the rain began to drip upon her bonnet through the canvas roof of the
stall, she was very glad to be able to put up the umbrella and shelter
beneath it.
It was about three o’clock in the afternoon and she had sold most of
her eggs and butter.
A little boy came along and asked for three fresh eggs.
“There you are, my love,” she said. “The last three.”
She held the umbrella in one hand and with the other put the eggs into
the boy’s basket.
“One, two, three,” she said. And instantly she found herself standing
in the middle of her own pleasant kitchen, with her basket on her arm
and the open umbrella still firmly held in her hand.
You can imagine how surprised and puzzled she was. She hadn’t the
faintest idea how she had got there, but she decided to say nothing
about it to any one.
When presently her husband came in for his tea he asked why she had
come home so early.
“I had a bit of a headache,” she said. “I think the sun was too strong
for me.”
The farmer gave a great guffaw. “Come, come, mother,” he said, “you
must have been dreaming. There’s been no sun to-day, neither in town
nor country.”
[Illustration]
“Well, maybe it was the damp that got into my head,” said his wife. “I
think I’ll go to bed and have a basin of hot gruel.” So she went to bed
and had the hot gruel, and by the next morning she had almost forgotten
all about her queer adventure.
Nothing more happened for some time. The weather was warm and sunny,
and the umbrella stood unused in the corner of the kitchen.
But one day the farmer’s wife decided to go and see her daughter, who
was married and lived in a village a few miles away. It was a very hot
day and she thought it would be a good plan to take the umbrella with
her to shade her from the sun.
After dinner she and her daughter went for a walk upon a neighbouring
common, and when they had gone a little way they sat down for a rest
on a warm dry bit of grass by the side of the road that ran across the
heath, for they were hot and rather tired.
“What a lot of motor-cars there are on this road, to be sure,” said
the farmer’s wife, who held the open umbrella over her head. “One,
two, three, four, five.... I wish I was in one of them.” No sooner
had she uttered these words than she found herself plumped right into
the middle of the nearest car, in which were sitting an old lady and
gentleman and a fat spaniel, all fast asleep.
You can imagine what a scene there was. The dog barked, the old lady
and gentleman were furious.
“Stop, stop,” they cried to the chauffeur, who was driving on quite
calmly and taking no notice at all of the noise going on behind him.
As for the farmer’s wife, she was so astonished that she could not say
anything at all.
“What next?” stormed the old gentleman, foaming with rage. “What
next, I should like to know? How dare you get into our car? How dare
you, madam? What are we coming to? A pretty state of affairs when
a man can’t go for a ride in his own car without being molested by
impertinent strangers! Scandalous, scandalous! I shall report it to the
police.”
The farmer’s wife had by this time managed to get out of the car, but
she was so bewildered that she was still unable to speak, and long
after the angry gentleman had driven off with his wife and his dog, she
stood silent and motionless in the middle of the road with the umbrella
in her hand, wide open, and with her mouth wide open too. Her daughter,
who came hurrying up, was also very much astonished.
“What on earth made you do that, mother?” she said. “I couldn’t believe
my own eyes.”
But her mother could only shake her head. She couldn’t make it out at
all. Never, never had such an extraordinary thing befallen her.
“I am afraid I can’t be very well,” she said at last. “I think I’ll
go and see the doctor to-morrow.” So the next day she went to see the
doctor. It was rather showery and she took the umbrella again, for she
had never thought of connecting it with the strange things which had
occurred. The doctor felt her pulse and looked at her tongue.
“You’ve got a touch of Thingumabobitis,” he said. “You must be very
careful. I’ll write you a few prescriptions. You must take a pill every
three hours, and a pink powder every two hours, and a blue powder half
an hour before every meal, and you must never on any account let your
nose get cold. It’s not dangerous so long as you are careful. Come
again next week.”
By this time the sun had come out, and as she was much taken up with
wondering how she was going to keep her nose warm, the farmer’s wife
forgot all about the umbrella. Next day, when she went to fetch it, it
was gone. I don’t know what happened to it, nor who has it now. But let
me give you a word of warning. If you come across a stray umbrella,
pray be careful not to do any counting while you have it open in your
hand. It wouldn’t be very pleasant to find yourself suddenly hanging
from the top of the nearest church steeple, now would it?
