was telegraph-messenger; but the birds were reporters, and some of them
very bad ones. The larks brought tidings from the clouds, and were
always welcome; the thrushes from the wood, and all loved to hear their
pretty romances; the robins had domestic news, and the lively wrens bits
of gossip and witty jokes to relate. But the magpies made much mischief
with their ill-natured tattle and evil tales, and the crows criticised
and condemned every one who did not believe and do just as they did; so
the magpies were forbidden to go gossiping about the meadow, and the
gloomy black crows were ordered off the fence where they liked to sit
cawing dismally for hours at a time.
Every one felt safe and comfortable when this was done, except the
Cardinals, who liked to hear their splendid dresses and fine feasts
talked about, and the Golden-rods, who were so used to living in public
that they missed the excitement, as well as the scandal of the magpies
and the political and religious arguments and quarrels of the crows.
A hospital for sick and homeless creatures was opened under the big
burdock leaves; and there several belated butterflies were tucked up in
their silken hammocks to sleep till spring, a sad lady-bug who had lost
all her children found comfort in her loneliness, and many crippled ants
sat talking over their battles, like old soldiers, in the sunshine.
It took a long time to do all this, and it was a hard task, for the rich
and powerful flowers gave no help. But the Asters worked bravely, so did
the Clovers and Buttercups; and the Pitcher-plant kept open house with
the old-fashioned hospitality one so seldom sees now-a-days. Everything
seemed to prosper, and the meadow grew more beautiful day by day. Safe
from their enemies the snakes, birds came to build in all the trees and
bushes, singing their gratitude so sweetly that there was always music
in the air. Sunshine and shower seemed to love to freshen the thirsty
flowers and keep the grass green, till every plant grew strong and fair,
and passers-by stopped to look, saying with a smile,--
"What a pretty little spot this is!"
The wind carried tidings of these things to other colonies, and brought
back messages of praise and good-will from other rulers, glad to know
that the experiment worked so well.
This made a deep impression on the Golden-rods and their friends, for
they could not deny that Violet had succeeded better than any one dared
to hope; and the proud flowers began to see that they would have to give
in, own they were wrong, and become loyal subjects of this wise and
gentle queen.
"We shall have to go to Court if ambassadors keep coming with such gifts
and honors to her Majesty; for they wonder not to see us there, and will
tell that we are sulking at home instead of shining as _we_ only can,"
said the Cardinals, longing to display their red velvet robes at the
feasts which Violet was obliged to give in the palace when kings came to
visit her.
"Our time will soon be over, and I'm afraid we must humble ourselves or
lose all the gayety of the season. It is hard to see the good old ways
changed; but if they must be, we can only gracefully submit," answered
the Gentians, smoothing their delicate blue fringes, eager to be again
the belles of the ball.
Clematis astonished every one by suddenly beginning to climb the
maple-tree and shake her silvery tassels like a canopy over the Queen's
head.
"I cannot live so near her and not begin to grow. Since I must cling to
something, I choose the noblest I can find, and look up, not down,
forevermore," she said; for like many weak and timid creatures, she was
easily guided, and it was well for her that Violet's example had been a
brave one.
Prince Golden-rod had found it impossible to turn his back entirely upon
her Majesty, for he was a gentleman with a really noble heart under his
yellow cloak; so he was among the first to see, admire, and love the
modest faithful flower who grew so near him. He could not help hearing
her words of comfort or reproof to those who came to her for advice. He
saw the daily acts of charity which no one else discovered; he knew how
many trials came to her, and how bravely she bore them; how humbly she
asked help, and how sweetly she confessed her shortcomings to the wise
rock and the stately tree.
"She has done more than ever we did to make the kingdom beautiful and
safe and happy, and I'll be the first to own it, to thank her and offer
my allegiance," he said to himself, and waited for a chance.
One night when the September moon was shining over the meadow, and the
air was balmy with the last breath of summer, the Prince ventured to
serenade the Queen on his wind-harp. He knew she was awake; for he had
peeped through the ferns and seen her looking at the stars with her
violet eyes full of dew, as if something troubled her. So he sung his
sweetest song, and her Majesty leaned nearer to hear it; for she much
longed to be friends with the gallant Prince, and only waited for him to
speak to own how dear he was to her, because both were born in the
palace and grew up together very happily till coronation time came.
As he ended she sighed, wondering how long it would be before he told
her what she knew was in his heart.
