There were once two little boys who played in the great gardens of a
palace; one was the son of the King to whom the palace belonged, and one
was the son of the King’s head gardener. The palace lay at the mouth of
a valley, and the garden had a stone balustrade surrounding it on which
the two would sit when they were tired of their play. They were both of
the same age, and, as the Prince had neither brothers nor sisters, the
gardener’s son was allowed to come every day and keep him company. They
learned the same lessons and amused themselves with the same games; and,
at nightfall, the gardener’s boy would go back to his father’s cottage
to return early next morning. The gardener was a wise man, and brought
him up very well, but the King was foolish and spoilt the Prince most
dreadfully, which was all the worse, as he was selfish and rude by
nature, and sometimes very unkind to his friend. But his friend loved
him dearly in spite of that.
[Illustration: THE DAFFODIL PRINCESS]
The King lived all the year in this palace, although he had another fine
house in his capital city; for he hated business, and liked the idle
life he led with his Queen and all the beautiful ladies and gentlemen
who formed his court. He never troubled himself about anything; he did
not even hunt, nor fish, but sat the whole day listening to the gossip
of his fools and jesters, and writing very silly poetry. Then he would
read it aloud to all the beautiful ladies and gentlemen, who threw up
their hands and said: “How clever!” But behind his back they laughed at
him.
One day, when the little boys were playing, the head gardener came by
and gave each of them a fine branch of ripe cherries, so they stopped
their games and sat on the balustrade to eat the fruit.
Suddenly a poor old beggar man passed by outside the garden and looked
up at them; he was tattered and torn and he had no shoes on his feet;
his face was lined with fatigue and misery.
“I am very hungry,” said the beggar, addressing the Prince, “and I have
got nothing to eat. Please, young gentleman, get me something from the
palace, for, if I have to go any further without food, I am really
afraid I shall die.”
“What? _I_ go in and fetch you things from the palace? A pretty idea! I
tell you I am the King’s son. I never heard of such impudence.”
“You may be the King’s son,” said the poor old man; “but I am starving,
for all that.”
For answer the Prince leaned down and struck the beggar with the end of
his cherry-branch.
The gardener’s son had eaten every one of his cherries but three, and he
held them out to the old man. “I have nothing else to give,” he said,
“but you may have these.”
The beggar ate all three cherries and laid the stones in a row on the
ground; he chose one, and, when he had polished it on his ragged coat,
he gave it back to the gardener’s son.
“Take that,” he said, “and plant it in the earth somewhere outside this
garden. I will keep the other two.”
Then he bade him good-day, taking no notice of the Prince, and was soon
out of sight.
When the boys grew into young men they still remained friends; as they
had been practically brought up together, and had learned the same
things, strangers often took them for brothers, more especially as they
were not unlike in face. But the curious thing was, that, when the
strangers found out that one was the King’s son and one the son of the
head gardener, they always took the gardener’s son for the Prince. It
was very awkward sometimes, and it used to make the Prince rather cross.
As time went on the King did not grow any wiser; he was very foolish and
self-indulgent. He never attended to his business, and let everything in
the kingdom get into a dreadful mess. At last his subjects became so
much disgusted that they broke into rebellion, and rushed to the palace
meaning to put an end to him altogether. He had heard rumours of
discontent, but he did not mind them, and would not believe people when
they told him that his life was in danger; so, one day, thousands of
rebels came pouring down the valley brandishing knives and spears and
great flaring torches, and set fire to his palace, murdered him and the
Queen, and took all the beautiful ladies and gentlemen prisoner. Then
they rushed about searching for the Prince, but could not find him as he
was walking with his friend, the gardener’s son, in the park which
surrounded the palace garden. At last a dozen men on horseback set off
with their swords to look for him, and saw the two young men strolling
about together some way off.
Now the cherry-stone which the beggar had given the gardener’s son had
been planted not far from the spot on which they were standing when the
rebels saw them. It had grown into a magnificent tree, and, as it was
now springtime, every branch and twig was a mass of blossom. The Prince
and his companion heard a great shouting, and, looking round, they saw
the palace in flames, and a number of horsemen bearing down on them with
drawn swords. As they were standing unarmed in the midst of an open
plain, they knew the only thing they could do was to run to the shelter
of a wood in front of them, and try to escape among the trees; so they
set off as fast as they could go. The horsemen redoubled their pace with
loud shouts.
