speak."
There was no answer, but a sigh so sad that it went to the heart. She
hesitated no longer, but opened the door.
The draught of wind almost blew out her candle, but she put her hand
around it to shelter it, and by its light she saw leaning against the
doorway the same fairy she had seen in the forest.
The princess looked and wondered. "Why are you here?" she asked. "Did
you come to look for me?"
"Alas," sighed the fairy, "I would that I had never seen you."
"Why do you say that?" asked the princess.
"Because if I had not seen you weeping in the forest I would not have
broken the fairy laws, teaching you to mend your cloak with magic such
as fairies alone should use. It is for this that sorrow has come upon
me and I have been banished from the fairy court. Now I must journey
out in the huge rough world like an outcast, until I have accomplished
the task set me by the fairy queen for a punishment."
When Goldenhair heard this she was greatly troubled, for she felt that
she was indeed the cause of it all.
"What is this task they have set you?" she asked in a trembling voice.
"It is to weave a net of magic gold; the net in whose meshes alone can
be caught a wicked enchantress who has been haunting this forest. For a
long time she has been darkening it with her wicked spells and now upon
me has fallen the heavy task of ridding the forest of her."
"But is this magic gold so hard to find? You are a fairy and surely you
should know where to seek it."
"_Though I am as old as the oldest tree
Such gold I never yet did see._
Only this much I know for this the queen told me; it is gold--
_That lives and yet is not alive;
That comes neither from earth nor water;
Softer than silk and harder to weld than steel._"
"_Gold that lives and yet is not alive;
That comes neither from earth nor water;
Softer than silk but harder to weld than steel_"
the princess murmured softly to herself. Then suddenly she gave a
cry of joy. Setting down the candle, she slipped off her hood and
shook down her hair, so that it fell all about her, glittering in the
candle-light. "Is not this the magic gold?" she cried. "See! It lives
and yet it is not alive. It comes neither from the earth nor from the
water, and it is softer than silk and yet all the hammers in the world
could not weld one strand of it."
The fairy cried aloud in his wonder and admiration. "It is indeed the
magic gold."
"Then take it,--take it and weave your net," cried Goldenhair.
With hands that trembled with eagerness she drew from her pocket a pair
of golden scissors that had been her mother's. With these she clipped
strand after strand of the shiny locks, and they fell at the fairy's
feet; they lay there in a shining heap.
"Enough! enough!" he cried.
"Then, quick," said the princess, "let us begin to knot them into a
net."
"No need of that," answered the fairy. "There is a quicker way than
that." Drawing his fairy sword from its sheath, he struck it lightly
upon the shining locks.
"_Fold on fold,
Magic gold,
Into a net be knotted and rolled_,"
he cried. At his spell the silken locks began to twist themselves; they
rolled into strands and knotted together in meshes until they were a
golden net.
Suddenly the princess turned her head and looked behind her. She had
heard a sound at the scullery door. The next moment it was thrown open,
and there stood the stepmother, peering in with an evil look. Behind
her was the king.
"Look," cried the queen, pointing at Goldenhair. "Is it not just as I
told you? The girl knows that I hate the very sight of her hair, and
that I gave her a hood to wear that I might not see it; yet at every
chance she has she slips away to comb her locks and weave her wicked
spells."
"Do you indeed dare to weave your spells against the queen?" cried the
king angrily,--for he was under the enchantment of the wicked queen,
and he believed all that she wished him to.
Goldenhair began to weep. "Alas!" she sobbed, "I know no spells, and I
thought that if I came here to comb my hair she would never see it."
Suddenly the stepmother spied the scissors, which Goldenhair had let
fall upon the floor. Stooping, she snatched them up. "Since you will
heed nothing that I say, there is but one way left; your hair shall be
shorn close to your head, even to the last lock."
But at this moment the fairy stepped forward from the shadow in which
he had been standing. In the dark scullery he seemed to shine with
light. "There is no need of that," he cried. "I know you, wicked
enchantress; and the net has already been woven that shall break
your evil spells."
[Illustration]
The queen gave a hoarse cry and shrank back; but in a moment the fairy
had caught up the net from the floor and cast it over her. It was in
vain that she struggled; the net only drew closer and closer about her.
"Why, what is this?" cried the king, but the queen only croaked
hoarsely in reply.
