_Mother Goose Once More_
And so Bab, Meg, and Dick came back to Mother Goose’s cottage at last,
and brought with them Prince Humpty Dumpty and the Princess Star.
It seemed to our three children, when they saw the cottage, that a
very, very long time had passed since they left it to start upon their
various adventures.
It all seemed very natural and homelike, somehow, coming back to the
quaint little house, with its bright garden, and its latticed windows,
and the door with its funny string-latch. In spite of their excitement,
and all their narrow escapes, and everything that they all had been
through, a feeling of peace came over them, and they felt happy enough
to cry when the cottage door opened, and Mother Goose herself smiled at
them from the threshold.
Of course there was the greatest sort of rejoicing when she and Humpty
Dumpty met after all the centuries of their separation, and after
they had kissed and hugged and cried over each other, she welcomed
the Princess, and kissed her too very kindly. And finally she turned,
with her very sweetest, gentlest look, to the three children who were
standing together, silently looking on.
“Thank you, dear children,” she said. “You have served me very well,
very bravely and very truly, and I am grateful.”
“Oh, Mother Goose,” broke out Bab, conscientiously, “I’m afraid if you
knew—”
“I _do_ know,” said Mother Goose. “At this moment I am reading your
eyes, and I can see every single thing that has happened to you all
while you have been away,—not only what you have done, but what you
have thought.”
She looked keenly at them and smiled. And they all hung their heads and
blushed a little, for they were remembering the many times that they
had been weak or forgetful or cowardly.
“But,” she went on, “knowing everything, dears, I still thank you, and
praise you, for you have done very well,—much, much better than you
know. And that,” she added, “is something for you to remember; we are
always a little bit better than we think, and so when we are naughty,
the best thing for us to do is to say to ourselves, ‘Dear me, I am not
giving myself a chance! I am really good; why am I trying so hard to be
bad?’”
And the children never forgot what she said. You will do well to
remember it too.
“And now,” went on Mother Goose, with a delightfully mysterious smile,
“I have planned a little surprise for you.”
“A surprise!” they all three repeated, wondering.
“Yes. I am sure that you do not want to go home without seeing again
some of the friends that you have made here; and besides, I should like
you to know some of my own particular friends,—whom you should have met
long before, by the bye.”
“But, Mother Goose, who are they?” asked Bab.
“And how are we to meet them?” queried Meg.
“And where must we go?” sighed Dick, who was quite content to stay
where he was for the present, after all his adventures.
Mother Goose smiled again. She quite beamed upon them through her
gold-rimmed spectacles.
“They are all coming here,” she declared. “I’m giving a party for you,
and every one in this part of the world is coming to it.”
“Oh, what fun!” they exclaimed, clapping their hands. “How dear of you,
Mother Goose!”
“Who will be here?” asked inquisitive Bab.
“Well,” said Mother Goose, “I confess I am disappointed not to have
the Piper family,—Jack and Jill, and Contrary Mary, and the rest. Some
of my best songs have been written about them, and I am devoted to
them all. But they are away just now, on a visit to a very remote part
of the country,—Toyland, in fact,—and I have not been able to send
for them in time to get them back. Then, the Man in the Moon and his
pretty wife have sent regrets; they have some party on the Milky Way
which they simply have to go to, so she says. And Hop O’ My Thumb is
half a world away, and is having one of his seven-league boots mended,
so he is uncertain about getting here in time; but he has promised
to make a great effort to come at any cost. But even without these
especially good friends of mine, there will be quite enough to make
things merry. And I do love a party, even at my age!”
At the same moment Bizzybuzz called from the door that the owls were
coming. Mother Goose went forward to meet them, and the children were
soon greeting all their old friends,—Moon-Eyes and his wife, the Lady
Gray-Wing, and the Owl Innkeeper, and several other owls whom they
recognised as having been at the Owls’ Inn on the night of the storm;
also the big white owl who had carried the little Witch of Silence to
the foot of the Ladder of Light that led to the North Star.
Bab asked him when he expected the Witch home; but he merely blinked at
her without answering, and she remembered that he never spoke.
Moon-Eyes and the Owl Innkeeper gave an exciting account of how they
had chased the horse of the Red City man back to the city gates.
“It’s too bad to frighten the poor horse,” said Meg, “but I suppose
that it had to be done.”
[Illustration: THEY WERE ALL THREE BACK ON THE NURSERY HEARTH RUG]
“Oh, the Red City horses are as bad as the Red City men,” said the
Owl Innkeeper,—“which is saying a great deal more than I like to say
about man or beast.”
“And anyway,” added Moon-Eyes, “we didn’t hurt the horse, of course. We
just talked to him, and persuaded him that he would rather go home than
chase you!”
“Yes!” laughed Dick. “I certainly should think he would rather go home
with you after him as you were!”
Lady Gray-Wing had brought with her the Red Squirrel whom they had met
at luncheon in her nest. He seemed delighted to see them, and begged
them to postpone their departure from Make Believe Land, so that he
could give them a real woodland party. He said that he had some friends
among the Frog family, who were truly charming, and he would be _so_
glad to introduce them.
Next came Klang and Tinkle, the two Musical Goblins, and Green-Wings,
the Dragon-Fly. And there were several Fairies from the magical Flower
Meadow at the edge of Fairyland. The Sand Man, too, was there, and the
Wooden Cow, who explained that all her plans had been changed by the
invitation which had come to her from Mother Goose, and that she had
put off her return to Santa Claus’s country simply to come to the party.
