cottage beside it. Out from the cottage a funny little old woman came
with a face the colour of a russet apple; she curtseyed so low that her
chin seemed almost to touch the ground, and she wore a red cloak. In one
hand she carried a stick, and Mary wondered whether she was a witch. She
opened the gate, and stood bowing as Evangeline drove through it, and
when Mary looked back at her afterwards the little old woman was bowing
still.
Now, the road ran through a large park, and in the distance Mary saw a
great white house, a part of which shone very brightly in the sunshine.
'Is that the palace?' asked the child.
'Yes,' answered Sister Agatha, 'that is your fairy's palace.'
'Why does it shine so much?' asked Mary.
'Oh, that's to welcome the queen, you know!'
'What are those things?' exclaimed Mary the next minute; 'those funny
things with trees on their heads?'
'Those are deer,' said Evangeline.
'But that's what you call me!' cried Mary, with her eyes very widely
open.
'Well,' said Sister Agatha, 'you're a dear too, only a different kind of
dear.'
'I can't run so fast,' answered Mary. For as she spoke the deer began to
trot away, then they stopped again, and one that was bigger than the
rest stood in front whilst they all watched the carriage.
Several people stood at the door of the house, which seemed to be partly
built of glass. All the people were young like Evangeline, and they all
appeared pleased to see her. But Mary felt a little disappointed that
none of them took any notice of her, and very few spoke to Sister
Agatha, who took Mary's hand, and led her into the house. They passed
through a wide hall with animals' heads hanging on the walls, and there
was a large table with a green top and red and white balls on it.
'Where are their bodies?' asked Mary, as she walked upstairs with Sister
Agatha.
'Whose bodies?'
'Belonging to the great heads downstairs?' said Mary.
'Oh!' answered Sister Agatha, 'I daresay their bodies have been turned
into men.'
'I never heard of animals' bodies being turned into men before,' said
Mary. 'Did Evangeline do that?' she asked; but before Sister Agatha
answered she led Mary into a pretty room with two beds in it. And Mary
became so deeply interested in the room that she forgot all about the
animals' heads. She looked into each corner; she wanted to know which
bed she was to sleep in, and then she went to one of the three windows.
'Sister Agatha!' she exclaimed the next moment, 'Sister Agatha!'
'What is the matter now?' asked Sister Agatha, with a smile.
'Do come here!' cried Mary excitedly; 'do come here! Look!' she said,
pointing out at the window; 'there are two skies. This is a wonderful
place!'
'I only see one,' answered Sister Agatha, coming to her side.
'But look! there are two. There's one up above and another down there.'
'That is the sea,' said Sister Agatha. 'Haven't you seen the sea before?
But, of course, you have not. Yes,' said Sister Agatha quietly, as she
placed a hand on Mary's shoulder, 'the sea is very wonderful!'
'What is the sea?' asked Mary.
'A great, great piece of water----'
'The same as we drink?' asked Mary.
'It would not be at all nice to drink,' was the answer. 'It would taste
salt, you know.'
'Then what's the use of it if you can't drink it?' said Mary. Then she
suddenly began to jump about more excitedly than ever. 'Look! look!' she
cried. 'Look at that funny thing with smoke coming out of it! How fast
it goes! What is that?'
'That is a ship,' Sister Agatha explained. 'It takes people on long
journeys.'
'Where does it take them?' asked Mary.
'To countries a long way off.'
'Farther than we've come to-day?' cried Mary.
'Yes,' said Sister Agatha, 'a great deal farther--to countries where
there are all kinds of wonderful things to be seen.'
'Not more wonderful than there are here,' said Mary.
'No,' answered Sister Agatha; 'they only seem more wonderful because we
are not used to them. Everything is wonderful, you know; only we become
so accustomed to things we see every day that they don't seem wonderful
any longer. Now there's nothing more wonderful than a little girl,
unless it is a big girl.'
'Oh, I think there is!' said Mary. 'I think ships are much more
wonderful, and the sea, and the ponies, and primroses, and Evangeline,
and----'
'And tea!' exclaimed Sister Agatha. 'I am going to ring for it, and
then, when you have had tea, it will be time to go to bed. Now,' she
added, 'we will pull down the blind.'
