THE GOLDEN KEY.
The next time Lois and Hal asked Wenonah for a story she said she had
noticed how happy they seemed to be together and that they made her
think of a little brother and sister she knew of who lived in a far
country where the rivers had very long names.
"Will you tell us about them?" asked Lois, as she and Hal settled
themselves to work on their baskets.
"Yes," replied Wenonah. "This special river that I am thinking of was
named Wapsipinicon." Her eyes sparkled at the children as she said it,
for she knew that name was a mouthful.
"Whew!" exclaimed Hal, "I'd have to practice a week to say that word."
"Well, if you had seen this river," went on Wenonah, "you wouldn't have
cared what its name was, it was so lovely." It did not run very swiftly,
but dreamed along between its flowery banks like a maiden who strolls in
pleasant paths, musing as she goes.
The water was so clear you could see the fish swimming in it, and the
gold-brown sand at the bottom. The rocks that peeped out here and there
made little whirlpools and waterfalls as the river gurgled around them.
This brother and sister loved each other so much they never thought of
quarreling. Where you saw one you would be pretty sure to find the
other. They were very fond of playing on the river bank because the best
wild flowers grew there and when their work was done around their home
they would run a race every day to see which would get into the woods
first, and then, crashing through the bushes and between the big trees,
they would scamper until they came out into the sunshine again by the
river.
They loved that beautiful playmate, the river, always running away, yet
always there, whispering and laughing and welcoming them with every
sunny ripple.
One afternoon the children espied a new flower of a deep orange color
growing on a high bank near a clump of bushes. When they reached the
blossom they found that it gave off a delicious spicy odor. They were
delighted and stooped eagerly to pick it, but before their hands reached
the stem a clear little voice spoke severely.
"What is your name, little boy?"
The two stood close together in their surprise and did not answer.
The voice spoke again. "What is your name, little boy?"
"My name is Pierre," answered the boy, looking all about for his
questioner.
"What is your name, little girl?" asked the voice.
It was such a sweet voice, as well as shrill, that the little girl was
not really afraid, but she stood a little closer to her brother.
"My name is Iona," she said.
Then Pierre spoke quickly, "But who are you?"
"I am one of the guards of the fairy queen," was the reply; and suddenly
the children saw the owner of the shrill little voice.
He was about as tall as your finger, dressed in green so exactly the
color of the bush on which he was standing that no wonder they had not
seen him sooner. A sword hung by his side, and looking closely they saw
that it was a thorn. An acorn cup was his cap, and stuck in it was a
tiny stiff feather some bird had dropped.
He was so cunning Iona longed to pick him up, but he looked so important
and stern she felt sure that he would resent any attack on his dignity
with that very sharp sword, and she thought she would better let him
alone.
"That orange flower," went on the guard, "belongs to the fairy king and
queen and you must not break it."
"Do they own all these wild-flowers?" asked Pierre. "I have picked a
lot of them. We didn't know they belonged to anybody."
"No, their flower garden is not like that of mortals, all huddled
together in one place," (the guard spoke quite scornfully). "Their
flowers are scattered and that is why they require guards. Some are in
the woods, some in the mountains, some in ravines, so now you
understand, unless you are very dull mortal children."
"O, we understand," returned Iona eagerly. "Do you suppose we could see
the fairy king and queen? We have wanted to all our lives."
The guard lifted his little shoulders and looked very proud. "It is
possible," he said, "but not the easiest thing in the world."
"We wouldn't care if it was very hard indeed," said Pierre earnestly.
"Is that thorn of yours instead of a wand?"
"I don't know what you mean by a thorn," returned the guard, and Iona
noticed that he looked displeased.
"He means your sword, please, Sir," she said, so very humbly that the
guard's face cleared, and she gave Pierre's hand a tight squeeze to
remind him that sometimes the smaller people are the bigger they feel
themselves to be.
"No, I don't need any wand. My duty is simply to keep order. I have
nothing to do with helping other people about their affairs as
Rose-Petal and Lily-bud and others like them are always doing."
Iona tried not to laugh. The guard was so small and thought so much of
himself.
"If I should pick this orange flower what would happen to me?" asked
Pierre. "Would you take me before the king and queen?" He was thinking
that might be a good way to get there.
"It would be my duty to thrust your fingers through and through,"
replied the guard, his hand on his sword hilt and his face very
threatening, "and you should never see the king and queen."
"Oh, we wouldn't do it, of course," exclaimed Iona hastily, "since you
ask us not to, and if you would be so very kind as to tell us how to get
to the fairy court we couldn't thank you enough."
The guard's fierce frown vanished and he regarded the children more
cheerfully.
"First," said he, "of course you would have to travel some distance."
