an old Hen-wife, who, men said, was in league with the Evil Spirits of
the air, and who was skilled in the knowledge of charms, and philtres,
and love potions.
"Perhaps she could help me to do what I seek to do," said the wicked
Queen; and one night, when it was growing dusk, she wrapped a cloak
round her, and set out to this old Hen-wife's cottage.
"Send the lassie to me to-morrow morning ere she hath broken her fast,"
replied the old Dame when she heard what her visitor had to say. "I will
find out a way to mar her beauty." And the wicked Queen went home
content.
Next morning she went to the Princess's room while she was dressing, and
told her to go out before breakfast and get the eggs that the Hen-wife
had gathered. "And see," added she, "that thou dost not eat anything ere
thou goest, for there is nothing that maketh the roses bloom on a young
maiden's cheeks like going out fasting in the fresh morning air."
Princess Velvet-Cheek promised to do as she was bid, and go and fetch
the eggs; but as she was not fond of going out of doors before she had
had something to eat, and as, moreover, she suspected that her
step-mother had some hidden reason for giving her such an unusual order,
and she did not trust her step-mother's hidden reasons, she slipped into
the pantry as she went downstairs and helped herself to a large slice of
cake. Then, after she had eaten it, she went straight to the Hen-wife's
cottage and asked for the eggs.
"Lift the lid of that pot there, your Highness, and you will see them,"
said the old woman, pointing to the big pot standing in the corner in
which she boiled her hens' meat.
The Princess did so, and found a heap of eggs lying inside, which she
lifted into her basket, while the old woman watched her with a curious
smile.
"Go home to your Lady Mother, Hinny," she said at last, "and tell her
from me to keep the press door better snibbit."
The Princess went home, and gave this extraordinary message to her
step-mother, wondering to herself the while what it meant.
But if she did not understand the Hen-wife's words, the Queen understood
them only too well. For from them she gathered that the Princess had in
some way prevented the old Witch's spell doing what she intended it to
do.
So next morning, when she sent her step-daughter once more on the same
errand, she accompanied her to the door of the Castle herself, so that
the poor girl had no chance of paying a visit to the pantry. But as she
went along the road that led to the cottage, she felt so hungry that,
when she passed a party of country-folk picking peas by the roadside,
she asked them to give her a handful.
They did so, and she ate the peas; and so it came about that the same
thing happened that had happened yesterday.
The Hen-wife sent her to look for the eggs; but she could work no spell
upon her, because she had broken her fast. So the old woman bade her go
home again and give the same message to the Queen.
The Queen was very angry when she heard it, for she felt that she was
being outwitted by this slip of a girl, and she determined that,
although she was not fond of getting up early, she would accompany her
next day herself, and make sure that she had nothing to eat as she went.
So next morning she walked with the Princess to the Hen-wife's cottage,
and, as had happened twice before, the old woman sent the Royal maiden
to lift the lid off the pot in the corner in order to get the eggs.
And the moment that the Princess did so off jumped her own pretty head,
and on jumped that of a sheep.
[Illustration: Off jumped her own pretty head and on jumped that of a
sheep]
Then the wicked Queen thanked the cruel old Witch for the service that
she had rendered to her, and went home quite delighted with the success
of her scheme; while the poor Princess picked up her own head and put it
into her basket along with the eggs, and went home crying, keeping
behind the hedge all the way, for she felt so ashamed of her sheep's
head that she was afraid that anyone saw her.
Now, as I told you, the Princess's step-sister Katherine loved her
dearly, and when she saw what a cruel deed had been wrought on her she
was so angry that she declared that she would not remain another hour in
the Castle. "For," said she, "if my Lady Mother can order one such deed
to be done, who can hinder her ordering another. So, methinks, 'twere
better for us both to be where she cannot reach us."
So she wrapped a fine shawl round her poor step-sister's head, so that
none could tell what it was like, and, putting the real head in the
basket, she took her by the hand, and the two set out to seek their
fortunes.
They walked and they walked, till they reached a splendid Palace, and
when they came to it Katherine made as though she would go boldly up and
knock at the door.
"I may perchance find work here," she explained, "and earn enough money
to keep us both in comfort."
But the poor Princess would fain have pulled her back. "They will have
nothing to do with thee," she whispered, "when they see that thou hast a
sister with a sheep's head."