They were nearing the wood when the Prince, who was in advance, tripped
and fell just as they passed the cherry-tree. He flung his arms round
the trunk to save himself, and the gardener’s son stopped running, for
he would not leave him alone to be killed. He made a terribly fierce
face and stood in front of his friend with his fists clenched. Then a
wonderful thing happened.
The petals of the cherry-blossoms began to fall like snow; hither and
thither they went, blown by a wind which had suddenly risen, and filling
the air with a whirl of blinding white. It was a storm of whiteness.
Soon they lay knee-deep for yards round the tree. It was impossible to
see a yard in front of one’s face, and the horsemen galloped about this
way and that, bewildered by the showers of petals and calling one to the
other in great dismay.
The young men leaned close against the trunk, listening to their cries.
Suddenly the gardener’s son put his finger on a little rough place in
the bark and, to his astonishment, something moved under his hand. A
door opened in the trunk. He went in, drawing the Prince after him, and
shut it behind them.
They were at the top of a narrow stair which led far down to where a
glimmer of light could be seen below. They descended, one after the
other, and found themselves in a country they had never seen before.
They were standing by a winding stream that ran between alders whose
roots were almost in the water; all along the bank was a perfect forest
of daffodils, golden and shining. Above, the sky was primrose-yellow
with sunset, and a little crescent moon hung in mid-air. There was an
island in the water, and on it was sitting the most lovely pale Princess
that ever was seen, with a wreath of daffodils in her hair. As they
looked at her she waved her hand to them and they both fell in love with
her at once.
The Prince and the gardener’s son did not know whether to take their way
back again up the steps or not, but, when they tried to do so, they
found all trace of them had disappeared; besides, they could not tear
themselves away from the Princess. She rose and sprang over the little
bit of stream that divided the island from the bank and came to meet
them. They took off their caps and bowed to the ground.
When she heard how they had reached her country she was much astonished,
and invited them to go with her to the palace of her uncle, which was
not far off. Her uncle was a King, and, as she had neither father nor
mother, he had taken her to live with him and his Queen.
They arrived at the palace and the Princess presented the two friends to
her uncle, who asked them to stay at the court as long as they pleased;
the Prince was in a very bad temper, for he thought that the Princess
seemed to like his companion better than himself.
“_I_ will stay with great pleasure,” he said, “but this fellow is only
the son of my father’s gardener. He ought to go to the kitchen.”
The King could hardly believe him.
“Is that true?” he asked the gardener’s son.
“It is, your Majesty,” said the young man.
So he was sent off to live with the servants, and the only comfort he
had was the thought that the Princess looked sorry.
The Prince enjoyed himself very much in the palace, but his pleasure was
spoilt because the Princess did not take much notice of him and seemed
glad when she saw the gardener’s son anywhere; she always stopped and
spoke kindly to him. This made him furious.
[Illustration: INSIDE THE HUT THE WITCH WAS SITTING BY THE FIRE]
One day he went to the King and told him that his former companion was a
good-for-nothing fellow, and that he had heard him trying to stir up
mischief among the palace servants, and he suggested that he should be
sent away and made to work for his living. So the King told the Queen,
and the Queen settled that he should be apprenticed to a witch who lived
not far off, and who wanted a man to work in the garden and help her to
keep her magic books and tools in order. So the gardener’s son went.
When the day came for him to go he took his little bundle in his hand,
looked up at the Princess’s window, and set off for the witch’s hut,
which lay in the cleft of a hill. When he arrived there he saw, to his
great surprise, that a cherry-tree, just like the one in the world he
had left, was growing close to the door.
Inside the hut the witch was sitting by the fire; she was the most
horrid-looking old woman imaginable; and her double chin hung down below
the strings of her cap. Beside her, on the hearth, sat a little
half-starved black cat with green eyes.
“I suppose you are the young man from the palace,” said she.
“I am,” said the gardener’s son.
He then made a bow to the witch, and being very well-mannered, he made a
bow to the cat too.
“You needn’t do that,” said the witch. “I am one thing but the cat is
quite another. His name is Sootface.”
“It’s not a very nice name,” said the cat, apologetically.
“And you are not a very nice cat,” said the witch; “so it is all the
more appropriate.”
The gardener’s son soon found out that the witch was far from being a
pleasant person. She was dreadfully unkind to poor Sootface and would
beat him unmercifully, and much of his time was spent in trying to
defend him from her anger. Besides this, he had to sweep the hut, carry
water, dig in the garden, prepare the horrid dishes which she liked to
eat, and take care of her magic instruments. As he was clever he did his
best to learn all the magic he could; this he did by the cat’s advice.
