apple-pie."
But the brown potato replied, as cool as cool, "I am one of the
potatoes belonging to One-Eye, the potato-wife, and I turned the
apples out, that I might hide here a while. But this I must tell you,
my Wry-Face, unless you take me home immediately to the potato-wife,
here, in this pie-dish, I intend to remain."
"Alas," cried Wry-Face, "to-night I am so tired I could never find
One-Eye; but if you will but wait till to-morrow, I will carry you
home to the potato-wife--I will indeed!"
At first the potato would not agree to this at all, but after a while
it said, "Very well, I will wait till to-morrow. But remember, my
Wry-Face, if to-morrow you do not carry me home to One-Eye, I will
creep into every pie you make; and you will die at last of starvation
without a doubt!"
So Wry-Face stored the potato in the potato-bin, and he went
supperless to bed. And he knew nothing of the spell which Oh-I-Am had
placed by his door.
_The Lumpy Mattress_
Now he got into bed, and thought he would go to sleep; but, oh, how
hard the mattress was! Wry-Face lay this way, then that, but no
matter what way he lay, he found a great lump just beneath him which
was as hard as hard, and as nobbly as could be.
Wry-Face tossed and tossed till it was nearly morning; and his bones
were so sore that he could lie no longer.
Then he pulled the mattress from the bed and cut a great hole in it,
and when he had searched and searched he found in the middle of the
mattress--a big brown potato!
"This," cried Wry-Face, "is why I have not slept the whole night
through!" and he wept like anything.
But the potato was as cool as cool.
"I belong," it said, "to One-Eye, the potato-wife; and let me tell
you, my little gnome, unless you take me to her immediately, I shall
climb into your mattress again; and there I shall remain!"
"Alas," cried Wry-Face, "I have tossed about for hours and hours, and
am too tired to do anything. But if you will wait till to-morrow, dear
potato, I will carry you to One-Eye, the potato-wife--I will, indeed!"
At first the potato was unwilling to listen to this, but after a while
it said: "Very well, then, I will wait till the morning. But this much
I know, my Wry-Face, if you do not carry me then to One-Eye, the
potato-wife, I shall get into your mattress and roll again _every
night_!"
So Wry-Face put the potato in the bin. When he had done that he went
back to bed, and slept, and slept.
When the sun was shining he awakened, and he remembered that he had to
carry the potatoes back to One-Eye, the potato-wife; and he was as
cross as anything.
_The Fairy Sack of Pearls_
"Well, I suppose I must!" he said. And when he had had his breakfast,
he went to his cupboard to get a sack.
Then he found that his sack was full of pearls which he had gathered
together for Heigh-Heavy the Giant, whose daughter So-Small he wished
to marry.
So he thought, "First of all I will carry the pearls to Heigh-Heavy,
for that is more important." And away he went with the sack upon his
back. And he never saw the spell which Oh-I-Am had placed beside his
door.
When he reached the Most-Enormous-House of Heigh-Heavy the Giant,
there the giant was, sitting in his parlour lacing his shoes.
So Wry-Face cried out in a gay little voice, "Here I am, Heigh-Heavy,
here I am! And here is a bag of pearls which I have brought you in
exchange for your beautiful daughter So-Small!"
When Heigh-Heavy heard this, he stopped lacing his shoes, and he said,
"You must bring me in exchange for my daughter So-Small as many pearls
as will cover my palm."
Then Wry-Face skipped forward, and he tipped up the sack; and he shook
out all that it held into the hand of Heigh-Heavy the Giant, standing
high upon his toes.
Now all that it held was--one brown potato!
Wry-Face the gnome stared, and stared, and stared, his eyes growing
rounder and rounder; but he had no time to weep on account of
Heigh-Heavy the Giant who had fallen into a rage terrible to see.