"And who is to know that thou hast a sheep's head?" asked Katherine. "If
thou hold thy tongue, and keep the shawl well round thy face, and leave
the rest to me."
So up she went and knocked at the kitchen door, and when the housekeeper
came to answer it she asked her if there was any work that she could
give her to do. "For," said she, "I have a sick sister, who is sore
troubled with the migraine in her head, and I would fain find a quiet
lodging for her where she could rest for the night."
"Dost thou know aught of sickness?" asked the housekeeper, who was
greatly struck by Katherine's soft voice and gentle ways.
"Ay, do I," replied Katherine, "for when one's sister is troubled with
the migraine, one has to learn to go about softly and not to make a
noise."
Now it chanced that the King's eldest son, the Crown Prince, was lying
ill in the Palace of a strange disease, which seemed to have touched his
brain. For he was so restless, especially at nights, that someone had
always to be with him to watch that he did himself no harm; and this
state of things had gone on so long that everyone was quite worn out.
And the old housekeeper thought that it would be a good chance to get a
quiet night's sleep if this capable-looking stranger could be trusted to
sit up with the Prince.
So she left her at the door, and went and consulted the King; and the
King came out and spoke to Katherine and he, too, was so pleased with
her voice and her appearance that he gave orders that a room should be
set apart in the Castle for her sick sister and herself, and he promised
that, if she would sit up that night with the Prince, and see that no
harm befell him, she would have, as her reward, a bag of silver Pennies
in the morning.
Katherine agreed to the bargain readily, "for," thought she, "'twill
always be a night's lodging for the Princess; and, forbye that, a bag of
silver Pennies is not to be got every day."
So the Princess went to bed in the comfortable chamber that was set
apart for her, and Katherine went to watch by the sick Prince.
He was a handsome, comely young man, who seemed to be in some sort of
fever, for his brain was not quite clear, and he tossed and tumbled from
side to side, gazing anxiously in front of him, and stretching out his
hands as if he were in search of something.
And at twelve o'clock at night, just when Katherine thought that he was
going to fall into a refreshing sleep, what was her horror to see him
rise from his bed, dress himself hastily, open the door, and slip
downstairs, as if he were going to look for somebody.
"There be something strange in this," said the girl to herself.
"Methinks I had better follow him and see what happens."
So she stole out of the room after the Prince and followed him safely
downstairs; and what was her astonishment to find that apparently he was
going some distance, for he put on his hat and riding-coat, and,
unlocking the door crossed the courtyard to the stable, and began to
saddle his horse.
When he had done so, he led it out, and mounted, and, whistling softly
to a hound which lay asleep in a corner, he prepared to ride away.
"I must go too, and see the end of this," said Katherine bravely; "for
methinks he is bewitched. These be not the actions of a sick man."
So, just as the horse was about to start, she jumped lightly on its
back, and settled herself comfortably behind its rider, all unnoticed by
him.
Then this strange pair rode away through the woods, and, as they went,
Katherine pulled the hazel-nuts that nodded in great clusters in her
face. "For," said she to herself, "Dear only knows where next I may get
anything to eat."
On and on they rode, till they left the greenwood far behind them and
came out on an open moor. Soon they reached a hillock, and here the
Prince drew rein, and, stooping down, cried in a strange, uncanny
whisper, "Open, open, Green Hill, and let the Prince, and his horse, and
his hound enter."
"And," whispered Katherine quickly, "let his lady enter behind him."
Instantly, to her great astonishment, the top of the knowe seemed to tip
up, leaving an aperture large enough for the little company to enter;
then it closed gently behind them again.
They found themselves in a magnificent hall, brilliantly lighted by
hundreds of candles stuck in sconces round the walls. In the centre of
this apartment was a group of the most beautiful maidens that Katherine
had ever seen, all dressed in shimmering ball-gowns, with wreaths of
roses and violets in their hair. And there were sprightly gallants also,
who had been treading a measure with these beauteous damsels to the
strains of fairy music.
When the maidens saw the Prince, they ran to him, and led him away to
join their revels. And at the touch of their hands all his languor
seemed to disappear, and he became the gayest of all the throng, and
laughed, and danced, and sang as if he had never known what it was to be
ill.
