only about six feet from the ground, had been left wide open; so
instantly seizing the opportunity, he threw himself out with a single
bound, and ran laughing away. All the other boys immediately followed
his example, and disappeared by the same road; after which, Mrs.
Crabtree leaned far out of the window and scolded loudly, as long as
they remained in sight, till her face became red, and her voice
perfectly hoarse.
Meantime the little misses sat soberly down before the empty table,
and talked in whispers to each other, waiting, till their maids came
to take them home, after which they all hurried away as fast as
possible, hardly waiting to say "Good-bye!" and intending to ask for
some supper at home.
During that night, long after Harry and Laura had been scolded,
whipped, and put to bed, they were each heard in different rooms
sobbing and crying as if their very hearts would break, while Mrs.
Crabtree grumbled and scolded to herself, saying she must do her duty,
and make them good children, though she were to flay them alive first.
When Lady Harriet returned home some days afterwards, she heard an
account of Harry and Laura's misconduct from Mrs. Crabtree, and the
whole story was such a terrible case against them, that their poor
grandmamma became perfectly astonished and shocked, while even Uncle
David was preparing to be very angry; but before the culprits
appeared, Frank most kindly stepped forward, and begged that they
might be pardoned for this once, adding all in his power to excuse
Harry and Laura, by describing how very penitent they had become, and
how very severely they had already been punished.
Frank then mentioned all that Harry had told him about the starving
party, which he related with so much humor and drollery that Lady
Harriet could not help laughing; so then he saw that a victory had
been gained, and ran to the nursery for the two little prisoners.
Uncle David shook his walking-stick at them, and made a terrible face,
when they entered; but Harry jumped upon his knee with joy at seeing
him again while Laura forgot all her distress, and rushed up to Lady
Harriet, who folded her in her arms and kissed her most
affectionately.
Not a word was said that day about the tea-party, but next morning
Major Graham asked Harry very gravely, "if he had read in the
newspaper the melancholy accounts about several of his little
companions, who were ill and confined to bed from having eaten too
much at a certain tea-party on Saturday last. Poor Peter Grey has been
given over; and Charles Forrester, it is feared, may be not able to
eat another loaf of bread for a fortnight!"
"Oh, Uncle David, it makes me ill whenever I think of that party!"
said Harry, coloring perfectly scarlet; "that was the most miserable
evening of my life!"
"I must say it was not quite fair in Mrs. Crabtree to starve all the
strange little boys and girls who came as visitors to my house,
without knowing who had invited them," observed Lady Harriet.
"Probably those unlucky children will never forget, as long as they
live, that scanty supper in our dining-room."
And it turned out exactly as Lady Harriet had predicted; for though
they were all asked to tea, in proper form, the very next Saturday,
when Major Graham showered torrents of sugar-plums on the table, while
the children scrambled to pick them up, and the sideboard almost broke
down afterwards under the weight of buns, cakes, cheese-cakes,
biscuits, fruit, and preserves, which were heaped upon each other--yet,
for years afterwards, Peter Grey, whenever he ate a particularly
enormous dinner, always observed, that he must make up for having once
been starved at Harry Graham's; and whenever any one of those little
boys or girls again happened to meet Harry or Laura, they were sure to
laugh and say, "When are you going to give us another
GRAND FEAST?"
THE STORY OF FAIRYFOOT
By Frances Browne
Once upon a time there stood far away in the west country a town
called Stumpinghame. It contained seven windmills, a royal palace, a
market place, and a prison, with every other convenience befitting the
capital of a kingdom. A capital city was Stumpinghame, and its
inhabitants thought it the only one in the world. It stood in the
midst of a great plain, which for three leagues round its walls was
covered with corn, flax, and orchards. Beyond that lay a great circle
of pasture land, seven leagues in breadth, and it was bounded on all
sides by a forest so thick and old, that no man in Stumpinghame knew
its extent.
Whether it was the nature of the place or the people, I cannot tell,
but great feet had been the fashion there time immemorial, and the
higher the family the larger were they. It was, therefore, the aim of
everybody above the degree of shepherds, and such-like rustics, to
swell out and enlarge their feet by way of gentility; and so
successful were they in these undertakings that, on a pinch,
respectable people's slippers would have served for panniers.
