There was once a little donkey who lived with a little old woman and
her tabby cat and her rooster and his hens and their chicks in a little
cottage out in the country. Every morning, after cropping the dewy grass,
the little donkey used to poke his head in at the cottage window, as much
as to say, “It’s time we were off,” and the little old woman used to say,
“I’ll be with you in two shakes of Tabby’s tail.” Presently out she would
bring two baskets of fresh-laid eggs from the hens and hang them across
the donkey’s back, and off to market they’d go. Tabby would stop washing
her face to wave her paw at them, and the little old woman would wave
her hand back, and the little donkey would turn and wave his head. They
were as happy and loving as any people that ever lived together, and the
donkey was the man of the family.
But one morning something got into the donkey. He seemed to be bewitched.
You shall hear.
When he had cropped the dewy grass as usual, he poked his head in at
the cottage window, as much as to say, “It’s time we were off,” and the
little old woman said, “I’ll be with you in two shakes of Tabby’s tail.”
But the minute she came to the door with the two baskets of fresh-laid
eggs from the hens, up went the little donkey’s heels, and away he ran
with such a kick and a run and a run and a kick that the little old woman
couldn’t keep up with him were she never so quick. All at once she was
so surprised at him that she stood stock still. Immediately stock still
stood the little donkey and laughed at her till his fat little sides
shook, “Hee haw, hee haw, hee haw.” This was too much for the little old
woman. “Can it be that my own little donkey is laughing at his little old
woman?” she said. And one basket of eggs dropped smash on the ground and
she began to cry.
At this out came Tabby, and up came running all the hens and their little
chicks and the lordly rooster, and they all rubbed against the little old
woman’s skirts, and Tabby miowed, “Our little old woman, do not cry,” and
the hens cackled it, and the little chicks peeped it, and the rooster
crowed it. And then they all said it together, each in his own way.
“But the man of the family has run away from us and he laughs at it,”
said the little old woman; “whatever shall we do!”
“Let us give him another chance,” said the big white hen with the kind
face. “Begin all over again and see what happens.”
So the rooster led the way back to the yard, and the hens followed him
and the little chicks followed them. At the same time Tabby led the way
back to the cottage and the little old woman followed her. When the
little old woman was inside she began packing the one basket of eggs into
the two baskets. Well, sure enough, the little donkey did his part, too.
He ran back and began cropping the dewy grass, and then he poked his head
in at the cottage window as much as to say, “It’s time we were off,” and
the little old woman in high glee called out, “I’ll be with you in two
shakes of Tabby’s tail.”
But the minute she came to the door with the two baskets of fresh-laid
eggs from the hens, up went the little donkey’s heels, and away he ran
with such a kick and a run and a run and a kick that the little old woman
couldn’t keep up with him were she never so quick. And as before, all at
once she was so surprised at him that she stood stock still. Immediately
stock still stood the little donkey and laughed at her till his fat
little sides shook, “Hee haw, hee haw, hee haw.” And, as before, this was
too much for the little old woman. “Can it be that my own little donkey
is laughing at his little old woman?” she said. And one basket of eggs
dropped smash on the ground and she began to cry.
At this out came Tabby, and up came running all the hens and their little
chicks and the lordly rooster, and they all rubbed against the little old
woman’s skirts, and Tabby miowed, “Our little old woman, do not cry,” and
the hens cackled it, and the little chicks peeped it, and the rooster
crowed it. And then they all said it together, each in his own way.
So it was of no use.
But at last the little old woman thought of a plan, such an easy thing,
too, and sure to be what a little old woman would think of sooner or
later to keep the man of the family. Instead of staying in the cottage,
when they went back to try it over a third time, she went out by a back
door and crept around the side of the house. When the donkey poked his
head in at the window she ran out, caught him by the heels, shoved him
in, jumped in after him, and held him. The lordly rooster and the hen
and the little chicks were watching, and they ran in and shut both doors
fast. And then they all waited and listened, and presently the donkey
began to explain himself.
The moonlight the night before was so strong, he said, that it woke him
up. As he opened his eyes he heard little voices, as sweet as silver
bells, singing,
“O lovely moon, queen of the night,
Beautiful moon, glorious and bright,
Hail, all hail!”
He looked out of his shed into the moonlight, and there on the green he
saw the most exquisite fairies, with wings shining with all the colors of
the rainbow, hand in hand with big-eyed tiny elves with bumpy heads and
little legs. They were all dancing in a ring and looking up at the moon.
And the moon was gazing down at them.
Now he knew very well that the fairy folk do not like to be spied on; he
had often heard the little old woman tell it to her gossip, Tabby, the
cat. And she had warned him to stay in his stall and not go prying on
the night folk. And he said he was truly sorry now that he did it, but
at the time he thought it would be fun. So he stole up around a stack of
hay near where they were dancing in honor of the moon, and all at once he
gave such a bray that the fairies fell to the ground in little swoons,
and the elves jumped so high into the air that for a whole second he lost
sight of them.
But the moonlight showed _them_ where he was. Quick as a wink they
whipped little horns out of their belts and blew together three times. Up
came hobbling from the shadows an old witch. She saw the donkey at once,
and pointing her long finger at his heels cried,
“Kick him, heels,
Until he feels
Ashamed to spy
At fairy reels,
He-he-he!
He must kick
And run away,
And fill the air
With donkey bray,
Until he eats
A wisp of hay
Given by bat
Or by cat.”
Well, Tabby was off to a stable before one shake of her own tail, and
presently back she came with the wisp of hay. The little old woman gave
it to the little donkey and held her breath to see what would happen, and
so did Tabby and the lordly rooster and the hens and the little chicks.
No sooner had the donkey swallowed it than he left off kicking and trying
to run away!
So now, of course, everything came right. The lordly rooster led his
wives and children back to the henyard, and the little old woman and the
little donkey set off to market with the eggs that had not been smashed.
Tabby stopped washing her face to wave her paw at them, and the little
old woman waved her hand back, and the little donkey turned and waved his
head.
And ever after they were as loving and happy as any people that ever
lived together, and the donkey was the man of the family.
—ANGELA M. KEYES