"O yes," they cried.
"You will have to do exactly as I tell you."
"Of course," the answer came very eagerly.
"You, Pierre," said the guard fairy, "must think of a number. You, Iona,
must think of a letter. Be sure not to forget them. Then when I tell you
what to do you must each get on them, one on the letter and one on the
number and sail across the Wapsipinicon. On the opposite bank you will
find a pool lying in the midst of bulrushes. That is a fairy pool and
there you will meet a sentry called Bullfrog. He will ask your names and
your business and you must tell him what you are seeking and he will
help you on your way. As soon as you get on your letter and number I
will push you off from the bank with my sword and you will have a safe
journey."
"O let us go at once," cried the children.
The guard looked very strange for a moment. "It is so long since I
helped mortals to go to the fairy court that I have forgotten
something," he said slowly. "The last children that went to court did a
dreadful thing and I had forgotten it. I don't believe you will be able
to go after all."
"Tell us what it was," begged Pierre. "How could anything other children
did keep us from going?"
"Why they lost the key to the palace gate," said the guard. "Of course
fairies don't need it, but mortals do. You can not enter without it."
Pierre and Iona looked at one another. This was surely a hard situation.
"There is no harm in our hunting for the key, is there?" asked Iona.
"No," returned the guard, "No harm, and no hope. You must know that
many people have searched for it."
"Let us try at any rate," said Pierre. "If we should find the key and
come back may we call you?"
"I'm a very busy person," said the guard, "for as you can understand I
have to follow children about from place to place. However, if you find
the key you may come back here and standing in this same spot say,
'Come, brave flower-guard, near or far,
Wapsipinicon, 'rah, 'rah, 'rah!'
and I will be with you."
The guard held himself very straight.
"What does the key look like?" asked Iona.
"It is small and made of gold," said the guard.
"Thank you so much," cried both the children, but they found they were
talking to a green bush. The guard had vanished.
The orange flower was sending out such charming fragrance that they
looked at it once more, wistfully, then at each other, and shook their
heads.
"We said we wouldn't, you know," said Iona.
"Besides," returned Pierre, "we have to find that key or else never see
the fairy court. Those children must have dropped it in the woods or in
the water, for if it had been on the grass it could easily have been
found."
Brother and sister stood hand in hand on the bank of the river,
wondering if somewhere amid its golden sand lay a little golden key.
"Do you remember," said Iona, "what the flower guard said about two
fairies who helped people with their affairs? I was thinking how nice it
would be if one of them would help us now. Do you remember their names?"
"Yes, I think they were Rose-bud and Lily-petal."
"Let us see if we can persuade them to come," said Iona. "The flower
guard gave us a rhyme for himself. Can you make a verse about Rose-bud?"
Pierre thought deeply for a moment. "I don't believe I can," he
answered. "Can you? You must, Iona. It's necessary."
So Iona thought and thought. At last she said,
"Rose-bud of the gauzy wing,
We need you like anything."
Then the children looked all about. The forest trees back of them were
waving and shimmering in the sun. Daises and buttercups were bright
along the shore, and a tangle of wild rose-bushes covered with blossoms
made the air sweet; but no fairy appeared.
"They must be good fairies," said Pierre, "or else they wouldn't help
people, and there must be some way to get them. That proud little
flower guard appeared to us quick enough without any verse being said to
him."
"Perhaps we haven't the names right," said Iona. "I wonder if it wasn't
Lily-bud and Rose-Petal."
"Try again, then," returned Pierre.
So Iona thought very earnestly again and at last said,
"Rose-Petal bright, Rose-Petal gay,
Help us to find the key today."
"What key, children?" asked a voice, and turning quickly they saw on the
nearest wild rose-bush a fairy swaying. Rosy waves swept over her white
gown in ripples of color, and her wings changed from silver to rose as
they closed and unclosed.
Pierre and Iona hurried toward her.
"O dear Rose-Petal," said Iona, clasping her hands in happiness at
seeing the bright little being. "The flower guard will help us to the
fairy court if we can only find the key to the palace gate. Some
children lost it. Can you help us?"
Rose-Petal shook her head and smiled. "I will do what I can, but when
mortals lose things, mortals must find them."
"But I suppose you know everything," said Pierre. "I suppose you know
where the key is."
"No," returned Rose-Petal, "I don't know where it is, but I shall be
glad if you find it, for it is rather a pity children should not be
able any longer to visit our court."
"Do you go there often?" asked Pierre.
"I live there," replied Rose-Petal. "I am one of the queen's maids of
honor."
"Then why can't you take us?" suggested Iona eagerly.