"Now there is one thing quite certain," said Heigh-Heavy, "and that is
that you shall never marry my daughter So-Small; for, my Wry-Face, I
will turn you into a brown potato, and a brown potato you shall remain
your whole life through!"
When Wry-Face heard this terrible threat, he took to his heels, and
ran from the Most-Enormous-House of Heigh-Heavy the Giant. And he ran,
and ran, till his coat was torn and his ears were red. And he never
rested till he reached his cottage door, and got inside.
Heigh-Heavy laughed till he cried to see the little gnome run. "He
will play no tricks on _me_!" said he. And he went in and shut the
door.
But Wry-Face said to himself as, weeping, he carried the potatoes to
the potato-wife:
"I will never play a trick on _anyone_ again, not as long as I live!"
_The Pot of Gold_
HORACE E. SCUDDER
_Chrif begins the Search_
Once upon a time there stood by the roadside an old red house. In this
house lived three people. They were an old grandmother; her
grandchild, Rhoda; and a boy named Christopher. Christopher was no
relation to Rhoda and her grandmother. He was called Chrif for short.
The grandmother earned her living by picking berries. Every day in
fair weather she went to the pastures. But she did not take the
children with her. They played at home.
Rhoda had a flower garden in an old boat. The boat was filled with
earth. There grew larkspur and sweet-william. Rhoda loved her flowers
and tended them faithfully.
Chrif did not care much for flowers. He preferred to sail boats. He
would cut them out of wood with his jack-knife, and load them with
stones and grass. Then he would send the boats down the little stream
that flowed past the old red house.
"This ship is going to India," he would say to Rhoda. "She carries
gold and will bring back pearls and rice."
"How much you know, Chrif," said Rhoda.
"I mean to go to India some day," said Chrif. "People ride on
elephants there."
Rhoda would sail little twigs in the stream. Her boats were small, but
they sometimes went farther than Chrif's. His were loaded so heavily
that they often overturned.
One day the children were sailing boats when a thunder-storm arose.
How fast the rain fell! And how fast they ran to the house!
"Poor grandmother will be all wet!" said Rhoda. She and Chrif were
watching the falling rain from the window.
Suddenly the sun came out. A little rain was still falling, but the
children ran into the yard.
"Look, there's a rainbow!" cried Chrif. "What pretty colours! and how
ugly our old red house looks! I wish I were where the rainbow is."
"I see just the colour of my larkspur in the rainbow," said Rhoda.
"O pooh!" said Chrif, "only a flower! That's not much. Now if I were
only rich, I wouldn't stay here. I'd go off into the world. How grand
it must be over there beyond the rainbow."
"One end is quite near us," said Rhoda.
"Are ye looking for a pot of gold, children?" said a voice behind
them. It was the old broom-woman. She had a little house in the woods
and sold brooms for a living.
"A pot of gold!" cried Chrif. "Where is it?"
"It's at the foot of the rainbow," said the broom-woman. "If ye get to
the foot of the rainbow and then dig and dig, ye'll come to a pot of
gold."
"Rhoda! let's go quick!" said Chrif.
"No," said Rhoda, "I ought to weed my flowers."
"Ye must hurry," laughed the old broom-woman. "The rainbow won't stay
for lazy folks."
"I'm off!" cried Chrif; and away he went in search of the pot of gold.
Rhoda watched him out of sight. Then she turned to weed the
boat-garden.
When her grandmother came from the berry pasture, Rhoda told her where
Chrif had gone. "We shall all be rich when he comes back with his pot
of gold," said the little girl.
"He will not find it," said the grandmother. Rhoda, however, was not
so sure.
_Chrif in the New Land_
Chrif ran straight across the fields toward the glowing rainbow. One
end of the lovely arch seemed to touch the top of a distant hill.
Chrif climbed the hill, but the rainbow was no longer there. It rested
on the far side of a valley. He hurried down the hill and into the
valley. When he reached the spot where the end of the rainbow had
rested, the rainbow was gone. Chrif could see it nowhere.
