Produced by Al Haines
[Illustration: Cover art]
All the Way to Fairyland
Fairy Stories
BY
EVELYN SHARP
AUTHOR OF "WYMPS"
WITH EIGHT COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS
AND A COVER BY MRS. PERCY DEARMER
JOHN LANE
THE BODLEY HEAD
LONDON AND NEW YORK
1898
COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY
JOHN LANE.
FIRST EDITION
University Press:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
_By the Same author:_
WYMPS: FAIRY TALES. With eight coloured illustrations by Mrs. Percy
Dearmer.
THE MAKING OF A SCHOOLGIRL.
AT THE RELTON ARMS.
THE MAKING OF A PRIG.
[Illustration: A PRINCESS FLOATING ABOUT ON A SOFT WHITE CLOUD]
THESE STORIES
ARE FOR
GEOFFREY AND CHRISTOPHER
TRISTAN AND ISEULT
MARGARET AND BOY
AND
EVERARD
AND ALL THE OTHER CHILDREN
WHO WOULD LIKE TO GO
ALL THE WAY TO FAIRYLAND
Contents
CHAPTER
I. THE COUNTRY CALLED NONAMIA
II. WHY THE WYMPS CRIED
III. THE STORY OF HONEY AND SUNNY
IV. THE LITTLE PRINCESS AND THE POET
V. THE WONDERFUL TOYMAKER
VI. THE PROFESSOR OF PRACTICAL JOKES
VII. THE DOLL THAT CAME STRAIGHT FROM FAIRYLAND
VIII. THOSE WYMPS AGAIN!
List of Illustrations
BY MRS. PERCY DEARMER
I. A PRINCESS FLOATING ABOUT ON A SOFT WHITE CLOUD . _Frontispiece_
II. THE WYMPS SAY THAT QUEER BEGAN IT
III. SUNNY WAS SO ASTONISHED THAT SHE STOPPED CRYING AT ONCE
IV. "COME WITH ME, POET," SAID THE LITTLE PRINCESS
V. THE ROCKING-HORSES RUSHED OVER THE GROUND
VI. HE CURLED HIMSELF UP IN THE SUN AND CLOSED HIS EYES
VII. THE LADY EMMELINA IS ALWAYS KEPT IN HER PROPER PLACE NOW
VIII. "WILL YOU COME AND PLAY WITH ME, LITTLE WISDOM?"
The Country Called Nonamia
Ever so long ago, in the wonderful country of Nonamia, there lived an
absent-minded magician. It is not usual, of course, for a magician to
be absent-minded; but then, if it were usual it would not have happened
in Nonamia. Nobody knew very much about this particular magician, for
he lived in his castle in the air, and it is not easy to visit any one
who lives in the air. He did not want to be visited, however; visitors
always meant conversation, and he could not endure conversation. This,
by the way, was not surprising, for he was so absent-minded that he
always forgot the end of his sentence before he was half-way through
the beginning of it; and as for his visitors' remarks--well, if he had
had any visitors, he would never have heard their remarks at all. So,
when some one did call on him, one day,--and that was when he had been
living in his castle in the air for seven hundred and seventy-seven
years and had almost forgotten who he was and why he was there,--the
magician was so astonished that he could not think of anything to say.
"How did you get here?" he asked at last; for even an absent-minded
magician cannot remain altogether silent, when he looks out of his
castle in the air and sees a Princess in a gold and silver frock, with
a bright little crown on her head, floating about on a soft white cloud.
"Well, I just came, that's all," answered the Princess, with a
particularly friendly smile. "You see, I have never been able to find
my own castle in the air, so when the West Wind told me about yours I
asked him to blow me here. May I come in and see what it is like?"
"Certainly not," said the magician, hastily. "It is not like anything;
and even if it were, I should not let you come in. Don't you know
that, if you were to enter another person's castle in the air, it would
vanish away like a puff of smoke?"
"Oh, dear!" sighed the Princess. "I did so want to know what a real
castle in the air was like. I wonder if yours is at all like mine!"
"Tell me about yours," said the magician. "I may be able to help you
to find it." Of course, he only said this in order to prevent her from
coming inside his own castle. At the same time, a little conversation
with a friendly Princess in a gold and silver gown is not at all
unpleasant, when one has lived in a castle in the air for seven hundred
and seventy-seven years.
"My castle in the air is much bigger than yours," she explained. "It
has ever so many rooms in it,--a large room to laugh in and a small
room to cry in--"
"To cry in?" interrupted the magician. "Why, no one ever thinks of
crying in a castle in the air!"
"One never knows," answered the Princess, gravely. "Supposing I were
to prick my finger, what should I do if there was n't a room to cry in?
Then, there is a middling-sized room to be serious in; for there is
just a chance that I might want to be serious sometimes, and it would
be as well to have a room, in case."
"Perhaps it would," observed the magician, who had never listened so
attentively to a conversation in the whole of his long life. "What
else will you have in your castle?"
"I shall have lots of nice books that end happily," answered the
Princess; "and they shall be talking books, so that I need not read
them to find out what they are about. I shall have plenty of happy
thoughts in my castle, too, and lots of nice dreams piled up in heaps,
and--well, there is just one thing more."
"What is that?" asked the magician.