As no one took any notice of Katherine, she sat down quietly on a bit of
rock to watch what would befall. And as she watched, she became aware of
a wee, wee bairnie, playing with a tiny wand, quite close to her feet.
He was a bonnie bit bairn, and she was just thinking of trying to make
friends with him when one of the beautiful maidens passed, and, looking
at the wand, said to her partner, in a meaning tone, "Three strokes of
that wand would give Katherine's sister back her pretty face."
Here was news indeed! Katherine's breath came thick and fast; and with
trembling fingers she drew some of the nuts out of her pocket, and began
rolling them carelessly towards the child. Apparently he did not get
nuts very often, for he dropped his little wand at once, and stretched
out his tiny hands to pick them up.
This was just what she wanted; and she slipped down from her seat to the
ground, and drew a little nearer to him. Then she threw one or two more
nuts in his way, and, when he was picking these up, she managed to lift
the wand unobserved, and to hide it under her apron. After this, she
crept cautiously back to her seat again; and not a moment too soon, for
just then a cock crew, and at the sound the whole of the dancers
vanished--all but the Prince, who ran to mount his horse, and was in
such a hurry to be gone that Katherine had much ado to get up behind him
before the hillock opened, and he rode swiftly into the outer world once
more.
But she managed it, and, as they rode homewards in the grey morning
light, she sat and cracked her nuts and ate them as fast as she could,
for her adventures had made her marvellously hungry.
When she and her strange patient had once more reached the Castle, she
just waited to see him go back to bed, and begin to toss and tumble as
he had done before; then she ran to her step-sister's room, and, finding
her asleep, with her poor misshapen head lying peacefully on the
pillow, she gave it three sharp little strokes with the fairy wand and,
lo and behold! the sheep's head vanished, and the Princess's own pretty
one took its place.
In the morning the King and the old housekeeper came to inquire what
kind of night the Prince had had. Katherine answered that he had had a
very good night; for she was very anxious to stay with him longer, for
now that she had found out that the Elfin Maidens who dwelt in the Green
Knowe had thrown a spell over him, she was resolved to find out also how
that spell could be loosed.
And Fortune favoured her; for the King was so pleased to think that such
a suitable nurse had been found for the Prince, and he was also so
charmed with the looks of her step-sister, who came out of her chamber
as bright and bonnie as in the old days, declaring that her migraine was
all gone, and that she was now able to do any work that the housekeeper
might find for her, that he begged Katherine to stay with his son a
little longer, adding that if she would do so, he would give her a bag
of gold Bonnet Pieces.
So Katherine agreed readily; and that night she watched by the Prince as
she had done the night before. And at twelve o'clock he rose and dressed
himself, and rode to the Fairy Knowe, just as she had expected him to
do, for she was quite certain that the poor young man was bewitched, and
not suffering from a fever, as everyone thought he was.
And you may be sure that she accompanied him, riding behind him all
unnoticed, and filling her pockets with nuts as she rode.
When they reached the Fairy Knowe, he spoke the same words that he had
spoken the night before. "Open, open, Green Hill, and let the young
Prince in with his horse and his hound." And when the Green Hill opened,
Katherine added softly, "And his lady behind him." So they all passed in
together.
Katherine seated herself on a stone, and looked around her. The same
revels were going on as yesternight, and the Prince was soon in the
thick of them, dancing and laughing madly. The girl watched him
narrowly, wondering if she would ever be able to find out what would
restore him to his right mind; and, as she was watching him, the same
little bairn who had played with the magic wand came up to her again.
Only this time he was playing with a little bird.
And as he played, one of the dancers passed by, and, turning to her
partner, said lightly, "Three bites of that birdie would lift the
Prince's sickness, and make him as well as he ever was." Then she joined
in the dance again, leaving Katherine sitting upright on her stone
quivering with excitement.
If only she could get that bird the Prince might be cured! Very
carefully she began to shake some nuts out of her pocket, and roll them
across the floor towards the child.
He picked them up eagerly, letting go the bird as he did so; and, in an
instant, Katherine caught it, and hid it under her apron.
In no long time after that the cock crew, and the Prince and she set out
on their homeward ride. But this morning, instead of cracking nuts, she
killed and plucked the bird, scattering its feathers all along the road;
and the instant she gained the Prince's room, and had seen him safely
into bed, she put it on a spit in front of the fire and began to roast
it.
