowl for their dinner. Antone went to school,
and Babette had an embroidered frock which
was the envy of every child in the village. Their
mother no longer sighed as she went about her
household tasks, and neither did she strain her
eyes making fine laces for market. Instead
she rode proudly on the seat of her husband's
ox cart when he delivered wood in the village;
sometimes she even drank tea with the mayor's
wife! Visitors from far and near went to see
the famous spot where Antone's vegetables all
ran away one Halloween night; and to this day
there lives not a man who can make grow on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>
that land cabbages or turnips or any other vegetable,
although in a spot in the forest, not far
off, cabbages and pumpkins and all such vegetables
grow wild.</p>
<p>Each year, as regularly as Halloween came
to mark the harvest time, Antone and Babette
mounted the broomstick with the witch and
rode off to the Halloween frolic. There they
always found Pumpkin grown rounder and
jollier than the year before, and they always
rode home across the sky just as the dawn was
breaking. The black cat became so fond of
Babette that it never again rejoined its rightful
mistress, but remained with the woodcutter and
his family and brought them good luck for the
rest of their days.</p>
<pre>
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