"Well, I think I should like to have a Prince in my castle, a nice
Prince, who would not want to be just dull and princely like all the
princes I have ever danced with, but a Prince who would like my castle
exactly as I have built it and would play with me all day long. That
would be something like a Prince, wouldn't it?"
"You could not possibly have a Prince," said the magician. "If you
allowed some one else even to look into your castle in the air, it
would vanish away like a puff of smoke. I have lived in my castle for
seven hundred and seventy-seven years, and I have never allowed any one
to put a foot in it."
"Is it so beautiful, then, your castle in the air?" asked the Princess,
wonderingly.
"I'm sure I don't know," said the absent-minded magician; "I don't
think I ever noticed. I came to live in it, because it was the only
place in which I could be left alone. That reminds me, that if you do
not go away at once I shall be obliged to become exceedingly angry with
you."
"By all means," said the Princess, who had the most charming manners in
the world; "but I should like to have my castle first."
"I have n't got it here," said the magician, looking about him vaguely.
"I know I saw it somewhere not long ago, but I can't remember what I
did with it. However, if you ask the people of Nonamia, they will be
able to tell you where it has gone. You will find that they are very
obliging."
"Will they not be surprised?" asked the Princess.
"Dear me, no! The Nonamiacs are never surprised at anything," said the
magician; and he drew in his head from the window. The Princess in the
gold and silver frock sailed away on her cloud, and landed presently in
the flat, green country of Nonamia.
"Have you seen my castle in the air?" she asked, very politely, of the
first Nonamiac she met.
"What is it like?" asked the Nonamiac, without showing the least
surprise.
"It is ever so large and ever so beautiful, and it is packed full of
happiness, and there is a nice Prince inside," answered the Princess.
"Ah," said the Nonamiac; "then it must be the one I saw being blown
along by the South Wind. But there was no Prince inside."
The Princess thanked him and hastened away in the direction of the
South Wind until she met another Nonamiac, to whom she explained as
politely as before what she wanted to know.
"Ah," said the Nonamiac, "that must be the castle I met just now as it
was being carried off by the North Wind. But I saw no Prince inside."
The Princess turned round and hurried after the North Wind as fast as
she could go. As soon as she met another Nonamiac, however, she had to
turn round once more, for he told her that her castle had just been
stolen by the East Wind; and when she had been walking quite a long
time in the direction of the East Wind, she met yet another Nonamiac,
who told her that it was the West Wind who had taken away her castle in
the air.
"It is too bad!" said the little Princess, sitting down exhausted on a
large stone by the side of the road. "Why should all the winds be
playing with my castle in the air?"
"Castles in the air generally go to the winds," observed a traveller in
a dusty brown cloak, who was sitting on another large stone, not very
far off. She was quite sure he had not been there the moment before,
but, in Nonamia, there was nothing remarkable about that. The Princess
wiped the tears out of her eyes with a small lace handkerchief, and
looked at the stranger.
"Mine is a very particular castle in the air, you see," she said. "It
is ever so large and ever so beautiful, and it is packed with happiness
and dreams, and _perhaps_ there is a Prince in it, too."
"A Prince?" said the stranger. "What sort of Prince?"
"A nice Prince," explained the Princess, "who can play games and tell
stories and be amusing. All the Princes I know can do nothing but
dance, and they are not at all amusing. I am afraid, though," she
added, sighing, "that I am going to have my castle without a Prince,
after all."
"Would it do," asked the traveller in the dusty brown cloak, "if you
were to have a Prince without a castle?"
"Oh, no!" answered the Princess, decidedly. "If you knew how beautiful
my castle in the air is, you would not even ask such a stupid question!"
Then she again took up her small lace handkerchief, and she brushed the
dust from her gold and silver gown, and polished up her bright little
gold crown, and made herself as neat and dainty as a Princess should
be; for, in Nonamia, one never knows what may happen next, and it is
just as well to be prepared. And, in fact, no sooner was she quite
tidy than the West Wind came hurrying along with her castle in the air;
and the Princess gave a shout of joy and sprang inside it; and the West
Wind blew, and blew, and blew, until the castle that was packed full of
happiness, and the little Princess in the gold and silver gown, were
both completely out of sight. The traveller looked after them and felt
a little forlorn; then he picked up his stick and walked on until he
came to the magician's castle. This may seem a little surprising, as
he had no wings of any kind and the magician's castle was in the air;
but it must be remembered that it all happened in Nonamia.
"Dear, dear! Here 's another of them!" grumbled the magician, when he
looked out of his window and saw the stranger standing below. After
being alone for seven hundred and seventy-seven years, it was a little
exhausting to have two visitors on the same day. Besides, a traveller
in a dusty brown cloak is not at all the same thing as a dainty
Princess in a gold and silver gown.
"Good-day," said the stranger. "Are you the magician who has given a
castle in the air to a Princess in a gold and silver frock with a
bright little crown on her head?"
"Very likely; but I cannot say for certain," said the absent-minded
magician. "I believe there was something of the kind, now you come to
mention it; but I could n't tell you what it was. However, I don't
mean to give away any more castles in the air, so the sooner you leave
me alone, the better."
"I don't want a castle in the air," laughed the stranger. "People who
spend their lives in building real houses never have time to build
castles in the air! _I_ want to find the Princess, not the castle."