And soon it began to frizzle, and get brown, and smell deliciously, and
the Prince, in his bed in the corner, opened his eyes and murmured
faintly, "How I wish I had a bite of that birdie."
When she heard the words Katherine's heart jumped for joy, and as soon
as the bird was roasted she cut a little piece from its breast and
popped it into the Prince's mouth.
When he had eaten it his strength seemed to come back somewhat, for he
rose on his elbow and looked at his nurse. "Oh! if I had but another
bite of that birdie!" he said. And his voice was certainly stronger.
So Katherine gave him another piece, and when he had eaten that he sat
right up in bed.
"Oh! if I had but a third bite o' that birdie!" he cried. And now the
colour was coming back into his face, and his eyes were shining.
This time Katherine brought him the whole of the rest of the bird; and
he ate it up greedily, picking the bones quite clean with his fingers;
and when it was finished, he sprang out of bed and dressed himself, and
sat down by the fire.
And when the King came in the morning, with his old housekeeper at his
back, to see how the Prince was, he found him sitting cracking nuts with
his nurse, for Katherine had brought home quite a lot in her apron
pocket.
The King was so delighted to find his son cured that he gave all the
credit to Katherine Crackernuts, as he called her, and he gave orders at
once that the Prince should marry her. "For," said he, "a maiden who is
such a good nurse is sure to make a good Queen."
The Prince was quite willing to do as his father bade him; and, while
they were talking together, his younger brother came in, leading
Princess Velvet-Cheek by the hand, whose acquaintance he had made but
yesterday, declaring that he had fallen in love with her, and that he
wanted to marry her immediately.
So it all fell out very well, and everybody was quite pleased; and the
two weddings took place at once, and, unless they be dead sinsyne, the
young couples are living yet.
[Illustration: Times To Sneeze]
[Illustration: Sneeze on Monanday Sneeze for a Letter]
[Illustration: Sneeze on Tuesday Something Better]
[Illustration: Sneeze on Wednesday Kiss a Stranger]
[Illustration: Sneeze on Feersday Sneeze for Danger]
[Illustration: Sneeze on Friday Sneeze for Sorrow]
[Illustration: Sneeze on Saturday see your Sweetheart Tomorrow]
THE WELL O' THE WORLD'S END
There was once an old widow woman, who lived in a little cottage with
her only daughter, who was such a bonnie lassie that everyone liked to
look at her.
One day the old woman took a notion into her head to bake a girdleful of
cakes. So she took down her bakeboard, and went to the girnel and
fetched a basinful of meal; but when she went to seek a jug of water to
mix the meal with, she found that there was none in the house.
So she called to her daughter, who was in the garden; and when the girl
came she held out the empty jug to her, saying, "Run, like a good
lassie, to the Well o' the World's End and bring me a jug of water, for
I have long found that water from the Well o' the World's End makes the
best cakes."
So the lassie took the jug and set out on her errand.
Now, as its name shows, it is a long road to that well, and many a weary
mile had the poor maid to go ere she reached it.
But she arrived there at last; and what was her disappointment to find
it dry.
She was so tired and so vexed that she sat down beside it and began to
cry; for she did not know where to get any more water, and she felt that
she could not go back to her mother with an empty jug.
While she was crying, a nice yellow Paddock, with very bright eyes, came
jump-jump-jumping over the stones of the well, and squatted down at her
feet, looking up into her face.
"And why are ye greeting, my bonnie maid?" he asked. "Is there aught
that I can do to help thee?"
"I am greeting because the well is empty," she answered, "and I cannot
get any water to carry home to my mother."
"Listen," said the Paddock softly. "I can get thee water in plenty, if
so be thou wilt promise to be my wife."
Now the lassie had but one thought in her head, and that was to get the
water for her mother's oat-cakes, and she never for a moment thought
that the Paddock was in earnest, so she promised gladly enough to be his
wife, if he would get her a jug of water.
No sooner had the words passed her lips than the beastie jumped down the
mouth of the well, and in another moment it was full to the brim with
water.