"You know already," returned the fairy. "Mortals must use the key, and
when two children like you, who are not selfish or quarrelsome, wish to
go I am glad to help them for they already have the greatest key of all,
the key that unlocks all earthly doors."
"What is that?"
"Love," replied Rose-Petal, "and for that reason they will not carry
into the fairy court anything but love. Many children have too much
other baggage to carry: selfishness, bad temper, sometimes even
dishonesty. That was the trouble with the last mortal visitors we had,
and it was in some quarrel that they lost the key. Now this is what I
will do for you." Rose-Petal produced two acorn cups such as the flower
guard had worn. "Here are two caps. They have many virtues and will make
you understand much that you never understood before."
She touched the children with her silver wand. The children took the
acorn cups gratefully, but they smiled at each other and then at the
pretty face and bright eyes of the fairy.
"I don't see how we can ever wear such caps as these," said Iona,
laughing.
Rose-Petal smiled. "They will fit you when you put them on," she said.
"Try it."
The children placed the little caps on the top of their heads and
suddenly the strangest thing happened to Rose-Petal. She grew as big as
they were, and Pierre and Iona were so occupied with that change that
they did not notice that the new caps fitted them perfectly.
Rose-Petal with the vibrant waves of rose color playing over her wings
and her gauzy gown, looked so tall and dignified and beautiful that Iona
wondered how a minute ago she could have longed to take her up in her
hand.
"I didn't know there were such large fairies," exclaimed Pierre.
Rose-Petal laughed gaily. "And I didn't know there were such small
children," she answered, and at once there was nothing where she had
been standing but a huge wild rose. Pierre and Iona grasped each other's
hands. They were swinging on the bough of a bushy tree with giant roses
all around them.
"How did we get up in this tree?" asked Iona.
"I suppose we climbed up," said Pierre, "but I don't remember it. Shall
I help you down?" He took off his cap to put it in his pocket because he
knew it was valuable to them in some way, and instantly he was standing
beside the wild rose-bush, and there before him was a little creature no
bigger than Rose-Petal standing on a twig and wearing an acorn cap.
He laughed and took the cap off his sister's head and at once she stood
beside him on the ground, beside the rose-bush.
"Why, Pierre!" she cried.
"Why, Iona," he answered. "Our caps are wonderful things, but I don't
see yet how they are going to help us."
"We shall find out," replied Iona. "First of all I think we ought to
search the river, don't you?"
"That would take us the rest of our lives," returned Pierre, "for the
river begins in the mountains and flows into the sea."
"But the water-nixie will perhaps know," said Iona. "Rose-Petal believed
there was hope of our finding the key or she would not have helped us.
Her eyes looked kind. She wouldn't play tricks."
"No," returned Pierre, "I'm sure she was a good fairy. Then you will
have to make up another verse, Iona."
"You do this one," suggested his sister.
Pierre scratched his head and wrinkled his forehead but rhymes wouldn't
come, so Iona tried again.
They both stood close to the river and Pierre said, "I think our caps
might help. Rose-Petal said we should understand everything better."
So, pushing the acorn cups down over their heads again they found they
fitted perfectly and suddenly the river had become such a great torrent
that they stepped back a little and Iona cried in a high, sweet voice,
"Wapsipinicon, 'rah, 'rah, 'rah,
Come, pretty Nixie, wherever you are."
Instantly the waterfall formed by the largest rock that stuck out of the
river bed became misty, and a spray rose from it, higher, higher,
higher, until the children saw a lovely maiden's form grow clearer and
clearer.
The crystal water shimmered over her head and long hair and gown of
mist, and she stood, a slender, lovely, dripping fountain and gazed upon
the tiny children kindly.
"It is very good of you to come," said Pierre. He snatched off his cap
politely and nearly stepped upon Iona, who leaped away from him. He
restored it very quickly you may be sure, and the Nixie continued to
gaze at them through her rippling, watery veil, without apparently
noticing these extraordinary changes.
"We are searching for the lost key to the fairy palace gate," explained
Iona. "It is of gold. Have you seen it glittering in your river?"
"No," returned the Nixie in a gurgling tone. "The key is not in the
river."
"Do you know where it is?" cried Pierre eagerly.
"Those of the ground must tell you," gurgled the Nixie. "The water knows
nothing of it."
The springing fountain lowered slowly, slowly, the mist melted and the
waterfall played as before over its sturdy rock.
The children looked at one another. "That was good," said Pierre. "It
saves a great deal of time. We can go faster without our caps, since
Rose-Petal forgot to give us wings to go with them, and next we must go
to the forest."
They took off the caps and hurried fast as their feet would carry them
back into the woods.
"Now, slow and sure," said Pierre, and they fitted on their caps again.