"That you will never do as long as she is happy in it," said the
magician. "People who live in castles in the air are never to be
found, unless they have grown tired of living in them."
"Oho!" chuckled the stranger. "Are _you_ tired of living in yours,
then?"
The absent-minded magician tried to determine whether he should be
angry or not, when the stranger said this; but, by the time he had made
up his mind to be angry, he had forgotten what there was to be angry
about, and while he was thinking about it, the man in the dusty brown
cloak walked away and left him.
Evidently, it was not very long before the Princess grew tired of
living in her castle in the air, for the very next day, as the
traveller was once more resting on the large stone by the side of the
road, down she came, castle and all, and stopped just in front of him.
Truly, there is no end to the wonderful things that happen in Nonamia!
"Hullo!" said the traveller, smiling. "What is it like inside your
castle?"
"It is not half so nice as I expected to find it," said the Princess,
popping her head out of the top window. "You see, there is no one to
play with; and even if your castle is the most beautiful castle in the
world, it is always dull when there is no one to play with, isn't it?"
"I don't know," answered the stranger; "I have never had any one to
play with. What else is wrong with your castle?"
"Well," continued the Princess, "it is all very well to have a castle
that is packed with happiness; but, when it is packed so tight that you
cannot get it out without some one to help you, it is not much good, is
it?"
"I don't know," answered the stranger; "my happiness has never been
packed so tight as all that. Have you anything else to complain of?"
"A great many things," said the Princess. "It is all that stupid
magician's fault. When I said, 'a small room to cry in,' I did n't
really mean a room to _cry_ in, did I? But every way I turn, there is
always the room to cry in, staring me in the face! I am sure there is
something seriously wrong with my castle in the air."
"No doubt about it," said the traveller; "and it is clearly the
magician's fault."
"When you came to live in your castle in the air," continued the
Princess, plaintively, "did you find that it was very different from
the one you had built?"
The traveller in the dusty brown cloak burst out laughing.
"I have no time to build castles in the air," he said. "I build real
houses for other people to live in, people who would, perhaps, have no
houses at all if I did not build them. That is more important than
building castles in the air for one's self."
"What are your real houses like?" asked the Princess.
"They are strong," answered the stranger, proudly. "All the four winds
joined together could not blow them down. No one has ever built such
strong houses as mine."
"Are they beautiful, too?" asked the Princess.
"I have no time to look after that," answered the stranger. "I build
more houses than any one else in the world; and still, there are people
who are waiting for houses to live in. I must build as fast as I can,
day after day, year after year."
"Then why are you not building houses now?" asked the Princess. The
great builder looked sorrowful.
"There is something wrong about my real houses, too," he confessed.
"The people who live in them are never quite contented; and I have come
away to think out a new plan by myself, so that the next houses I build
shall be the most wonderful houses in the world."
The Princess leaned her chin on her hand, and looked quite thoughtful
for a moment or two.
"May I come and help you to build real houses, for a change?" she said
presently. "I am dreadfully tired of building castles in the air that
do not turn out properly--though, of course, that was principally the
magician's fault! Still, if you were to show me the way, I might be
able to build something real that would turn out properly; and that
would be ever so much more amusing."
"It is not at all amusing," said the traveller, shaking his head. "You
would soon grow tired of it; besides, you would have no Prince to play
with."
"I don't think I want a Prince to play with," said the charming
Princess in the gold and silver frock. "He might turn out to be as
dull as my castle in the air, especially if the magician had anything
to do with it! I would much sooner come and help you to build real
houses."
The traveller in the dusty brown cloak still shook his head.
"Little ladies in gold and silver gowns can only build castles in the
air," he said.
"Do the people who live in your houses never build castles in the air?"
asked the Princess.
"I never thought of asking them," answered the great builder. "I have
been too much occupied in building their real houses."
"Then let us go and ask them now," said the Princess; and she came down
from her castle in the air, and stepped once more on to the dusty road,
and held out her little white hand to the traveller. Her castle in the
air vanished like a puff of smoke the moment she stepped out of it.
"What would be the use of that?" asked the traveller, smiling. He took
the little white hand, however, for no one could have refused that much
to such a very charming Princess.
"Why," said the Princess in the gold and silver frock, "then we could
make their real houses just like their castles in the air; and only
think how packed with happiness they would be!"
The traveller looked at her in amazement. It was certainly astonishing
that so great a builder as he should find out what was wrong with his
houses, from a Princess with a bright little crown on her head who had
never done anything but build castles in the air. Still, we must
remember that it all happened in Nonamia; and that accounts for a great
deal.
"You are quite right," said the traveller; "you know far more about it
than I do. You shall come and help me to build real houses, and they
shall be the most wonderful houses that have ever been built."
"All beautiful to look at, and packed with happiness inside!" cried the
dainty little Princess, clapping her hands for joy. "And we won't let
that stupid magician spoil our real houses, will we?"
The magician was looking out of his window at nothing at all, when they
came past his castle, hand in hand.
"We are going to build the most wonderful houses in the world," cried
the Princess,--"ever so much more wonderful than the stupid castle in
the air you gave _me_!"
