birds sang merrily in the trees. The hedgerows were white with May
blossoms. Tim drove the old cow along the mossy green lanes until he
came to the village, where a fair was being held.
A great crowd had gathered in a ring near the main road, and Timothy
hurried there to see what caused the excitement. In the middle of this
ring, on a tiny platform, was a little man with a tiny harp and a tiny
stool. The dwarf reached down deep into his pocket and brought out a
bee, all dressed up in a blue suit of clothes with bright buttons and
gold braid. Perched on one side of his head was a cunning little cap
which matched his suit. Again the little man reached down into his
pocket and drew out a cockroach and a tiny mouse.
The cockroach was dressed in a very full skirt of flowered silk, a lace
bodice, and bright panniers of velvet. On her head was a dainty bit of a
hat wreathed with flowers.
The little mouse wore a dress suit and a tall silk hat. At a sign from
the little man, the bee jumped on the stool and began to play a tune on
the harp. Then Mr. Mouse bowed to Miss Cockroach. She courtesied
gracefully, and the two began to waltz to the music.
Now the moment they began to dance every man and woman, youth and maid,
joined them. Soon everything in sight, pots and pans, pigs and cows,
ducks and hens, began to reel about as if they had all gone mad! The old
cow began to whirl round and round, and then Timothy started. His feet
kept time to the music which grew louder and faster as the sport
proceeded. In a short time the little man picked up the harp, stool, and
animals and put them back into his pocket.
Instantly, everybody and everything came to a standstill! Then such a
roar of laughter burst forth as was never heard before. The people
laughed until their sides ached, and Timothy’s voice was heard above all
the others. The little man walked up to him.
“What do you think of that for sport?” he asked.
“Oh, indeed, it was fine fun, sir,” answered Tim.
“And how would you like to own my little animals?”
[Illustration]
“Like to own them, sir? Indeed I should, but I have no money, nor have I
any way of getting it.”
“I’ll tell you how to make a good bargain though,” said the little man,
coming closer. “I’ll trade you the harp and my musician, the bee, for
the cow you’ve brought to the fair to sell. Come, what do you say to
that?”
“Oh, how I should like to have them, sir! But mother must have money for
the landlord. She is very sad and downhearted because we cannot pay the
rent.”
“Yes, yes, but think how the tiny musician will make her laugh, my boy.
She needs cheering,” persuaded the little man.
“So she does, sir,” said Tim. “I’ll trade with you.”
The little man took the cow and disappeared, and Timothy put the harp,
the stool, and the bee into his pocket and went home.
“You’ve sold the cow, my boy?” said his mother, anxiously. “How much
money did you get for her?”
“Money, mother! I got something much better than money,” said Tim,
excitedly.
Then out of his pocket he took the harp, the stool, and the bee, and set
them on the floor. After a deep bow the bee seated himself on the stool,
cocked his head on one side, and began to play a lively tune. The little
fellow looked so comical that Timothy’s mother couldn’t keep a straight
face. She burst into a peal of laughter. The lad joined her, and then
the pots and the pans, the table and chairs, everything in the house
began to reel and jig. Tim and his mother began to hop up and down in
the funniest manner. This kept on for some time, and then Tim took up
the harp, the stool, and the bee, and put them into his pocket. In a
second, everything quieted down. Tim’s mother, however, kept on laughing
for some minutes. Finally she stopped, and then she grew very angry.
“What a foolish bargain you’ve made!” she cried. “Here we are without
food or money, and you have traded the red cow for such worthless toys!
Oh, what shall I do? You must go back to the fair and sell the white
cow, I suppose. See that you keep your wits about you this time.”
Early next morning Timothy started to the fair, driving the white cow.
They soon arrived, and there in the main road he saw a big crowd
gathered. He pushed forward to see what was going on. In the middle of
the ring stood the little man with twinkling eyes. His mouth was screwed
up in a very queer way, and he was whistling. The mouse and the
cockroach were dancing an Irish jig; bowing, reeling, scraping,
courtesying in the finest manner. Tim’s heart beat fast at the sight.
Soon everybody and everything in the fair began to imitate the movements
of the queer little creatures. Men and women, youths and maidens, pots
and pans, carts and gigs, all hopped about and jigged exactly like the
mouse and the cockroach; even the stalls and the buildings seemed to hop
up and down in time with the music. In a little while the tiny man
stopped whistling, picked up the little animals, and put them into his
pocket. Then there was no more dancing, but everybody burst into a
hearty roar of laughter. How they did laugh! The little man now spied
Tim.