Stumpinghame had a king of its own, and his name was Stiffstep; his
family was very ancient and large-footed. His subjects called him Lord
of the World, and he made a speech to them every year concerning the
grandeur of his mighty empire. His queen, Hammerheel, was the greatest
beauty in Stumpinghame. Her majesty's shoe was not much less than a
fishing-boat; their six children promised to be quite as handsome, and
all went well till the birth of their seventh son.
For a long time nobody about the palace could understand what was the
matter--the ladies-in-waiting looked so astonished, and the king so
vexed; but at last it was whispered through the city that the queen's
seventh child had been born with such miserably small feet that they
resembled nothing ever seen or heard of in Stumpinghame, except the
feet of the fairies.
The chronicles furnished no example of such an affliction ever before
happening in the royal family.
The common people thought it portended some great calamity to the
city; the learned men began to write books about it; and all the
relations of the king and queen assembled at the palace to mourn with
them over their singular misfortune. The whole court and most of the
citizens helped in this mourning, but when it had lasted seven days
they all found out it was of no use. So the relations went to their
homes, and the people took to their work. If the learned men's books
were written, nobody ever read them; and to cheer up the queen's
spirits, the young prince was sent privately out to the pasture lands,
to be nursed among the shepherds.
The chief man there was called Fleecefold, and his wife's name was
Rough Ruddy. They lived in a snug cottage with their son Blackthorn
and their daughter Brownberry, and were thought great people, because
they kept the king's sheep. Moreover, Fleecefold's family were known
to be ancient; and Rough Ruddy boasted that she had the largest feet
in all the pastures. The shepherds held them in high respect, and it
grew still higher when the news spread that the king's seventh son had
been sent to their cottage. People came from all quarters to see the
young prince, and great were the lamentations over his misfortune in
having such small feet.
The king and queen had given him fourteen names, beginning with
Augustus--such being the fashion in that royal family; but the honest
country people could not remember so many; besides, his feet were the
most remarkable thing about the child, so with one accord they called
him Fairyfoot. At first it was feared this might be high treason, but
when no notice was taken by the king or his ministers, the shepherds
concluded it was no harm, and the boy never had another name
throughout the pastures. At court it was not thought polite to speak
of him at all. They did not keep his birthday, and he was never sent
for at Christmas, because the queen and her ladies could not bear the
sight. Once a year the undermost scullion was sent to see how he did,
with a bundle of his next brother's cast-off clothes; and, as the king
grew old and cross, it was said he had thoughts of disowning him.
So Fairyfoot grew in Fleecefold's cottage. Perhaps the country air
made him fair and rosy--for all agreed that he would have been a
handsome boy but for his small feet, with which nevertheless he
learned to walk, and in time to run and to jump, thereby amazing
everybody, for such doings were not known among the children of
Stumpinghame. The news of court, however, travelled to the shepherds,
and Fairyfoot was despised among them. The old people thought him
unlucky; the children refused to play with him. Fleecefold was ashamed
to have him in his cottage, but he durst not disobey the king's
orders. Moreover, Blackthorn wore most of the clothes brought by the
scullion. At last, Rough Ruddy found out that the sight of such horrid
jumping would make her children vulgar; and, as soon as he was old
enough, she sent Fairyfoot every day to watch some sickly sheep that
grazed on a wild, weedy pasture, hard by the forest.
Poor Fairyfoot was often lonely and sorrowful; many a time he wished
his feet would grow larger, or that people wouldn't notice them so
much; and all the comfort he had was running and jumping by himself in
the wild pasture, and thinking that none of the shepherds' children
could do the like, for all their pride of their great feet.
Tired of this sport, he was lying in the shadow of a mossy rock one
warm summer's noon, with the sheep feeding around, when a robin,
pursued by a great hawk, flew into the old velvet cap which lay on the
ground beside him. Fairyfoot covered it up, and the hawk, frightened
by his shout, flew away.
"Now you may go, poor robin!" he said, opening the cap: but instead of
the bird, out sprang a little man dressed in russet-brown, and looking
as if he were an hundred years old. Fairyfoot could not speak for
astonishment, but the little man said--
"Thank you for your shelter, and be sure I will do as much for you.
Call on me if you are ever in trouble; my name is Robin Goodfellow;"
and darting off, he was out of sight in an instant. For days the boy
wondered who that little man could be, but he told nobody, for the
little man's feet were as small as his own, and it was clear he would
be no favourite in Stumpinghame. Fairyfoot kept the story to himself,
and at last midsummer came. That evening was a feast among the
shepherds. There were bonfires on the hills, and fun in the villages.
But Fairyfoot sat alone beside his sheepfold, for the children of his
village had refused to let him dance with them about the bonfire, and
he had gone there to bewail the size of his feet, which came between
him and so many good things. Fairyfoot had never felt so lonely in all
his life, and remembering the little man, he plucked up spirit, and
cried--
"Ho! Robin Goodfellow!"
"Here I am," said a shrill voice at his elbow; and there stood the
little man himself.
"I am very lonely, and no one will play with me, because my feet are
not large enough," said Fairyfoot.
"Come then and play with us," said the little man. "We lead the
merriest lives in the world, and care for nobody's feet; but all
companies have their own manners, and there are two things you must
mind among us; first, do as you see the rest doing; and secondly,
never speak of anything you may hear or see, for we and the people of
this country have had no friendship ever since large feet came in
fashion."
"I will do that, and anything more you like," said Fairyfoot; and the
little man taking his hand, led him over the pasture into the forest,
and along a mossy path among old trees wreathed with ivy (he never
knew how far), till they heard the sound of music, and came upon a
meadow where the moon shone as bright as day, and all the flowers of
the year--snowdrops, violets, primroses, and cowslips--bloomed
together in the thick grass. There were a crowd of little men and
women, some clad in russet colour, but far more in green, dancing
round a little well as clear as crystal. And under great rose-trees
which grew here and there in the meadow, companies were sitting round
low tables covered with cups of milk, dishes of honey, and carved
wooden flagons filled with clear red wine. The little man led
Fairyfoot up to the nearest table, handed him one of the flagons, and
said--
"Drink to the good company!"
Wine was not very common among the shepherds of Stumpinghame, and the
boy had never tasted such drink as that before; for scarcely had it
gone down, when he forgot all his troubles--how Blackthorn and
Brownberry wore his clothes, how Rough Ruddy sent him to keep the
sickly sheep, and the children would not dance with him: in short, he
forgot the whole misfortune of his feet, and it seemed to his mind
that he was a king's son, and all was well with him. All the little
people about the well cried--
"Welcome! welcome!" and every one said--"Come and dance with me!" So
Fairyfoot was as happy as a prince, and drank milk and ate honey till
the moon was low in the sky.
Next morning Fairyfoot was not tired for all his dancing. Nobody in
the cottage had missed him, and he went out with the sheep as usual;
but every night all that summer, when the shepherds were safe in bed,
the little man came and took him away to dance in the forest. Now he
did not care to play with the shepherds' children, nor grieve that his
father and mother had forgotten him, but watched the sheep all day,
singing to himself or plaiting rushes.
The wonder was that he was never tired nor sleepy, as people are apt
to be who dance all night; but before the summer was ended Fairyfoot
found out the reason. One night, when the moon was full, and the last
of the ripe corn rustling in the fields, Robin Goodfellow came for him
as usual, and away they went to the flowery green. The fun there was
high, and Robin was in haste. So he only pointed to the carved cup
from which Fairyfoot every night drank the clear red wine.
"I am not thirsty, and there is no use losing time," thought the boy
to himself, and he joined the dance; but never in all his life did
Fairyfoot find such hard work as to keep pace with the company. Their
feet seemed to move like lightning; the swallows did not fly so fast
or turn so quickly. Fairyfoot did his best, for he never gave in
easily, but at length, his breath and strength being spent, the boy
was glad to steal away, and sit down behind a mossy oak, where his
eyes closed for very weariness. When he awoke the dance was nearly
over, but two little ladies clad in green talked close beside him.
"What a beautiful boy!" said one of them. "He is worthy to be a king's
son. Only see what handsome feet he has!"
