old wife felt hungry and thought she could take a wee bite of something.
So she up and baked two wee oatmeal bannocks and set them to toast
before the fire. Now just as they were toasting away, smelling so fresh
and tasty, in came the old man, and seeing them look so crisp and nice,
takes up one of them and snaps a piece out of it. On this the other
bannock thought it high time to be off, so up it jumps and away it
trundles as fast as ever it could. And away ran the old wife after it
as fast as she could run, with her spindle in one hand and her distaff
in the other. But the wee bannock trundled faster than she could run, so
it was soon out of sight, and the old wife was obliged to go back and
tussle with the kittens again.
The wee bannock meanwhile trundled gaily down the hill till it came to a
big thatched house, and it ran boldly in at the door and sate itself
down by the fireside quite comfortably. Now there were three tailors in
the room working away on a big bench, and being tailors they were, of
course, dreadfully afraid, and jumped up to hide behind the goodwife who
was carding wool by the fire.
"Hout-tout!" she cried. "What are ye a-feared of? 'Tis naught but a wee
bit bannock. Just grip hold o' it, and I'll give ye a sup o' milk to
drink with it."
So up she gets with the carders in her hands, and the tailor had his
iron goose, and the apprentices, one with the big scissors and the other
with the ironing-board, and they all made for the wee bannock; but it
was too clever for them, and dodged about the fireside until the
apprentice, thinking to snap it with the big scissors, fell into the hot
ashes and got badly burnt. Then the tailor cast the goose at it, and the
other apprentice the ironing-board; but it wouldn't do. The wee bannock
got out at the doorway, where the goodwife flung the carders at it; but
it dodged them and trundled away gaily till it came to a small house by
the road-side. So in it ran bold as bold and sate itself down by the
hearth where the wife was winding a clue of yarn for her husband, the
weaver, who was click-clacking away at his loom.
"Tibby!" quoth the weaver. "Whatever's that?"
"Naught but a wee bannock," quoth she.
"Well, come and welcome," says he, "for the porridge was thin the morn;
so grip it, woman! grip it!"
"Aye," says she, and reaches out her hand to it. But the wee bannock
just dodged.
"Man!" says she, "yon's a clever wee bannockie! Catch it, man! Catch it
if you can."
But the wee bannock just dodged. "Cast the clue at it, woman!" shouted
the weaver.
But the wee bannock was out at the door, trundling away over the hill
like a new tarred sheep or a mad cow!
And it trundled away till it came to a cowherd's house where the
goodwife was churning her butter.
"Come in by," cried the goodwife when she saw the wee bannock all crisp
and fresh and tasty; "I've plenty cream to eat with you."
But at this the wee bannock began dodging about, and it dodged so
craftily that the goodwife overset the churn in trying to grip it, and
before she set it straight again the wee bannock was off, trundling away
down the hill till it came to a mill-house where the miller was sifting
meal. So in it ran and sate down by the trough.
"Ho, ho!" says the miller. "It's a sign o' plenty when the likes of you
run about the country-side with none to look after you. But come in by.
I like bannock and cheese for supper, so I'll give ye a night's
quarters." And with that he tapped his fat stomach.
At this the wee bannock turned and ran; it wasn't going to trust itself
with the miller and his cheese; and the miller, having nothing but the
meal to fling after it, just stood and stared; so the wee bannock
trundled quietly along the level till it came to the smithy where the
smith was welding horse-nails.
"Hullo!" says he, "you're a well-toasted bannock. You'll do fine with a
glass of ale! So come in by and I'll give you a lodging inside." And
with that he laughed, and tapped his fat stomach.
But the wee bannock thought the ale was as bad as the cheese, so it up
and away, with the smith after it. And when he couldn't come up with it,
he just cast his hammer at it. But the hammer missed and the wee bannock
was out of sight in a crack, and trundled and trundled till it came to a
farm-house where the goodman and his wife were beating out flax and
combing it. So it ran in to the fireside and began to toast itself
again.
"Janet," says the goodman, "yon is a well-toasted wee bannock. I'll have
the half of it."
"And I'll take t'other half," says the goodwife, and reached out a hand
to grip it. But the wee bannock played dodgings again.
"My certy," says the wife, "but you're spirity!" And with that she cast
the flax comb at it. But it was too clever for her, so out it trundled
through the door and away was it down the road, till it came to another
house where the goodwife was stirring the scalding soup and the goodman
was plaiting a thorn collar for the calf. So it trundled in, and sate
down by the fire.