Golden-rod heard the soft sigh, and being in a tender mood, forgot his
pride, pushed away the screen, and whispered, while his face shone and
his voice showed how much he felt,--
"What troubles you, sweet neighbor? Forget and forgive my unkindness,
and let me help you if I can,--I dare not say as Prince Consort, though
I love you dearly; but as a friend and faithful subject, for I confess
that you are fitter to rule than I."
As he spoke the leaves that hid Violet's golden heart opened wide and
let him see how glad she was, as she bent her stately head and answered
softly,--
"There is room upon the throne for two: share it with me as King, and
let us rule together; for it is lonely without love, and each needs the
other."
What the Prince answered only the moon knows; but when morning came all
the meadow was surprised and rejoiced to see the gold and purple flowers
standing side by side, while the maple showered its rosy leaves over
them, and the old rock waved his crown of vine-leaves as he said,--
"This is as it should be; love and strength going hand in hand, and
justice making the earth glad."
VIII.
THE BROWNIE AND THE PRINCESS.
[Illustration: Betty always wore a brown frock, a big brown hat, and,
being out in the sun a great deal, her face was as brown as a
berry.--PAGE 135.]
She was not a real Brownie, but a little girl named Betty, who lived
with her father in a cottage near a great forest. They were poor; so
Betty always wore a brown frock, a big brown hat, and, being out in the
sun a great deal, her face was as brown as a berry, though very pretty
with its rosy cheeks, dark eyes, and curly hair blowing in the wind. She
was a lively little creature, and having no neighbors she made friends
with the birds and flowers, rabbits and squirrels, and had fine frolics
with them, for they knew and loved her dearly. Many people drove through
the beautiful wood, which was not far from the King's palace; and when
they saw the little girl dancing with the daisies in the meadow, chasing
squirrels up the trees, splashing in the brook, or sitting under her big
hat like an elf under a mushroom, they would say, "There is the
Brownie."
Betty was wild and shy, and always tried to hide if any one called to
her; and it was funny to see her vanish in a hollow tree, drop down in
the tall grass, or skip away into the ferns like a timid rabbit. She was
afraid of the fine lords and ladies, who laughed at her and called her
names, but never thought to bring a book or a toy or say a kind word to
the lonely little girl.
Her father took care of the deer in the King's park and was away all
day, leaving Betty to sweep the little house, bake the brown bread, and
milk Daisy the white cow, who lived in the shed behind the cottage and
was Betty's dearest friend. They had no pasture for her to feed in; so,
when the work was done, Betty would take her knitting and drive Daisy
along the road where she could eat the grass on either side till she had
had enough and lay down to rest under some shady tree. While the cow
chewed her cud and took naps, the little girl would have fine games
among her playmates, the wood creatures, or lie watching the clouds, or
swing on the branches of the trees, or sail leaf boats in the brook. She
was happy; but she longed for some one to talk to, and tried vainly to
learn what the birds sang all day long. There were a great many about
the cottage, for no one troubled them, and they were so tame they would
eat out of her hand and sit on her head. A stork family lived on the
roof, swallows built their clay nests under the eaves, and wrens chirped
in their little homes among the red and white roses that climbed up to
peep in at Betty's window. Wood-pigeons came to pick up the grain she
scattered for them, larks went singing up from the grass close by, and
nightingales sang her to sleep.
"If I only knew what they said, we could have such happy times together.
How can I ever learn?" sighed Betty, as she was driving Daisy home one
day at sunset.
She was in the wood, and as she spoke she saw a great gray owl
fluttering on the ground as if he was hurt. She ran at once to see what
ailed the bird, and was not afraid, though his round eyes stared at her,
and he snapped his hooked beak as if very angry.
"Poor thing! its leg is broken," she said, wondering how she could help
it.
"No, it isn't; it's my wing. I leaned out of my nest up there to watch a
field mouse, and a ray of sunshine dazzled me so I tumbled down. Pick me
up, child, and put me back, and I shall be all right."
Betty was so surprised to hear the owl speak that she did not stir; and
thinking she was frightened at his cross tone, the gray bird said more
gently, with a blink of its yellow eyes and a wise nod,--
"I shouldn't speak to every one, nor trust any other child; but I know
you never hurt anything. I've watched you a long time, and I like you;
so I'm going to reward you by giving you the last wish you made,
whatever it is. I can: I'm a wizard, and I know all sorts of magic
charms. Put me in my nest, tell me your wish, and you shall have it."