IX
EVANGELINE GIVES MARY SOME MAGIC COUNTERS
Sister Agatha felt afraid that Mary would be too excited to go to sleep
that night, but as soon as her head touched the pillow she shut her
eyes, although she dreamed of all manner of strange things. When she
awoke the next morning Sister Agatha was already dressed, and as the
blinds had been drawn up, Mary slipped out of bed and limped to the
window.
Although her foot was a great deal better, she still walked as if she
was lame, and she soon grew tired. She limped to the window, and if the
sea had looked beautiful yesterday, it looked far more beautiful with
the morning sun shining on it. When Mary was dressed, Sister Agatha took
her downstairs to a smaller room, with open glass doors instead of
windows, and when she stepped through them she found herself in a lovely
garden. Some men who were digging in it touched their caps to Mary, and
she said--
'Good morning,' and felt that she was quite an important little person.
Then Sister Agatha called her into the room again, and they sat down to
breakfast. 'I wish I could go to the sea,' said Mary.
'So you shall,' answered Sister Agatha, 'but not this morning. I am
going to show you the park this morning.'
'This afternoon, then?'
'This afternoon there will be the Maypole,' said Sister Agatha.
'What's a Maypole?' asked Mary.
'I knew you would say that,' said Sister Agatha; 'but I am afraid you
must wait until you see it.'
'Where's Evangeline?' cried Mary presently. 'I wish she could have
breakfast with us!'
'The idea of such a thing,' was the answer. 'Evangeline has a great deal
to do and a lot of friends to entertain.'
'Does the prince live here?' asked Mary.
'He lives next door,' said Sister Agatha; 'only next door is a quarter
of a mile away.'
'How funny!' exclaimed Mary.
'And some day,' said Sister Agatha, 'he will go to live a long way off,
and Evangeline will go with him--that will be very soon now.'
'Will she take me?' asked Mary, looking a little anxious.
'No,' said Sister Agatha quietly; 'I don't think she will want either of
us, dear.'
'Shall I stay here?' asked Mary.
'No, you certainly can't stay here.'
'Then what shall I do?' cried Mary, putting out her lower lip, and
looking as if she were going to cry.
Sister Agatha passed her right hand over the little girl's brown hair,
and stared rather sadly into her face: 'I am sure I don't know what will
happen,' she answered. 'But come, we will put on our clothes and go into
the garden.'
When once they were out of the house, there were a great many things to
see. There were the chickens to begin with, dozens of them, and they all
came round Mary cackling so loudly that she could hardly hear herself
speak. Then she went into a field where there were a lot of sheep with
tiny frisking lambs, and into another field where six brown calves stood
close together by the gate, and would not move to let Sister Agatha pass
through. On the way home they went into a house built of glass. It felt
very hot, and there were ever so many bunches of grapes hanging from the
roof. And in the afternoon there was the Maypole. Mary stood in front of
the house a little way from Evangeline and the prince and the other
people, but they all seemed to be laughing and talking too much to look
at Mary.
She felt disappointed that Evangeline took no notice of her, and she
held Sister Agatha's hand more tightly. It was true that Sister Agatha
was not quite so pretty as Evangeline nor so young, and she always wore
the same dress, but still she was very nice for all that. Mary had
always felt she belonged to Evangeline, because it was Evangeline who
took her away from William Street. Besides, Sister Agatha seemed more
like an ordinary person, only nicer and kinder than any one Mary had
ever known, but Evangeline was not an ordinary person at all.
The Maypole stood before the door with a crown of flowers at the top,
and a lot of prettily dressed children around it. Each child held a
coloured ribbon in one hand, and they all sang as they danced round the
Maypole winding and unwinding the ribbons. Mary thought it was all very
nice, only she would have liked to hold one of the ribbons too, though
it was true she did not know much about dancing, even if her foot had
been quite well.
But the most delightful thing Mary had ever seen was the sea. It had
been surprising when she looked at it from the window, but when Sister
Agatha took her on to the beach, and her feet sank into the soft sand,
and there were so many nice wet things to pick up, Mary began to laugh
and to clap her hands for joy.
She liked to see the waves curling towards her, then to watch whilst
they changed from green to the purest white, and just when she thought
they were going to wet her shoes, they ran away again with a noise that
made Mary think they were laughing at her, as if they were only playing
and quite enjoying the game.
'There's another ship!' cried Mary. 'I wonder where it's going to?' she
said, looking up into Sister Agatha's face.