FIFTEEN
The Fourth Adventure of the Rainbow Cat
By this time the Rainbow Cat was getting a little tired of travelling
about, and decided that he would go home and have a good rest after his
many exertions. But on the way back he had to pass through the Ever
After country, and the people who lived there were most pressing in
their request that he should spend a little time with them.
The Ever After country is inhabited by all the Fairy Tale and Nursery
Rhyme people, who go to live there when their adventures are over.
Cinderella and her prince have a beautiful castle there, where the
glass slipper is kept on a red velvet cushion in a little gilt cabinet,
and shown to distinguished visitors. Cinderella never had another pair;
she said they were very uncomfortable, and of course she was always
afraid some one might tread on her toes.
Her two disagreeable sisters have a little house of their own. They
have taken to gardening, and keep bees and chickens, and are altogether
immensely improved, so that everybody is quite fond of them.
They are rather sensitive about their past, and are both, alas! a
little lame, because, as you will remember, they cut pieces off their
feet in order to make them smaller.
Snow-White, too, lives in a castle with her husband. The seven dwarfs
have a fine carpenter’s shop on the estate, where they are kept very
busy indeed.
They make the most lovely little chairs and tables for Snow-White’s
children, and do most of the work of that kind required by the dwellers
in the Ever After land.
Red-Riding-Hood and her grandmother have a pretty cottage close to that
of Cinderella’s sisters. Red-Riding-Hood often runs in to have a chat
with them, and they are very kind about sending in honey and eggs for
the old lady.
Of course, there are many, many more people. Jack the Giant-Killer, who
has grown rather fat and lazy, but loves to talk about all his great
fights; Little Miss Muffet, who is still a bit afraid of spiders; Boy
Blue, Mother Hubbard, Aladdin--it would take me all day to mention half
of them, but they are all there, not one is missing.
The Rainbow Cat stayed with Fatima, Bluebeard’s last wife, who lives
with the two brothers who saved her life by their valour.
Poor Fatima has never quite got over the dreadful shock she had when
she discovered the other wives all hanging up, and she can’t so much as
bear the sight of a bunch of keys.
As usual, the Rainbow Cat was most kindly welcomed and was introduced
to all the important people in the place.
[Illustration]
They are always delighted to see strangers, as sometimes they feel that
things are a little dull after the exciting adventures many of them
have been through.
On the third day after his arrival he was invited to a great banquet at
the palace of the Queen of Hearts.
It was a most wonderful banquet.
The Rainbow Cat wore his best bow, his dancing-shoes, and the gold
collar which the giantess had given him. He took his mandolin with him;
it had been most useful to him on several occasions, and it seemed a
pity to leave it behind.
He met a number of friends at the party.
Puss-in-Boots, for instance, and the Pussy-cat who went to London to
visit the Queen.
Dick Whittington’s cat was there too, but he gave himself great airs.
It seems it wasn’t really quite certain whether he was a fairy-tale cat
at all. Some people thought he was real.
It was silly of him to be so stuck-up about it, but it only amused the
Rainbow Cat.
They were about half-way through the banquet when there was a slight
pause. The meat course was finished, and everybody was waiting for the
sweets. At that moment a servant came quietly in and whispered to the
Queen. She became deadly pale, and half rose in her seat.
“What is the matter, your Majesty?” said the Rainbow Cat, who sat in
the place of honour at her right hand.
“He’s done it again,” said the Queen in a low, horrified whisper,
sinking weakly down again into her chair.
“Who has done what?” said the Rainbow Cat.
“The Knave--stolen the tarts!” said the Queen with an agonised look.
“They’re nowhere to be found. It’s all my fault. He begged so hard to
be taken on again that I gave him another chance. Oh! why did I trust
him?”
“Isn’t there anything else?” asked the Rainbow Cat.
“Nothing ready,” replied the Queen. “You see, they’re very special
tarts. I make them myself. Every one thinks so much of them. What shall
I do?”
“Don’t worry,” said the Rainbow Cat. “Send round to all the
pastry-cooks’ for anything they have ready, and meanwhile I’ll sing a
song to fill up the time.”
The Queen was much relieved at this suggestion, and gave orders that
messengers should be dispatched immediately to buy up all the available
tarts in the place.