"Ho, Jock!" quoth the goodwife, "you're always crying on a well-toasted
bannock. Here's one! Come and eat it!"
Then the wee bannock tried dodgings again, and the goodwife cried on the
goodman to help her grip it.
"Aye, mother!" says he, "but where's it gone?"
"Over there!" cries she. "Quick! run to t'other side o' yon chair." And
the chair upset, and down came the goodman among the thorns. And the
goodwife she flung the soup spoon at it, and the scalding soup fell on
the goodman and scalded him, so the wee bannock ran out in a crack and
was away to the next house, where the folk were just sitting down to
their supper and the goodwife was scraping the pot.
"Look!" cries she, "here's a wee well-toasted bannock for him as catches
it!"
"Let's shut the door first," says the cautious goodman, "afore we try to
get a grip on it."
Now when the wee bannock heard this it judged it was time to be off; so
away it trundled and they after it helter-skelter. But though they threw
their spoons at it, and the goodman cast his best hat, the wee bannock
was too clever for them, and was out of sight in a crack.
Then away it trundled till it came to a house where the folk were just
away to their beds. The goodwife she was raking out the fire, and the
goodman had taken off his breeches.
"What's yon?" says he, for it was nigh dark.
"It will just be a wee bannock," says she.
"I could eat the half of it," says he.
"And I could eat t'other," quoth she.
Then they tried to grip it; but the wee bannock tried dodging. And the
goodman and the goodwife tumbled against each other in the dark and grew
angry.
"Cast your breeches at it, man!" cries the goodwife at last. "What's the
use of standing staring like a stuck pig?"
So the goodman cast his breeches at it and thought he had smothered it
sure enough; but somehow it wriggled out, and away it was, the goodman
after it without his breeches. You never saw such a race--a real clean
chase over the park, and through the whins, and round by the bramble
patch. But there the goodman lost sight of it and had to go back all
scratched and tired and shivering.
The wee bannock, however, trundled on till it was too dark even for a
wee bannock to see.
Then it came to a fox's hole in the side of a big whinbush and trundled
in to spend the night there; but the fox had had no meat for three whole
days, so he just said, "You're welcome, friend! I wish there were two of
you!"
And there were two! For he snapped the wee bannock into halves with one
bite. So that was an end of _it_!
[Illustration: Headpiece--How Jack went out to seek his Fortune]
HOW JACK WENT OUT TO SEEK HIS FORTUNE
Once on a time there was a boy named Jack, and one morning he started to
go and seek his fortune.
He hadn't gone very far before he met a cat.
"Where are you going, Jack?" said the cat.
"I am going to seek my fortune."
"May I go with you?"
"Yes," said Jack, "the more the merrier."
So on they went, Jack and the cat. Jiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt,
jiggelty-jolt!
They went a little farther and they met a dog.
"Where are you going, Jack?" said the dog.
"I am going to seek my fortune."
"May I go with you?"
"Yes," said Jack, "the more the merrier."
So on they went, Jack, the cat, and the dog! Jiggelty-jolt,
jiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt!
They went a little farther and they met a goat.
"Where are you going, Jack?" said the goat.
"I am going to seek my fortune."
"May I go with you?"
"Yes," said Jack, "the more the merrier."
So on they went, Jack, the cat, the dog, and the goat. Jiggelty-jolt,
jiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt!
They went a little farther and they met a bull.
"Where are you going, Jack?" said the bull.
"I am going to seek my fortune."
"May I go with you?"
"Yes," said Jack, "the more the merrier."
So on they went, Jack, the cat, the dog, the goat, and the bull.
Jiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt!
They went a little farther and they met a rooster.
"Where are you going, Jack?" said the rooster.
"I am going to seek my fortune."
"May I go with you?"
"Yes," said Jack, "the more the merrier."
So on they went, Jack, the cat, the dog, the goat, the bull, and the
rooster. Jiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt, jiggelty-jolt!
And they went on jiggelty-jolting till it was about dark, and it was
time to think of some place where they could spend the night. Now, after
a bit, they came in sight of a house, and Jack told his companions to
keep still while he went up and looked in through the window to see if
all was safe. And what did he see through the window but a band of
robbers seated at a table counting over great bags of gold!
"That gold shall be mine," quoth Jack to himself. "I have found my
fortune already."
Then he went back and told his companions to wait till he gave the word,
and then to make all the noise they possibly could in their own fashion.