"Yes," said the other, with a laugh that sounded spiteful; "they are
just like the feet Princess Maybloom had before she washed them in the
Growing Well. Her father has sent far and wide throughout the whole
country searching for a doctor to make them small again, but nothing
in this world can do it except the water of the Fair Fountain, and
none but I and the nightingales know where it is."
"One would not care to let the like be known," said the first little
lady; "there would come such crowds of these great coarse creatures of
mankind, nobody would have peace for leagues round. But you will
surely send word to the sweet princess!--she was so kind to our birds
and butterflies, and danced so like one of ourselves!"
"Not I, indeed!" said the spiteful fairy. "Her old skinflint of a
father cut down the cedar which I loved best in the whole forest, and
made a chest of it to hold his money in; besides, I never liked the
princess--everybody praised her so. But come, we shall be too late for
the last dance."
When they were gone, Fairyfoot could sleep no more with astonishment.
He did not wonder at the fairies admiring his feet, because their own
were much the same; but it amazed him that Princess Maybloom's father
should be troubled at hers growing large. Moreover, he wished to see
that same princess and her country, since there were really other
places in the world than Stumpinghame.
When Robin Goodfellow came to take him home as usual he durst not let
him know that he had overheard anything; but never was the boy so
unwilling to get up as on that morning, and all day he was so weary
that in the afternoon Fairyfoot fell asleep, with his head on a clump
of rushes. It was seldom that any one thought of looking after him and
the sickly sheep; but it so happened that towards evening the old
shepherd, Fleecefold, thought he would see how things went on in the
pastures. The shepherd had a bad temper and a thick staff, and no
sooner did he catch sight of Fairyfoot sleeping, and his flock
straying away, than shouting all the ill names he could remember, in a
voice which woke up the boy, he ran after him as fast as his great
feet would allow; while Fairyfoot, seeing no other shelter from his
fury, fled into the forest, and never stopped nor stayed till he
reached the banks of a little stream.
Thinking it might lead him to the fairies' dancing-ground, he followed
that stream for many an hour, but it wound away into the heart of the
forest, flowing through dells, falling over mossy rocks and at last
leading Fairyfoot, when he was tired and the night had fallen, to a
grove of great rose-trees, with the moon shining on it as bright as
day, and thousands of nightingales singing in the branches. In the
midst of that grove was a clear spring, bordered with banks of lilies,
and Fairyfoot sat down by it to rest himself and listen. The singing
was so sweet he could have listened for ever, but as he sat the
nightingales left off their songs, and began to talk together in the
silence of the night--
"What boy is that," said one on a branch above him, "who sits so
lonely by the Fair Fountain? He cannot have come from Stumpinghame
with such small and handsome feet."
"No, I'll warrant you," said another, "he has come from the west
country. How in the world did he find the way?"
"How simple you are!" said a third nightingale. "What had he to do but
follow the ground-ivy which grows over height and hollow, bank and
bush, from the lowest gate of the king's kitchen garden to the root of
this rose-tree? He looks a wise boy, and I hope he will keep the
secret, or we shall have all the west country here, dabbling in our
fountain, and leaving us no rest to either talk or sing."
Fairyfoot sat in great astonishment at this discourse, but by and by,
when the talk ceased and the songs began, he thought it might be as
well for him to follow the ground-ivy, and see the Princess Maybloom,
not to speak of getting rid of Rough Ruddy, the sickly sheep, and the
crusty old shepherd. It was a long journey; but he went on, eating
wild berries by day, sleeping in the hollows of old trees by night,
and never losing sight of the ground-ivy, which led him over height
and hollow, bank and bush, out of the forest, and along a noble high
road, with fields and villages on every side, to a great city, and a
low old-fashioned gate of the king's kitchen-garden, which was thought
too mean for the scullions, and had not been opened for seven years.
There was no use knocking--the gate was overgrown with tall weeds and
moss; so, being an active boy, he climbed over, and walked through the
garden, till a white fawn came frisking by, and he heard a soft voice
saying sorrowfully--
"Come back, come back, my fawn! I cannot run and play with you now, my
feet have grown so heavy;" and looking round he saw the loveliest
young princess in the world, dressed in snow-white, and wearing a
wreath of roses on her golden hair; but walking slowly, as the great
people did in Stumpinghame, for her feet were as large as the best of
them.