The lassie filled her jug and carried it home, without troubling any
more about the matter. But late that night, just as her mother and she
were going to bed, something came with a faint "thud, thud," against
the cottage door, and then they heard a tiny little wee voice singing:
"Oh, open the door, my hinnie, my heart,
Oh, open the door, my ain true love;
Remember the promise that you and I made
Down i' the meadow, where we two met."
"Wheesht," said the old woman, raising her head. "What noise is that at
the door?"
"Oh," said her daughter, who was feeling rather frightened, "it's only a
yellow Paddock."
"Poor bit beastie," said the kind-hearted old mother. "Open the door and
let him in. It's cold work sitting on the doorstep."
So the lassie, very unwillingly opened the door, and the Paddock came
jump-jump-jumping across the kitchen, and sat down at the fireside.
And while he sat there he began to sing this song:
"Oh, gie me my supper, my hinnie, my heart,
Oh, gie me my supper, my ain true love;
Remember the promise that you and I made
Down i' the meadow, where we two met."
"Gie the poor beast his supper," said the old woman. "He's an uncommon
Paddock that can sing like that."
"Tut," replied her daughter crossly, for she was growing more and more
frightened as she saw the creature's bright black eyes fixed on her
face. "I'm not going to be so silly as to feed a wet, sticky Paddock."
"Don't be ill-natured and cruel," said her mother. "Who knows how far
the little beastie has travelled? And I warrant that it would like a
saucerful of milk."
Now, the lassie could have told her that the Paddock had travelled from
the Well o' the World's End; but she held her tongue, and went ben to
the milk-house, and brought back a saucerful of milk, which she set down
before the strange little visitor.
"Now chap off my head, my hinnie, my heart,
Now chap off my head, my ain true love,
Remember the promise that you and I made
Down i' the meadow, where we two met."
"Hout, havers, pay no heed, the creature's daft," exclaimed the old
woman, running forward to stop her daughter, who was raising the axe to
chop off the Paddock's head. But she was too late; down came the axe,
off went the head; and lo, and behold! on the spot where the little
creature had sat, stood the handsomest young Prince that had ever been
seen.
He wore such a noble air, and was so richly dressed, that the astonished
girl and her mother would have fallen on their knees before him had he
not prevented them by a movement of his hand.
"'Tis I that should kneel to thee, Sweetheart," he said, turning to the
blushing girl, "for thou hast delivered me from a fearful spell, which
was cast over me in my infancy by a wicked Fairy, who at the same time
slew my father. For long years I have lived in that well, the Well o'
the World's End, waiting for a maiden to appear, who should take pity on
me, even in my loathsome disguise, and promise to be my wife, and who
would also have the kindness to let me into her house, and the courage,
at my bidding, to cut off my head.
"Now I can return and claim my father's Kingdom, and thou, most gracious
maiden, will go with me, and be my bride, for thou well deserv'st the
honour."
And this was how the lassie who went to fetch water from the Well o' the
World's End became a Princess.
[Illustration]
FARQUHAR MACNEILL
Once upon a time there was a young man named Farquhar MacNeill. He had
just gone to a new situation, and the very first night after he went to
it his mistress asked him if he would go over the hill to the house of a
neighbour and borrow a sieve, for her own was all in holes, and she
wanted to sift some meal.
Farquhar agreed to do so, for he was a willing lad, and he set out at
once upon his errand, after the farmer's wife had pointed out to him the
path that he was to follow, and told him that he would have no
difficulty in finding the house, even though it was strange to him, for
he would be sure to see the light in the window.
He had not gone very far, however, before he saw what he took to be the
light from a cottage window on his left hand, some distance from the
path, and, forgetting his Mistress's instructions that he was to follow
the path right over the hill, he left it, and walked towards the light.
It seemed to him that he had almost reached it when his foot tripped,
and he fell down, down, down, into a Fairy Parlour, far under the
ground.
[Illustration: They bowed gravely]
It was full of Fairies, who were engaged in different occupations.
Close by the door, or rather the hole down which he had so
unceremoniously tumbled, two little elderly women, in black aprons and
white mutches, were busily engaged in grinding corn between two flat
millstones. Other two Fairies, younger women, in blue print gowns and
white kerchiefs, were gathering up the freshly ground meal, and baking
it into bannocks, which they were toasting on a girdle over a peat fire,
which was burning slowly in a corner.