“Ah, my lad,” he said, “wouldn’t you like to own those wonderful little
creatures?”
“Indeed I should, sir, but I have no money,” said Tim, shaking his head.
“Oh! that makes no difference, I’ll trade with you again. Give me the
old white cow, and I’ll give you the mouse.”
“Indeed I can’t, sir. Mother is so sad because we can’t pay our rent or
buy any food. I must get money to pay the landlord,” replied Tim,
looking longingly at the little man’s pocket.
“Oh, stuff and nonsense! Better be lighthearted than rich! What will
cheer her like the sight of my little gentleman mouse dancing to the
music of your musician, the bee?”
“All right, sir,” answered Tim, meekly, and he traded the white cow for
the mouse.
When he reached home, his mother cried out, “You’ve sold the cow, my
boy?”
“Yes, mother.”
“How much money did you get?”
Timothy said not one word, but took the mouse, the harp, and the bee out
of his pocket and put them on the floor. Tim began to whistle. The bee
accompanied him with beautiful chords on the harp. After a grand
sweeping bow the mouse fell into a gay Irish jig. Soon everything in the
house seemed to be hopping and jigging about. Even Tim and his mother
could not hold their feet still. In a little while Tim took up the
mouse, the bee, and the harp and put them into his pocket. Then
everything quieted down except the peals of laughter which his mother
could not stop. She laughed and laughed until her sides ached. After
some time she began to look serious; then she grew very, very angry.
“Tim, you are the most foolish boy in the whole world,” she began. “How
could you take such worthless toys for our fine old white cow? Oh, dear.
What shall I do? There is no money, and the landlord will turn us out.
The old spotted cow must go, I see. Take her to the fair to-morrow and
see you bring back _nothing_ but money.”
“I’ll do that mother,” said Tim. His intentions were good, but alas!
when he reached the fair, there was the little man again with the
cockroach. He was whistling merrily and the whole fair went jigging and
dancing about, all led by the lively cockroach. Soon the little man put
the tiny, graceful dancer into his pocket. Then, as before, the dancing
stopped. But the laughter! You should have heard the merry peals in
every direction.
“Ha, my boy! Here again! You’ve brought me the spotted cow, I see! Good!
You ought to have the cockroach to complete your wonders. Take her
along.”
“But, sir, I promised mother,” began Tim, “that——”
“See her pretty bright dress. Master Mouse and she make a charming
couple. How your mother will be cheered when she sees them dancing
together. There is no sight like it. Here you are.” Carefully he lifted
the cockroach, and Tim could not resist the offer of such a wonderful
little creature. He put her into his pocket, and the little man
disappeared with the spotted cow.
Tim hurried home. He slipped into the house. He took out of his pocket
Miss Cockroach, Master Mouse, Musician Bee, the harp, and the stool, and
arranged them in a corner of the room, telling them to remain quiet
until he came back. Then he went into the kitchen.
“Tim, my boy,” cried the mother, “how much money did you get?”
“Mother,” replied Tim, “don’t talk about money. Come with me.”
He led her into the next room. The minute they entered, Tim began to
whistle. The bee joined him with a lively tune on the harp; the mouse
made a deep bow, hat in hand, and the cockroach courtesied most
gracefully. Then the two danced toward each other and began a real Irish
jig, keeping excellent time to the music. Everything in the house joined
in the merriment, pots and pans, chairs and tables, forks and spoons,
all went hopping and jigging about in the most comical way. Tim clapped
his hands. His mother nodded her head in time with the music and a broad
smile spread over her face, although she tried and tried to frown.
Finally Tim took up the tiny dancers, the musician, and the harp, and
put them into his pocket. In an instant everything quieted down. Then
how Tim’s mother did laugh! She laughed until the tears streamed down
her cheeks. After some time she quieted herself; then she frowned and
grew very angry.
“Oh! you foolish, foolish boy,” she began; “you’ve traded away all my
cows for those worthless things. Where shall I get money to pay the
rent? We are much worse off than before. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”
Tim couldn’t bear to hear her cry, and so he took his hat and hastened
out of doors. He was strolling down the lane toward the distant hills
when suddenly he saw a tiny woman who held up her finger in a very
mysterious way. Tim politely raised his hat and bowed.
“Good morning!” she said pleasantly. “I thought all gallant youths were
at the palace of the king.”
“And why should they be there?” asked Tim astonished.
