wish for that you will lose the rose.”
“And what is that?” asked Lilla, taking the rose which the fairy
offered her.
“You must never ask for soap bubbles.”
“Oh, soap bubbles? Of course, I shall not wish for them!” said Lilla.
“Whenever you want anything,” said the fairy, “just say:
“Rose, Rose, bring to me
Everything I wish to see.”
“You will be a princess as long as you keep the rose. But you must
never ask for soap bubbles. Good-by; now I must go back to my home.”
So the fairy went to Fairyland, and Lilla went home; but no one knew
her, because she was now a princess with long hair and a golden crown.
“I will go up to the castle on the hill,” thought Lilla; “princesses go
there to stay.”
At the castle they were expecting a princess, so they thought Lilla
must be the one who was coming, and they gave her a grand room, all
hung with velvet curtains, to sleep in. On the table was a silver box
which Lilla thought just right to keep her rose in.
“Now, I shall try what I can do with my rose,” thought Lilla. So she
thought of a box of toys, and said:
“Rose, Rose, bring to me
Everything I wish to see.”
Scarcely had she spoken when a maid came to say that a box had come for
her.
When the box was opened, Lilla saw so many pretty things that she
thought she would like a Christmas tree to hang them on, and again she
said:
“Rose, Rose, bring to me
Everything I wish to see.”
And in a few minutes a Christmas tree arrived hung all over with gold
and silver drops, and colored lights, and bonbons, and still more
bonbons, and gifts of all kinds.
The people at the castle had never seen such a beautiful Christmas
tree, and they were delighted with the gifts which Lilla divided among
them.
Day after day Lilla asked her rose for something new, and every day
more and more beautiful things came, till not only her own room, but
the whole castle was full of them.
She gave them away to every one, for she soon grew tired of them.
[Illustration: ON ONE OF THE FLOWERS WAS PERCHED A TINY FAIRY]
Every day she was trying to think of something she did not have, but at
last there seemed nothing left to wish for.
That was when she began to long for--soap bubbles, which were the only
things she must not have.
“But how beautiful thousands of soap bubbles would look, floating about
in the sunshine with rainbow colors upon them,” she thought.
She could think of nothing else, and grew quite sad because she could
not ask for soap bubbles.
So one day, she went into the garden, taking her rose with her. “Shall
I ask? or shall I not?” she kept thinking, but she could not make up
her mind.
So she counted on the buttons of her dress.
“Yes; no; yes; no; yes; no;
My mother told me to say--
Yes; no.”
“Oh, dear,” sighed Lilla, “I wanted it to come, ‘yes’--I am going to
ask for them!”
So she said the magic rhyme:
“Rose, Rose, bring to me
Everything I wish to see.”
But no soap bubbles came. She looked all around the garden, even up in
the branches of the trees, but no bubbles were to be seen.
Then she grew impatient; she took the rose, and said:
“Rose, Rose, bring to me
Everything I wish to see.”
Then suddenly the air was filled with soap bubbles; little ones, big
ones, floated all over the garden.
“Oh, aren’t they lovely!” cried Lilla, holding out her arms to catch
some; and then a bubble larger than the others opened, and closed
around the golden rose, and lifted it out of her hand, floated quickly
away with it, higher, higher, higher, until Lilla could no longer see
it.
She watched and watched until only two soap bubbles were to be seen;
then she sank on her knees, and stretched out her hands after them.
But it was too late; her rose was gone, the bubbles were gone, and she
was no longer a princess. Her hair was as short as it ever had been,
and her crown had disappeared.
It was of no use to return to the castle now, as the people would not
know her. Where should she go? What could she do? She was so worried
that she cried aloud, and you can imagine how glad she was to hear her
own mother’s voice saying:
“Lilla, dear, you must have fallen asleep. Come, wake up! Tell mother
about your dream.”
“Why, mother, it was just like a story,” said Lilla, sitting up and
rubbing her eyes.
Then she told her mother all about it.
“A very pretty story,” said her mother, “and one that shows you that
people who can have almost everything they wish for, are not really
happier than others. There is always something just out of their reach,
and that makes them discontented with what they have.”
“Yes, even soap bubbles,” said Lilla, laughing.
* * * * *
“That’s a good story--too good to be lost,” said the Story King, when
the Story Lady finished.
“Yes, but we have better, and you shall hear some of them to-morrow,”
said the Story Queen to Mary Frances, smiling graciously.
Then to the people she announced:
“There will be a reception in the court of honor this evening to our
visitor, Mary Frances, the finder of the lost story. As it is now dark,
let every one retire and prepare.”
