“I don’t want legs and I won’t have legs. I was meant to be a flower and
a flower I will be, but if you could keep that meddling, chattering
cuckoo away from this tree for a time I should be much obliged.”
And the fairy laughed and promised.
Meanwhile the three pretty maidens had set of hand in hand to seek their
fortunes.
They went singing and dancing over the meadows in the soft afternoon
sunshine, and thought how wise and clever they were to be girls instead
of little unnoticed flowers growing in a wood.
Presently they came to a house and stopped to ask whether they could have
a lodging for the night. There was no difficulty about it, for that is a
happy country where there is no money and everything belongs to
everybody, so the people of the house—an old man and woman—were delighted
to see the beautiful maidens and made them heartily welcome, and the
daffodils went to bed that night very happy and quite content with the
result of their experiment. When they came to undress, however, they
received a severe shock.
They were girls, real proper girls, they could chatter and eat and sleep,
for the fairy was not one to do things by halves; but when they pulled
off the dainty green shoes and stockings, they discovered that although
they had the prettiest little legs and feet and toes in the world, they
were quite green, the colour of daffodil leaves.
There wasn’t anything said about a “dear, darling, kind old fairy” then,
I can assure you.
The first daffodil said she was a wicked old witch. The second said she
was a horrible old woman; and the third said she knew the fairy meant to
pay them out, and she would like to scratch her. Then they all set to
work arguing and quarrelling and crying like silly babies, when suddenly
a familiar “Cuck-oo!” sounded in their ears, and they saw our old
acquaintance perched on the window sill.
He looked at the six little green feet, and his eyes twinkled; but before
he could speak the three angry maidens all began scolding him at once,
for they were delighted to have somebody fresh to find fault with.
The cuckoo, being in some respects a philosopher, did not attempt to
interrupt, but when they were quite exhausted he said he really could not
see any reason for their distress. No one would ever wish to see their
feet, and they could always wear stockings. He added that he had great
news, and had come on purpose to bring it.
“The King of Silverland,” he said, “is coming with all his court to hold
high revel close to this place and celebrate the coming of age of his
three sons. These princes were all born at once; and the king has
decided to divide his kingdom into three equal parts and leave his sons
to rule while he retires to his country place to study science. Now
these Silver princes desire to marry three princesses, sisters born at
once like themselves; but they are very hard to find, and the king is
advertising everywhere for triplets. When I heard this I set off at once
to tell you.”
The three maidens were so much interested and excited that they forgot
their troubles and began to sing.
The cuckoo was pleased with his success, but told them they must go to
bed and to sleep, and he would fetch them in the morning to show them the
way to the King of Silverland’s court.
Next morning, although he arrived quite early, the maidens were up and
ready for him, looking very pretty in their yellow frocks. The kind
people of the house were quite sorry to part with their guests and begged
them to come again, and the daffodil maidens set off in high spirits,
following the cuckoo as he flew slowly ahead across the sunlit meadows.
About noon they came in sight of the king’s court. The gorgeous tents
were of cloth of silver fastened with silver ropes; fountains were
playing in the open spaces, and flags flying everywhere. The daffodils
attracted a great deal of attention as they made their way, blushing and
a little frightened, through the crowds of soldiers, court ladies and
attendants. At the door of the largest and most gorgeous tent stood
three beautiful princes dressed in silver.
When they saw the maidens approaching, hand in hand, they gave a cry of
joy and ran forward to greet them.
“Dear beautiful princesses,” they cried, “welcome to our court! May we
ask your names and the country you come from?”
The cuckoo, perched on a tent-pole hard by, answered for them. “These
are the Princesses Daffodil, daughters of the great King of Goldenland.
They have come very many days’ journey to be present at your revels.”
Think of the cuckoo telling such a dreadful story and those naughty
daffodils not contradicting him!
When the princes heard the cuckoo’s words they were almost beside
themselves with joy, for, as it happened, there was a real King of
Goldenland (but the cuckoo did not know it), and he had three daughters
of the same age whom the Silver princes were anxious to see. They
dropped on one knee, kissed the maidens’ hands very prettily, and then
led them, blushing and delighted, into the royal tent.
The king was out, but the queen received the daffodils very graciously.
“Triplet,” she said significantly, and it was the princes’ turn to blush.
Then the young people visited all the beautiful tents, and the great
ballroom where there was to be a ball that night, and the princes
whispered to the maidens that they would dance with no one else. When
they had tasted the cowslip wine from the fountains and eaten lots of
wonderful sweets the daffodils declared they were quite tired; so the
princes put them into hammocks with little monkeys to swing them, and the
happy hours wore on until the evening.
The maidens had had a beautiful tent assigned to them by the queen, and
they found lovely dresses of cloth of gold with shoes and stockings to
match, all ready for them. They looked so beautiful when they were
dressed that the colour of their feet did not seem to matter at all.
All that night they danced with the princes, and everyone was charmed
with their beauty and grace, especially the king, who had not received a
single answer to his advertisement. At the great banquet which followed
the ball the betrothal of the Silver princes to the Golden princesses was
solemnly announced, and their health drunk amid great rejoicing.