“Oh, haven’t you heard that the king is in great trouble about his
beautiful daughter, the princess? She is so sad and downhearted that the
court physicians fear she will die. She hasn’t laughed for years, and
the king has sent word throughout the land that he will give the
princess in marriage to any youth who can make her laugh three times.”
Tim didn’t wait to hear another word. He darted away and ran as fast as
he could to the palace. After a time he reached the outer gates, and
told the guards who were stationed there why he had come.
“You had better think twice before you try,” said one of them, “for the
king casts all who fail into a dungeon.”
“No matter, I shall try,” said Timothy.
Word was sent to the king that a new suitor had arrived at the palace.
The king commanded the newcomer to appear immediately.
“You know the penalty if you fail to make the princess laugh three
times?” said his majesty.
“I do, most gracious sire,” replied Tim, bowing very humbly.
“Then, in a short time, be ready to make your trial.” With a gesture the
king dismissed him.
In a few minutes a messenger brought word that the king, the queen, the
sad princess, and attendants were ready for the trial. Tim took out of
his pocket the mouse, the cockroach, the bee, the harp, and the stool.
He tied them all together with a long string. Then he marched into the
king’s room, holding the end of the string in his hand. All the queer
menagerie followed after him. He looked so comical as he approached that
the king, the queen, and the courtiers burst into a hearty laugh. This
made the princess lift her bowed head and look. When her eyes fell on
Tim and his string of queer little followers, she threw back her head
and laughed heartily.
“That’s once,” nodded Tim.
Then he untied the string. Musician Bee at once took his place on the
stool near the harp. Mr. Mouse made his deepest bow. Miss Cockroach
courtesied deep and long. Tim began to whistle. The bee tuned the harp
and joined him with silvery chords. The mouse and the cockroach stepped
gracefully in time to the music until they came near each other. Then
they began to perform their merry Irish jig. The sight was too much for
the king and queen and courtiers. They all burst into such a merry laugh
that the castle walls rang. The princess tried to look serious but she
couldn’t! She joined the others and they all laughed heartily.
“That’s twice,” said Tim smiling.
Then he began to whistle faster; the bee followed him in time. The mouse
and the cockroach bowed and jigged and reeled and whirled,—all to no
purpose. The king, queen, and courtiers laughed heartily, but the
princess kept a grave expression. Finally the mouse whirled around on
one heel three times, and on the last turn his tail swept right into the
cockroach’s mouth. The cockroach started to cough violently. She coughed
and coughed, and took out her tiny bit of a handkerchief to hold to her
mouth. When the princess and her ladies saw this, they threw back their
heads and shrieked with laughter.
“That’s thrice,” said Timothy. “I’ve won the Princess.”
The king now ordered the courtiers to take Timothy to a royal dressing
room. There he was dressed in a satin suit with gold lace trimmings and
beautiful ornaments. He looked so handsome in his new clothes that the
Princess fell in love with him. A glorious wedding feast was prepared.
Timothy’s mother came in a wonderful coach drawn by six beautiful white
horses. At the wedding, the bee furnished the music; the mouse and the
cockroach led the dancing; and such was the merriment that the peals of
laughter are still ringing in the valley around the palace.
THE OVERTURNED CART
One day, as Oh-I-Am, the wizard, went over Three-Tree Common, his shoe
became untied, and he bent down to refasten it. Then he saw Wry-Face,
the gnome, hiding among the bracken and looking as mischievous as
anything. In one hand he held a white fluff-feather. Now these feathers
are as light as anything, and will blow in the wind; and whatever they
are placed under, whether light or heavy, they are bound to topple over
as soon as the wind blows.
As Oh-I-Am tied his shoe he saw Wry-Face place his fluff-feather
carefully in the roadway, and at the same moment there came along
One-Eye, the potato wife, with her cart full of potatoes. The cart went
rumble, crumble, crack, crack, crack, over the leaves and twigs, and
One-Eye sang to her donkey:
“Steady, steady,
We’re always ready,—”
in a most cheerful voice.
Then the cart came to the fluff-feather, and over it went—crash, bang,
splutter; and the potatoes flew everywhere, like rain.
Wry-Face, the gnome, laughed to himself so that he ached, and he rolled
over the ground with mirth. Then he flew away, laughing as he went.
But One-Eye, the potato wife, was not laughing. Her tears went drip-drip
as she started to gather her potatoes together. And as to getting her
cart straight again, she did not know how she was to do it.