The lad stopped and looked around him. Not far away a flock of sheep
were feeding. A shepherd-boy lay on the ground near them. He was
reading a book.
Chrif crept to the shepherd-boy's side and read over his shoulder.
This is what he read: "Beyond the setting of the sun lies the New
Land. Here are mountains, forests, and mighty rivers. The sands of the
streams are golden; the trees grow wonderful fruit; the mountains hide
strange monsters. Upon a high pillar near the coast is the famous pot
of gold."
"Oh, where is this country?" cried Chrif.
"Will you go?" asked Gavin, the shepherd-boy.
"Go! That I will," said Chrif. "The pot of gold is there, and that is
what I have set out to find."
"Yes," said Gavin, "the pot of gold is there and many other things. I
long to see them all. Let us hurry on our way."
The two boys first went through a forest. Then they came out upon the
ocean side. The sun was setting in the sea. A path of gold lay across
the water.
A gay ship was about to set sail. Her white canvas was spread; her
oars were in place. Her deck was crowded with lads. They were all
starting for the wonderful New Land across the sea.
Chrif and Gavin climbed on board and the ship bounded from the land.
On and on they went, straight into the sunset. The rowers sang as they
worked. Gavin tried to read his book, but Chrif looked eagerly ahead.
How he longed to see the new country to which they were going!
And very soon the New Land came in sight. Then a party landed; Chrif,
Gavin, and a boy named Andy were among them.
They walked some distance and then night darkened down around them.
The mountains looked cruel; the fields barren. "Let us return to the
ship," said many.
But Chrif would not turn back. "I must find the pot of gold," he said,
"it cannot now be far away." And Gavin and Andy went with him.
"I should like to dip my fingers into your pot of gold," said Andy.
"You shall have your share," said Chrif. "It is on the top of a pillar
not far from the coast. If you'll stand below, I'll get on your
shoulders, and then perhaps I can reach it."
"Only don't let it drop on my head," said Andy, with a laugh.
They walked along the shore in silence. After a time Chrif cried out
with joy, "Here is a path leading into the woods. And I do believe I
see the pillar!"
"Hurrah!" cried Andy, "let's push on!"
And now the three stood at the foot of the pillar and looked up to the
top. By the faint light of the moon they saw the pot of gold.
"Climb on Andy's shoulders, Gavin, and then I will stand on yours,"
said Chrif.
"I don't want the pot of gold," said Gavin. "I have seen it; that is
enough. I will go to see the Magic Fountain," and Gavin turned into
the forest.
The other two friends stood by the pillar. "I must have that pot of
gold. I want it for Rhoda and the old grandmother."
As Chrif spoke, he looked at the pillar. Lo! a picture was on its
side. He saw the old red house, the grandmother at the window, and
Rhoda in the garden. Rhoda was watering the flowers in the dear old
boat. Now and then she would turn her head and look up the road. She
seemed hoping that Chrif would come.
The pillar and the pot of gold faded away; then the picture of home
went too. Chrif was left in darkness.
Then Andy spoke. "Hark!" he whispered, "I hear something."
_Chrif at the Palace_
Chrif listened and he too heard distant music. Its notes were very
sweet.
"Come, let us go where the music is!" said Andy.
Chrif and Andy made their way through the woods and entered a shining
city. Every street was blazing with lights; the fronts of the houses
were hung with lanterns; fireworks were being set off in the public
squares. All the people wore their finest clothes.
"How gay they all are! I wonder why?" said Andy.
"Hush!" cried Chrif.
A man on a prancing horse had just come in sight. He reined in his
horse and blew a horn. Then he cried with a loud voice these words:
"This night there is a ball in the palace. All are welcome. The Pot
of Gold will be given to the one with whom the Princess shall dance."
"Hurrah!" cried the people. "Hurrah! hurrah!" cried Chrif, louder than
them all.