The dawn was red in the east before the festivities were over, and the
daffodils went to bed happier than they had ever been before, happier
than they ever would be again. A new and awful trouble of which they had
never dreamt was about to befall them.
When the princes came to meet their betrothed next morning the maidens
noticed that, although very affectionate, they were downcast and somewhat
silent. At last, after a great deal of questioning, the reason came out.
The king and queen had both had exactly the same curious dream, and this
strange occurrence had upset their majesties very much. They both dreamt
that one of the princesses, as they believed them to be, had six toes on
each foot; and as no monstrosity could ever share the throne of
Silverland they demanded to see the princesses’ little feet with their
own eyes, so as to be quite sure they all had only the right number of
toes.
When the princes with many blushes broke this news to their lady-loves,
they each gave a short loud scream and fainted.
Their lovers, of course, put this down to extreme modesty, and were much
affected by such proper conduct; but when they succeeded in restoring
them to consciousness they were not a little disturbed to find that the
maidens positively refused to show their feet.
Imagine the grief of the poor princes! The king had said quite
positively that not one of the princes should marry till he, the queen,
and the councillors of the kingdom, had seen the bride’s feet; and the
maidens now declared that they would never never show them.
Matters were in this awkward state when the cuckoo appeared on the scene.
He had as usual contrived to find out what was going on, and now
announced that he had a private message for the Golden princesses, if
they would take him to their tent.
When they were alone the daffodils began to cry their eyes out, and the
cuckoo to try and comfort them.
“Green feet,” he said, “are very uncommon and would no doubt be welcomed
as a great rarity.”
But the maidens sobbed on.
“The princes love you so much they will think your little feet the most
beautiful colour in the world.”
But they would not listen.
“I heard the king and queen say that green was their favourite colour,”
he remarked next.
This was pure invention on the cuckoo’s part, but the daffodils were
somewhat cheered, and after a great deal of talking the cuckoo persuaded
them to give in and consent to show their feet, as they could not
possibly marry the princes without. Besides, perhaps when the king found
their toes were all right he would think the colour rather ornamental
than otherwise. So the princes were told to their great joy that the
princesses had consented to show their feet; and the king and queen, on
being informed, summoned a Cabinet Council for the next morning so that
their ministers might be present at the counting of the princesses’ toes.
Meantime the real Goldenland princesses had arrived near the camp; but as
they and their suite were very tired they resolved not to visit the
Silver king till the next day, and commanded that no one should mention
their arrival.
That night the daffodils never slept, for fear once more took possession
of them. They scrubbed their feet, but the fairy’s dye would not come
off; then they scraped them, but that hurt very much and did no good.
Finally they chalked them, but that was no use at all; so they had to
give it up in despair, and hope for the best.
Next morning two of the court ushers came to escort them to the Cabinet
Council. Poor daffodils! Their eyes were red with weeping, and they
could scarcely stand for terror when they entered the tent where the
examination was to take place.
In the middle on a raised dais sat the king and queen, on their right
stood the three princes, on their left the councillors in their robes of
state. Three chairs were placed for the maidens, and they were politely
but firmly requested to take off their shoes and stockings.
Blushing crimson the daffodils slowly and unwillingly took off their
shoes. Then they cried a little and said they really truly couldn’t, but
it was no use, and the stockings had to follow, and six little green feet
were exposed to view.
“They wear two pairs, I see,” said the queen, who was a little
short-sighted. “Very sensible, I’m sure, in this damp place. Take off
the other pair, my dears.”
But the daffodils only hung their heads and wept.
Then one of the councillors cried out, in a horrified tone—“Their feet
are green! They are monstrosities!” and at that very moment heralds were
heard outside announcing the arrival of the Princesses of Goldenland.
Now the king was a shrewd old gentleman, and the true state of affairs
suddenly flashed upon him. “They are impostors!” he cried, rising to his
feet, “turn the deceitful minxes out.”
At that the maidens rose and fled. They never stopped for shoes or
stockings, but ran like hunted hares out of the tent across the fields;
and when the people saw their little green feet a great shout of laughter
went up, in which the king and the princes joined. As for the daffodils,
they ran and ran and ran, not daring even to look behind them, till they
suddenly stopped for want of breath; and where do you think they were?
Why in their old home under the oak tree. Most of the daffodils had gone
to sleep, but a few were left, and among them their little sister. At
her side stood the fairy.
“Well, my dears, do you like being girls?” and there was a twinkle in her
eye as she spoke.
But the daffodils were sobbing too bitterly to answer, and the fairy had
a kind heart and did not press the question. “Would you be content to be
daffodils again?” she asked, and smiled at them sweetly.
They murmured a thankful “Yes”; the fairy waved her wand, and in a trice
the maidens were gone and there were three more flowers, very pale faded
ones, growing under the gnarled oak tree. Poor discontented daffodils!
They had to pay a heavy price for their folly.
The cuckoo came back time after time, and never wearied of teasing them;
and their little sister made many very true but disagreeable remarks on
the extreme silliness of being discontented with one’s surroundings.
Perhaps by next spring things may be better; but of this you may be quite
sure, no amount of cuckoos will ever persuade the flowers in that nook to
be anything but what nature intended them to be—sweet little daffodils.