Then all the people applauded, formed in line and marched out, each
bowing to the King, Queen and Mary Frances, who stood rather timidly in
her place with the Story Lady beside her.
After the others were gone, the Story Lady turned to her and said:
“The Queen has planned for you to be in my charge during your visit,
and all you wish to see or hear is at your command.”
“How kind, and how perfectly lovely!” exclaimed Mary Frances, clapping
her hands. “I couldn’t possibly wish for anything I would rather have
than to be with you!”
This pleased the Story Lady greatly, and she led the way to their
apartments.
I wish I had the time and space to tell you more about the wonderful
and delightful reception--how Mary Frances stood in line with the King
and Queen, and was introduced to all the people of the island as a
distinguished visitor whose deed would never be forgotten as long as
stories were told.
But if I were to relate all they said and did this book would not hold
one-quarter of the stories which the Story Lady had planned for Mary
Frances to hear.
The revels continued far into the night; and when at last they ended,
Mary Frances retired to her apartment, excited and happy. As the Story
Lady kissed her good-night, she said:
“To-morrow will be the first day.”
STORIES TOLD THE FIRST DAY
MISCHIEVOUS ANNA AND PETER.--DIAMONDS AND TOADS.--THE MAGIC
NECKLACE.--THE CAT AND THE CARROTS.--THE BRAHMIN, THE TIGER, AND
THE JACKAL.--THE RED DRAGON.--TWO POEMS.--TINY’S ADVENTURES IN
TINYTOWN.--MORE ADVENTURES.
STORIES TOLD THE FIRST DAY
XI
MISCHIEVOUS ANNA AND PETER
NOW, you must know that the Story People met at a certain hour every
day to hear and to tell stories, new and old; for, as you may well
believe, it is no small task to provide stories enough to feed the
story-hungry children of the world.
Accordingly, when all were assembled, the Story King in his place, and
Mary Frances in the seat of honor beside the Story Queen, the Story
Lady began to tell the story of Mischievous Anna and Peter.
* * * * *
Anna and Peter were always in mischief. One day they climbed to the top
of a high wall. It was a fairy wall, and it grew higher and higher,
until at last it went so high that they got frightened, for they did
not know how they should get down again. So they held tight by each
other and the wall, and began to cry.
But no one heard them. For they were far away from home; besides, they
were as high up in the air as the top of a mountain.
“Oh! oh! oh!” sobbed Anna.
“Oh! oh! oh!” sobbed Peter.
And their eyes were red and their faces quite wet and dirty.
“I shall fall,” said Peter.
“I can’t hold on much longer,” said Anna. And then they both sobbed
“Oh! oh! oh!” again.
Then they heard a voice saying, “Oh! oh! oh!” after them. Only it was
not any one crying, for the “oh! oh! oh!” had a very sweet sound.
They could not look round, for they dared not move their heads, and
they dared not look down for fear of getting dizzy. But the voice
seemed to be coming nearer. And so it was, for a fairy gate, with a
tree beside it, and a little bit of ground to stand upon, was shooting
up into the air just as the wall had done. And when it was as high as
the wall it stopped, and Peter and Anna saw that a boy was leaning
against the gate. He was playing on a whistle-pipe, and that made the
sound they had heard.
“I will play you a tune,” said the boy. And he played so softly and
sweetly that Peter and Anna left off crying.
“How did you come up?” asked Anna.
“On the gate,” said the boy.
“How are you going down?” asked Peter.
“On the gate, to be sure,” said the boy; “I have only to say--
“Gate, gate, let me go
Far down to the earth below.”
And as he said the words, down he went.
“Let us also try,” said Anna.
“Wall, wall, let us go
Far down to the earth below.”
Then down went the wall to the ground, and Peter and Anna slid off, and
stood staring at the boy, who was still playing on his pipe.
“What do you want most?” asked the boy. “My pipe will bring anything I
ask for.”
“A silk frock with a flounce and a sash, and a bonnet with blue
ribbons,” said Anna, who was fond of fine clothes.
“A new suit and pair of leather reins to play at horses with,” said
Peter.
The boy played a lively tune, and before Anna could say “ready,” she
found herself dressed in a fine new frock; while Peter had the reins
in his hands, and a new suit of clothes with a great frill and a round
hat.
[Illustration: THEY WERE AS HIGH UP IN THE AIR AS THE TOP OF A
MOUNTAIN]
Then the boy said “Good-by,” and Peter and Anna went towards home.