Most unexpected of all was the arrival of the Sea Kobold and Mudge,
both dripping sea-water, but smiling amiably upon everyone. Mudge had
a new set of scales, of which he seemed very proud, and the Sea Kobold
had discovered that with the overthrow of the Wicked King his glass lid
had melted away; so the ocean was as good as ever, and there was no
longer any Sea of Glass.
Soon after this the strangers began to arrive, and such queer,
delightful people as they all were! The children felt terribly ashamed
of themselves not to know more about their histories, for they were
evidently famous people, all of them, and it did seem dreadful to think
that they might know all about them if only they had been willing to
read a few fairy-books now and then!
There was one little old woman, with cloudy gray robes and a huge
broomstick. When they asked, timidly, who she was, she answered with
haughtiness: “I am the Old Woman who Sweeps the Cobwebs from the Sky!
Everyone in the world knows me!”
Then there were two lovely ladies, with marvellous hair, who came
together. One explained that she was the Fair One with Golden Locks;
the other said that she was Rapunzel, on whose yellow hair a fairy
Prince had climbed up to her tower window to rescue her. The Three
Little Bears trotted in together, and Puss in Boots followed soon
after; and the four joked together about bowls of porridge, until the
three mortal children wished they knew what they meant. Wiggles made
friends with them at once!
Snow White and Rose Red strolled in with Jack the Giant-Killer, and
the other Jack who explained that he was famous for house-building. A
drowsy-looking lady, leaning upon the arm of a very splendid Prince,
announced herself as the Sleeping Beauty, and another charming person
declared that her name was Cinderella, but that she was now happily
married, and did not sit by the fire and weep any more!
“No, I’m the one who does that!” cried a voice just behind her. And a
very pretty girl made her appearance. They all laughed, and began to
sing:
“Cross Patch, draw the latch!
Sit by the fire and spin!”
“It’s all Mother’s fault,” declared Cross Patch, going to Mother Goose
and kissing her lovingly. “No one would ever have dreamed of calling me
Cross Patch if she hadn’t made up that silly song just to punish me for
a fit of temper!”
Cross Patch turned out to be Mother Goose’s own daughter, and a very
merry, sweet little person she was. Mother Goose herself laughed as she
greeted her little girl.
“Never mind!” she said. “Her temper is ever so much better since!”
Still a third Jack made his appearance just then, carrying a piece of a
bean-stalk, and he was soon followed by a lovely lady and a Prince who
announced that they were Beauty and the Beast.
“He doesn’t look a bit like a beast,” cried Meg, watching them. Cross
Patch laughed.
“He was only a beast until Beauty kissed him,” she said. “I really must
admit that he was pretty bad up to that time!”
A little girl who wore her hair straight back from her forehead,
carried a looking-glass, and was followed by a pack of live cards, came
next.
“Alice!” exclaimed Mother Goose. “I am glad to see you! I was afraid
you wouldn’t come, since you don’t belong to my kingdom properly. I
have always wished that you were one of my very own girls!”
“Hello!” cried a voice outside. “I’m here, Mother Goose, but I had to
hop all the way on one leg! That shoemaker would not send me back my
left boot in time!”
In came Hop O’ My Thumb himself,—a very tiny person, but wearing one
huge boot. They all laughed at him, but he was evidently very popular,
and the children made up their minds to read all about him just as soon
as they could possibly get home.
More and more Make Believe persons came, until it seemed beyond all
things wonderful that they were all able to get into Mother Goose’s
tiny cottage. But of course in Make Believe Land all things were
possible, and as a matter of fact, in recognising that, our three
children had learned their last and greatest lesson.
When all the guests had arrived, they had a country dance on the grass
outside. The sun was setting, and the light was lovelier than any
evening glow that poet or artist ever saw in the real world. The forest
shadows mingled with the gold and crimson glory streaming in from the
wonderful distant West, and the flowers in Mother Goose’s garden seemed
to glow like little rainbow lamps, to light the feet of the dancers.
And such a funny dance as it was! Klang and Tinkle got out their queer
little lutes, and some sad-eyed Necker appeared, and a host of sprites
and elves of all kinds took their places as the musicians of the
occasion. And when the dance began, there was the oddest assortment in
the way of partners that you could imagine.
Bab danced with her old friend the Sand Man, Meg with Mudge,—dear
little scaly Mudge!—and Dick with Cross Patch. Humpty Dumpty danced
with Princess Star, of course, and Mother Goose with the Sea Kobold.
Bizzybuzz had the Old Woman who Sweeps the Cobwebs from the Sky for
a partner, Puss in Boots had the Sleeping Beauty, and the other
Beauty danced with Hop O’ My Thumb. The Three Little Bears paired
off respectively with Cinderella, Alice in Wonderland, and Lady
Gray-Wing. Moon-Eyes and the Owl Innkeeper were allotted to Snow White
and Rose Red. One of the three Jacks—the one who was accustomed to
giant-killing—danced with the Wooden Cow, and the other two were very
well content with Rapunzel and the Fair One with Golden Locks. The
so-called “Beast” flirted gaily with the fairy with whom he danced, and
the Dragon-Fly hummed cheerfully as he followed the measures of the
dance with another merry elf. The Red Squirrel also danced with a fairy.
At last, as the sunset radiance faded, and the stars peered out far
above, the music waned and died, and the guests, one by one and two by
two, began to slip away, with a word of thanks to Mother Goose, and a
kindly farewell to the three mortal children.
Those who were their own particular friends expressed a hope that they
would all meet again some day; the others merely said that they were
glad that they had met.
Off among the dim woodland spaces drifted the Make Believe folk, and
Mother Goose and the children returned to the little cottage, lighted
warmly yet softly by the flickering blaze from the fireplace.
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XVIII
_At Last_
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