"Oh, thank you!" cried Betty, joyfully. "I wished to understand what
birds say."
"Dear me, that's a wish that may make trouble; but I'll grant it if you
won't tell any one how you learned the secret. I can't have people
coming to me, and my neighbors won't want their gossip heard by many
ears. They won't mind you, and it will amuse you, poor thing!" said the
owl, after a pause.
Betty promised, and, holding the fat bird carefully in her arm, she
climbed up the old oak and put him safely in his hole, where he settled
himself with a great ruffling of feathers and a hoot of pleasure at
being home again.
"Now, pull the tallest bit of down off my right ear and put it in your
own; then you will hear what the birds say. Good-night; I'm used up and
want to rest," said the owl, with a gape.
"Thank you," said Betty, and ran after Daisy, who was slowly eating her
way home.
The bit of down lay snugly in Betty's ear, and in a moment she heard
many sweet voices called to one another,--"Good-night!" "Happy dreams!"
"A bright to-morrow;" "Lie still, my darlings;" "Hush, my birdie, sleep
till day,"--and all sorts of pretty things, as the wood-birds were going
to bed with the sun. When she came to the cottage the papa stork was
standing on one leg, while the mamma tucked the little ones under her
wings, scolding now and then as a red bill or a long leg popped out. The
doves were cooing tenderly in the pine that rustled near by, the
swallows skimming over the ground to catch and bring their babies a few
more gnats for supper, and the wrens were twittering among the roses
like the little gossips they were.
"Now I shall know what they all are saying," cried Betty, trying to hear
the different voices; for there were so many going at once it was
difficult to understand the sweet new language.
So she milked Daisy, set the table, and made ready for her father, who
was often late, then took her bowl of bread and milk and sat on the
door-step listening with all her might. She always strewed crumbs for
the wrens, and they flew down to eat without fear. To-night they came,
and as they pecked they talked, and Betty understood every word.
"Here's a fine soft bit, my love," said the papa, as he hopped briskly
about, with his bright eye on the little girl. "Have a good supper while
I feed the children. The child never forgets us, and saves me many a
long journey by giving us these nice crumbs. I wish we could do
something for her."
"So do I, and quite tire my wits trying to make some plan to give her
pleasure. I often wonder why the little Princess up at the palace has so
much and our dear Betty so little. A few of the books and toys that lie
about up there would make this child so happy. It is a pity no one
thinks of it;" and the kind Mamma Wren sighed as she ate a nice bit
close to Betty's bare foot.
"If she was not so shy and would let people speak to her, I think she
would soon make friends, she is so pretty and gay," answered the papa,
coming back for another load for the hungry babies in the nest.
"The Princess has heard of her and wants to see her. I heard the maids
talking about it to-day when I went to call on Cousin Tomtit in the
palace garden. They said her Highness was to drive through the pine wood
early to-morrow morning to breathe the fresh air, and hoped to see the
Brownie and the pretty white cow. Now, if Betty only knew it, she might
gather a posy of cowslips, and when the little lady comes give them to
her. That would please her very much and bring Betty some pretty gift;
for her Highness is generous, though sadly spoilt, I'm afraid."
This fine plan of Mamma Wren's pleased Betty so much that she clapped
her hands and startled the birds away.
"I'll do it! I'll do it!" she cried. "I always wanted to see the little
Princess father has told me about. She is ill, and cannot run and play
as I do, so I should love to please her, and the cowslips are all out.
I'll go early and get a hat full, and not run away if she comes."
Betty was so full of this delightful plan that she went early to bed,
but did not forget to lean out of her window and peep through the roses
into the nest where Mamma Wren brooded over her babies while the papa
roosted near by with his head under his wing.
"Good-night, dear birds; thank you very much," whispered Betty; but they
did not mind her, and only twittered sleepily as if a dream disturbed
them.
"Up, up, little maid;
Day has begun.
Welcome with us
Our father, the sun!"
sang the larks, as they rose from the grass and waked Betty with their
sweet voices.
"Tweet, tweet, it is morning;
Please get up, mamma.
Do bring us some breakfast,
Our dearest papa,"
twittered the young wrens, with their mouths wide open.
"Click, clack, here's another day;
Stretch our wings and fly away
Over the wood and over the hills,
Seeking food for our babies' bills;"
and away went the storks with their long legs trailing out behind, while
the little ones popped up their heads and stared at the sun.