This was not very gracious of her, for, after all, the magician had
given her exactly what she had built for herself. However, as he had
already forgotten both of them and could not think of anything to say,
and as they were in too great a hurry to stay and help him, there is
nothing more to be said about the magician, except that he is still
living in his castle in the air and looking out of his window at
nothing at all, which is a right and proper occupation for a magician
who is absent-minded. As for the traveller and the charming Princess,
they spent the rest of their days in building the most wonderful houses
in the world for the people who had nowhere to live. And as for the
people who had nowhere to live, it was only natural that they should
all find their way to the country called Nonamia, where a little lady
in a gold and silver gown taught them to build a castle in the air, and
a great builder in a dusty brown cloak made it into a real house that
was packed with happiness.
It is a little difficult to believe that this is all true; but then, it
must be remembered that it all happened in Nonamia, ever so long ago!
[Illustration: THE WYMPS SAY THAT QUEER BEGAN IT]
Why the Wymps Cried
The wymps and the fairies have never been able to agree. Nobody quite
knows why, though the Fairy Queen, who is the wisest person in the
whole world, was once heard to say that jealousy had something to do
with it. The fairies say, however, that they would never dream of
being jealous of people who live at the back of the sun and do not know
manners; while the wymps say it would be absurd to be jealous of any
one who lives at the front of the sun and cannot take a joke. All the
same, the Fairy Queen is always right, so somebody must certainly be
jealous of somebody; and it is well known that if the wymps and the
fairies are invited to the same party, it is sure to end in a quarrel.
It is really a wonder that the Fairy Queen has not lost patience with
the wymps long ago; but people say that she has more affection for her
naughty little subjects at the back of the sun than any one would
imagine; and the Fairy Queen is so wonderful that it is quite possible
to believe this.
Once, matters became so serious that there would have been a real war,
if the Queen had not called an assembly of her subjects on the
spot--which happened to be on the roof of a blacksmith's forge--and
asked them what the fuss was all about.
"Please, your Majesty," said one fairy, half crying, "the wymps shut me
up at the back of the sun for fifteen days, and they gave me nothing to
eat, your Majesty; they said that if I couldn't take a joke I couldn't
take anything. And I should never _wish_ to take one of their jokes,
please your Majesty."
"Do not trouble about that," said the Fairy Queen, gravely. "For my
part, I shall never expect you to take a joke from any one. Now,
Capricious, what have they done to you?" she added, as another fairy
with a round dimpled face came forward in a great hurry.
"Please, your Majesty," began Capricious, trying to make a very
cheerful voice sound extremely doleful, "I found a wymp in the nursery,
after the children had gone to bed; and he was quite upset because the
Wymp King had made a joke and no one could see it; and he asked me to
go behind the sun with him, so that I might help him to see the joke
that the King had made. But when I got there, your Majesty, I said it
was much too dark to see anything and I was not at all surprised that
no one could see the King's jokes; and the King was so angry that he
ordered me to be poked through the sun again; and here I am, please
your Majesty."
Her Majesty smiled approvingly.
"You have made a joke worth two of the Wymp King's," she said; "and I
shall appoint you as a reward to go to Wympland with a message from me.
Do not trouble to thank me," she added, as the round dimpled face of
Capricious grew a little crestfallen, "for there is no time. The sun
is just going to rise, and the moment it is above the horizon you must
go straight through it once more and tell the King that I invite him to
breakfast in Fairyland. And now I must be off, for I have a smile to
paint on the face of every child in the world before it wakes."
So the Fairy Queen flew away to paint a million or two of the most
beautiful smiles in the world; and the other fairies popped down
through the roof and did all the blacksmith's work for him and dropped
a nice dream on his pillow just to show they had been there; and
Capricious sat on the edge of the chimney-pot, until the sun came above
the horizon and it was time for her to take the Queen's message to
Wympland.
The Wymp King knew better than to refuse the Queen's invitation to
breakfast; so he yawned three hundred and fifty-four times, rubbed his
eyes to keep them open--for it is a well-known thing that the Wymp King
is nearly always asleep--and started off in the direction of Fairyland.
The Queen was as pleased to see him as if he had never been naughty at
all; but, of course, she was far too much of a Queen to let him guess
that he was really there to be scolded. So she made him sit next to
her at breakfast, and gave him a cup of stinging-nettle tea to keep him
awake, and allowed him to make as many jokes as he pleased. The Wymp
King, in consequence, was extremely happy; and when the meal was over
and the Queen began to look stern, he had to think very hard indeed
before he remembered that he was nothing but a naughty little wymp
after all.
"This state of things cannot go on," said the Fairy Queen. "What is
the use of my being a Queen if I am not to be obeyed?"
"Your Majesty's chief use is to look like a Queen and to forgive your
disobedient subjects," said the Wymp King, who had taken so much
stinging-nettle tea that he was almost bristling with jokes.
"Ah," sighed the Fairy Queen, looking sideways at the Wymp King, "it is
not at all easy to rule a country like mine."
"It is very fortunate for the country to be ruled by a Queen like you,"
said the Wymp King, who had not been so wide awake for a thousand years.
"Do you think so? Then Wympland shall have a Queen for a change, and
you shall stay here instead and take a holiday," said her Majesty,
promptly. The Wymp King saw that he was outwitted, but he would not
have been a wymp if he had lost his temper about it; so he chuckled
good-humouredly, and pretended not to see that he had really been
cheated of his kingdom and was nothing but a prisoner in Fairyland.