When Chrif and Andy entered the palace, they saw the Princess upon her
throne. Dancing was going on, but the Princess did not dance. She was
waiting for the handsomest dancer. All who thought themselves
good-looking stood in a row not far from the Princess. Each lad was
trying to look handsomer than the others in the line.
Over the throne was a pearl clock. It was that kind of clock called a
cuckoo clock. When the hours struck, a golden cuckoo would come out of
a little door. He would cuckoo as many times as there were hours and
then go back, shutting the door after him.
When Chrif and Andy entered the hall, the Princess saw them at once.
"Those two are the handsomest of all," she thought, "and one of them
is handsomer than the other."
She looked at Chrif again. Then she stepped down from the throne.
"Dance with me," she said, "and you shall have the pot of gold," and
she held out her hand to Chrif.
"What was I to do with it?" asked Chrif. "Oh, I know. I was to take it
home to Rhoda."
That moment the little bird burst open the pearl door. "Cuckoo!
cuckoo! cuckoo!" he cried.
But to Chrif he seemed to say: "Rhoda sits by the window watching for
Chrif. The flowers are dead in the boat-garden. 'Chrif will never come
back,' says grandmother, 'he cares nothing for us.'"
Again Chrif saw the beautiful hall and the Princess standing before
him. Then, suddenly, the music grew harsh; the palace walls fell; the
dancers were gone. Chrif was all alone.
_Chrif and his Books_
When day dawned, Chrif was walking over a wide plain. On the far side
of the plain stood a ruined house. Between a row of poplar-trees a
path led to the door.
Chrif knocked, but no one came. Then he pushed open the door and
entered. An old man sat at a table. The table was covered with great
books and many papers. Overhead a lamp burned dimly.
The old man was bent over the books. He seemed to study busily, but
when Chrif went near, he saw that the old man was dead.
There were two doors to this room. One was the door by which Chrif had
entered. The other was opposite. This door was of stone. On it was
written: "Behind this door is the Pot of Gold. To open you must first
read the words written below."
The words written below were strange; the letters too were strange.
"These books may help me read the writing," thought Chrif. "This old
man has spent his life in the search. Shall I be more successful I
wonder?"
Then he buried the old man, lighted the lamp, and read the books.
Weeks passed and even months. Chrif ate little and slept less.
At last, one day, he lifted a shining face. "I have found the secret!"
he cried, "the letters are plain."
Then stepping to the door, he read: "Knock and this door will open."
Chrif knocked once, and the door flew open. One shining spot he saw in
the darkness. It was the pot of gold.
Chrif put out his hand to take it, when lo! burning words shone on its
side. And Chrif read:
"I am the Pot of Gold; I can give thee all things save one. If thou
hast me, thou canst not have that. Close thine eyes. Then, if thou
choosest me, open them again."
Chrif closed his eyes. He saw the old red house dark and cold. No one
lived there now. The boat-garden was hidden under the snow. Someone in
white passed him by. She was weeping bitterly. "Rhoda!" he cried and
followed in her steps.
Suddenly a warm hand fell upon his shoulder.
"Chrif, dear Chrif!"
He opened his eyes, and O joy! Rhoda stood beside him.
_Chrif's Return_
"I have come to look for you," said Rhoda. "Why, Chrif, you have been
gone three years!"
"Three years!" gasped Chrif.
"When grandmother died, last winter, I was so lonely, I said, 'When
spring comes I will find Chrif.'"
"Grandmother dead! Why, it was but yesterday that I left home!"
"Ah, no," answered Rhoda. And she looked at Chrif and smiled.
And so they came again to the old red house. There was the dear old
boat-garden. Sweet-peas were in bloom and morning-glories climbed up
the side of the house. It was very pleasant.
As they stood by the boat-garden, a voice called to them. The old
broom-woman stood in the road.
"Have ye found the pot of gold?" she asked.