They saw at once what Rose-Petal had meant by what she said of their
being better able to understand, for to their great surprise a bird, who
had begun to twitter as they stepped in among the trees, was speaking.
"There are those two children again," she chirped. "They crash through
the bushes here so many times a day it is very strange they never seem
to remember that trees were made for us and not for them. I'm always
expecting them to look up and see my nest, and some children are
robbers, you know."
"We are not," cried Iona, but the bird flew away, paying no attention
to her and singing as she went, "Robbers, robbers," to warn the other
birds.
"I can't bear to have them think that," said Iona with tears in her
eyes.
"No matter now," said Pierre, "we must look steadily at the ground as we
walk to see if we can find that key."
A bird up among the highest branches had heard Iona's words of grief
that she should be thought a robber and he felt sorry for her.
"Ask the Wise Man," he sang.
"Where is he?" cried Pierre.
"Downstairs, downstairs," sang the bird, as he too, flew away.
"How can there be stairs in the woods?" asked Pierre.
"In the hollow tree,
See what you can see,"
sang somebody. It might have been a bird, but the children thought it
sounded like Rose-Petal's voice. At any rate they began looking for a
hollow tree and at last found one.
They climbed up with their small hands and feet and looked all about the
hollow. At one side there seemed to be a dark hole and as they came
closer they saw little stairs leading downward.
A woodpecker outside the trunk saw them go in. Tapping hard on the bark
he said, "Flatter him, flatter him."
"I don't see anyone to flatter," said Pierre.
"Nor I, but perhaps we shall," returned Iona. "Let us go down those
stairs. The birds know all about the woods and we would better obey
them."
So they started down the dark flight of stairs which wound down, down,
between the twisted roots of trees that had a very earthy smell.
At last they came out into a sort of room, a room with no shape at all,
you might say, because there were so many passages leading off from it;
but it was large enough for the little brown man who stood there looking
with surprise to see visitors appearing from the stairway. He had a long
white beard, but his face looked like a potato, Iona thought, his eyes
were so small, and his color, clothes and all, so brown.
The place was lighted by glow worms that hung from the top of the room
and there was a table that was an old tree root, and a chair of the
same.
"Flatter him, flatter him," the woodpecker had advised, and Iona
wondered how anyone could flatter such a droll being, as homely and
earthy as he could be.
"Be sure to keep your cap on," whispered Pierre. "We should bump our
heads dreadfully if we lost them, and never get out, either."
The little man did not look glad to see them.
"If you have come to get employment I don't need any more helpers," he
said, "so you may as well go right back. This is going to be a very busy
day with me. I felt thunder a minute ago."
"How can you feel thunder?" asked Pierre.
"You don't even know that?" said the little man, "and yet you thought
you could work for me!"
Iona, with the necessity for flattery still on her mind, here spoke:
"Of course we don't expect to know a quarter as much as you do," she
said earnestly. "We are only children, and upstairs they call you the
Wise Man."
The gnome (for that is what he was), stroked his beard, and his eyes
shone with satisfaction. "Of course. They naturally would," he said.
"What else could they call me?"
"O, what darling kittens," cried Iona, stooping to some little dark
objects she saw on the ground near the table, and she smoothed the
delicate, dainty fur. "O Pierre, did you ever feel anything so soft?"
The gnome stroked his beard again. It was a way he had when he was
pleased. "You are certainly very ignorant," he said. "It is a good thing
you came down here to learn a few things. Those are not kittens, they
are moles."
"Why, so they are," said Pierre, "and would you mind telling us, Sir,
what you meant by feeling the thunder? Where we live, we hear it."
"Why it shakes the earth, of course, and when I feel it vibrating all
around me I know I shall soon be busy unless the storm passes around.
You'd better get out now, for when the rain falls I shall have no time
to teach you anything more and I can't employ such ignorant children as
you are."
"Would you mind telling me what your workmen do?" asked Pierre. "You
seem to be all alone."
"Somebody must be here to give directions, of course."
"Certainly, Sir," said Pierre, "but my sister and I don't know much
about what happens under the ground and it is so interesting to hear."
"Who did you suppose carried the water to the roots of the trees and
flowers?"
"We didn't know, Sir."
"Who did you suppose helped the new little rootlets to find a drink, and
guided them to the softest earth-places so they could reach down and eat
and grow strong?"
"We didn't know, Sir."
"Well, you know now. Do you see all those passages leading off in every
direction from this room?"
"Yes, Sir."
"They are full of my workmen for miles around. They have all felt the
thunder and they are ready."
"That is very wonderful," said Iona, who had risen from caressing the
moles and was listening attentively. "You know, then, everything that is
in the ground, don't you?"
"Certainly I do!"