However, the Fairy Queen gave him very little time even to keep his
temper, for she turned him into a tortoise and sent him to sleep under
a flower-pot in the garden; and then she called for Capricious to come
and help her to choose a Queen for Wympland. Capricious put her round,
dimpled face on one side, and thought deeply for thirteen seconds and a
half.
"There is Molly, the shoemaker's daughter," said Capricious, when she
had finished thinking. "She is seven years old, and she is almost as
fond of sleeping as his Wympish Majesty. She would make an excellent
Queen for Wympland."
"I remember Molly," said the Fairy Queen, thoughtfully. "She has ruled
the shoemaker and the shoemaker's wife and the shoemaker's customers
for seven years and a half; doubtless, she will have no difficulty in
ruling Wympland. So let no time be lost, Capricious, and see that
Molly wakes up from her morning sleep and finds herself on the Wymp
King's throne. She will look after the wymps for a time, and I shall
have some peace. Besides," added the Fairy Queen with her wise smile,
"if the wymps can only be made to cry for once in their lives, we shall
probably have no more difficulty with them."
Capricious, who was just an ordinary little fairy and never thought
about anything much except singing and dancing, was quite unable to
understand the Queen's last remark.
"Shall I tell Molly what she is to do when she gets there, please your
Majesty?" she asked in rather a puzzled tone.
"Do?" said the Queen. "The rulers of Wympland never have to do
anything. If Molly will only keep her subjects amused, that is all
they will expect from her."
That was how it was settled, and that was how Molly woke up from her
morning sleep and found herself on the Wymp King's throne, with four
little wymps standing in a row just in front of her. Molly stared at
the throne on which she was sitting, stared around at the dimly lighted
Land of the Wymps, and stared at the four little wymps who stood and
laughed at her.
"Who are you?" she asked, opening her eyes as wide as she could. "Are
you live dolls, or fairies, or just other children for me to play with?"
The four wymps laughed more than ever when she said this, and began to
sing a funny little song all together, just to explain who they were.
This was the song:--
"We are Skilful and Wilful and Captious and Queer,
There 's nothing to fright you and nothing to fear!
Four little wymps at the back of the sun,
Brimful of wympery, rubbish, and fun!
"You 'll find we are wympish; but then, we 're not bores,
Though we own to a weakness for wiping off scores.
Ah! Skilful and Wilful and Captious and Queer
Are never far off when mischief is near!
"Of Kings we 've had many, but never a Queen;
So bewymping a monarch we 've surely not seen;
And--Skilful and Wilful and Captious and Queer
Though we are, yet we know how to welcome you here!
"You 'll surely bewymp all the wymps you come near
Besides Skilful and Wilful and Captious and Queer;
By the time you have gone and your wymping is done,
The world will have changed at the back of the sun."
"Are you really wymps?" exclaimed Molly, when the four little fellows
had finished explaining who they were; for, like every properly
educated child, Molly knew quite well that the wymps lived at the back
of the sun, although she had never been there before.
"To be sure we are," answered Skilful and Wilful and Captious and
Queer. "And you are our new Queen."
"Am I?" said Molly. "Oh, what fun!"
"Of course it's fun," said Skilful. "Everything is fun up here."
"Except the King's jokes," said Wilful.
"And the Fairy Queen's commands," said Captious.
"And the interference of the fairies," said Queer.
"How do the fairies interfere?" asked Molly.
"They come without being invited," said Skilful.
"They don't play fair," said Wilful.
"They always expect to win," said Captious.
"They cry for nothing at all," said Queer.
"I cry sometimes," observed Molly.
"When?" asked all four, in a tone of alarm.
"When I 'm hungry," said Molly, "or tired; or sometimes, when I tumble
down; or when I feel cross."
"You should never cry," said Skilful, in a superior tone. "It takes up
so much time, and when you 've done crying you 've got exactly the same
thing to cry about as before. If you are hungry, don't cry but get
something to eat."
"And if you 're tired, don't cry but go to sleep. Nothing could be
simpler," said Wilful.
"And if you tumble down, don't cry but pick yourself up again," said
Captious. "If you know how to tumble down properly, it is the best fun
in the world. We spend most of our time up here in learning new ways
of tumbling down."
"And if you are cross," added Queer; and then he stopped and looked
doubtfully at the other three. "What is she to do if she feels cross?"
he asked them. They shook their heads in reply.
"Nobody is ever cross in Wympland," they explained to Molly. "People
who know how to make jokes, really _good_ jokes, soon learn how to take
them as well, and then there is nothing left to be cross about. You
don't feel cross now, do you?"
Molly assured them that she did not feel in the least cross, and their
faces brightened again.
"Perhaps, if you will tell us when you begin to feel cross we shall be
able to do something for you," they said; "but, whatever you do, you
must not cry in Wympland. It is only the fairies who do that, and they
don't know any better. As long as the sun has had a country at the
back of it, no wymp has ever been known to cry. Now, let us go and
find somebody to tease!"
"I thought Queens could always do as they like," objected Molly, as
they took her two hands and made her jump down from the throne without
finding out whether she wished to come or not.
"Oh, no," said Skilful and Wilful and Captious and Queer. "You make a
great mistake. The King always does as he is told in Wympland. So
come along with us and see us tease somebody."