'A long, long way,' was the answer. 'To a place where the people are
different from us. They are all black, and they don't wear clothes.'
'What do they do when it's cold?' asked Mary.
'It's never cold in those countries,' said Sister Agatha. 'It is always
very hot--far hotter than it is here.'
'Oh, then that's fairy-land, too!' Mary exclaimed.
'Yes, every place is full of wonders, you know,' answered Sister Agatha.
'All except William Street,' said Mary, and Sister Agatha took her hand
and they walked slowly back to the house. The next day happened to be
wet, and during the afternoon Evangeline came to see Mary for the first
time since she left London. But when Mary had made up her mind for a
nice chat, or perhaps for a story, Sister Agatha gave her a picture-book
and told her to sit down.
'We have very serious matters to discuss,' she said, 'so you must keep
still and not speak a word.'
Mary opened the book, but her attention soon turned from the pictures to
Evangeline, who was sitting at a round table with a pencil in her hand
making figures. Presently Evangeline took a purse from her pocket, and
emptied it on to the table.
'I know what those are!' exclaimed Mary, unable to keep silent any
longer. 'They're the magic counters! I wish I might have one,' she said.
'What should you do with it?' asked Evangeline.
'I should give it to some one when I wanted anything done very much,'
said Mary.
'You may have one if you like,' answered Evangeline, and Mary eagerly
held forth her hand. That evening Sister Agatha gave her a purse to keep
her treasure in, but Mary was always taking it out to look at it and to
make sure it was safe.
She had never had anything in her life that she liked so much. It was
not only that it was bright and pretty to look at, but it made her feel
so much safer. If she wanted anything done--anything very important--she
could give some one the magic counter, and he would be sure to do it.
Not that there seemed anything that Mary wanted done very particularly,
only to see a little more of Evangeline. As it was, she saw hardly
anybody but Sister Agatha, of whom she grew fonder each day. The fact
was, they were all busily preparing for a great and important event, and
sometimes even Sister Agatha was too busy to give much time to Mary.
Mary would have liked to see more of Evangeline, but there was another
person whom she did not wish to see at all, and that was Mrs. Coppert.
She had made up her mind to keep her magic counter lest Mrs. Coppert
should ever try to take her back to William Street, then she would use
it to send Mrs. Coppert away again.
But although Mary had quite decided to keep the counter for the benefit
of Mrs. Coppert, she was tempted to change her mind one day. It was in
the afternoon; she was sitting by the window that opened on to the
garden, and being quite by herself she felt rather lonely. Then she saw
Evangeline pass the window.
'Please come in!' Mary cried. 'I'm all alone!' and, stepping into the
garden, she caught hold of Evangeline's dress.
'I'm afraid I haven't time to come in just now,' answered Evangeline,
standing outside the window.
'Do come in and tell me a story!' pleaded Mary.
'I will try to tell you a story to-morrow,' said Evangeline.
'No, to-day!' said Mary, and, as Evangeline shook her head, Mary
suddenly recollected her magic counter. She felt she wanted so much to
hear a story that she could not even save the magic counter for Mrs.
Coppert. So she put her hand in her pocket, and took out her purse, but
unfortunately she could not open it.
'I want you to open it,' said Mary, holding out the purse to Evangeline.
When the purse was opened Mary took it back, and she made up her mind
that she would not quite shut it another time. Then she managed to take
out the flat, round, yellow thing, which she placed in Evangeline's
hand.
'What is this for?' asked Evangeline, looking a good deal surprised.
'It's one of the magic counters, you know,' said Mary, 'and I want you
to tell me a story--a fairy story, please.'
Now as this was the first time she had used the magic counter, Mary felt
a little anxious to see how it would act, and at all events she hoped
Evangeline would give it back to her again, although she did not feel at
all sure about it. She was greatly relieved to see Evangeline smile and
look at the watch which she wore on her wrist.
'You can put this back in your purse again,' said Evangeline, and
entering the room she sat down and drew Mary to her side.
'You'll tell me the story all the same,' answered Mary, as she put the
magic counter back into her purse.
'Oh yes, I must, you see!' cried Evangeline with a laugh; 'only it will
have to be rather a short one. You said nothing about the length.'
'Not too short,' said Mary, 'and about fairies, please;' and then she
nestled snugly against Evangeline as she began the tale.