"Do you know what is on top of the ground? We are searching for a golden
key--"
"O, that golden key!" exclaimed the gnome. "What a to-do there has been
about that key!"
"O, Sir, if you know anything about it," exclaimed Pierre, "do tell us.
The birds told us that you were the Wise Man and sent us down to see
you. They felt you could help us."
The gnome nodded slowly, and closed one of his little potato eyes in a
knowing wink.
"Trust the birds for that," he said. "They have their own reasons for
sending you down here. Anything to make you believe the key was on the
ground, or in it."
"Are you sure it isn't, dear Mr. Wise Man?" asked Iona.
"Perfectly sure. We go upstairs in the twilight when the sun won't hurt
our eyes. We know everything that lies on the ground in this forest."
"And the key isn't there?" asked Pierre.
"Do you know where it is--you who know everything?" cried Iona, grasping
the edge of the gnome's earthy smock with beseeching hands.
"I know everything that it is my business to know," returned the gnome
impatiently, "and that is enough. Begone, now. O, the birds," he added
with another knowing nod and wink, "Leave it to the birds. Out with you!
The rain is coming."
"But we'd like to stay here until the shower passes," suggested Pierre.
"No indeed. I must get to my work and command my army. How do I know
that you would not make off with a glowworm or a mole? Have you brought
any references?"
The children were forced to admit that they had not, so the gnome
hustled them up the stairs and they climbed until they came out into the
daylight of the hollow tree.
A flash of lightning greeted them, and they laughed as they cuddled down
into the powdered dead wood in the depths of the hollow and watched the
silver rain which at once began to fall, and listened to the grand peals
of thunder that seemed to shake the foundations of the earth.
"It's no wonder he could feel the thunder," said Pierre.
"Did you speak to me?" asked a laughing voice. It sighed even as it
laughed, like a breeze passing through the tops of the trees.
The children looked all about.
"Pierre, you made a rhyme," exclaimed Iona. "'You were a poet and
didn't know it' and we know by this time that fairies love poetry.
Something lovely is near us. Do you suppose a dryad lives in this tree?"
The thunder seemed to rip the clouds apart and the fast-falling silver
rain began to be lighted by an occasional sunbeam. Iona looked very
happy and excited and she held Pierre's hand tightly while she said:
"Lovely dryad of the wood,
Help us, if you'll be so good."
Instantly, with a swirl of green draperies, a slender, laughing girl
stood before them. The rain sent its silver lances over her golden hair
and leaf green gown without wetting her in the least.
"You are making yourself very much at home," she said with a gay little
ripple of laughter that clothed all she said.
"We didn't know it was your tree," said Pierre, his hand going up to his
cap--but he remembered in time and dropped the hand. "We went downstairs
to see the Wise Man because we are hunting for the key to the gate of
the fairy palace, and he thinks the birds know more about it than they
tell."
"My birds, my birds," sighed the dryad.
"Of course they are!" exclaimed Iona. "You'll show us where to go, won't
you?"
"Secrets, secrets," laughed the dryad, a very mischievous look in her
pretty eyes.
"But what possible use can a key be to a bird?" asked Pierre.
"Ask them, ask them," sang the dryad.
"No, no," exclaimed Iona, "the birds think we are robbers when we
wouldn't rob them for the world, and yet if we take the key from them
they might call it robbing. What shall we do?" She clasped her hands
together and the dryad, mischievous as she was, and full of fun,
appeared to feel some sympathy with her. At any rate the green-clad
maiden leaned forward, and with a hand as white as mist touched one of
Iona's golden curls.
"Fair exchange," she sighed, laughing. "Fair exchange is no rob--" her
voice died away, and with the voice, her leaf-like gown and fair face.
"I've heard that before about fair exchange," said Pierre. "Iona, we
will let all the birds know that you will give a curl for the key. I
believe the dryad has helped us more than anyone."
The rain ceased and the children climbed out of their hollow, and hand
in hand walked among the dripping trees. The sun burst forth from the
racing clouds, and the birds, flying from their shelters among the
branches, began to sing.
"There are those children again," sang one.
"Why should you be afraid of creatures as small as we are?" sang
another.
"And we love you so, we love you so," cried Iona.
The first bird heard this. He was a wood-thrush. "Do you think we can
believe that?" he asked of his friend, who was a vireo.
"It is as well to watch them," said the vireo. "I lost some eggs once."
"Listen to them," said the wood-thrush. "They are trying to sing, too."
"Birds of air, O, list to me,
I am searching for a key
Golden as the silky curl
Growing on this little girl.
If you'll give the key to me
I'll give you the curl, you see;
Curls are soft and are the best
Lining for a cozy nest."