So when they were all ready Jack gave the word, and the cat mewed, and
the dog barked, and the goat bleated, and the bull bellowed, and the
rooster crowed, and all together they made such a terrific hubbub that
the robbers jumped up in a fright and ran away, leaving their gold on
the table. So, after a good laugh, Jack and his companions went in and
took possession of the house and the gold.
Now Jack was a wise boy, and he knew that the robbers would come back in
the dead of the night to get their gold, and so when it came time to go
to bed he put the cat in the rocking-chair, and he put the dog under the
table, and he put the goat upstairs, and he put the bull in the cellar,
and bade the rooster fly up on to the roof.
Then he went to bed.
Now sure enough, in the dead of the night, the robbers sent one man back
to the house to look after their money. But before long he came back in
a great fright and told them a fearsome tale!
"I went back to the house," said he, "and went in and tried to sit down
in the rocking-chair, and there was an old woman knitting there, and
she--oh my!--stuck her knitting-needles into me."
(_That was the cat, you know._)
"Then I went to the table to look after the money, but there was a
shoemaker under the table, and my! how he stuck his awl into me."
(_That was the dog, you know._)
"So I started to go upstairs, but there was a man up there threshing,
and goody! how he knocked me down with his flail!"
(_That was the goat, you know._)
"Then I started to go down to the cellar, but--oh dear me!--there was a
man down there chopping wood, and he knocked me up and he knocked me
down just terrible with his axe."
(_That was the bull, you know._)
"But I shouldn't have minded all that if it hadn't been for an awful
little fellow on the top of the house by the kitchen chimney, who kept
a-hollering and hollering, 'Cook him in a stew! Cook him in a stew! Cook
him in a stew!'"
(_And that, of course, was the cock-a-doodle-doo._)
Then the robbers agreed that they would rather lose their gold than meet
with such a fate; so they made off, and Jack next morning went gaily
home with his booty. And each of the animals carried a portion of it.
The cat hung a bag on its tail (a cat when it walks always carries its
tail stiff), the dog on his collar, the goat and the bull on their
horns, but Jack made the rooster carry a golden guinea in its beak to
prevent it from calling all the time:
"Cock-a-doodle-doo,
Cook him in a stew!"
THE BOGEY-BEAST
There was once a woman who was very, very cheerful, though she had
little to make her so; for she was old, and poor, and lonely. She lived
in a little bit of a cottage and earned a scant living by running
errands for her neighbours, getting a bite here, a sup there, as reward
for her services. So she made shift to get on, and always looked as spry
and cheery as if she had not a want in the world.
Now one summer evening, as she was trotting, full of smiles as ever,
along the high road to her hovel, what should she see but a big black
pot lying in the ditch!
"Goodness me!" she cried, "that would be just the very thing for me if I
only had something to put in it! But I haven't! Now who could have left
it in the ditch?"
And she looked about her expecting the owner would not be far off; but
she could see nobody.
"Maybe there is a hole in it," she went on, "and that's why it has been
cast away. But it would do fine to put a flower in for my window; so
I'll just take it home with me."
And with that she lifted the lid and looked inside. "Mercy me!" she
cried, fair amazed. "If it isn't full of gold pieces. Here's luck!"
And so it was, brimful of great gold coins. Well, at first she simply
stood stock-still, wondering if she was standing on her head or her
heels. Then she began saying:
"Lawks! But I do feel rich. I feel awful rich!"
After she had said this many times, she began to wonder how she was to
get her treasure home. It was too heavy for her to carry, and she could
see no better way than to tie the end of her shawl to it and drag it
behind her like a go-cart.
"It will soon be dark," she said to herself as she trotted along. "So
much the better! The neighbours will not see what I'm bringing home, and
I shall have all the night to myself, and be able to think what I'll do!
Mayhap I'll buy a grand house and just sit by the fire with a cup o' tea
and do no work at all like a queen. Or maybe I'll bury it at the garden
foot and just keep a bit in the old china teapot on the chimney-piece.
Or maybe--Goody! Goody! I feel that grand I don't know myself."
By this time she was a bit tired of dragging such a heavy weight, and,
stopping to rest a while, turned to look at her treasure.
And lo! it wasn't a pot of gold at all! It was nothing but a lump of
silver.
She stared at it, and rubbed her eyes, and stared at it again.
"Well! I never!" she said at last. "And me thinking it was a pot of
gold! I must have been dreaming. But this is luck! Silver is far less
trouble--easier to mind, and not so easy stolen. Them gold pieces would
have been the death o' me, and with this great lump of silver--"
So she went off again planning what she would do, and feeling as rich as
rich, until becoming a bit tired again she stopped to rest and gave a
look round to see if her treasure was safe; and she saw nothing but a
great lump of iron!