"No; but I have found something else far better!" said Chrif, "I have
found home."
_The Frog-Tsarevna_[16]
R. NESBIT BAIN
In a certain kingdom, in a certain Empire, there lived a Tsar with his
Tsaritsa, and he had three sons, all of them young, valiant, and
unwedded, the like of whom is not to be told in tales nor written by
pens, and the youngest of them was called the Tsarevich Ivan.
[Footnote 16: From _Russian Fairy Tales_ [Adapted]. (London: George G.
Harrap and Company.)]
And the Tsar spoke these words to them: "My dear children, take unto
you your darts, gird on your well-spanned bows, and go hence in
different directions, and in whatsoever courts your arrows fall, there
choose ye your brides!"
The elder brother discharged his arrow and it fell into a boyar's[17]
court, right in front of the terem[18] of the maidens. The second
brother discharged his arrow and it flew into the court of a merchant
and remained sticking in a beautiful balcony, and on this balcony was
standing a lovely young maiden soul, the merchant's daughter. The
youngest brother discharged his arrow, and the arrow fell into a
muddy swamp, and a quacking-frog seized hold of it.
[Footnote 17: Nobleman.]
[Footnote 18: The women's apartments.]
The Tsarevich Ivan said to his father: "How can I ever take this
quacker to wife? A quacker is not my equal!"
"Take her!" replied his father, "'tis thy fate to have her!"
So the Tsareviches all got married--the eldest to the boyar's
daughter, the second to the merchant's daughter, and the youngest to
the quacking-frog. And the Tsar called them to him and said: "Let your
wives, to-morrow morning, bake me soft white bread."
Ivan returned home, and he was not happy, and his impetuous head hung
down lower than his shoulders. "_Qua! qua!_ Ivan Tsarevich! wherefore
art thou so sad?" asked the Frog. "Or hast thou heard unpleasant words
from thy father the Tsar?"
"Why should I not be sad? My father and sovereign lord hath commanded
thee to bake soft white bread to-morrow."
"Do not afflict thyself, O Tsarevich! lie down and rest. The morning
is wiser than the evening."
She made the Tsarevich lie down and rest, then, casting her frog-skin,
she turned into a maiden soul, went out upon her beautiful balcony,
and cried with a piercing voice: "Nurseys--nurseys! assemble, set to
work and make me soft white bread such as I myself used to eat at my
dear father's!"
In the morning Ivan awoke. The frog had got the bread ready long ago,
and it was so splendid that the like of it is neither to be imagined
nor guessed at, but is only to be told of in tales. The loaves were
adorned with various cunning devices, royal cities were modelled on
the sides thereof, with moats and ditches.
The Tsar praised Ivan greatly because of his bread, and gave this
command to his three sons: "Let your wives weave me a carpet in a
single night."
Ivan returned home, and he was sad, and his impetuous head hung lower
than his shoulders. "_Qua! qua!_ Tsarevich Ivan! wherefore art thou so
sad? Or hast thou heard cruel, unfriendly words from thy father the
Tsar?"
"Have I not cause to grieve? My father and sovereign lord commands
thee to weave him a silk carpet in a single night!"
"Fret not, Tsarevich! come, lay thee down and sleep. The morning is
wiser than the evening!" Then she made him lie down to sleep, and
turning into the lovely maiden went forth upon her beautiful balcony,
and cried with a piercing voice: "Nurseys--nurseys! assemble, set to
work and weave me a silk carpet such as I was wont to sit upon at my
dear father's!"
No sooner said than done. In the morning Ivan woke, and the frog had
had the carpet ready long ago, and it was such a wondrous carpet that
the like of it can only be told in tales, but may neither be imagined
nor guessed at. The carpet was adorned with gold and silver and with
divers bright embroiderings.
The Tsar greatly praised Ivan for his carpet, and there and then gave
the new command that all three Tsareviches were to appear before him
on the morrow to be inspected together with their wives.