"I don't want to tease anybody," said Molly, decidedly. "I am going to
be a real Queen. Real Queens do just as they like; it is only Kings
who do as they are told. If you are not going to let me have my own
way I might just as well have stopped at home, instead of coming all
this way on purpose to be your Queen!"
The four little wymps looked very perplexed. "May she do as she
likes?" they asked one another, and shook their four little heads
doubtfully.
"She might order us about," said Skilful.
"Or laugh at us," said Wilful.
"Or expect us to obey her," said Captious.
But Queer turned three somersaults in the air, just to show that he did
not care a bit if they did not agree with him; and then he bowed to
Molly almost as gracefully as a fairy might have done at the front of
the sun.
"She is a real Queen," he said; "and real Queens must be obeyed."
And when Molly declared that she should probably cry if they did not
immediately allow her to have her own way, the other three wymps were
obliged to follow Queer's example.
"You are a real Queen, and you may do as you like," they said in a
resigned tone; and Molly clapped her hands with delight.
"Then please fetch me some plum-cake, and a large ice, and lots of
barley sugar; I am so hungry," she said. Immediately, everything she
asked for was lying before her on the King's throne, and they all sat
down and enjoyed such a dinner as only a wymp or a real Queen would
know how to appreciate. When they had finished, Molly said she should
like to see the rest of Wympland, for nobody at the front of the sun
had ever been able to tell her anything about it; so they led her all
over it, which did not take them longer than the rest of the afternoon,
for the world at the back of the sun is smaller than some people think,
and that is a very good thing, for after all it is better to live on
the right side of the sun if one is not a wymp.
"It is a very flat country," said the little Queen, as she trotted
along with two wymps on each side of her.
"It has to be flat," explained Skilful. "If it were tilted ever so
little we should roll into the sun and out at the other side, don't you
see; and no true wymp ever wants to do that."
"It is rather dark, too," continued the little Queen.
"Of course," said Wilful, proudly. "It is always the same here. Now,
when you get to the front of the sun you never know whether it is going
to be light or dark. There are no surprises of that sort at the back
of the sun."
"And where," asked Molly, "is the royal palace?"
"Wherever you like," answered Captious in an obliging tone. "Would you
like it here, or will you have it a little nearer the sun? Of course
it is warmer, near the sun, but you will find it much noisier because
the stars are so fond of chattering."
"I should like it here, please," said Molly, who did not want to wait
another minute for her palace. Hardly were her words spoken than a
perfectly charming little palace appeared in front of her, just large
enough for such a very small Queen to feel happy in. It was all made
of rainbows and starshine and dewdrops; every thing that is bright and
sweet-looking had helped to make her palace, and from the very middle
of it rose a tall, silvery bell-tower, from which peals of laughter
were ringing merrily.
"Oh, oh! how beautiful!" exclaimed Molly. "But how is it that my
palace is so bright while Wympland is so dull?"
"Ah," said Queer, softly; "we wished for the palace, you see, and the
things we wish for are never dull."
"It is a dream-palace," added Wilful; "and dreams are never dull
either."
"I hope it will not go away as my dreams do when I wake up in the
morning," said Molly.
"Oh, no," they assured her. "It cannot disappear until we wish it to
go away again; and that we shall never do as long as it induces you to
stay with us."
"Do you always wish for what you want?" asked Molly.
"Dear me, yes," said Captious. "What is the use of having a lot of
things lying about that you don't want? There is only just enough room
in Wympland for the things we do want, so we wish for them as we want
them, and that is much more convenient. You should try it."
"Everything you see here," added Skilful, "has been wished for, some
time or another. Neither Wympland, nor the wymps, nor our bewymping
little Queen would be here at all if somebody had not wished for them."
"And if we were all to wish hard at the same moment," said Wilful, "not
one of us would be left standing here, nor would there be any country
at all at the back of the sun."
"But we shall never wish that, now that we have a real Queen of our
own," said Queer.
Then, for the first time, Molly noticed that this strange little
country at the back of the sun had no people in it; for, ever since she
had waked up on the King's throne, she had seen no one except Skilful
and Wilful and Captious and Queer.
"Where are all the other wymps?" she cried.
"Ah," they said, mysteriously; "most people don't know it, but the
wymps go through the sun every morning and spend the day in making fun
for the people on the other side. That is how the people down in the
world are taught to laugh instead of to cry. There would be no
laughter at all at the front of the sun if it were not for the wymps."
"How strange!" said Molly. "I always thought it was wrong to make fun
of people."
"So it is," said Queer; "nobody but a bad wymp would do such a thing.
A true wymp makes fun _for_ people, and that is a very different thing."
"A _very_ different thing," echoed the other three. "We only make fun
of people who have never learnt how to laugh, and very difficult it is
to make them into fun at all. It's very poor fun when it is made,
too,--most of it," they added, sighing.
Molly was just going to ask them how they managed to make people into
fun at all, when a number of sounds like pistol-shots suddenly came
from the direction of the sun, and the four wymps grew wildly excited
and seized her by the hands and began to race over the ground with her
as fast as they could.
"The wymps have come home!" they gasped breathlessly. "If we make all
the haste we can, we shall be there in time to see them arrive."
It seemed to Molly that to run after her subjects was a curious thing
for a real Queen to do. However, she was far too much out of breath to
say anything, and the next moment they had reached the back of the sun;
and there were dozens of little wymps, all tumbling through it, one on
the top of the other, until they made a large heap of themselves at the
feet of their new little Queen.