"Well! I never!" says she again. "And I mistaking it for silver! I must
have been dreaming. But this is luck! It's real convenient. I can get
penny pieces for old iron, and penny pieces are a deal handier for me
than your gold and silver. Why! I should never have slept a wink for
fear of being robbed. But a penny piece comes in useful, and I shall
sell that iron for a lot and be real rich--rolling rich."
So on she trotted full of plans as to how she would spend her penny
pieces, till once more she stopped to rest and looked round to see her
treasure was safe. And this time she saw nothing but a big stone.
"Well! I never!" she cried, full of smiles. "And to think I mistook it
for iron. I must have been dreaming. But here's luck indeed, and me
wanting a stone terrible bad to stick open the gate. Eh my! but it's a
change for the better! It's a fine thing to have good luck."
So, all in a hurry to see how the stone would keep the gate open, she
trotted off down the hill till she came to her own cottage. She
unlatched the gate and then turned to unfasten her shawl from the stone
which lay on the path behind her. Aye! It was a stone sure enough. There
was plenty light to see it lying there, douce and peaceable as a stone
should.
So she bent over it to unfasten the shawl end, when--"Oh my!" All of a
sudden it gave a jump, a squeal, and in one moment was as big as a
haystack. Then it let down four great lanky legs and threw out two long
ears, nourished a great long tail and romped off, kicking and squealing
and whinnying and laughing like a naughty, mischievous boy!
The old woman stared after it till it was fairly out of sight, then she
burst out laughing too.
"Well!" she chuckled, "I am in luck! Quite the luckiest body hereabouts.
Fancy my seeing the Bogey-Beast all to myself; and making myself so free
with it too! My goodness! I do feel that uplifted--that _GRAND_!"--
So she went into her cottage and spent the evening chuckling over her
good luck.
[Illustration: "Well!" she chuckled, "I am in luck!"]
LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD
Once upon a time there was a little girl who was called little Red
Riding-Hood, because she was quite small and because she always wore a
red cloak with a big red hood to it, which her grandmother had made for
her.
Now one day her mother, who had been churning and baking cakes, said to
her:
"My dear, put on your red cloak with the hood to it, and take this cake
and this pot of butter to your Grannie, and ask how she is, for I hear
she is ailing."
Now little Red Riding-Hood was very fond of her grandmother, who made
her so many nice things, so she put on her cloak joyfully and started on
her errand. But her grandmother lived some way off, and to reach the
cottage little Red Riding-Hood had to pass through a vast lonely forest.
However, some wood-cutters were at work in it, so little Red Riding-Hood
was not so very much alarmed when she saw a great big wolf coming
towards her, because she knew that wolves were cowardly things.
And sure enough the wolf, though but for the wood-cutters he would
surely have eaten little Red Riding-Hood, only stopped and asked her
politely where she was going.
"I am going to see Grannie, take her this cake and this pot of butter,
and ask how she is," says little Red Riding-Hood.
"Does she live a very long way off?" asks the wolf craftily.
"Not so very far if you go by the straight road," replied little Red
Riding-Hood. "You only have to pass the mill and the first cottage on
the right is Grannie's; but I am going by the wood path because there
are such a lot of nuts and flowers and butterflies."
"I wish you good luck," says the wolf politely. "Give my respects to
your grandmother and tell her I hope she is quite well."
And with that he trotted off. But instead of going his ways he turned
back, took the straight road to the old woman's cottage, and knocked at
the door.
Rap! Rap! Rap!
"Who's there?" asked the old woman, who was in bed.
"Little Red Riding-Hood," sings out the wolf, making his voice as shrill
as he could. "I've come to bring dear Grannie a pot of butter and a cake
from mother, and to ask how you are."
"Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up," says the old woman, well
satisfied.
So the wolf pulled the bobbin, the latch went up, and--oh my!--it
wasn't a minute before he had gobbled up old Grannie, for he had had
nothing to eat for a week.
Then he shut the door, put on Grannie's nightcap, and, getting into bed,
rolled himself well up in the clothes.
By and by along comes little Red Riding-Hood, who had been amusing
herself by gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and picking
flowers.
So she knocked at the door.
Rap! Rap! Rap!
"Who's there?" says the wolf, making his voice as soft as he could.
Now little Red Riding-Hood heard the voice was very gruff, but she
thought her grandmother had a cold; so she said:
"Little Red Riding-Hood, with a pot of butter and a cake from mother, to
ask how you are."
"Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up."
So little Red Riding-Hood pulled the bobbin, the latch went up, and
there, she thought, was her grandmother in the bed; for the cottage was
so dark one could not see well. Besides, the crafty wolf turned his face
to the wall at first. And he made his voice as soft, as soft as he
could, when he said:
"Come and kiss me, my dear."
Then little Red Riding-Hood took off her cloak and went to the bed.
"Oh, Grandmamma, Grandmamma," says she, "what big arms you've got!"
"All the better to hug you with," says he.
"But, Grandmamma, Grandmamma, what big legs you have!"
"All the better to run with, my dear."
"Oh, Grandmamma, Grandmamma, what big ears you've got!"
"All the better to hear with, my dear."
"But, Grandmamma, Grandmamma, what big eyes you've got!"
"All the better to see you with, my dear!"
"Oh, Grandmamma, Grandmamma, what big teeth you've got!"
"All the better to eat you with, my dear!" says that wicked, wicked
wolf, and with that he gobbled up little Red Riding-Hood.
CHILDE ROWLAND
Childe Rowland and his brothers twain
Were playing at the ball.
Their sister, Burd Helen, she played
In the midst among them all.
For Burd Helen loved her brothers, and they loved her exceedingly. At
play she was ever their companion and they cared for her as brothers
should. And one day when they were at ball close to the churchyard--
Childe Rowland kicked it with his foot
And caught it on his knee.
At last as he plunged among them all,
O'er the church he made it flee.
Now Childe Rowland was Burd Helen's youngest, dearest brother, and there
was ever a loving rivalry between them as to which should win. So with a
laugh--
Burd Helen round about the aisle
To seek the ball is gone.
Now the ball had trundled to the right of the church; so, as Burd Helen
ran the nearest way to get it, she ran contrary to the sun's course,
and the light, shining full on her face, sent her shadow behind her.
Thus that happened which will happen at times when folk forget and run
widershins, that is against the light, so that their shadows are out of
sight and cannot be taken care of properly.
Now what happened you will learn by and by; meanwhile, Burd Helen's
three brothers waited for her return.
But long they waited, and longer still,
And she came not back again.
Then they grew alarmed, and--
They sought her east, they sought her west,
They sought her up and down.
And woe were the hearts of her brethren,
Since she was not to be found.
Not to be found anywhere--she had disappeared like dew on a May morning.
So at last her eldest brother went to Great Merlin the Magician, who
could tell and foretell, see and foresee all things under the sun and
beyond it, and asked him where Burd Helen could have gone.
"Fair Burd Helen," said the Magician, "must have been carried off with
her shadow by the fairies when she was running round the church
widershins; for fairies have power when folk go against the light. She
will now be in the Dark Tower of the King of Elfland, and none but the
boldest knight in Christendom will be able to bring her back."
"If it be possible to bring her back," said the eldest brother, "I will
do it, or perish in the attempt."
"Possible it is," quoth Merlin the Magician gravely. "But woe be to the
man or mother's son who attempts the task if he be not well taught
beforehand what he is to do."
Now the eldest brother of fair Burd Helen was brave indeed, danger did
not dismay him, so he begged the Magician to tell him exactly what he
should do, and what he should not do, as he was determined to go and
seek his sister. And the Great Magician told him, and schooled him, and
after he had learnt his lesson right well he girt on his sword, said
good-bye to his brothers and his mother, and set out for the Dark Tower
of Elfland to bring Burd Helen back.
But long they waited, and longer still,
With doubt and muckle pain.
But woe were the hearts of his brethren,
For he came not back again.
So after a time Burd Helen's second brother went to Merlin the Magician
and said:
"School me also, for I go to find my brother and sister in the Dark
Tower of the King of Elfland and bring them back." For he also was brave
indeed, danger did not dismay him.
Then when he had been well schooled and had learnt his lesson, he said
good-bye to Childe Rowland, his brother, and to his mother the good
Queen, girt on his sword, and set out for the Dark Tower of Elfland to
bring back Burd Helen and her brother.
But long they waited, and longer still,
With muckle doubt and pain.
And woe were his mother's and brother's hearts,
For he came not back again.
Now when they had waited and waited a long, long time, and none had come
back from the Dark Tower of Elfland, Childe Rowland, the youngest, the
best beloved of Burd Helen's brothers, besought his mother to let him
also go on the quest; for he was the bravest of them all, and neither
death nor danger could dismay him. But at first his mother the Queen
said: