the western horizon was fast giving place to the silvery light of the
moon. She was sitting thinking of the curious events of the day, and
gazing at the great boulder opposite, when it seemed to her as if a
distant murmur of voices came from it.
With one bound she crossed the stream, and clambered on to the stone.
She was right.
Someone was talking underneath it, far down in the ground. She put her
ear close to the stone, and listened.
The voice of the queer little old woman came up through the hole. "Ho,
ho, my pretty little wench little knows that my name is Habetrot."
Full of curiosity, Maisie put her eye to the opening, and the strangest
sight that she had ever seen met her gaze. She seemed to be looking
through a telescope into a wonderful little valley. The trees there were
brighter and greener than any that she had ever seen before and there
were beautiful flowers, quite different from the flowers that grew in
her country. The little valley was carpeted with the most exquisite
moss, and up and down it walked her tiny friend, busily engaged in
spinning.
She was not alone, for round her were a circle of other little old
women, who were seated on large white stones, and they were all spinning
away as fast as they could.
Occasionally one would look up, and then Maisie saw that they all seemed
to have the same long, thick lips that her friend had. She really felt
very sorry, as they all looked exceedingly kind, and might have been
pretty had it not been for this defect.
One of the Spinstresses sat by herself, and was engaged in winding the
thread, which the others had spun, into hanks. Maisie did not think that
this little lady looked so nice as the others. She was dressed entirely
in grey, and had a big hooked nose, and great horn spectacles. She
seemed to be called Slantlie Mab, for Maisie heard Habetrot address her
by that name, telling her to make haste and tie up all the thread, for
it was getting late, and it was time that the young girl had it to
carry home to her mother.
Maisie did not quite know what to do, or how she was to get the thread,
for she did not like to shout down the hole in case the queer little old
woman should be angry at being watched.
However, Habetrot, as she had called herself, suddenly appeared on the
path beside her, with the hanks of thread in her hand.
"Oh, thank you, thank you," cried Maisie. "What can I do to show you how
thankful I am?"
"Nothing," answered the Fairy. "For I do not work for reward. Only do
not tell your mother who span the thread for thee."
It was now late, and Maisie lost no time in running home with the
precious thread upon her shoulder. When she walked into the kitchen she
found that her mother had gone to bed. She seemed to have had a busy
day, for there, hanging up in the wide chimney, in order to dry, were
seven large black puddings.
The fire was low, but bright and clear; and the sight of it and the
sight of the puddings suggested to Maisie that she was very hungry, and
that fried black puddings were very good.
Flinging the thread down on the table, she hastily pulled off her shoes,
so as not to make a noise and awake her mother; and, getting down the
frying-pan from the wall, she took one of the black puddings from the
chimney, and fried it, and ate it.
Still she felt hungry, so she took another, and then another, till they
were all gone. Then she crept upstairs to her little bed and fell fast
asleep.
Next morning her mother came downstairs before Maisie was awake. In
fact, she had not been able to sleep much for thinking of her daughter's
careless ways, and had been sorrowfully making up her mind that she must
lose no time in speaking to the Abbess of St. Mary's about this idle
girl of hers.
What was her surprise to see on the table the seven beautiful hanks of
thread, while, on going to the chimney to take down a black pudding to
fry for breakfast, she found that every one of them had been eaten. She
did not know whether to laugh for joy that her daughter had been so
industrious, or to cry for vexation because all her lovely black
puddings--which she had expected would last for a week at least--were
gone. In her bewilderment she sang out:
"My daughter's spun se'en, se'en, se'en,
My daughter's eaten se'en, se'en, se'en,
And all before daylight."
Now I forgot to tell you that, about half a mile from where the old
farmhouse stood, there was a beautiful Castle, where a very rich young
nobleman lived. He was both good and brave, as well as rich; and all
the mothers who had pretty daughters used to wish that he would come
their way, some day, and fall in love with one of them. But he had never
done so, and everyone said, "He is too grand to marry any country girl.
One day he will go away to London Town and marry a Duke's daughter."
Well, this fine spring morning it chanced that this young nobleman's
favourite horse had lost a shoe, and he was so afraid that any of the
grooms might ride it along the hard road, and not on the soft grass at
the side, that he said that he would take it to the smithy himself.
So it happened that he was riding along by Maisie's garden gate as her
mother came into the garden singing these strange lines.
He stopped his horse, and said good-naturedly, "Good day, Madam; and may
I ask why you sing such a strange song?"
Maisie's mother made no answer, but turned and walked into the house;
and the young nobleman, being very anxious to know what it all meant,
hung his bridle over the garden gate, and followed her.
She pointed to the seven hanks of thread lying on the table, and said,
"This hath my daughter done before breakfast."
Then the young man asked to see the Maiden who was so industrious, and
her mother went and pulled Maisie from behind the door, where she had
hidden herself when the stranger came in; for she had come downstairs
while her mother was in the garden.
She looked so lovely in her fresh morning gown of blue gingham, with her
auburn hair curling softly round her brow, and her face all over blushes
at the sight of such a gallant young man, that he quite lost his heart,
and fell in love with her on the spot.
"Ah," said he, "my dear mother always told me to try and find a wife who
was both pretty and useful, and I have succeeded beyond my expectations.
Do not let our marriage, I pray thee, good Dame, be too long deferred."
Maisie's mother was overjoyed, as you may imagine, at this piece of
unexpected good fortune, and busied herself in getting everything ready
for the wedding; but Maisie herself was a little perplexed.
She was afraid that she would be expected to spin a great deal when she
was married and lived at the Castle, and if that were so, her husband
was sure to find out that she was not really such a good spinstress as
he thought she was.
In her trouble she went down, the night before her wedding, to the great
boulder by the stream in the glen, and, climbing up on it, she laid her
head against the stone, and called softly down the hole, "Habetrot, dear
Habetrot."
The little old woman soon appeared, and, with twinkling eyes, asked her
what was troubling her so much just when she should have been so happy.
And Maisie told her.
"Trouble not thy pretty head about that," answered the Fairy, "but come
here with thy bridegroom next week, when the moon is full, and I warrant
that he will never ask thee to sit at a spinning-wheel again."
Accordingly, after all the wedding festivities were over and the couple
had settled down at the Castle, on the appointed evening Maisie
suggested to her husband that they should take a walk together in the
moonlight.
She was very anxious to see what the little Fairy would do to help her;
for that very day he had been showing her all over her new home, and he
had pointed out to her the beautiful new spinning-wheel made of ebony,
which had belonged to his mother, saying proudly, "To-morrow, little
one, I shall bring some lint from the town, and then the maids will see
what clever little fingers my wife has."
Maisie had blushed as red as a rose as she bent over the lovely wheel,
and then felt quite sick, as she wondered whatever she would do if
Habetrot did not help her.
So on this particular evening, after they had walked in the garden, she
said that she should like to go down to the little dell and see how the
stream looked by moonlight. So to the dell they went.
As soon as they came to the boulder Maisie put her head against it and
whispered, "Habetrot, dear Habetrot"; and in an instant the little old
woman appeared.
She bowed in a stately way, as if they were both strangers to her, and
said, "Welcome, Sir and Madam, to the Spinsters' Dell." And then she
tapped on the root of a great oak tree with a tiny wand which she held
in her hand, and a green door, which Maisie never remembered having
noticed before, flew open, and they followed the Fairy through it into
the other valley which Maisie had seen through the hole in the great
stone.
All the little old women were sitting on their white chucky stones busy
at work, only they seemed far uglier than they had seemed at first; and
Maisie noticed that the reason for this was, that, instead of wearing
red skirts and white mutches as they had done before, they now wore caps
and dresses of dull grey, and instead of looking happy, they all seemed
to be trying who could look most miserable, and who could push out their
long lips furthest, as they wet their fingers to draw the thread from
their distaffs.
"Save us and help us! What a lot of hideous old witches," exclaimed her
husband. "Whatever could this funny old woman mean by bringing a pretty
child like thee to look at them? Thou wilt dream of them for a week and
a day. Just look at their lips"; and, pushing Maisie behind him, he went
up to one of them and asked her what had made her mouth grow so ugly.
She tried to tell him, but all the sound that he could hear was
something that sounded like SPIN-N-N.