Meanwhile the Master of Ceremonies was bidden to announce that their
distinguished visitor, the Rainbow Cat, had kindly promised to sing a
song, and wished to know whether the guests would like to hear it at
this moment or later on.
This was a very clever idea, for of course people were bound in
politeness to say they wished to hear the song immediately.
Thereupon the Rainbow Cat took his mandolin and prepared to sing, the
whole company being requested to join in the chorus after each verse.
They were all delighted with this suggestion, and they all sang,
whether they had any voice or not.
They enjoyed it so much that they quite forgot that they hadn’t
finished the banquet. At least they _almost_ forgot.
Here is the song:
THE RHYME OF THE GNOME WITH A SCOLDING WIFE
Once upon a time,
When guinea-pigs had tails,
And people talked in rhyme,
And rivers ran on rails,
There lived a little gnome
Who’d such a scolding wife,
At last he ran away from home,
He couldn’t stand the life.
_Chorus._ There lived a little gnome, etc.
She scolded all day long
From morning until night,
And she was never wrong
And he was never right.
Oh! she could bake and bile,
And she could clean and mend,
But since she scolded all the while,
He left her in the end.
_Chorus._ Oh! she could bake and bile, etc.
He thought he’d found a way
At last to be at peace,
But still, to his dismay,
His troubles did not cease.
He didn’t like his meals,
His washing wasn’t right,
His socks were always out at heels,
His shirts a fearful sight.
_Chorus._ He didn’t like his meals, etc.
By the end of the third verse the Queen was looking very strained and
anxious, and the Rainbow Cat himself was beginning to feel rather
nervous. His song had only four verses, and he wasn’t at all sure that
he would be asked to sing another. He was afraid that people would
remember their unfinished dinner as soon as he stopped.
So he began the fourth verse very slowly. But before he had got
half-way through, he saw three servants standing between the curtains
of the great doorway of the banqueting hall with enormous golden dishes
piled up with most magnificent-looking tarts.
“My tarts,” he heard the Queen murmur in an excited voice, and then he
knew that everything was well.
So he finished his song at a great pace, and the last chorus was sung
with much enthusiasm, for the other guests had also seen the waiting
tarts, and were eager to begin on them.
This is the last verse of his song:
“Assuredly,” thought he,
“Her temper is a curse,
And yet it seems to me
That this is rather worse.”
So home he went once more
In philosophic mood,
And though his wife still vexed him sore,
_He did enjoy his food_.
_Chorus._ So home he went once more, etc.
The song was very much applauded, and every one then fell upon the
tarts with an appetite which the slight delay had pleasantly renewed.
It turned out afterwards that it was all a mistake about the Knave.
The head cook had put the tarts away on the top shelf of the larder
for safety. But he was a poet as well as a cook, and just before the
moment arrived when the tarts should have been served up, a perfectly
beautiful little verse came into his head, and he rushed off to a quiet
spot to write it down, quite confident that the under-cook would be
able to look after the rest of the banquet.
And that’s how it came about that suspicion fell upon the poor Knave;
for when the tarts could not be found, every one naturally supposed
that he had stolen them again.
When the cook had written down his verse and made a few little
improvements in it, he returned to the kitchen and found everything in
an uproar because of the missing tarts.
He arrived in the nick of time, for the messengers were returning
almost empty-handed from the pastry-cooks’ shops. They had made very
little pastry that day because they knew that every one would be at the
banquet and that they would have no sale for their wares.
Of course, later on, the cook had to give an explanation of his
carelessness, and he was removed from his position.
But as his verses were even better than his dishes, he was made Court
Poet instead, and he liked that much better, though he occasionally
lent a hand in the kitchen when they were very busy.
The Queen was most grateful to the Rainbow Cat for his timely help; and
every year, on his birthday, she sent him a box of tarts made by her
own hands especially for him.
He stayed only a day or two in the Ever After land after the banquet.
Then he packed up his belongings, bade good-bye to all his kind
friends, and set off for his home.
He was glad to be back in his own little house, and delighted all his
friends with his account of his travels.
But he had no intention of settling down for ever, and I hope to be
able some day to tell you more of the adventures that befell him upon
his further journeyings.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.