When the old woman was out, Sootface would show him where her book of
magic was kept and they would take it out and read it together. The cat
admired him immensely.
One day the witch set off on a journey and Sootface and the gardener’s
son went out for a walk. When they had gone some way they sat down by a
hill-side to rest, for the day was hot and they were glad of the shade
of a spreading tree which stood by the path. In a few minutes they saw
the beautiful Princess who lived in the King’s palace approaching them.
She looked very sad, but, when she saw the gardener’s son, she smiled
and sat down beside him under the tree, telling him that she had run
away from the palace when no one was looking because she wanted to
consult the witch.
“But the witch is away from home,” said he.
“Oh dear! oh dear! what _shall_ I do?” cried the Princess, wringing her
hands.
Then she explained that her uncle the King wished her to marry the
Prince, but that she hated him, and meant to ask the witch for some
magic spell to help her to escape from him. She wanted to go far away to
the country where her sister lived; for her sister had married a great
King and had a kingdom of her own.
“And when will the witch come back?” she asked.
“Not for six weeks,” said the gardener’s son.
The poor Princess began to cry, which made him very sad, and Sootface
mewed at the top of his voice for sympathy.
“If you will stop crying,” said he, “I will go with you on your journey
and take care of you till you reach the end of it.”
“And I will go too,” said Sootface.
Now the cat and the gardener’s son had brought out the witch’s book of
magic to study as they rested by the wayside, and they determined to see
if it would give them any advice for the journey.
The cat placed the book open before them on the grass and repeated a
song he had heard the witch sing:
“Flames and salt,
And queens and kings,
And monkeys’ tails,
And golden rings.”
Then they all could see how the letters on the page were jumping about,
and how they were arranging themselves into a verse. When the verse was
made they read it, and found that it told the gardener’s son to go back
to the witch’s hut before starting and cut a stick from the cherry-tree;
so he obeyed at once, and presently returned with a good strong staff in
his hand, and at sunset they set off for the kingdom of the Princess’s
sister.
For some days they got on very well. Sootface marched first, capering
and dancing with delight at having escaped from the cruel old witch; the
gardener’s son followed, his cherry-stick in his hand, and giving his
arm to the Princess when she was tired. But, as they were on foot, their
progress was very slow, and, having very little money between them, they
began to wonder how they should get enough food for each day. The
gardener’s son and the Princess did not like begging, so the cat ran
forward to every village as they approached it, and, with many a sad
tale and wonderful antic, asked alms from door to door. Sometimes he
said that his father had died and required decent burial; sometimes that
he was the eldest of fourteen and was charged with the education of his
brothers and sisters, and he always managed to bring back a little money
from the charitably disposed persons whom he met.
But, at last, they came to a part of the world where everybody was mean
and misers were found in abundance; in one village twenty of them lived
in a row in the principal street. They would give Sootface nothing and
even leaned out of their windows to shake their fists at him as he
passed, and he returned empty-handed to his friends. Finding that things
had come to such a pass, they opened the book of magic and Sootface sat
in front of it repeating his verse. When he had done this the letters
jumped about as before, and soon there was quite a clear verse upon the
page. This is what it said:
“When the moon is young and new
Take the cherry-stick with you,
Throw it up into the sky,
Where it falls there let it lie;
Dig beneath it in the grass,
Who knows what may come to pass?”
It happened that that night was the first night of the new moon, so they
took the cherry-stick into a field and the gardener’s son tossed it high
into the air. It fell a little way off, and when they had run to the
place where it lay, Sootface began digging with his paws underneath it.
Soon he came upon something hard, and, when they had taken it out of the
hole, they found a leather bag stuffed full of gold.
After this their troubles vanished, and they began to live in a very
grand manner; at each town through which they passed they hired splendid
lodgings and gave largely to beggars, and instead of travelling afoot,
they bought two fine horses; Sootface sat on the crupper behind the
gardener’s son, bowing affably to the people who passed. They bought
some magnificent new clothes—those they wore being nearly worn out—and
thus they proceeded till the next new moon, when they again tossed up
the cherry-stick and found another bag of money.
In time they drew near their journey’s end and approached the capital
town in which the Princess’s sister lived, and they halted and sent the
cat before them with a letter to the palace.