He asked another one, and her answer sounded like this: SPAN-N-N. He
tried a third, and hers sounded like SPUN-N-N.
He seized Maisie by the hand and hurried her through the green door. "By
my troth," he said, "my mother's spinning-wheel may turn to gold ere I
let thee touch it, if this is what spinning leads to. Rather than that
thy pretty face should be spoilt, the linen chests at the Castle may get
empty, and remain so for ever!"
So it came to pass that Maisie could be out of doors all day wandering
about with her husband, and laughing and singing to her heart's content.
And whenever there was lint at the Castle to be spun, it was carried
down to the big boulder in the dell and left there, and Habetrot and her
companions spun it, and there was no more trouble about the matter.
[Illustration]
NIPPIT FIT AND CLIPPIT FIT
In a country, far across the sea, there once dwelt a great and mighty
Prince. He lived in a grand Castle, which was full of beautiful
furniture, and curious and rare ornaments. And among them was a lovely
little glass shoe, which would only fit the tiniest foot imaginable.
And as the Prince was looking at it one day, it struck him what a dainty
little lady she would need to be who wore such a very small shoe. And,
as he liked dainty people, he made up his mind that he would never marry
until he found a maiden who could wear the shoe, and that, when he found
her, he would ask her to be his wife.
And he called all his Lords and Courtiers to him, and told them of the
determination that he had come to, and asked them to help him in his
quest.
And after they had taken counsel together they summoned a trusty Knight,
and appointed him the Prince's Ambassador; and told him to take the
slipper, and mount a fleet-footed horse, and ride up and down the whole
of the Kingdom until he found a lady whom it would fit.
So the Ambassador put the little shoe carefully in his pocket and set
out on his errand.
He rode, and he rode, and he rode, going to every town and castle that
came in his way, and summoning all the ladies to appear before him to
try on the shoe. And, as he caused a Proclamation to be made that
whoever could wear it should be the Prince's Bride, I need not tell you
that all the ladies in the country-side flocked to wherever the
Ambassador chanced to be staying, and begged leave to try on the
slipper.
But they were all disappointed, for not one of them, try as she would,
could make her foot small enough to go into the Fairy Shoe; and there
were many bitter tears shed in secret, when they returned home, by
countless fair ladies who prided themselves on the smallness of their
feet, and who had set out full of lively expectation that they would be
the successful competitors.
At last the Ambassador arrived at a house where a well-to-do Laird had
lived. But the Laird was dead now, and there was nobody left but his
wife and two daughters, who had grown poor of late, and who had to work
hard for their living.
One of the daughters was haughty and insolent; the other was little, and
young, and modest, and sweet.
When the Ambassador rode into the courtyard of this house, and, holding
out the shoe, asked if there were any fair ladies there who would like
to try it on, the elder sister, who always thought a great deal of
herself, ran forward, and said that she would do so, while the younger
girl just shook her head and went on with her work. "For," said she to
herself, "though my feet are so little that they might go into the
slipper, what would I do as the wife of a great Prince? Folk would just
laugh at me, and say that I was not fit for the position. No, no, I am
far better to bide as I am."
So the Ambassador gave the glass shoe to the elder sister, who carried
it away to her own room; and presently, to every one's astonishment,
came back wearing it on her foot.
It is true that her face was very white, and that she walked with a
little limp; but no one noticed these things except her younger sister,
and she only shook her wise little head, and said nothing.
The Prince's Ambassador was delighted that he had at last found a wife
for his master, and he mounted his horse and rode off at full speed to
tell him the good news.
When the Prince heard of the success of his errand, he ordered all his
Courtiers to be ready to accompany him next day when he went to bring
home his Bride.
You can fancy what excitement there was at the Laird's house when the
gallant company arrived, with their Prince at their head, to greet the
lady who was to be their Princess.
The old mother and the plain-looking maid-of-all-work ran hither and
thither, fetching such meat and drink as the house could boast to set
before their high-born visitors, while the bonnie little sister went and
hid herself behind a great pot which stood in the corner of the
courtyard, and which was used for boiling hen's meat.