But, when she turned round from gathering together the potatoes, she
found that the cart was all right again, since Oh-I-Am the wizard had
straightened it for her, and the donkey was standing on his legs, none
the worse for his fall.
Oh-I-Am looked stern and straight in his brown robe which trailed behind
him. He said,
“One-Eye, have you got all your potatoes together?”
One-Eye still wept. She said, “No, I have not found all of them, for
some have wandered far. And I must not seek further, for this is market
day, and I must away to the town.”
And she began to gather up the potatoes, and drop them into the cart,
thud, thud, thud.
Oh-I-Am stooped then, and he, too, gathered up the potatoes; and he
threw them into the cart, splish, splash, splutter!
“Alas!” said One-Eye, “if you throw them into the cart, splish, splash,
splutter, you will bruise and break them. You must throw them in gently,
thud, thud, thud.”
So Oh-I-Am held back his anger, and he threw the potatoes in gently,
thud, thud, thud. But, when the potato wife had gone on her way, he flew
to his Brown House by the Brown Bramble; and he began to weave a spell.
He put into it a potato, and a grain of earth, and a down from a pillow,
and a pearl and an apple pip from a pie. And when the spell was ready,
he lay down, and fell asleep.
Wry-Face had gone round to all the neighbors to tell them the grand joke
about One-Eye, the potato wife. Sometimes he told it through the window,
and sometimes he stood at the door. Sometimes he told it to a gnome who
was fine and feathery, and sometimes to one who was making bread. But
all the time he laughed, laughed, laughed, till he was scarcely fit to
stand.
Now he did not call at Oh-I-Am’s fine house to tell _him_, not he! And
it was quite unnecessary, since Oh-I-Am knew the joke already, every
bit.
Oh-I-Am had hidden the spell in his cupboard. When it was evening time,
he stole out and laid it by Wry-Face’s door. Then he went home, and went
to bed.
Wry-Face was making a pie for his supper. Suddenly the room became as
dark as dark. The darkness was not night coming on, for this was summer
time and night never came on as quickly as all that.
[Illustration]
“Dear me, what can be the matter?” thought Wry-Face; for he could barely
see to finish making his pie.
Then he heard a little voice from his window, crying, “Here I am,
Wry-Face, here I am!” But he could not go out to see what it was yet
awhile.
When the apple pie was finished and in the oven, Wry-Face ran outside as
fast as he could. But he did not see the spell which Oh-I-Am had placed
by his door.
What he did see was a great potato plant which had sprung up suddenly
close to his window, and was springing up further still, high, high, and
higher.
“Good gracious me!” cried Wry-Face in a rage, “I never planted a potato
plant there, not in my whole life! Now I should just like to know what
you are doing by my window?”
The potato plant took no notice, but went on climbing high, high, and
higher, and, ever so far above, he heard a tiny faint voice crying,
“Here I am, Wry-Face, here I am!”
“Well, I never did!” cried Wry-Face, and he began to weep; for he saw
that the potato plant would climb up to his roof and round his chimney
and he would never be able to get rid of it.
And he wept and wept.
At last he went in, and took his pie out of the oven, and set it in the
pantry, for it was quite done. And he found a spade, and went out, and
began to dig and dig at the root of the potato plant. But his digging
did not seem to make any difference, and the evening began to grow
darker.
Wry-Face fetched his little lamp, which is named Bright Beauty and which
always burns without flickering. Then he went on digging, and he dug and
dug and dug.
And when he had dug for hours and hours, so that he was very, very
tired, the potato plant began suddenly to dwindle and dwindle. It
dwindled as fast as anything, the leaves disappeared and the stem
disappeared and all the horrid stretching arms. They sank down, down,
and down, till at last there was nothing left at all but—a big brown
potato!
“Well, I do declare!” cried Wry-Face. “I should like to know what _you_
have to do with my fine garden.”
The potato replied, “I jumped here from the cart of One-Eye, the potato
wife, and it is quite certain that unless I am taken back to her
immediately, I shall start again, growing and growing and growing.”
“Dear potato, you must not start growing again,” cried Wry-Face, in a
great way. “To-night I am so tired, I cannot do anything, but if you
will but wait till to-morrow I will take you back to One-Eye, the potato
wife—I will, indeed.”
At first the potato would not listen to this at all; but after a while
it said, “Well, well, I will wait till to-morrow. But remember, if you
do not carry me home to One-Eye, the potato wife, to-morrow, I shall
grow into a potato _tree_, without a doubt.”
So Wry-Face carried the potato into his house, and stored it in his bin.