The children walked on slowly, singing their song, and one bird called
to another to listen, until a flock flitted from tree to tree, following
them and looking down with bright eyes at Iona's golden curls.
At last a larger bird joined the throng. As soon as he heard the
children's song and took a good look at Iona's golden hair he flapped
his wings and made a great outcry. He was a magpie and a great talker at
all times, but now he shrieked at the top of his lungs.
"A hawk! A hawk! Fly, Fly!" and all the other birds fled away with the
speed of arrows.
As soon as they were out of sight the magpie flew down to Iona.
"Go no further," he said, and his eyes shone as a sunbeam glinted on
Iona's curls. "I have your key. Do you mean what you said about the
curl?"
"O yes, Mr. Magpie," cried the children.
"Then I can bite it off right now," said the magpie, "and carry it up to
my tree when I go to get the key, which is woven into the side of my
nest."
Iona put her head down obediently, but Pierre stepped in front of her.
"No, Mr. Magpie," he said firmly. "Fair exchange is no robbery. Let us
see the key, first."
The bird, seeing that it was of no use to try to get the curl and keep
the key too, flew away. It was not very long before he returned with a
bit of shining metal in his beak. It proved to be a beautifully carved
little key, bright as a sunbeam, and Iona held it in both hands while
putting her head down to let the magpie choose a curl. As she did so,
her acorn cap fell off, and no cry of hawk ever made a bird fly away
faster than that magpie flew from the big little girl.
"O, what a pity!" said Iona, nearly crying. "The birds will think worse
of us than ever."
"No," returned Pierre, taking off his own cap, and standing beside her,
"it is good luck for the magpie, for he will get a big curl now, instead
of a little one. I see him up there now, chattering away in the top of
that big oak."
Pierre took his knife out of his pocket and choosing a curl in the back
of Iona's head, where its loss would not be much noticed, he cut it off
and hung it over a bush, where it shone like gold.
Then the children hurried away and hid behind a tree where they watched
until they saw the magpie fly down, seize the curl, and fly off swiftly.
So then with light hearts the children went back through the woods and
out again upon the river bank.
"Do you remember the number you chose, Pierre?"
"Yes. Do you remember your letter?"
"Yes," returned Iona joyously, and they ran up the bank towards the
orange flower.
"Come, little flower-guard, near or far,
Wapsipinicon, 'rah, 'rah, 'rah."
shouted Pierre, but though they hunted all over the bush no little,
green-clad fairy appeared. The children looked at one another blankly.
What if now that they had the precious key, the guard failed to keep his
promise?
Suddenly Pierre laughed. "It is our fault," he said, recalling the proud
and important look of the guard. "He doesn't know that he is small. I
remember now what he told us," so Pierre called,
"Come, brave flower-guard, near or far,
Wapsipinicon, 'rah, 'rah, 'rah."
and at once the guard with his flashing eye, his green uniform, and with
his hand on the hilt of his sword, stood before them.
"Look!" cried Iona, showing the key. "It was woven into the side of a
magpie's nest. I gave him one of my curls for it."
The guard seemed pleased and nodded. "You have done well," he said, "and
now if you remember your letter and number we will be off."
"Wouldn't it be more convenient if we were your size?" asked Pierre.
"What do you mean by size?" asked the guard frowning.
"My cap is gone!" cried Iona.
Pierre looked all about in his pockets. "So is mine," he returned,
looking very blank. "Rose-Petal gave us some caps like yours--" he was
explaining, but the guard interrupted him.
"This is not Rose-Petal's affair, it is mine, so don't ask any more
foolish questions but follow me."
They went down to the river's edge, and there were the letter and the
number, dancing on the ripples like little rafts, and the children got
on board.
"You remember my directions?" asked the guard.
"Perfectly," they replied. Then the guard with the point of his sword
pushed the rafts off from shore and waved them adieu.
They called back their thanks to him and began to enjoy their ride very
much. They could see the fish swimming about them, and several times
they thought the fish gently nosed their rafts along so the current
could not bear them down stream.
At last they touched the opposite shore and jumping out they looked
about for the pool. The bulrushes were so thick that for some time they
could not find it, but at last they saw another orange flower like the
first, flaming among the green and they hastened their steps. Its odor
perfumed all the air.
"Do you suppose we may pick this one?" asked Iona, when a deep, gruff
voice suddenly exclaimed, "Chug! Stand ho! Who are you?"
Then the children saw that they were on the edge of the pool and on a
near rock sat the biggest bullfrog they had ever seen.
"We were hunting for you, Sir Bullfrog," said Pierre politely.
"Chug! chug!" said the frog, and his white throat swelled as he said it.
Then Pierre told him their experiences and that the flower-guard had
promised them that the frog would take them to the palace.
