THE APRIL-FOOL JOURNEY
At last, however, when Kenneth was so tired and faint that he could
hardly walk another step, they came to the kitchen garden. There were
the pie trees and the raspberry shrubs, the caramel plants and the
bonbon hedge, brown with luscious chocolates.
“Now, help yourself,” said the imp cordially. And without further
invitation Kenneth fell to. A fine cream pie lay under one of the
trees, from which it had just fallen. Kenneth cut a wedge out of it
with the knife which was sticking conveniently in the tree-trunk, and
began to eat it ravenously. But faugh! What dreadful stuff! It was
frosted with soapsuds instead of whipped cream!
“April Fool!” cried the imp, dancing up and down, for this was the best
joke of all.
“Oh!” whimpered Kenneth, “I hope they are not all April-Fool goodies.”
And he ran to the next tree. But a bite was all he needed to prove that
he must not trust his eyes this April Fool’s night. The mince pies were
made of sand and sawdust, with pebbles for plums. The sponge cake was
indeed a real sponge. The doughnuts were of India rubber; they might
be fine for a teething baby to bite, but they were a poor lunch for a
hungry boy. The griddle-cakes were rounds of leather, nicely browned
on both sides. The salad was made of tissue paper; the chocolates were
stuffed with cotton wool and other horrid stuff; while the maple sugar,
upon which Kenneth was perfectly sure he could rely, turned out to be
yellow soap--clean, but not appetizing.
Even the eggs, growing innocently white upon the egg-plant, turned out
to be hollow mockeries; some humorous little boy seemed to have blown
their insides away, as a great joke. Once Kenneth would have thought
that a very funny idea. But now he sat down and cried and cried, he
was so disappointed and so hungry.
“Boo hoo! Boo hoo!” sobbed Kenneth. “I want to go home. I don’t like
Fairyland one bit!”
“Ha! ha!” laughed the imp. “April Fool! This isn’t Fairyland at all;
this is April Fool Land, and you are _It_. But come, I really think you
have had enough of it. I will take you to the true Fairyland, and give
you over to your kind, good, serious Fairy guide. Shall we go? _One,
two, three--out goes he!_” And with a snap of his fingers, Kenneth
found himself outside the tantalizing kitchen garden, walking toward
his good Fairy’s real, truly palace, which gleamed comfortingly through
the trees.
At first he dared not think that it was really so; he suspected another
joke of April Fool’s. But at last he spied the good Fairy herself,
standing at the top of the long flight of marble steps which led up to
the palace. Kenneth ran forward and waved his hand eagerly, he was so
anxious to exchange guides and to be rid of the hateful imp. But the
Fairy did not seem to see him. She was shading her eyes with her hand
and looking off over the Christmas trees, appearing troubled.
“Humph!” growled the imp. “There she is, looking for you. And how eager
you are to leave me, now that you have enjoyed all the jokes I had to
play. Well, good-by! You have only to walk up the staircase to your
goody-goody Fairy, and you will be safe from me. I cannot pass into
that palace, where the fun is of a different kind from mine.”
“It is a great deal nicer than yours, for it is always kind,” retorted
Kenneth, “and yet it is just as funny.”
“Very well, go and look for it, then,” cried the imp, and without
another word he disappeared.
Kenneth was much relieved to see him go. He set his foot on the lowest
stair and eagerly began the ascent of the marble flight. But no sooner
had he lifted his foot to the second step than the staircase itself
began to move under him, so that he had to step quickly to keep from
falling. Horrible! What did this mean? “April Fool!” cried a voice
behind him. “Ha! ha! It is my last joke, and it is a rare good one. You
are on a treadmill staircase, Kenneth. You must climb fast or you will
fall down and be ground up inside the machine. Hurrah! Step lively,
please! Quicker, quicker! Maybe you will reach the top by to-morrow
morning.”
Kenneth had to work his little legs faster and faster and faster,
as the great staircase revolved under him. Yet however he strove he
reached never a step nearer the top, but remained always in the same
spot. And the Fairy still looked away over the tops of the Christmas
trees, without seeing him.
“Ha! ha!” laughed the imp; but his voice was fainter than it had been,
and Kenneth hoped it was fading away. The poor boy was so exhausted
that he felt he could not keep up for long. His legs ached and
his head ached dizzily, and his poor back, bent over the whirling
staircase, ached most of all. “I cannot bear it,” he said to himself,
panting and out of breath. “I cannot move my legs any faster. I cannot
breathe. I must sit down, even if I do go under to be ground into
little pieces.”
Without more ado Kenneth sat down on the staircase, closing his eyes
and shuddering with fear of what might happen next. But what happened?
The staircase merely stopped with a jerk--and stood still.
“April Fool!” cried the far-off voice of the imp. “You might have done
it long ago. April Fool--Fool--Fool!” and the voice faded away into a
mere sigh of the breeze.
At the same moment Kenneth heard a sweet call from the top of the
staircase. “Kenneth, Kenneth!” it said, in silvery tones quite unlike
the imp’s harsh ones. And, looking up, he saw his good Fairy coming
swiftly down the staircase toward him.
“Oh, good Fairy,” sobbed Kenneth, “I have had such a dreadful time
looking for you! Please stay by me, and do not let that bad, bad April
Fool find me again.”
The good Fairy leaned over Kenneth and put her hand on his head. “Poor
boy!” she said. “Has April Fool been playing his tricks on you? This
was his night, you know. He said you were a friend of his, so we had
to let him have his joke with you. He is indeed a horrid fellow, and I
hope he is no longer your friend.”
“No, he will never be my friend again,” cried Kenneth.
“I like my own kind of jokes a great deal better,” said the Fairy:
“pleasant surprises, unexpected kindnesses, pain turned into pleasure,
and disappointment into joy. One can play those jokes all through the
year. But it is too late for any of them to-night. You must go back
home now, Kenneth.”
“I am quite ready to go,” said Kenneth wearily, for even a pleasant
joke had no charms for him now, he was so tired. The Fairy took him
by the hand and led him back to the station. They passed the magic
nut bushes, but Kenneth did not pause. They walked under the tempting
Christmas trees, but he did not look up. They went between the rows of
flowers, gently tittering on either side, but Kenneth did not so much
as glance at them. The kind Fairy held his hand, and April Fool could
play no tricks upon him now.
At the station the Fairy guide kissed Kenneth sweetly, and closed his
eyes with her wand. “Come again to-morrow night,” she murmured, “and
naughty April Fool will be gone for another year. Then you shall come
into my palace and we will play some happy tricks.”
Then she spoke the magic words of his return ticket, and Kenneth,
with his eyes closed, felt a spring, a rush, and a whirling about his
head. But he never peeped until he felt once more the gentle jounce
that told him the end of his journey had come. Then with his fists
he rubbed his eyes and, winking sleepily, opened them to find himself
snugly lying in bed, with the morning sun shining into his window.