When Sootface arrived at the town he took some gold, and, going into a
shop, bought a feathered hat and two yards of green satin ribbon with
which he ornamented his tail. He then went to an inn, where he purchased
a fine piebald horse with an embroidered saddle, and, having thus
prepared himself, galloped to the palace. Everyone in the street turned
round to look at him, and all the little boys cried “Hooray!” as he
thundered by.
After he had presented his letter, the Princess’s sister herself
received him with much politeness, and a messenger was sent with a great
escort of carriages and horsemen to bring the Princess into the city.
[Illustration: IN THE VERY MIDDLE OF THE FEAST THE PRINCE STOOD UP IN
HIS PLACE CALLING ON ALL TO LISTEN]
When she came all were charmed with her, and she was asked to make her
home at the court; and, as the handsome appearance and fine manners of
the gardener’s son impressed everybody, he was immediately made captain
of the bodyguard and treated with every consideration.
For some time they lived happily, hunting and dancing and feasting and
enjoying themselves, and all went well until one day who should arrive
in great pomp and style but the Prince from whom the Princess had fled!
He had discovered where she was and followed her to her sister’s
kingdom. When he saw the gardener’s son at the head of the bodyguard he
was enraged beyond measure.
That night there was a banquet, to which all the celebrated people in
the kingdom were invited; if I were to describe it, it would take pages.
Everything glittered with cloth of gold and silver and jewels. The table
was covered with golden dishes and lamps and white roses, and the
Princess was there looking more lovely than anybody, with the Prince at
her right hand and the gardener’s son at her left.
In the very middle of the feast the Prince stood up in his place calling
on all to listen. Then, as silence fell, he told how the Princess had
been ordered by her uncle, the King, to marry him, how she had refused
and run away, how the young man who had accompanied her was the son of
his father’s gardener, and how, though he was such a low fellow, he
ventured to be in love with her; he demanded that the Princess should be
made to marry him the next day and the gardener’s son punished. Then he
sat down scowling and leaving the Princess’s sister and the guests
horrified.
“Can you wonder that the Princess ran away from him?” said the cat, from
the other end of the table.
Everybody agreed with the cat, for they admired the gardener’s son very
much, and nobody liked the looks of the Prince; but they did not dare to
say anything. That would never have done at all.
“What defence have you to make, sir?” roared the Princess’s sister’s
husband.
“None,” said the gardener’s son. “I love the Princess and shall do so as
long as I live.”
“_That_ won’t be for long,” said the Princess’s sister.
Then the Princess threw her arms round the neck of the gardener’s son
and vowed that she loved him too, and that nothing would induce her to
marry such a hateful person as the Prince.
All the banquet broke up in confusion, and everyone rushed out of the
hall except the cat, who waited to conceal a carving-knife upon his
person with which he intended to murder the Prince. But the Prince, who
was a coward, had gone off to his room and locked himself in when he saw
the way in which some of the guests looked at him.
Next day the gardener’s son was put in prison; the Princess cried and
Sootface tore his hair, but he had to go. What was his astonishment, on
arriving at the prison door, to find that a cherry-tree was growing
beside it. He was taken up a winding stair and locked into a cell with a
tiny window protected by iron bars. When he looked out he could see into
the boughs of the tree, and, above them, a new moon beginning to shine
in the sky as it drew towards evening.
When it was night the cat, who had hidden the witch’s book of magic as
soon as the gardener’s son had gone to prison, took it under his arm,
climbed into the boughs of the cherry-tree, and began to try and console
his friend, who was looking out of the barred window. He opened it,
reciting his song:
“Flames and salt
And queens and kings,
And monkeys’ tails
And golden rings.”
And, by the faint light of the new moon, he saw the letters jumping
about till they made this verse:
“When the moon is young and new,
Take the cherry-stick with you;
Toss it up into the sky,
Where it falls there let it lie;
Dig beneath it, you will see
In the ground an iron key.
Master-key of master-keys
Every lock it turns with ease.”
The cat ran as fast as he could to the house where the gardener’s son
had lived and got the cherry-stick; he then took it to a quiet place and
flung it up into the air. When it came down he began scraping and
digging underneath it till he came upon a heavy key made of iron.
As soon as the people in the palace were safely asleep he unlocked the
stable door with the master-key, saddled three swift horses and tied
them up in a thicket a little way off. Having done this and also
ascertained that the jailers were sleeping, in the belief that it was
impossible for their prisoner to escape, he climbed the cherry-tree
again. He crept along a bough which almost touched the barred window and
handed the key through the bars to the gardener’s son; then he got into
the palace and, stealing into the Princess’s room, told her what he had
done.