“I will go this way,” said Peter.
“I will go that,” said Anna.
So they parted.
Anna, as she walked along, heard little feet behind her; and when she
reached the steps leading to her home she looked round, and what was
her surprise when she saw a large mouse dressed like a lady, with a
parasol in its hand.
“I am the Countess Mouse
Coming to your house;
With you I’ll stay
Every day,”
said the mouse.
Now Anna was afraid of mice, and she said, “But I do not want you;
besides, we have a large cat that will eat you up.”
“No, it will not; I am a fairy mouse, and can eat up the cat if I
please.”
Anna was much frightened; this was truly a dreadful mouse.
“Go away! Oh, go away!” she said.
“No,” answered the mouse; “as long as you wear my clothes I shall stay
with you and take care of them.”
“They are not yours,” said Anna; “a boy with a whistle-pipe gave them
to me.”
“But he piped to me for them,” said the mouse; “I have wardrobes full
in my castle. You are quite welcome to them; but I must see that you do
not spoil them. I shall sit by you at dinner, and play with you, and
walk out with you, and sleep on your pillow at night.”
“Oh dear! oh dear!” said Anna; “I wish I had never asked for a silk
frock and bonnet.”
“Shall I take them back?”
“Oh yes! oh yes! please, Countess Mouse,
Take them all back to your house.”
“Well, as you have made a rhyme, I will do so,” said the mouse, and she
slapped Anna’s arm sharply with her parasol. Then Anna’s new clothes
fell off, and she found herself in her old cotton dress again. And the
mouse grew larger and larger, and ran away to her castle with the silk
frock and the grand bonnet.
Now while this was happening to Anna a queer-looking man in a peaked
hat and long overcoat said to Peter, “Shall I be your horse?”
“Yes,” said Peter. And the man took the reins, and they went along
merrily enough.
When they were close by his home, Peter said, “I am going in here.”
But the man said--
“No, no, you are going with me;
These are my reins, you cannot get free.”
“They cannot be yours,” said Peter; “a boy with a whistle-pipe gave
them to me.”
“Ah, but he got them from me! I am a saddler, and have hundreds of
them. And I want some little boys to help me to make more.”
“I don’t want to go,” said Peter.
But he could not loose the reins, and the man pulled him along faster
and faster.
“Oh! oh! oh! I should be glad
If these reins I hadn’t had,”
said Peter.
“As you have made a rhyme,” said the man, “I’ll take them back, and you
may go home.”
Then the man hit Peter sharply with one end of the reins, and his new
suit fell off, and he found himself in his old pinafore.
Then Peter went home and told Anna what had happened to him; and Anna
told Peter all about the mouse, and they both thought that they had had
a lucky escape.
Just then the boy with the pipe came down the street. And the pipe
played these words--
“Keep out of mischief; you never know
What may come to cause you woe;
What you may think is very good fun,
May give you trouble before you’ve done.”
Then the boy turned round the corner of the street, and Anna and Peter
never saw him again.
* * * * *
“My, but the mouse must have looked cunning!” Mary Frances said. “Thank
you for telling me that story. I--I wish----”
“Would you like to hear another--about Isabella and her cruel
stepsisters?” asked the Story Lady.
“I should love to hear it!” replied Mary Frances.
The story people smiled and nodded, and the Story Lady proceeded.
XII
DIAMONDS AND TOADS
ONCE upon a time there was a dear little girl named Isabella. She lived
with her father, and her stepmother, and her two stepsisters.
Isabella was a pretty child and had sweet manners. Her stepsisters were
not pretty, and they and their mother were jealous of Isabella.
They seldom spoke kindly to her; they made her do the hard work of the
home, and treated her in a harsh manner, very much as Cinderella’s
stepmother and stepsisters treated Cinderella.
One of her hard duties was to fetch the water for the household from
the well just outside the village.
It was quite a long walk to the well, and after Isabella had worked all
the morning, cooking, and washing the dishes, and washing and ironing,
or sweeping, she felt sometimes that she was too tired to go so far and
carry home such a heavy load.
One day after washing and ironing, she said, “I wish one of you girls
would go with me to the well to-day, and help me bring back the water.
I am so tired.”
“Indeed, they shall not!” exclaimed her stepmother angrily. “What do
you think--that my daughters shall wait on you?”
“I do not care to get tanned in the sun,” yawned one.
“I do not wish my hands to look as though I work,” said the other
haughtily.