"They are bidding you welcome," whispered Queer, as the heap remained
motionless at Molly's feet; and, except for the fact that a good many
shouts of laughter were coming from it, no one would have thought it
was made of wymps at all.
"Oh, please get up," implored their little Queen. "It is very nice of
you to be so glad to see me, but I am sure it must be very
uncomfortable to lie about on the floor like that."
Immediately, the heap dissolved itself into wymps again; and they
crowded round Molly, tumbling up against her so clumsily and chattering
and laughing so noisily, that she thought it was quite time to remind
them that she was a real Queen.
"Do you think you could make a little less noise?" she begged them. "I
don't like noise at all. If you will only try to speak one at a time,
I may be able to answer everybody."
The wymps were so amazed to hear that she did not like noise that they
became silent for a whole minute in order to think about it. "You
see," said Queer, apologetically, "we have never had a Queen before, so
we are not quite sure what she does like. Kings always like plenty of
noise; at least, it does not seem to wake them up, and that is the
great thing."
"Yes, that is it!" cried all the little wymps together. "We have never
had a Queen before, so we don't quite know how to treat her."
"Supposing," continued Queer, "that you were to tell us the kind of
things that a real Queen would like us to do?"
"Yes, yes!" shouted all the other wymps, gleefully. "Tell us what a
real Queen would like us to do!"
So Molly clambered up on the King's throne, and tried to look as much
like a Queen as a very little girl, in a very short frock and a very
pink pinafore, knows how to look; and the wymps stood in front of her,
closely packed together; and she began to tell them some of the things
that a real Queen would like them to do.
"First of all," said Molly, "a real Queen does n't like her toes
trodden on, and her pinafore crumpled, and her hair pulled. She does
n't like being screamed at, either; and she never allows herself to be
ordered about by any one. She likes to order other people about
instead, and she likes the other people to be very pleased when she
orders them about, and not to go slowly and look disagreeable and
grumble. She likes a new frock every Sunday, and a birthday every
month; and she always drinks milk for supper. It is supper time now,"
added the little Queen, beginning to yawn.
All the wymps at once hurled themselves helter-skelter through the sun
again, in search of milk for their new Queen's supper. But Queer ran
faster than any of them, and he took the very milk that Molly's own
mother had just milked into the pail for herself; and the strangest
thing of all was that, although the pail became empty before her eyes
and she had to go without any supper, Molly's mother was quite happy
after that and did not worry any more about her little girl who had so
strangely disappeared in the morning. That shows what the wymps can do
when they forget to be wympish. And Molly drank her milk and went to
sleep in her dream-palace, and was the happiest little Queen on either
side of the sun; and the wymps--well, it is impossible to describe what
the wymps felt like.
Molly was Queen of Wympland for a great many days, and there had never
reigned such peace at the back of the sun, nor in the whole world of
Fairyland either. It was so remarkable that the Fairy Queen sent for
Capricious, one day, and asked her why nobody had anything to grumble
about. Any one might have thought from the Fairy Queen's tone that she
was not particularly pleased at so much contentment, but of course that
could not possibly be the case.
"Please, your Majesty," said Capricious, who had been waiting anxiously
to be asked this very question for quite a long time, "it is because
the wymps are so much occupied in looking after their new Queen that
they have no time to play tricks on us."
"Ah," said her Majesty, smiling wisely, "does she seem happy at the
back of the sun?"
"Everybody is happy at the back of the sun, please your Majesty," said
Capricious. "They play games all day long to amuse their new Queen,
and they never quarrel except for the right to do things for her little
Majesty. If she stays there much longer it will soon be impossible to
distinguish a wymp from a fairy!"
"It is time she went home again," said the Fairy Queen, smiling wisely
for the second time. "How do the shoemaker and his wife get on without
her?"
"Their house is so quiet that the shoemaker has never made better
shoes," answered Capricious. "The shoemaker's wife, though, can do
nothing but sit out in the sunshine and wait, for she cannot bear the
silence indoors. Even wympcraft cannot make her forget everything,
your Majesty."
"Molly must certainly go home again," said the Fairy Queen; "and she
must go to-morrow morning."
Capricious sighed dismally.
"Must she really go, your Majesty?" she ventured to say; "and will the
wymps be free again to plague us with their tiresome wympish jokes?"
The Fairy Queen smiled wisely for the third time.
"Wait until to-morrow morning," she said. "You may have as good a joke
against the wymps as they have ever had against you."
That night, Molly had a dream straight from Fairyland which reminded
her that, although she had a whole palace of her own and quantities of
little subjects to do her bidding, she was really the daughter of the
shoemaker on the other side of the sun. So, when Skilful and Wilful
and Captious and Queer came to play with her in the morning, she told
them she could not be their Queen any longer, as it was time for her to
go back to the front of the sun. The four little fellows looked more
dismal than a wymp had ever been known to look before, and so did all
the wymps in Wympland as soon as they heard that their bewymping Queen
was going away from them.
"Can we do nothing to make you stop with us?" they asked her. "Have we
been too rough with you, after all? You must forgive us if we have,
for we are not accustomed to Queens, at the back of the sun. If we try
to be less noisy, will you not stay with us a little longer?"