But he never noticed the spell which Oh-I-Am had placed by his door.
“I am so tired, I can scarcely yawn,” said Wry-Face. “It is quite time
for me to have my supper and go to bed.”
So he fetched the apple pie from the pantry and set it upon the table,
and presently he sat down to his meal.
And he forgot for a moment how tired he was, thinking how delightful it
was to sit down to a supper of apple pie.
Then he lifted his knife and fork to cut off a large piece, but alas,
the fork stuck fast. As for the knife, it would not move either, not an
inch. Wry-Face began to weep.
“Alack, what has happened to my apple pie?” cried he, and his tears
fell, round as round.
Then he got upon his feet, and he caught hold of the knife and fork and
pulled and pulled and pulled. And with the last pull the top of the
apple pie came off, sticking to the knife and fork, and Wry-Face saw
that within the pie there was not one piece of apple, but—a big brown
potato!
Wry-Face wept again with horror at the sight.
“I should like to know,” cried he, “what _you_ are doing in my fine
apple pie?”
The brown potato replied, as cool as cool, “I am one of the potatoes
belonging to One-Eye, the potato wife, and I turned the apples out, that
I might hide here awhile. But this I must tell you, Wry-Face, unless you
take me home to the potato wife immediately, here, in this pie dish, I
intend to remain.”
“Alas!” cried Wry-Face, “to-night I am so tired I could never find
One-Eye; but if you will but wait till to-morrow, I will carry you home
to the potato wife—I will, indeed.”
At first the potato would not agree to this at all, but after a while it
said, “Very well, I will wait till to-morrow. But remember, my Wry-Face,
if you do not carry me home to One-Eye to-morrow, I will creep into
every pie you make; and you will die at last of starvation without a
doubt.”
So Wry-Face stored the potato in the potato bin and went supperless to
bed. And he knew nothing of the spell which Oh-I-Am had placed by his
door.
Now he got into bed, and thought he would go to sleep; but oh, how hard
the mattress was! Wry-Face lay this way, then that, but no matter which
way he lay, he found a great hump just beneath him which was as hard as
hard, and as nobbly as could be.
Wry-Face tossed and tossed till it was nearly morning; and his bones
were so sore that he could lie no longer.
Then he pulled the mattress from the bed and cut a great hole in it, and
when he had searched and searched he found in the middle of the
mattress—a big brown potato!
“This,” cried Wry-Face, “is why I have not slept the whole night
through!” And he wept like anything.
But the potato was as cool as cool.
“I belong,” it said, “to One-Eye, the potato wife; and let me tell you,
my little gnome, unless you take me to her immediately, I shall climb
into your mattress again, and there I shall remain.”
“Alas,” cried Wry-Face, “I have tossed about for hours and hours and am
too tired to do anything. But if you will wait till to-morrow, dear
potato, I will carry you to One-Eye, the potato wife—I will, indeed.”
At first the potato was unwilling to listen to this, but after a while
it said, “Very well, then, I will wait till the morning. But this much I
know, my Wry-Face, if you do not carry me then to One-Eye, the potato
wife, I shall get into your mattress and you shall roll again _every
night_.”
So Wry-Face put the potato in the bin. When he had done that he went to
bed, and slept and slept.
When the sun was shining he awoke, and he remembered that he had to
carry the potatoes back to One-Eye, the potato wife; and he was as cross
as anything.
“Well, I suppose I must,” he said. And when he had had his breakfast, he
went to his cupboard to get a sack.
Then he found that his sack was full of pearls which he had gathered
together for Heigh-Heavy, the giant, whose daughter, So-Small, he wished
to marry.
So he thought, “First of all I will carry the pearls to Heigh-Heavy, for
that is more important.” And away he went with the sack upon his back.
And he never saw the spell which Oh-I-Am had placed beside his door.
When he reached the Most Enormous House of Heigh-Heavy, the Giant, there
the giant was sitting in his parlor lacing his shoes.
So Wry-Face cried out in a gay little voice, “Here I am, Heigh-Heavy,
here I am. And here is a bag of pearls which I have brought you in
exchange for your beautiful daughter, So-Small.”
When Heigh-Heavy heard this, he stopped lacing his shoes, and said, “You
must bring me in exchange for my daughter So-Small as many pearls as
will cover my palm.”
Then Wry-Face ran forward and he tipped up the sack; and, standing high
upon his toes, he shook out all that it held into the hand of
Heigh-Heavy, the Giant.
Now all that it held was—one brown potato!