So Isabella set out alone. She sat down to rest several times on her
way, but after a while she reached the well. It was an old-fashioned
affair, and had a moss-covered bucket on a long chain which wound on
a roller. It was not hard work to drop the bucket down the well, but
it was hard work to turn the handle of the roller until the dripping
bucket reached the top. It was still harder work to empty the bucket
into the pail she carried.
This day, when Isabella came to the well there was an old woman sitting
on the well-curb. She was a wretched-looking old woman. She wore an old
shawl about her head and shoulders.
When she saw Isabella she said, “Good-morrow, little maid.”
“Good morning,” said the little girl. “How do you do?”
“I should do very well, thank you,” said the old woman, “if I had a
drink of water.”
“That you shall soon have,” said Isabella, forgetting her own tiredness
because she felt sorry for her.
Isabella soon had the well bucket up, filled her pail, and then held it
so that the thirsty woman could drink out of the side. She drank long
and eagerly.
“Thank you,” she said at length. “Dear child, you will never be sorry
for your kindness;” and she rose and walked away.
Isabella threw away the rest of the water, and after refilling her
pail, set out for home.
When she reached the house, her stepmother said, “You are late! Where
have you been?”
Isabella opened her mouth to answer--and what do you think happened?
Out fell diamonds and roses.
Quickly the stepmother called her daughters and they began to sweep
them up.
“Where have you been?” cried the stepsisters. “What has happened to
you?”
Isabella tried to think what could have brought such a thing about, for
she was as much surprised as any of them, but she could not think of
anything unusual except the meeting with the old woman.
“Speak!” demanded her stepmother. “Are you trying to hide something
from us?”
[Illustration: SHE DRANK LONG AND EAGERLY]
Isabella said that she had met a strange old lady at the well, but that
she could not remember anything else that had not happened every time
she had gone for water.
Every once in a while as she was speaking diamonds and roses fell from
her mouth.
“You need not go for the water the next time,” said her stepmother. “I
shall send my own girls.”
The next day the two stepsisters went to fetch the water.
When they came to the well, there sat the old ragged woman on the curb.
“Good-morrow, young maidens,” said the old woman.
The stepsisters just stared at her.
“My, it is a warm day,” said the old woman, “and I am very thirsty.
Will you give me a drink of water?”
“Indeed, we will not!” said the older one haughtily.
“The very idea!” exclaimed the younger one, looking at the old woman’s
ragged clothes. “I should think not!”
Then they drew the water, all the time complaining and groaning about
the hard work.
When they started to go home, the old woman spoke.
“You are not kind,” she said, “you will be sorry.” But they only
laughed and hurried away.
Their mother met them at the door.
“Well, my dears,” she said, “how fared you? Did you meet any good
fortune?”
“All we saw was an old woman at the well--such a ragged, wretched old
thing she was, too!” answered one girl.
“And she wanted us to give her a drink of water. The idea!” the other
girl said at the same time.
With the last words, out of their mouths fell several snakes and toads,
which went scudding across the floor.
Their mother screamed and, gathering her skirts about her, jumped on a
chair.
“Oh, where have you been?” she cried. “What has happened to you?”
And when the girls told her that they did not know, more snakes and
toads fell from their mouths.
“This is an outrage!” exclaimed their mother. “Isabella has formed some
terrible plot against you. She is to blame! Go bring her here, and I
shall punish her. I shall whip her until she tells us the charm she has
found.”
The girls ran out, and soon came back dragging Isabella between them.
Just as they reached their mother a bright light appeared in the room,
and suddenly a beautiful fairy stood before them.
“Do not touch Isabella!” she said to the stepmother. “She is not in
the least to blame for your children’s misfortune. Their cruel fate is
their own fault. When I met Isabella at the well and asked her for a
drink of water, she gave it to me gladly and willingly, but when I met
your daughters and asked them for a drink they treated me proudly and
unkindly.”
“You!” exclaimed the stepmother, looking upon the radiant creature with
her shining fairy robes about her. “Met you, and would not give you a
drink of water!”
The fairy smiled. “Ah, yes; it was I, but I did not look then as I now
do. I was the ragged old woman at the well.”
“If they had known it was you--” said the stepmother.
“If they had known it was I,” the fairy said, “how could I have judged
whether they were kind of heart, and polite to old people, and helpful
to people in need?”
“When I met Isabella,” the fairy went on, “I looked just as when I met
your daughters, and she was very polite and kind to me, and gave me a
drink, holding the pail while I drank, even though she was very tired.