[Illustration]
She knew that her foot was the smallest in the house; and something told
her that if the Prince once got a glimpse of her he would not be content
till she had tried on the slipper.
Meanwhile, the selfish elder sister did not help at all, but ran up to
her chamber, and decked herself out in all the fine clothes that she
possessed before she came downstairs to meet the Prince.
And when all the Knights and Courtiers had drunk a stirrup-cup, and
wished Good Luck to their Lord and his Bride, she was lifted up behind
the Prince on his horse, and rode off so full of her own importance,
that she even forgot to say good-bye to her mother and sister.
Alas! alas! pride must have a fall. For the cavalcade had not proceeded
very far when a little bird which was perched on a branch of a bush by
the roadside sang out:
"Nippit fit, and clippit fit, behind the King rides,
But pretty fit, and little fit, ahint the caldron hides."
"What is this that the birdie says?" cried the Prince, who, if the truth
be told, did not feel altogether satisfied with the Bride whom fortune
had bestowed upon him. "Hast thou another sister, Madam?"
"Only a little one," murmured the lady, who liked ill the way in which
things seemed to be falling out.
"We will go back and find her," said the Prince firmly, "for when I sent
out the slipper I had no mind that its wearer should nip her foot, and
clip her foot, in order to get it on."
So the whole party turned back; and when they reached the Laird's house
the Prince ordered a search to be made in the courtyard. And the bonnie
little sister was soon discovered and brought out, all blushes and
confusion, from her hiding-place behind the caldron.
"Give her the slipper, and let her try it on," said the Prince, and the
eldest sister was forced to obey. And what was the horror of the
bystanders, as she drew it off, to see that she had cut off the tops of
her toes in order to get it on.
But it fitted her little sister's foot exactly, without either paring or
clipping; and when the Prince saw that it was so, he lifted the elder
sister down from his horse and lifted the little one up in her place,
and carried her home to his Palace, where the wedding was celebrated
with great rejoicing; and for the rest of their lives they were the
happiest couple in the whole kingdom.
[Illustration]
THE FAIRIES OF MERLIN'S CRAG
About two hundred years ago there was a poor man working as a labourer
on a farm in Lanarkshire. He was what is known as an "Orra Man"; that
is, he had no special work mapped out for him to do, but he was expected
to undertake odd jobs of any kind that happened to turn up.
One day his master sent him out to cast peats on a piece of moorland
that lay on a certain part of the farm. Now this strip of moorland ran
up at one end to a curiously shaped crag, known as Merlin's Crag,
because, so the country folk said, that famous Enchanter had once taken
up his abode there.
The man obeyed, and, being a willing fellow, when he arrived at the moor
he set to work with all his might and main. He had lifted quite a
quantity of peat from near the Crag, when he was startled by the
appearance of the very smallest woman that he had ever seen in his life.
She was only about two feet high, and she was dressed in a green gown
and red stockings, and her long yellow hair was not bound by any
ribbon, but hung loosely round her shoulders.
She was such a dainty little creature that the astonished countryman
stopped working, stuck his spade into the ground, and gazed at her in
wonder.
His wonder increased when she held up one of her tiny fingers and
addressed him in these words: "What wouldst thou think if I were to send
my husband to uncover thy house? You mortals think that you can do aught
that pleaseth you."
Then, stamping her tiny foot, she added in a voice of command, "Put back
that turf instantly, or thou shalt rue this day."
Now the poor man had often heard of the Fairy Folk and of the harm that
they could work to unthinking mortals who offended them, so in fear and
trembling he set to work to undo all his labour, and to place every
divot in the exact spot from which he had taken it.
When he was finished he looked round for his strange visitor, but she
had vanished completely; he could not tell how, nor where. Putting up
his spade, he wended his way homewards, and going straight to his
master, he told him the whole story, and suggested that in future the
peats should be taken from the other end of the moor.
[Illustration: A large band of Fairies dancing Round and Round]
But the master only laughed. He was a strong, hearty man, and had no
belief in Ghosts, or Elves, or Fairies, or any other creature that he
could not see; but although he laughed, he was vexed that his servant
should believe in such things, so to cure him, as he thought, of his
superstition, he ordered him to take a horse and cart and go back at
once, and lift all the peats and bring them to dry in the farm steading.