The fairy drew his sword and pointed it at her. "By the power of the
magic net take your true shape, false queen," he cried. And then--it
was no longer a woman who struggled in the net, but only a great black
raven, with a curving beak and cruel, angry eyes. It struggled there a
while, and then flew out into the dark forest, dragging the net with
it, and croaking hoarsely as it went.
"Let her go," said the fairy, "for, whatever becomes of her, her power
has now gone forever."
Suddenly there was a soft strain of music, and the scullery was filled
with rosy light. "They are coming, are coming for me," cried the fairy,
and his face grew bright with joy. The next moment the fairy queen
stood beside him, and with her were a great crowd of attendant fairies.
The banished elf sank upon his knee before her, but she raised him
graciously.
"Your task has been well done," she said. "You have freed the forest
from the evil magic that has been haunting it, and now you shall return
to the fairy court; and not only this, but you shall be my favorite
page and follow in my train."
Once more the fairy knelt before her to kiss her hand.
The queen turned to Goldenhair. "And you, dear child," she said, "you
have suffered so much here,--leave it all. Come with us, and with one
touch of my wand you shall become a fairy too."
But at this the king started forward. With the breaking of the evil
spell all his former love for his little daughter had returned. "Do
not leave me, Goldenhair," he cried.
"No," said Goldenhair to the fairy, "he is my father, and I may not
leave him; he would be lonely without me, now that the queen has gone."
"Then, farewell," cried the fairies. "The forest calls us, and we have
already lingered too long. Farewell, farewell, Goldenhair." So saying,
they disappeared, the light and music fading with them.
They were never seen in the castle again; but often in the wood the
princess would come upon them dancing in their fairy rings, or hear
them call to her from flowers or clumps of fern, for they did not hide
from her as they do from others.
Time went on, and many kings and princes sought the hand of Goldenhair
in marriage; but she would have none of them.
At last the old king died, and then suddenly there appeared at the
court a tall and noble youth. All wondered at his beauty, but no one
but Goldenhair knew that it was the fairy of the wood, who had become a
mortal being for her sake.
She loved him and gave him her hand, and they were married; and after
that they ruled the kingdom together in great peace and happiness.
_Chapter Twelve_
_Home Again_
Ellen looked about her. She was still standing in the golden room of
the Queerbodies' house. Before her was the Fairy Tale, smiling down
into her face with shining eyes. There, too, were the gander and the
Queerbody.
"Is that the story?" the Queerbody asked.
Ellen clasped her hands. "Oh, yes," she cried, looking up into the
Fairy Tale's face. "I'm sure you're the one. There were Goldenhair and
the sooty hood and all. You 'll stay made up now, won't you?"
"Yes," answered the Story; "and more than that, I'm going back with you
too."
Ellen gave a little cry of delight. She took the Story's hand in hers,
and it was so smooth and white she laid her cheek against it, and then
kissed it softly.
"But how about the rhyme?" asked the gander.
"Oh, yes; I'd forgotten to ask for that." Then Ellen told the Queerbody
how she had promised Mother Goose that she would try to find a
forgotten rhyme for her. The child couldn't tell the Queerbody exactly
what the rhyme was, of course, because it was a forgotten one, but she
explained as well as she could.
The Queerbody seemed to know which one she meant. "Oh, yes, I can
easily make that over; but if I do, you must promise to remember it and
say it sometimes after you go back."
Ellen was very willing to promise.
Then the Queerbody bent over another jar and took out some wondercluff.
She patted and twisted and pulled, and then she set what she had made
upon the floor. It was a funny-looking little rhyme, with a brown
belted coat and a pointed cap, and a broad grin on its fat, round face.
"Quank! quank!" cried the gander. "There he is again."
The Rhyme blinked and looked about him, and then he spoke, still
grinning broadly.
"Hello! I guess I've been forgotten, haven't I? But somebody seems to
have brought me back. Well, there's the old gander, same as ever." He
ran over and caught hold of the gander's bridle. "Give me a ride?" he
asked.
"Yes, I'm going to carry you back with me."
"Oh, goody, goody!" And the Rhyme hopped up and down as though its toes
were made of rubber.
But Ellen looked anxious. "I wonder how we're all to get back," she
said, with a glance at the Fairy Tale. "I don't believe the gander can
carry us all."