"Dear little wymps," cried Molly; "you never tread on my toes now, nor
crumple my pinafore, nor pull my hair. I do not want to go away from
you, but it is time for me to go back to the other side of the sun.
Will you please show me how to get there, dear little wymps?"
When they saw that she was quite determined to go, they led her very
sadly to the back of the sun; and nobody made a single joke on the way,
and there was not a smile to be seen in the whole of that sad little
procession. There had never been so little laughter and so much
dolefulness in the Land of the Wymps.
"How am I to get through that?" asked Molly, rubbing the tears out of
her eyes and looking up at the back of the big round sun; "and shall I
tumble all the way down when I get to the other side?"
"It is quite easy," explained Skilful. "You have only to shut your
eyes and jump through it, and the sunbeams will catch you on the other
side; and you can slide down the one that shines into the shoemaker's
garden, where your mother sits watching for you."
Then Molly rubbed her eyes again, for there were still a great many
tears in them, and the more she rubbed them away the faster they came
again, until she was really afraid the wymps would see that she was
crying; and that would never do, for she felt quite sure that a real
Queen should never cry. So she kissed her hand to her sad little
subjects and promised to come back again some day; and then she shut
her eyes tight and jumped through the big round sun and slid down the
sunbeam that shone into the shoemaker's garden. And as she sped down
the shining, slippery sunbeam, she could hear Skilful and Wilful and
Captious and Queer in the distance, singing their funny little song
about her:--
"You have surely bewymped all the wymps you came near,
Besides Skilful and Wilful and Captious and Queer!
And now that you 've gone and your wymping is done,
The world has grown sad at the back of the sun."
Molly never knew what happened when they finished singing; but the
fairies knew, because they were hiding all round the edge of the sun at
the time. And it was the most remarkable thing that had ever happened
in Wympland.
The wymps say that Queer began it; and this is extremely likely, for
Queer was always a little different from the other wymps. Anyhow, they
very soon followed his example; and so it was that all the wymps at the
back of the sun sat down on the ground and cried, because their
bewymping little Queen was no longer with them. And all the fairies
who were hiding popped up their heads and peered over the edge of the
sun and stared in amazement at what was going on in Wympland.
So the Fairy Queen was right, as she always is, and the wymps were made
to cry for once in their lives; and the fairies have as good a joke
against the wymps as the wymps ever had against the fairies. Perhaps
that is why the wymps play so few tricks on the fairies, now; but the
Fairy Queen only smiles when people say that, so she probably knows
better.
[Illustration: SUNNY WAS SO ASTONISHED THAT SHE STOPPED CRYING AT ONCE]
The Story of Honey and Sunny
There was once a wonderful country in which everything was beautiful.
All the trees, and the flowers, and the birds, and the animals were
just as beautiful as could be imagined; and the shops, and the houses,
and the palaces were the same. Of course all the little girls and boys
were beautiful, too; but that is the same everywhere. Now, whether it
was because of the beauty of his kingdom, or whether it was merely on
account of his royal birth, it is impossible to say, but the King was
so extremely nervous that his life was no pleasure to him.
"I cannot bear anything noisy," he said. "Noise is so very alarming."
So when the baby Princess cried, he sent her away to another King's
country, to be brought up in a village nobody had ever heard of, so
that her royal father should not be disturbed. And when he heard that
the Queen, his wife, had gone after her, he hardly raised his royal
eyebrows. "She laughed too much," he observed, thoughtfully.
The palace grew quieter day by day. The ladies in waiting were
forbidden to wear high heels because they made such a clatter on the
marble floors; so everybody knew for the first time how short everybody
else was. Every courtier whose boots creaked was instantly banished,
and if he had a cough into the bargain he was beheaded as well; but the
climate was so delightful that this very rarely happened. In time,
everybody at court took to speaking in a whisper, in order to spare the
King's nerves; and it even became the fashion to talk as little as
possible. The King was immensely pleased at this. "Anybody can talk,"
he said; "but it is a sign of great refinement to be silent." After
that, even the ladies in waiting were sometimes silent for quite half
an hour. It is true that the King talked whenever he felt inclined,
but that, of course, was necessary.
The silence of the court soon spread over the country. Laws were made
to forbid the people to keep chickens, or pigs, or cows, or anything
that was noisy; and the children were ordered, by royal proclamation,
never to laugh, and never to cry, and never to quarrel, so that when
the King rode out from his palace not a sound should meet his ears.
But this was not all; for the birds were so frightened by the stillness
of everything that they stopped singing altogether, and the leaves on
the trees ceased to rustle when the wind blew; and even the frogs and
the toads were startled at the hoarseness of their own voices and did
not croak any more, which was the most remarkable thing that ever
happened, for it takes a very great deal to persuade a frog or a toad
that his voice is not charming. The only sound that broke the silence
was the occasional humming of bees, for the King still allowed the
people to keep bees if they liked. "Bees are not noisy," he said.
"They do not grunt, or bark, or croak. I can bear to listen to the
humming of bees." Even the bees did not hum so much as bees generally
do; for the sun soon found that nobody laughed when he was shining his
very best, so he went behind a cloud in a temper and stayed there for
years and years and years; and the bees could not do without sunshine,
even if the King could. So the country grew less beautiful and more
gloomy every year.