Again Ivan returned home and he was not happy, and his impetuous head
hung lower than his shoulders.
"_Qua! qua!_ Tsarevich Ivan! wherefore art thou grieved? Or hast thou
heard words unkind from thy father the Tsar?"
"Have I not cause to be sad? My father and sovereign lord has
commanded me to appear before him with thee to-morrow! How can I show
thee to people?"
"Fret not, Tsarevich! Go alone to the Tsar and pay thy visit, and I
will come after thee. The moment you hear a rumbling, and a knocking,
say: 'Hither comes my dear little Froggy in her little basket!'"
And behold! the elder brothers appeared, to be inspected with their
richly attired and splendidly adorned consorts. There they stood and
laughed at the Tsarevich Ivan and said: "Why, brother! Why hast thou
come hither without thy wife? Why, thou mightest have brought her with
thee in a kitchen clout. And where didst thou pick up such a beauty? I
suppose thou didst search through all the swamps fairly?"
Suddenly there was a great rumbling and knocking, the whole palace
shook. The guests were all terribly frightened and rushed from their
places, and knew not what to do; but Ivan said: "Fear not, 'tis only
my little Froggy coming in her little basket!"
And then a golden coach drawn by six horses flew up the steps of the
Tsar's balcony, and out of it stepped such a beauty as is only to be
told of in tales, but can neither be imagined nor guessed at. Ivan
took her by the hand and led her behind the oaken table, behind the
embroidered tablecloth. The guests began to eat and drink and make
merry.
The lovely Tsarevna drank wine, but the dregs of her cup she poured
behind her left sleeve; she ate also of the roast swan, but the bones
thereof she concealed behind her right sleeve.
The wives of the elder brothers watched these devices, and took care
to do the same.
Afterward, when Tsarevna began dancing with Ivan, she waved her left
hand and a lake appeared; she waved her right hand and white swans
were swimming in the water.
The Tsar and his guests were astonished.
And now the elder brides began dancing. They waved their left hands
and all the guests were squirted with water; they waved their right
hands and the bones flew right into the Tsar's eyes. The Tsar was
wroth, and drove them from court with dishonour.
Now one day the Tsarevich waited his opportunity, ran off home, found
the frog-skin and threw it into a great fire. Soon the Tsarevna missed
her frog-skin, was sore troubled, fell a-weeping, and said to the
Tsarevich: "Alas! Tsarevich Ivan! what hast thou done? If thou hadst
but waited for a little, I should have been thine for ever more, but
now farewell! Seek for me beyond lands thrice-nine, in the Empire of
Thrice-ten, at the house of Koshchei."[19] Then she turned into a
white swan and flew out of the window.
[Footnote 19: Koshchei Bezsmertny, the deathless skeleton.]
Ivan wept bitterly, turned to all four points of the compass and
prayed to God, and went straight before his eyes. He went on and
on,--whether it was near or far, or long or short, matters not; when
there met him an old, old man. "Hail, good youth!" said he, "what dost
thou seek, and whither art thou going?"
The Tsarevich told him all his misfortune. "Alas! Tsarevich Ivan, why
didst thou burn that frog-skin? Thou didst not make, nor shouldst thou
therefore have done away with it. Vasilisa, thy wife, was born wiser
and more cunning than her father; he was therefore angry with her, and
bade her be a frog for three years. Here is a little ball for thee,
follow it whithersoever it rolls."
Ivan thanked the old man, and followed after the ball. He went along
the open plain, and there met him a bear. "Come now!" thought Ivan, "I
will slay this beast." But the bear implored him: "Slay me not,
Tsarevich Ivan, I may perchance be of service to thee somehow."
He went on farther, and lo! behind them came waddling a duck. The
Tsarevich bent his bow; he would have shot the bird, when suddenly she
greeted him with a human voice: "Slay me not, Ivan Tsarevich! I also
will befriend thee!"