The poor man obeyed with much reluctance; and was greatly relieved, as
weeks went on, to find that, in spite of his having done so, no harm
befell him.
In fact, he began to think that his master was right, and that the whole
thing must have been a dream.
So matters went smoothly on. Winter passed, and spring, and summer,
until autumn came round once more, and the very day arrived on which the
peats had been lifted the year before.
That day, as the sun went down, the orra man left the farm to go home to
his cottage, and as his master was pleased with him because he had been
working very hard lately, he had given him a little can of milk as a
present to carry home to his wife.
So he was feeling very happy, and as he walked along he was humming a
tune to himself. His road took him by the foot of Merlin's Crag, and as
he approached it he was astonished to find himself growing strangely
tired. His eyelids dropped over his eyes as if he were going to sleep,
and his feet grew as heavy as lead.
"I will sit down and take a rest for a few minutes," he said to
himself; "the road home never seemed so long as it does to-day."
So he sat down on a tuft of grass right under the shadow of the Crag,
and before he knew where he was he had fallen into a deep and heavy
slumber.
When he awoke it was near midnight, and the moon had risen on the Crag.
And he rubbed his eyes, when by its soft light he became aware of a
large band of Fairies who were dancing round and round him, singing and
laughing, pointing their tiny fingers at him, and shaking their wee
fists in his face.
The bewildered man rose and tried to walk away from them, but turn in
whichever direction he would the Fairies accompanied him, encircling him
in a magic ring, out of which he could in no wise go.
At last they stopped, and, with shrieks of elfin laughter, led the
prettiest and daintiest of their companions up to him, and cried, "Tread
a measure, tread a measure, Oh, Man! Then wilt thou not be so eager to
escape from our company."
Now the poor labourer was but a clumsy dancer, and he held back with a
shamefaced air; but the Fairy who had been chosen to be his partner
reached up and seized his hands, and lo! some strange magic seemed to
enter into his veins, for in a moment he found himself waltzing and
whirling, sliding and bowing, as if he had done nothing else but dance
all his life.
And, strangest thing of all! he forgot about his home and his children;
and he felt so happy that he had no longer the slightest desire to leave
the Fairies' company.
All night long the merriment went on. The Little Folk danced and danced
as if they were mad, and the farm man danced with them, until at last a
shrill sound came over the moor. It was the cock from the farmyard
crowing its loudest to welcome the dawn.
In an instant the revelry ceased, and the Fairies, with cries of alarm,
crowded together and rushed towards the Crag, dragging the countryman
along in their midst. As they reached the rock, a mysterious door, which
he never remembered having seen before, opened in it of its own accord,
and shut again with a crash as soon as the Fairy Host had all trooped
through.
The door led into a large, dimly lighted hall full of tiny couches, and
here the Little Folk sank to rest, tired out with their exertions, while
the good man sat down on a piece of rock in the corner, wondering what
would happen next.
But there seemed to be some kind of spell thrown over his senses, for
even when the Fairies awoke and began to go about their household
occupations, and to carry out certain curious practices which he had
never seen before, and which, as you will hear, he was forbidden to
speak of afterwards, he was content to sit and watch them, without in
any way attempting to escape.
As it drew toward evening someone touched his elbow, and he turned round
with a start to see the little woman with the green dress and scarlet
stockings, who had remonstrated with him for lifting the turf the year
before, standing by his side.
"The divots which thou took'st from the roof of my house have grown once
more," she said, "and once more it is covered with grass; so thou canst
go home again, for justice is satisfied--thy punishment hath lasted long
enough. But first must thou take thy solemn oath never to tell to mortal
ears what thou hast seen whilst thou hast dwelt among us."
The countryman promised gladly, and took the oath with all due
solemnity. Then the door was opened, and he was at liberty to depart.
His can of milk was standing on the green, just where he had laid it
down when he went to sleep; and it seemed to him as if it were only
yesternight that the farmer had given it to him.
But when he reached his home he was speedily undeceived. For his wife
looked at him as if he were a ghost, and the children whom he had left
wee, toddling things were now well-grown boys and girls, who stared at
him as if he had been an utter stranger.