"Oh, you're not going back with me," he answered. "The journey's too
long for that, and there's an easier way."
"Yes, a much easier way," chimed in the Queerbody. "Why, it's so easy
that sometimes I go home without even trying."
Ellen wondered. "Do you? And then you have to come all that long way to
get here again?"
"No, it's shorter when you know the way. Sometimes I get back in a
minute. But put your ear against the wall and listen."
Ellen put her ear against the golden wall. As she listened she gave
a little gasp of amazement, and yet what she heard was not so very
wonderful; it was only the voices of her mother and the seamstress
talking quietly together in the sewing-room.
Presently the voices grew fainter. Ellen leaned harder against the wall
to catch their tones. Then all in a moment the wall yielded to her
weight, just as a snowdrift might, and she fell through it.
[Illustration]
She put out her hands to save herself, and caught hold of something
hard and solid; it was the shelf of the bookcase. She was back in her
own familiar nursery. She looked about her. There was no sign of where
she had come through, no break in wall or ceiling. With a little cry
she leaned forward and thrust her hands back between the book-shelves.
They touched only the hard, cold wall. The vines were only painted on
the paper; they would not draw aside under her eager fingers.
As Ellen turned from the bookcase she saw the shape of the Fairy Tale
standing between her and the window. She was sure she saw it. It smiled
and waved its hand to her, and then it was gone like the fading of
one's breath upon the window-pane.
"Dear Fairy Tale, where are you?" cried Ellen; but there was no reply.
Ellen waited a moment. "Fairy Tale!" she whispered.
Still silence.
Opening the door into the entry, the little girl ran down to the
sewing-room as fast as she could. "Mamma, mamma!" she called.
She burst like a little whirlwind into the room where her mother
and the seamstress were quietly at work, and threw herself into
her mother's lap. "I've been having the queerest time," she cried
excitedly; "and you never could guess where I've been; never."
"Wait," said her mother; "you're tumbling my work. And how excited you
are, dear!"
She put aside her sewing, and took the little girl upon her lap. "Now,
what have you been doing?"
Breathlessly and with flushing cheeks Ellen told her mother all about
her journey and her strange adventures on her way to the Queerbodies'
house.
The mother listened and wondered. "That was a wonderful dream, indeed,"
she said.
"A dream! Why, it wasn't a dream, mamma. It really happened. And then
I saw the Fairy Tale after I came back. And then the Forgotten Story
itself; I couldn't have dreamed all that, you know."
"But, my dear, it couldn't have been anything but a dream."
"Well, wait. I'm going to go down and tell grandmamma about it; and if
it's the same story, then you know it _must_ be true."
"Very well; only go down quietly, for she may not have wakened from her
nap yet."
When Ellen peeped in through her grandmother's door, however, she
saw the old lady sitting over in her rocking-chair near the window,
knitting.
"May I come in?" she asked.
"Yes, yes, come in, little Clara. I was just wondering where you and
all the other children were."
The child drew up a little stool and sat down by her grandmother's
knee. "Granny," she said, trying to speak quietly, "I think I know what
happened to little Goldenhair now. Shall I tell you the story?"
"Yes, do, my dear."
So Ellen told her grandmother the story of Goldenhair.
The grandmother listened, smiling and nodding her head. After a while
she grew so interested that she pushed her glasses up on top of her
cap.
"Yes, yes, that is it. I didn't know anybody remembered that story any
more, but that is the way I heard it when I was a child."
"Then it's true," cried the child triumphantly; "and I really did find
the Queerbodies' house, and see them making stories."
"Ah, yes, I knew a Queerbody once, and she used to make
stories;--verses, too. She was a lovely girl. It was long ago."
"And did she tell you all about the Queerbodies' house and the golden
jars?"
But the grandmother shook her head. "It is a long time ago, and I
forget. I am so old--so old, little Clara."
"I knew it was n't a dream," murmured the child; and as she sat there
by her grandmother's knee she felt the Fairy Tale was there, smiling
gently upon them both, even though no one could see her.
* * * * *
By Katharine Pyle
THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL
AS THE GOOSE FLIES
NANCY RUTLEDGE
IN THE GREEN FOREST
WONDER TALES RETOLD
TALES OF FOLK AND FAIRIES
TALES OF WONDER AND MAGIC
FAIRY TALES FROM FAR AND NEAR
* * * * *