Peter-Wise was a clever young peasant who lived in a little village that
looked like a dimple in the hillside. He owned fifty mooing cows, one
hundred baaing sheep, forty grunting pigs, two hundred clacking
fowls—and a bellowing bull. And he prophesied that in ten years’ time he
would have doubled these numbers. But with all this wealth, Peter-Wise
lacked the most important creature of all—a wife. Without a wife, what
is the use of fifty cows, one hundred sheep, forty pigs, two hundred
fowls—and a bull?
Now Peter-Wise declared that he would not marry a maiden who was less
than seventeen or more than twenty-two years old, and in the village
there were only six girls between these ages who were not already
betrothed or wed. Of these six, therefore—all of whom, being brought up
on cream and honey and wheaten bread and saffron cake and wild
strawberries, were bonny and plump and fair to see—Peter-Wise decided to
choose the cleverest, who, nevertheless, must be just the least bit less
clever than he was. So, to discover which was the cleverest, for, busy
man that he was with his cows and his sheep and his pigs and his
fowls—and his bull, he had not the time to woo each separately, he
resolved to set them three tasks: one to try their fingers; one to try
their brains; one to try their imaginations; and to marry her who
succeeded best in the three.
[Illustration: “I WILL MARRY WHICHEVER OF YOU CAN PERFORM THREE TASKS”]
So Peter-Wise summoned Mary and Sally and Polly and Minnie and Lucy, and
Theophania, called Tiffany for short—these were the names of the
girls—and said to them:
“Children, I will marry whichever of you can perform to the best
advantage these three tasks: first, to darn a hole in the heel of a
sock; secondly, to open, without touching the keyhole, the big barn door
which is always locked; thirdly, to catch the moon and put it into a
wash-tub.”
Mary and Sally and Polly and Minnie and Lucy said:
“Oh, the sock is easy enough, but the door and the moon——”
Theophania, called Tiffany for short, said: “The door and the moon
should be easy enough, but the sock——”
The three trials were to take place in the morning, afternoon and
evening respectively. So in the morning the six maidens assembled in
Peter-Wise’s parlour—Mary and Sally and Polly and Minnie and Lucy in
their best flowered-prints—Tiffany in a green smock; Tiffany had brown
eyes, but the eyes of the others were five different shades of blue:
speedwell, cornflower, lupin, forget-me-not, and chicory.
Peter-Wise gave them each a sock, out of which he had cut the heel, and
left them for an hour to darn the hole. When he came back the six socks
were lying on the table in a heap, finished. He examined them carefully.
Then he said:
“Five of these socks are so perfectly darned that not one exceeds
another in excellence. The sixth, however, is very badly done—a mere
cobble. Come forward in turn, and let her who darned _this_ sock claim
it.”
Mary tripped forward, looked at the sock, turned up her nose a little
and shook her pretty head. “Not mine,” said she. Then came Sally and
Polly and Minnie and Lucy, also turning up their noses a little and
shaking their pretty heads and saying: “Not mine,” “Not mine,” “Not
mine,” “Not mine.” Lastly, with a twinkle in her eye, came Theophania,
called Tiffany for short.
“Mine,” she said. “I never, never shall be able to darn.”
“The first task is over,” announced Peter-Wise. “This afternoon meet me
outside the big barn door which is always locked, at three o’clock.”
And away trotted Mary and Sally and Polly and Minnie and Lucy and
Tiffany.
At three o’clock they met outside the big barn door, wearing pink and
yellow and blue and white and green sunbonnets, and fluttering together
like butterflies, except Tiffany, who did not wear a bonnet at all, and
she stood by herself, thinking.
Peter-Wise said:
“This door, as you know, is always kept locked. Here is the key. Now,
let me see which of you can open it without touching the keyhole, for I
assure you it can quite easily be done.”
“How can we open a locked door without a key?” said Mary and Sally and
Polly and Minnie and Lucy in dismay, and each thought—“It is useless
trying the handle—besides, I should look so foolish, and the others
would jeer.”
But Tiffany—who always thought her own thoughts, not other
people’s—thought something quite different.
“We give it up,” sorrowfully said Mary and Sally and Polly and Minnie
and Lucy.