"Let me see where the curl was cut off. Chug! chug! And let me see the
key. Chug! chug!" returned the frog, without moving.
So Iona bowed her head and her curls fell thick on either side with a
little cropped lock of hair in the middle. Then she took the key from
the bosom of her dress, for after finding they had lost their acorn caps
she wanted to be very, very careful, so had hid it there.
Then at last the frog was satisfied.
"Fetch your rafts," he said, "and we will be off."
So the children ran back to the riverside and pulled their letter and
number out of the water, and placing them on their heads, marched back
to the pool.
"Place the letter on my back and the number on that, and then get on
yourselves."
"Isn't that a very heavy load for you?" asked Iona, who believed in
kindness to animals.
"Chug! No," exclaimed the frog, "I shall probably forget you are there."
"Please don't," said Iona, "because we can't swim." She believed also
in kindness to children and she hoped the frog did.
But the frog began chug-chugging as if he were impatient to be gone, so
the children jumped aboard laughing, and off they went, the frog making
the water foam with the strokes of his long, strong legs.
The pool had looked to them like a circular small pond, but the frog
swam to a narrow opening in the tall rushes, and although these nearly
brushed the children off for some way, the water widened out again.
It was a long journey. Three times they twisted and turned through
narrow openings, but at last they came into a pretty stream that flowed
between flowery, tree-shaded banks, and imagine the children's joy when
they saw hundreds of the fragrant orange-colored flowers, growing in
profusion.
"O, we must be very near," cried Pierre.
"Chug! chug! we are," said the frog, "and I have made up my mind to let
the fishes take you back. I found I couldn't forget you were there."
He swam up to a landing of ivory with ivory steps leading down to the
water, and who should be standing on the top step, but Rose-Petal
herself.
"Welcome," she said as the children leaped joyously to the shore.
"We can't thank you enough, dear Frog," said Iona.
"Chug!" said the frog, and turning around he swam away again as fast as
he could go.
"We must tell you the first thing," said Pierre, "that we lost our caps
and we are very sorry. We tried not to be careless."
"You were not careless," answered Rose-Petal, "I took them after you
found the key."
This was a great relief to the children, and guided by Rose-Petal they
walked through avenues of flowers until they reached a gate of
mother-of-pearl. Beyond it they could see flowers and fountains and
graceful waving trees, and could hear the singing of birds.
Rose-Petal turned to them and smiled, and pointed with her wand to the
golden lock. Iona took out the precious key and with it she unlocked the
gate of pearl and they walked in. White doves flew about their heads and
lighted on the children's heads and hands, and swans sailed about in a
pond clear as emerald.
The palace itself now rose before them and it was of mother-of-pearl,
very beautiful in shape, and soft looking, like a tinted cloud.
The children were so full of wonder and happiness that they forgot even
Rose-Petal. They walked up the flowery avenue to the ivory steps of the
palace and straight up them as if in a delightful dream. They entered
and passed between guards like the one they already knew, except that
these were dressed in white satin and instead of a sword each carried a
stalk of lilies of the valley.
Pierre and Iona walked on, and at last came into the throne room. It was
more beautiful than they had dreamed; and the pearl walls and floors had
a hundred pale tints of violet, rose and gold.
At the end, on a raised platform, were two thrones, and on one sat the
queen in a lovely filmy robe, outside of which a splendid train of
ermine-trimmed white satin trailed on the floor. The king, too, was
dressed in white satin and silver lace, and both king and queen wore
crowns of pearls with a diamond star in the front.
Around them were grouped lovely fairies. The children stood still and
gazed. Rose-Petal advanced and fell on one knee before the throne.
"Your majesties, these are the children who found the lost key to the
palace gate."
"Let them come near," said the king, and obeying a gesture from
Rose-Petal, Pierre and Iona drew near to the wonderful beings they had
so longed to see.
They imitated Rose-Petal and fell on their knees, and as the king and
queen each held out a hand they kissed them, and it was like kissing
flowers.
"Rise, dear children, and tell us your adventures," said the queen.
"The key is not to leave the palace, and the children who took it away
thought by so doing that they could come to our court at any time they
wished. Of course they lost it and we should like to hear how you found
it again."
"That is true," said the king. "We wish to hear. Speak on."
So the children told their adventures from the beginning, and the
fairies standing about the throne listened with as much interest as the
king and queen. Their names, besides Rose-Petal, and Lily-bud whom you
already know, were Crystal, Thistle-down, Feather-white and Dewdrop.
When Pierre and Iona had finished their recital the king and queen
smiled.
"We are well pleased," said the king. "Will you tell us, Pierre, why you
chose _One_ as your number?"