X
THE STORY OF THE PRINCE, THE BLUE-BIRD, AND THE CAGE
The Princess Fantosina had a very beautiful voice, and whilst walking in
the palace gardens one day in spring, she began to sing. She was about
to leave off singing and to re-enter the palace when she saw a
strange-looking, little, old woman.
'My dear,' said the little old woman, hobbling towards the Princess
Fantosina, 'I have not heard that song for two hundred years, and I
should like you to sing it again.'
'I will sing it again with pleasure,' answered the princess, and she
sang the song again from beginning to end.
'Now,' said the strange-looking little old woman, 'you have gratified me
very much by singing without being asked twice, and I should like to do
something to please you in return. Tell me what you would like to have
done.'
'I don't think there is anything, thank you,' said the Princess
Fantosina.
'There must be something,' was the answer, 'because the most contented
person in the world always wants something else. Now,' said the old
woman, 'how about a prince?'
'Oh!' cried Fantosina, smiling very brightly, 'my prince is on his way.
He lives a long distance off, but he has set forth on his journey to
fetch me. And though I have never seen him, I know he is very good and
very handsome, and that I shall love him very dearly.' Whilst Fantosina
was speaking a dove flew by. 'Oh!' she cried, 'how delightful it must be
to fly!'
'So you shall,' said the little old woman. 'How should you like to be
able to turn into a dove whenever you wished.'
'I should like it very much,' answered Fantosina, 'only a dove cannot
sing--it can only coo, you know.'
'Then,' said the old woman, 'you shall have the power to take the form
of a bird that sings more sweetly than the nightingale. It shall have a
bright blue body and scarlet wings, and the loveliest song in the world.
Now,' the little old woman continued, 'you must listen carefully to what
I am going to say. If you pluck a primrose and hold the petals to your
lips you will at once change into this bird, and a bird you will remain
until you fly to a cowslip field and take a portion of the flower in
your beak, then you will become a princess again just as you are now.'
With this the old woman hobbled away, and although the Princess
Fantosina called to her several times she did not even glance back. So
the princess returned to the palace wondering whether she should ever
find the courage to pluck a primrose. Ever since she had been a small
child she had thought how delightful it must be to fly through the air;
to rest on the topmost branch of a tree in the sunshine and sing and
sing to her heart's content.
And yet now Fantosina had the power to do what she had always longed to
do, she did not feel at all sure she should do it. The reason was, that
she feared lest any accident should prevent her from reaching a cowslip
field and so becoming a princess again. For although she thought it
would be very nice to be a bird for a few hours now and then, she would
have been sorry to remain a bird always, especially as the prince was on
his way to make her his bride.
But presently Fantosina went into the gardens again, and then she walked
to a meadow where the grass beside the hedges was yellow with primroses.
She looked around to make sure that nobody was in sight, and stooping
she plucked a primrose. She did not put it at once to her lips, but
carried it in her hand until she had crossed three fields and come to a
standstill by a cowslip bank.
Even now she felt a little afraid to put the primrose to her lips, but
the sun shone so brightly and the cloudless sky looked so blue, and she
thought how delightful it must be to soar in the air on such a glorious
day, and she told herself she would just change for a few minutes to see
how the charm acted.
So the Princess Fantosina held the primrose to her lips and breathed
upon its petals, and then there was no one standing on the cowslip bank
but only a small bird with a blue body and scarlet wings hopping about
the grass.
Fantosina could hardly believe at first that the bird was herself,
although she was able to think of things just the same as before. But
the first thing she thought of was, that it would be very pleasant to
fly from the ground to the top of the tall acacia tree which stood a few
yards from the bank. Only she might fly up there and be unable to come
down again, or she might become giddy and tumble before she reached a
bough. Still she began to move her wings, and then she felt the most
delightful sensation you can imagine. She did not seem to be doing
anything at all, and yet she was rising quickly through the air. It
seemed so enjoyable that, when she got to the tree, she did not like to
leave off flying, and instead of settling at once, she circled round and
round several times before she came to rest on the highest branch.
She was not in the least frightened or giddy now; she could see farther
than she had ever seen before, and everything looked very clear and
distinct. She looked in the direction from which her prince was to come,
but she could not see any sign of his arrival yet. Presently Fantosina
began to sing, and that seemed even pleasanter than flying. She sang so
loudly and so fast and enjoyed it so much, that it was later than she
had intended before she thought of descending from the acacia tree. But
at last she spread her scarlet wings, and dropped slowly to the grass;
then she hopped to the nearest cowslip, and no sooner touched it with
her beak than she became a princess again, just as she had been before.