The Princess was in bed, but she rose, dressed herself, and went out
with the cat. When they reached the thicket they found the gardener’s
son, who had let himself out with the iron key, and they mounted and
rode away as hard as they could go.
They got safely out of the kingdom after a few days’ riding, and, in the
first city to which they came, the lovers were married. The cat was best
man, and a fine figure he made; for, though he had not been able to
bring his feathered hat and green ribbons with him, he bought a new one
even grander than the first, and a white rosette for his tail in honour
of the wedding.
The gardener’s son became very rich by reason of the cherry-stick, which
brought him a bag of gold at every new moon, and he built a castle for
his wife and a fine villa for the cat, with a fountain in the garden
which played tunes, and a vinery which was the envy of the civilised
world. He became very friendly with the King of the country in which he
settled, and, at his death, inherited the kingdom. So the Princess
became a Queen after all.
JACK FROST
A STORY FOR VERY LITTLE CHILDREN
There was once a little old man called Jack Frost who lived up in the
sky. He was very small and very wicked and he had a long, long nose and
the most dreadful crooked hands in the world. His beard was thin and
pointed and stuck out in front of him; and, on his head, he wore a
pointed cap made of ice which glittered in the moonlight. When the moon
was a crescent he would sit astride of it, looking into the earth below
and thinking what horrible mischief he could do next.
[Illustration: HE CAME DOWN ON A WEATHERCOCK WHICH WAS FIXED ON TOP OF A
LARCH-TREE]
His favourite amusement was to come jumping down into some nice garden
where the flowers were still blooming at the end of the autumn and pinch
all their beautiful heads until they died. Sometimes, too, he would
pinch the birds’ toes, and sometimes, in the winter, he was so cruel as
to kill the poor little things outright. He had a heart as hard as a
stone, and the more wickedness he could do, the better he was pleased.
The birds hated him, and the squirrels hated him, and the gardeners
hated him, and no wonder, too.
One day he sat on the moon in a very terrible humour thinking of all the
bad things he meant to do; and he took a great jump and came down on a
weathercock which was fixed on the top of the larch-tree near a big
stone house standing in a garden. Inside the house a little boy in his
night-shirt stood at a window; the curtains were closed behind him in
the warm room, but he had got out of bed to admire the stars which were
bright overhead. He saw Jack Frost swinging about on the weathercock and
he did not know who he was.
“Nurse!” he cried, “come and look at the funny little man who is sitting
all by himself on the weathercock!”
“Nonsense!” said the nurse. “How can a man sit on the weathercock? Get
back into bed this minute or you will have a cold in the morning and I
shall be obliged to give you nasty medicine.”
“But come! come!” he cried again.
The nurse went to the window and looked out, and, just as she did so,
Jack Frost jumped off the weathercock into a holly tree.
“There! did you see that?” shouted the little boy, clapping his hands.
The nurse saw it very well but she could not account for it, so she
pretended it had not happened.
“Stuff!” she said; “it was only a bird flying.”
“But a bird hasn’t got a pointed cap, and a long beard, and a coat with
long tails!”
“If I said it was a bird you may depend I was right,” said the nurse,
pushing him back into bed rather roughly. But she tucked him up well and
gave him a kiss, for she was a very kind person, really.
As Jack Frost sat in the holly tree, a robin who happened to be awake
came to get a few holly berries, for they were beginning to turn red.
“What are you doing on the holly tree?” he asked as he saw him.
“What’s that to you?” said Jack Frost, who had no manners.
“I am sure he is up to some harm,” said the robin. “I will just wait
about and see.”
Jack Frost sat mumbling and laughing to himself; what he really wanted
to do was to go into the garden and spoil the flowers.
Presently a squirrel who was out of bed late ran up the trunk of the
larch-tree close by; he flourished his tail and stopped to look at Jack
Frost.
“Good evening,” he said very civilly, for though he did not like Jack
Frost he knew how to behave.
For answer Jack Frost took out a fir-cone he had in his pocket and threw
it at the squirrel’s head.
“He has been badly brought up,” said the squirrel, who had several
children and was very particular about their behaviour. Then he went and
sat at the foot of the tree to watch Jack Frost, for he knew he was
wicked, and he thought it better to keep his eye on him.