"Cluck! cluck!
Here's good luck:
Old yellow-legs
Has laid two eggs,
All fresh and sweet,
For our girl to eat,"
cackled the gray hens, picking about the shed where the cock stood
crowing loudly.
"Coo! coo! coo!
Come, bathe in the dew;
For the rosy dawn shines
Through our beautiful pines.
So kiss, every one,
For a new day's begun,"
called the doves softly to one another as they billed and cooed and
tripped about on their little pink feet.
Betty looked and listened at her window, and was so happy she kissed the
roses nodding at her, then ran down to make the porridge, singing like a
bird herself. When her father had gone away to work she made haste to
milk Daisy, sweep the floor, and make all tidy for the day before she
went to wait for the Princess.
"Now, you eat your breakfast here while I get the cowslips; for this is
a pretty place to be in, and I want you to look very nice when the fine
people come," said Betty, as she left the cow to feed in a little shady
nook by the road where the grass was green and an old oak made pleasant
shade.
The cowslips were all open and as yellow as gold, so Betty made a great
nosegay of some and a splendid cowslip-ball of the rest; then she put
them in her hat, well sprinkled with water, and sat on a fallen log
knitting busily, while Daisy lay down to chew her cud, with a green
wreath of oak leaves round her neck for full dress.
They did not have to wait long. Soon the tramp of horses was heard, and
along the wood-road came the white ponies tossing their heads, the
pretty carriage with coachman and footman in blue and silver coats, and
inside the little Princess, with white plumes waving from her hat as she
sat by her nurse, wrapt in a soft silken cloak, for the summer air
seemed cold to her.
"Oh, there's the Brownie and her pretty white cow! Tell her not to run
away, I want to see her and hear her sing," cried the little Princess,
eagerly, as they came nearer.
Betty was rather scared, but did not run away; for the nurse was a
kind-looking old woman in a high peasant cap, who smiled and nodded at
her with a motherly look, and seemed much pleased when she held up the
cowslips, saying,--
"Will the little lady have them?"
"Oh yes, I wanted some; I never had a cowslip ball before. How pretty it
is! Thank you, Brownie," cried the Princess, with both hands full of
flowers as she laughed with pleasure.
"I picked them all for you. I have so many, and I heard you cried for
some," said Betty, very glad that she had not run away and spoiled the
little lady's drive.
"How did you know?" asked the Princess, staring at her.
"The birds told me," said Betty.
"Oh yes! brownies are fairies, and understand bird-talk; I forgot that.
I know what parrots say, but not my other birds. Could you tell me?"
asked the Princess, leaning down very earnestly, for any new thing
pleased her.
"I think so, if tame ones sing like the wild ones," answered Betty,
proud to know more than the fine child did.
"Come to the palace and tell me; come now, I can't wait! My canary sings
all day, but I never understand a word, and I must. Tell her to come,
Nurse," commanded the Princess, who always had her own way.
"Can you?" asked the old woman. "We will bring you back at night. Her
Highness has a fancy to see you, and she will pay you for coming."
"I can't leave Daisy; we have no field to put her in, and if I shut her
up in the shed all day she will be hungry and call for me," answered
Betty, longing to go, but not liking to leave her dear cow to suffer.
"Put her in that field till you come back; I give you leave. All this
land is mine, so no one will blame you. Do it!" said the Princess,
waving her hand to the footman, who jumped down and had Daisy in the
great clover-field before Betty could say a word.
"She will like that; and now I can go if you don't mind my old gown and
hat,--I have no other clothes," she said, as the cow began to eat, and
the footman opened the carriage door for her.
"I like it. Come in.--Now, go home at once," said the Princess; and
there was poor little Betty rolling away in the grand carriage, feeling
as if it was all a fairy tale.
The Princess asked a great many questions, and liked her new friend more
and more; for she had never spoken to a poor child before, or known how
they live. Betty was excited by this fine adventure, and was so gay and
charming in her little ways that the old nurse soon forgot to watch lest
she should do or say something amiss.
When they drove up to the great marble palace shining in the sun, with
green lawns and terraces and blooming gardens all about it, Betty could
only hold her breath and look with all her eyes as she was led through
splendid halls and up wide stairs into a room full of pretty things,
where six gayly dressed maids sewed and chattered together.