From that day she never spent a morning without becoming a bird; she
would leave the palace when nobody saw her, pluck a primrose, and walk
or run to the cowslip bank. And gradually she grew bolder, and instead
of waiting until she reached the cowslips, she would hold the primrose
to her mouth at once, because she could fly to the other field much more
quickly than she could walk. She amused herself by flying to the palace
and singing outside her mother's window, and one day, after Fantosina
had become a princess again, the queen spoke about the wonderful bird.
'I have never listened to such a beautiful song,' she said. 'I hear it
every morning at the same hour. Have you heard it, Fantosina?'
Fantosina felt very much amused. 'Yes,' she answered, 'I heard it this
morning.'
'I heard it too!' cried Abdullah, Fantosina's younger brother. 'But
though I have looked for it I have not seen the bird yet.'
'It is the most beautiful bird in the world,' said Fantosina, trying not
to laugh. 'It has a blue body and bright red wings. I don't believe
there is another bird like it.'
Now Abdullah, being very fond of his sister, and seeing that she admired
the strange bird, made up his mind to catch it for her, but he did not
say anything of his intention, because he wanted to give Fantosina a
pleasant surprise. But the next morning he hid himself in the shrubbery,
and waited until he heard the bird's song; and peeping out he saw a
scarlet wing flash in the sunshine. That afternoon Abdullah prepared a
net, and the next morning again he hid in the same place. As soon as he
heard the song he peeped forth and saw a spot of blue against the green
leaves of an oak tree which grew close to the house, then he waited
until Fantosina thought it was time to come back to her proper shape. In
order to return to the cowslip bank she left the tree and flew along
just above the ground, and she had spread her wings and was enjoying
herself very greatly when she saw Abdullah running after her. And she
saw too that her brother carried a long stick in his hands, and at the
end of the stick was a large thin green net, the same as boys use to
catch butterflies.
Fantosina had never felt so frightened in her life. Suppose Abdullah
caught her before she could reach the cowslip bank! He might put her in
a cage, or he might kill her and have her stuffed! She thought how sad
it would be to have to spend her whole life in a cage, or to be put
under a glass case in the queen's drawing-room!
The worst of it was that she could not tell him who she really was. When
she tried to speak she could only sing, and it made her so nervous to
see Abdullah running just underneath her that she could not fly nearly
so fast as usual. But she did reach the sloping bank at last, and just
as she was going to seize a cowslip, Abdullah held out his net. This
alarmed her so much that she flew out of his reach to the top of the
acacia tree, and made up her mind to stay there until Abdullah went home
to luncheon.
She did not think he would stay where he was very long, because the king
was a punctual man and never liked any one to be late for meals; as it
was, he would be sure to miss his daughter, but he would never see her
again if once Abdullah got her into his net!
So Fantosina waited on the tree a long, long time, and at last she
thought Abdullah must have gone home, so she dropped to a lower branch,
and holding her little blue head on one side she looked carefully
around. There was no sign of her brother. He had evidently given up his
attempt to capture her for to-day, and she would take care he did not
have a chance again. She saw no sign of Abdullah, who was standing close
to the trunk of the acacia tree; but in order to be quite safe Fantosina
flew to a still lower branch, and holding her little blue head on one
side again she once more looked around. Suddenly she felt confused;
everything seemed to look dark and green as if she held a piece of
coloured glass before her eyes, and when she tried to fly to a lighter
place she knocked against a thin green wall. She tried to tear it with
her beak, she tried to scrape it with her claws, but it was of no use;
she could not escape do what she would; she felt she was being drawn
nearer and nearer to the grass, until at last she stood exactly on top
of a cowslip. Oh, if only she could get one of its petals in her beak!
the very tiniest morsel would do, but the horrid green net prevented
her, and then Abdullah put his hand round her and carried her home; and
Fantosina knew she should never become a princess again as long as she
lived.
'Look, look!' he cried, as he entered the palace. 'Look, Fantosina, I've
caught the bird! Give me a cage!'
'I wish,' said the king, 'that instead of catching birds you would
return in proper time for your meals.'
'I knew Fantosina wanted it,' answered Abdullah. 'Where is there a
cage?'