All this time the horrid little man was looking at the garden wall; he
sat very still till he heard “Tu-whoo! Tu-whoo!” close by, and saw a
large, soft-winged owl flitting among the branches.
“Tu-whoo! Jack Frost!” he cried, as he sat down beside him. “How are you
this evening?”
For answer Jack Frost kicked up his heels very rudely in the owl’s face.
The bird flew silently away, but he did not go far; he knew Jack Frost
was up to no good, so he perched hard by and watched him with his round,
burning eyes.
When all was quiet again, Jack Frost went hopping from tree to tree till
he got close to the garden wall, where he could see over into the
flower-beds; he did not know that the robin, the squirrel, and the owl
were all looking at him from the places in which they had hidden
themselves.
Such a lovely garden as it was! There were green walks and hedges and
borders of heliotrope and pansies; and, all round the hedges, rows of
dahlias and hollyhocks stood like kings and queens, red, yellow, pink,
white, and gorgeous orange. When they saw the little wicked man they
were terrified, poor things, and though they tried to look bold and
stand up straight, they knew in their hearts that he had come to kill
them.
Close by stood a cottage in which the gardener was asleep in his bed,
wearing a fine red nightcap with a handsome tassel on the end of it. He
was very kind to the little boy who lived in the stone house, for he had
no children of his own, and he liked to take him out and show him birds’
nests and flowers, and teach him to dig and plant and water the garden.
In the middle of his sleep he was wakened by hearing a strange noise
outside. He sat up in bed.
“Tap, tap,” it went on.
“Who’s there?” cried the gardener, jumping out of bed and opening the
window.
The robin was on the window-sill, very much excited and dancing about.
“Please, sir,” said he, “Jack Frost is sitting up in a tree close to the
garden.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” said the gardener, beginning to put on his
trousers. “I’ll get up this moment!”
He had just got them on when a loud scraping began on the window-sill.
“Who’s there?” cried the gardener, again.
“Me!” said the squirrel; “quick! quick! Jack Frost is sitting on the
garden wall.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” said the gardener, beginning to put on his
boots.
In another moment there was a great cry outside. “Tu-whoo! Tu-whoo!” and
a great flapping of wings.
“Come out! Come out!” screamed the owl. “Jack Frost has jumped down into
the garden.”
“Thank you! thank you!” cried the gardener, catching up a big stick and
running out of the house.
Jack Frost was in a flower bed looking up into the face of a beautiful
pink hollyhock and thinking which of its blossoms he would pinch first,
when he heard a loud shout and saw the gardener with his red nightcap
and his big stick coming in at the garden door. He was most dreadfully
frightened, and began to run with all his might. The gardener was after
him at once, so he tried to reach the gooseberry bushes and hide himself
among them, hoping it would be too dark for anybody to see him.
But the owl, who could see everything at night, flew after him, calling
out, “There goes Jack Frost among the gooseberry bushes! There he is!
This way! This way!” So he found it impossible to hide himself. It was a
good thing for him that he could run much faster than the gardener,
because he was so thin and had such long legs.
He ran and ran, and the gardener puffed and blew and could not catch
him, so at last he took up a flower pot and threw it as hard as he could
at Jack Frost. It hit him in the very middle of the back and knocked him
flat on his face on the path. He tried to get up, but the gardener got
hold of him by the collar and shook and beat him with his big stick till
he prayed for mercy. Then he took him by the ear and dragged him out of
the garden.
At last Jack Frost wriggled out of his grasp and ran for his life; he
dashed into the larch-tree and climbed up the branches to the topmost
bough where the weathercock was. There was no moon for him to get on to,
for she had gone to bed and the sky was so high that he could not jump
up all the way at once, so he was obliged to sit hidden in the tree
until the next night.
The next night was misty and the moon came only occasionally out of the
cloud. The little boy who lived in the stone house got out of his bed
again to see her.
While he was looking, Jack Frost took a mighty leap and sprang up right
through the clouds.
“Look! Look!” cried the little boy, “there is the funny man again!”
“It’s you who are funny,” said the nurse; and she hurried him back into
bed and gave him one of his favourite toys to put under his pillow.
She knew nothing about little men who jumped among the trees.
Jack Frost landed safely on the moon and then flew high, high up. But he
never came down into that garden again.
THE END
R. CLAY AND SONS, LTD., BREAD ST. HILL, E.C., AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.