Because only polite and kind words came from her mouth, I gave her a
good fairy gift, and because only impolite and unkind words came from
the mouths of your daughters, I gave them another kind of gift.”
“Oh, please take back the one you gave them,” pleaded the mother.
“Do you mean Isabella’s gift, too?” asked the fairy.
“Oh, no,” the mother said. “Let her have her gift--but please, please
take away the awful gift of my daughters!”
“Let me see,” said the fairy, “what Isabella says about that. Shall I
take back the gift of your stepsisters, my dear?”
“Oh, please, please do!” cried Isabella. “I am so sorry that they are
unhappy.”
“Very well, then,” said the fairy. “For Isabella’s sake, I shall take
their gifts back, but only on one condition--that they promise to be
kind and polite from now on.”
“Oh, we promise! We promise!” cried both stepsisters at once.
“Unless you keep your promise,” said the fairy, “the snakes and toads
will come from your mouths again.” And the fairy disappeared as
suddenly as she had come.
But the snakes and toads did not come again, for the stepsisters and
their mother were very kind to every one ever after, and Isabella lived
a happy life from that day.
* * * * *
“They just had to keep their promise, didn’t they?” commented Mary
Frances. “I am glad they did, for I do not like people to break
promises.”
“Neither do I,” agreed the Story Lady; “and that reminds me of one of
our favorite stories--Coralie and the Magic Necklace.”
“Oh,” said Mary Frances, “but I like a story with magic in it.”
“Very well,” said the Story Lady, “I will tell you the story.”
XIII
THE MAGIC NECKLACE
ONCE there was a girl whose name was Coralie. She was a very pretty
girl, and very clever. She was so bright in her lessons at school that
all she needed to do was to read them over once, and she knew them.
She lived in a pretty home, and was a great pet. Her parents loved
her dearly, and although they were not well off, they gave Coralie
everything she wished for that they could afford. So, you see, she had
all the comforts of life, if not the luxuries.
You would think she would have been a very happy child, wouldn’t you?
Well, she would have been if she had not had one very dreadful fault.
Sometimes she told only half the truth; sometimes she told only quarter
the truth; sometimes she stretched the truth so far that she broke it.
Her parents did everything they could to cure her of her dreadful
fault, but everything failed. Even being in her room for a whole day
with only bread and butter and milk did not help her. At last they
became almost desperate.
One evening, after Coralie had gone to bed, her father said, “There is
only one thing left, I suppose. We must take Coralie to the magician,
Merlin.”
“Yes,” replied her mother with a sigh, “it is the only thing I can
think of. You need not go, dear husband, for it will mean the loss of
several days’ work. I will take her myself. We can start to-morrow
morning.”
So in the morning, her mother and Coralie set out on their journey.
Now, the enchanter, Merlin, knew untruthful people even a long way
off. He could tell them by their odor. So as Coralie and her mother
drew near his palace, which was built of frosted glass, he threw some
incense on the fire to keep himself from becoming ill.
At length, Coralie’s mother rang the door bell, and Merlin himself came
to the door. “Good afternoon,” he said.
“Good afternoon,” replied Coralie’s mother; “we have come a long
distance to see you, sir, because----”
Merlin raised his hand. “I know all about the reason,” he said. “You
have come to see me because you cannot make your daughter tell the
truth. She is one of the most untruthful children that ever lived. I
know, because her lies often make me ill. When I smelled her coming, I
had to burn incense;” and he frowned terribly.
You can imagine how this frightened Coralie. She hid behind her mother.
Her mother seemed frightened, too.
“Oh, sir,” she begged, “please deal as gently with her as you can. We
love her so dearly. We are so grieved that we cannot cure her our own
selves.”
“Do not fear,” answered the magician. “I am not going to hurt her. All
that I wish to do is to make her a present.”
So he invited them into the palace, and led the way to his workroom.
All the woodwork in the room was light green. The windows were studded
with red and blue and green jewels, and they threw rainbow colors on
the floor.
Merlin went to a golden table, and, opening a drawer, took out a
beautiful amethyst necklace, with a diamond clasp. He threw the
necklace around Coralie’s neck.
“That is all,” he said to her mother. “You may go. I am going to lend
my magic necklace of truth to Coralie. I shall come for it in one
year.” Then he turned to Coralie, and said, “Do not take it off. If
you do, great harm may come to you. Good-by,” and he clapped his hands
twice.
[Illustration: HE THREW THE NECKLACE AROUND CORALIE’S NECK]
Two slaves appeared, and after bowing before Merlin, showed Coralie and
her mother to the door.