"Yes, your majesty," replied Pierre. "It is because you would be the
first king and queen we had ever seen, and we knew you were the one and
only fairy king and queen."
"And you, Iona," said the queen. "Why did you choose the letter _G_?"
"Because, your majesty," replied Iona, "you were a great and good king
and queen."
The royal pair smiled again.
"Those were very good reasons," said the queen, "and very pleasant for
us to hear. Now my maidens will give you some refreshment before you go,
and then you may take, each of you, an orange flower. The name of it is
Good Cheer and it will not wither, but bloom forever, making all around
you glad with its perfume and brightness."
"After that," added the king, "we desire that you be returned safely to
your home in our water chariot, and that your lives be always as happy
as they are today."
Upon this the king and queen again held out their hands and the children
kissed them and then followed Rose-Petal and her charming sisters out of
the throne room.
As the children had no wings the fairies very politely refrained from
using theirs and all walked together out into the gardens where they
played games and ate delicious fruits and little cakes made of honey and
nuts, and drank something delightful, they knew not what it was, from
crystal cups.
At last the sun began to sink into the West and the children's eyelids
were ready to sink too, from all they had done this wonderful day. They
were very, very happy as each gathered an orange flower.
Then Rose-Petal led them out past the emerald pond, with its snowy
swans, and the doves again alighted softly on their heads and arms.
Iona turned the key in the palace gate, and they passed through. Then
she locked it again. The children took a last look at the little golden
key and felt sorry for the children who had carried it away and
therefore could never go back again.
They walked on to the bank of the river and there floated a charming,
opal shell, with pink velvet cushions, and harnessed to it by rosy
ribbons were four swans. Pierre and Iona clapped their hands with joy at
the sight.
"Their majesties' own water chariot," said Rose-Petal. "You will have a
pleasant journey."
"But must we say good-bye to you, dear Rose-Petal?" asked Iona.
"I will meet you at the Wapsipinicon," she answered with a little nod,
and mounting on her bright wings she disappeared into the air.
Pierre and Iona stepped on board the boat and seated themselves on the
soft cushions under the opal-colored canopy formed by the curling ends
of the lovely shell, and with a smooth motion the swans moved forward,
between the flowery banks of the stream.
"It is like being a king and queen ourselves," said Pierre.
"Yes," replied Iona, holding her dear flower close.
In and out, through narrow ways and broad, but all beautiful, the swans
swam on. Sometimes drooping trees dipped their tassels in the water, and
the air was always sweet.
At last the children began to see bulrushes and they remembered their
friend, the frog. Would he come to meet them?
Sure enough, as the stream narrowed and the bulrushes grew more thickly,
the swans began to move more and more slowly. At last they stopped.
"Chug! chug!" said a voice. "Stand, ho."
"Dear Mr. Frog, how kind of you!" cried Iona as the frog came alongside,
on his back the letter and number just as they had left them.
"Where did you get the flowers?" he asked severely.
"The gift of the king and queen," replied Pierre.
The frog sentry seemed satisfied. The presence of the water chariot was
proof of royal favor.
"Chug! Get aboard," he said, so Pierre and Iona rose from their stately
pink velvet cushions and jumped over upon the raft.
"Thank you, dear swans," they cried, and watched the graceful creatures
turn and start to swim back, drawing after them the tinted boat.
The frog began his strong strokes and soon arrived at his home pool on
the bank of which stood Rose-Petal, poised on a bulrush.
"Welcome, little travellers," she said, "now to the river." And Pierre
and Iona, after bidding a grateful good-bye to the big frog who
chug-chugged a farewell to them, jumped out on shore, and picking up
their letter and number, started for the Wapsipinicon.
"Rose-Petal, we love you and we thank you," cried the children as they
boarded their rafts on their own dear river.
Rose-Petal smiled and pushed off the little boats with her wand. Then
she began to sing;
"Gentle river, bear them lightly,
Wind and wave, sing songs of cheer;
In their hearts may love burn brightly,
And protect them from all fear."
The children stood and threw kisses and waved their hands to the good
fairy as the ripples bore them on, and her song grew fainter and
fainter.
At last they could see her no longer. They were approaching the shore,
and soon scrambled out on a convenient rock. The sun was setting and
they hastened through the woods and toward home as fast as they could
go. Their mother met them at the door.
"What is that lovely fragrance?" she asked as they kissed her.
"These flowers," returned the children, holding up the orange-colored
blossoms, which looked like imprisoned sunshine.
Then they told their mother their adventures and at last Pierre again
held up the fragrant flower.
"The name of it is Good Cheer," he explained.
Their mother nodded thoughtfully.
"The fairies knew the best gift to give you," she said. "With good cheer
one needs little else."