After her came six young ladies, dressed in white and walking slowly,
for they could not go before the princess; but Fairyfoot was amazed to
see that their feet were as small as his own. At once he guessed that
this must be the Princess Maybloom, and made her an humble bow,
saying--
"Royal princess, I have heard of your trouble because your feet have
grown large: in my country that's all the fashion. For seven years
past I have been wondering what would make mine grow, to no purpose;
but I know of a certain fountain that will make yours smaller and
finer than ever they were, if the king, your father, gives you leave
to come with me, accompanied by two of your maids that are the least
given to talking, and the most prudent officer in all his household;
for it would grievously offend the fairies and the nightingales to
make that fountain known."
When the princess heard that, she danced for joy in spite of her large
feet, and she and her six maids brought Fairyfoot before the king and
queen, where they sat in their palace hall, with all the courtiers
paying their morning compliments. The lords were very much astonished
to see a ragged, bare-footed boy brought in among them, and the ladies
thought Princess Maybloom must have gone mad; but Fairyfoot, making an
humble reverence, told his message to the king and queen, and offered
to set out with the princess that very day. At first the king would
not believe that there could be any use in his offer, because so many
great physicians had failed to give any relief. The courtiers laughed
Fairyfoot to scorn, the pages wanted to turn him out for an impudent
impostor, and the prime-minister said he ought to be put to death for
high-treason.
Fairyfoot wished himself safe in the forest again, or even keeping the
sickly sheep; but the queen, being a prudent woman, said--
"I pray your majesty to notice what fine feet this boy has. There may
be some truth in his story. For the sake of our only daughter, I will
choose two maids who talk the least of all our train, and my
chamberlain, who is the most discreet officer in our household. Let
them go with the princess: who knows but our sorrow may be lessened?"
After some persuasion the king consented, though all his councillors
advised the contrary. So the two silent maids, the discreet
chamberlain, and her fawn, which would not stay behind, were sent with
Princess Maybloom, and they all set out after dinner. Fairyfoot had
hard work guiding them along the track of the ground-ivy. The maids
and the chamberlain did not like the brambles and rough roots of the
forest--they thought it hard to eat berries and sleep in hollow trees;
but the princess went on with good courage, and at last they reached
the grove of rose-trees, and the spring bordered with lilies.
The chamberlain washed--and though his hair had been grey, and his
face wrinkled, the young courtiers envied his beauty for years after.
The maids washed--and from that day they were esteemed the fairest in
all the palace. Lastly, the princess washed also--it could make her no
fairer, but the moment her feet touched the water they grew less, and
when she had washed and dried them three times, they were as small and
finely-shaped as Fairyfoot's own. There was great joy among them, but
the boy said sorrowfully--
"Oh! if there had been a well in the world to make my feet large, my
father and mother would not have cast me off, nor sent me to live
among the shepherds."
"Cheer up your heart," said the Princess Maybloom; "if you want large
feet, there is a well in this forest that will do it. Last summer
time, I came with my father and his foresters to see a great cedar cut
down, of which he meant to make a money chest. While they were busy
with the cedar, I saw a bramble branch covered with berries. Some were
ripe and some were green, but it was the longest bramble that ever
grew; for the sake of the berries, I went on and on to its root, which
grew hard by a muddy-looking well, with banks of dark green moss, in
the deepest part of the forest. The day was warm and dry, and my feet
were sore with the rough ground, so I took off my scarlet shoes, and
washed my feet in the well; but as I washed they grew larger every
minute, and nothing could ever make them less again. I have seen the
bramble this day; it is not far off, and as you have shown me the Fair
Fountain, I will show you the Growing Well."
Up rose Fairyfoot and Princess Maybloom, and went together till they
found the bramble, and came to where its root grew, hard by the
muddy-looking well with banks of dark green moss, in the deepest dell
of the forest. Fairyfoot sat down to wash, but at that minute he heard
a sound of music, and knew it was the fairies going to their dancing
ground.