“And you?” asked Peter-Wise of Tiffany.
Tiffany thought: “Because the door has always been locked before, that
doesn’t prove it is locked to-day. Anyhow, here goes!” And she marched
up to the big barn door, turned the handle, and—opened it wide!
“Oh!” cried Mary and Sally and Polly and Minnie and Lucy. “But it is
always locked!”
“It wasn’t to-day,” said Theophania, called Tiffany for short; and she
could not help laughing, kindly, at the five expressions of surprise on
the five fair faces.
“The second task is over,” said Peter-Wise. “Now go and borrow your
mothers’ wash-tubs, wait till the moon rises, catch it, and put it in
the tub. Then come and fetch me.”
“But,” said Tiffany, “there is only one moon.”
“Exactly,” he replied, “therefore only one of you can succeed.”
Mary and Sally and Polly and Minnie and Lucy whispered together.
“He is making sport of us,” they agreed. “Not even Tiffany can catch the
moon. We must give it up.” And each of them said in her heart: “After
all, so-and-so would make a much better husband.”
So they gave it up.
[Illustration: “THERE, SURE ENOUGH, WAS THE ROUND, SILVER MOON”]
But in the evening Tiffany came to Peter-Wise and said:
“I have caught the moon and put it into mother’s wash-tub. Come and
see.”
“Caught the moon!” exclaimed Peter. “But there it is up in the sky!”
“Not at all,” replied she. “That is not the moon.”
The night was still and warm. Peter-Wise followed Tiffany to a
water-meadow, in the middle of which was her mother’s wash-tub.
“There!” she cried, pointing. “Go and see if the moon isn’t in that
tub.”
So he went up to it, looked over the edge, and there, sure enough, was
the round, silver moon shining up at him.
“Well, but there are not two moons,” he said, looking at the other moon
in the sky.
“How foolish you are!” said Tiffany. “That moon in the sky is just the
reflection of the real moon in this tub.”
Peter-Wise was determined to make sure, so he took a penny out of his
pocket and dropped it into the tub. It fell through the moon with a
splash.
“Oh ho!” he exclaimed. “Whoever heard of a penny falling through the
moon? This moon is made of water.”
“Nobody ever tried to throw a penny through before,” said Tiffany.
Then Peter-Wise kicked the tub, and the moon began to wobble. A piece of
it splashed over the edge on to his boots.
“Whoever heard of the moon being spilt?” he asked.
“Nobody ever tried to spill it before,” said Tiffany.
Peter-Wise stroked his chin.
“I have it!” he cried, and grasping the tub, heaved it sideways and
upset the mock moon on to the grass, where with little watery sighs it
slowly disappeared.
“So much for your moon,” said he. “And behold its reflection is still in
the sky!” But Tiffany only laughed and laughed and laughed.
“Yes,” said Peter to himself, “she is certainly the cleverest girl in
the village, but just the least bit less clever than I am. I will marry
her.” And aloud he said:
“Theophania, you shall, in spite of the sock and the moon that was not a
moon, be my wife.”
“Peter-Wise,” she answered, “you shall not win me so easily. There is a
task that _you_ shall perform for _me_ before I will marry you.”
“Well, that is only fair after all,” said he, rather taken aback.
“It is quite out of the question for me to marry you before I can darn a
sock,” she continued, “but in six years I shall have perfected myself in
that difficult art. Will you wait for me six years?”
This she said to try his love.
“I will wait,” said he, who really loved her, and knew something about
women.
Now, at the end of three months Peter-Wise was still waiting for
Theophania, and she realised that he would keep his word for the rest of
the six years. But meanwhile she had learnt to darn as beautifully as
Mary and Sally and Polly and Minnie and Lucy, who by this time were
betrothed respectively to John and James and William and Tom and Adam.
So she came to him one day with an example of her darning, and said:
“Peter, it has not taken me so long to learn to darn as I thought it
would. How would it be if we were married _before_ the six years are
up?”
“We will get married whenever you please, dear heart,” he said, not
surprised.
“Well then,” she replied, “—to-morrow.”
And they were married at eleven o’clock the next morning.