The Princess went away to rest, but Betty was told to stay there and be
dressed before she went to play with her Highness. The room was full of
closets and chests and boxes and baskets, and as the doors opened and
the covers flew off, Betty saw piles of pretty frocks, hats, cloaks, and
all manner of dainty things for little girls to wear. Never had she
dreamed of such splendid clothes, all lace and ribbons, silk and velvet.
Hats with flowers and feathers, pretty pink and blue shoes with gold and
silver buckles, silk stockings like cobwebs, and muslin and linen
petticoats and nightgowns and little caps all embroidered as if by fairy
fingers.
She could only stand and look like one in a dream while the maids very
kindly took away her poor brown dress and hat, and after much gossip
over what looked best, at last put on a rosy muslin frock, a straw hat
with roses in it, and some neat shoes and stockings. Then when her hair
was smoothed in thick brown curls, they told her to look in the tall
mirror and tell what she saw there.
"Oh, what a pretty little girl!" cried Betty, smiling and nodding at the
other child, who smiled and nodded back at her. She did not know
herself, never having had any glass but a quiet pool in the wood or the
brook in the meadow.
The maids laughed, and then she saw who it was, and laughed with them,
and danced and courtesied and was very merry till a bell rang and she
was ordered to go to her Highness.
It was a lovely room, all hung with blue silk and lace, with a silver
bed, and chairs and couches of blue damask, pictures on the walls,
flowers in all the windows, and golden cages full of birds. A white cat
slept on its cushion, a tiny dog ran about with a golden collar hung
with bells, and books and toys were heaped on the tables. The Princess
was scolding her nurse because she wanted her to rest longer after the
drive; but when Betty came in looking so pretty and gay, the frown
changed to a smile, and she cried,--
"How nice you look! Not like a Brownie now; but I hope you have not
forgotten about the birds."
"No," said Betty; "let me listen a minute and I'll tell you what they
say."
So both were silent, and the maid and nurse kept as still as mice while
the canary sang his shrill, sweet song, and Betty's face grew sad as she
heard it.
"He says he is tired of his cage and longs to be free among the other
birds; for a tree is a better home than a golden palace, and a crumb in
the wood sweeter than all the sugar in his silver cup. 'Let me go! let
me go! or my heart will break!' That is what he says, and the bulfinch
sings the same song; so do the love birds and the beautiful gay one whom
I don't know."
"What does Polly say? I understand him when he talks, but not when he
scolds and chatters to himself as he is doing now," said the Princess,
looking much surprised at what she heard; for she thought her birds must
be happy in such fine cages.
Betty listened to the great red and green and blue parrot, who sat on a
perch wagging his head and chuckling to himself as if he were enjoying
some good joke. Presently Betty blushed and laughed, and looked both
troubled and amused at what she heard; for the bird was gabbling away
and nodding his head at her in a very funny manner.
"What does he say?" asked the Princess, impatiently.
"Please don't ask. You will not like it. I couldn't tell," said Betty,
still laughing and blushing.
"You _must_ tell, or I'll have Polly's neck wrung. I _will_ know every
word, and I won't be angry with _you_, no matter what that saucy bird
says," commanded the Princess.
"He says this," began Betty, not liking to obey, but afraid poor Polly
would be hurt if she did not: "'Now here's a new pet for her Highness to
torment. Nice, pretty little girl! Pity she came, to be made much of for
a day or two and then thrown away or knocked about like an old doll. She
thinks it all very fine here, poor thing! But if she knew all I know she
would run away and never come back; for a crosser, more spoilt child
than her Highness never lived.'"
Betty dared not go on, for the Princess looked angry; and the maid went
to slap the parrot, who gave a queer laugh and snapped at her fingers,
squalling out,--
"She is! she is! and you all say it behind her back. _I_ know your sly
ways. You praise and pet her, and pretend that she is the sweetest
darling in the world, when you know that this nice, rosy, good little
girl out of the wood is worth a dozen silly, tyrannical princesses. Ha!
ha! I'm not afraid to speak the truth, am I, Betty?"
Betty was frightened, but could not help laughing when the naughty bird
winked at her as he hung upside down, with his hooked beak wide open and
his splendid wings flapping.
"Tell me! tell me!" cried the Princess, forgetting her anger in
curiosity.
Betty had to tell, and was very glad when Bonnibelle laughed also, and
seemed to enjoy the truth told in this funny way.