Chapter III: Part 3

When they were all ready, it was a really charming sight to see them rise, and, wheeling in the air, break into four groups, that, with the swiftness of light, sped away North, East, West and South, until they were all lost to view.

When they returned they brought the answers with them; and, as the Prince had expected, the refusals were very few. This was partly due to the fact that with each invitation a letter was forwarded saying that, if it were accepted, a flying-carriage would be sent to bring the acceptors to the wedding and to take them home again. The possibility of enjoying so novel a method of travel was in itself an inducement to accept; though the vast majority were equally anxious to learn something of the Magic Well, or the Fairy City, about both of which they had heard so many thrilling accounts.

The reason why the Prince was able to promise them all the use of flying carriages was because he had had his engineers at work upon quite a number ever since his own was made, and, as the result of many experiments, it had been found possible to make a carriage that would carry three, two in addition to a driver. They were not as fast as the single seaters, but they were quite safe, and with Fairies trained to drive them—Magpie teams for daylight travelling, and Owl teams for night-work—there really was no danger whatever!

After all the answers had been received, and the Prince knew exactly how many guests to expect, he himself gave instructions to the Palace Cooks to prepare a gorgeous wedding feast. There was to be no stint of anything, and everything was to be carried out in the finest style known to the Chefs. Fruits and sweetmeats, and dainties and delicacies of every class and kind under the sun were ordered to be got ready for the “great day.” Flowers too! The rarest orchids and the most delicately perfumed blossoms; golden wattle in particular! Music also! The sweetest strains the Fairy Bands knew how to play; soft, engaging airs such as a bride should hear on the most eventful day of her life. In short, everything that could be thought of to please, amuse and gratify the wedding guests, was, by the express orders of the Prince, either at once obtained, or the necessary steps taken to see that it would be ready on the Wedding Day!

And when, at last, the day arrived, the excitement in and around the Fairy City was simply intense.

The day before, in the morning, came the Prince’s Father and Mother, King Eucalyptus and Queen Fici-folia, together with their officers and attendants. It was said that the Prince had been given his good looks by his lovely mother; she whose superb figure and soft red hair were the pride of all the Eucalypts! They came thus early in order to be ready, on behalf of the Prince, to receive and welcome all his guests.

To them were given apartments in the Eastern side of the Palace.

In the afternoon of the same day came King Acacia, Queen Cootamundra, Princess Wattle Blossom and her sisters, and several officers and attendants of their household. They had been asked to come the day before the wedding to enable the Princess to be thoroughly rested and refreshed prior to the ceremony.

To them was assigned a suite of rooms in the Western side of the Palace.

For some of the officers of both the Royal Households, as well as for those who, coming from a great distance, could not return the same day, special sleeping rooms had been erected in the Palace Gardens.

At this stage it has to be mentioned, that in addition to their other improvements, all the Prince’s newest flying carriages were fitted with fairy wireless. This enabled any of the drivers to send a message to the Prince whenever it was necessary so to do. And it was indeed fortunate that such was the case, for although it had been arranged that the Princess Wattle Blossom was to arrive the day before the wedding, within about half an hour of the time that she was to have landed, something happened which nearly prevented her from ever reaching the Fairy City at all.

To properly understand the story of what occurred, it is necessary to go back a little, and to remember that the malicious Desert Fairies had been twice defeated—once, when they had attacked the Prince and his followers whilst on their way to the Magic Well; and once, when they had tried to stop the making of the Lake which now encircles Fairy Island. They were very sore at having been thwarted in their spiteful efforts, and had resolved that if ever they got a chance, they would be revenged upon the Prince in consequence. Thus, though they were very secret about it, they were always on the lookout to do him harm.

For a very long time, nothing took place which gave them the slightest opening to put their wicked wishes into play. Then, by the merest accident, they learned that Prince Waratah was about to be married, and “putting two and two together,” they made up their minds to steal the Princess Wattle Blossom, and so rob him of his intended wife. And strange as it may seem, had it not been that the carriage in which she was travelling had its fairy wireless set in working order, the plot they laid would certainly have succeeded. Even as it was, her adventure was an exciting one; and, while it lasted, very, very trying.

How the Desert Fairies came to find out that the Prince was about to be married, was, to say the least of it, somewhat peculiar.

One of the bronze-wing pigeons, carrying an invitation to a relative of the Prince’s Mother, who lived in Western Australia, had almost flown across the desert, when, to his horror, high above his head he saw the outstretched hovering form of a great golden eagle. Instantly he knew that he would be killed, but true to his trust, he slipped the invitation over his head, and letting it fall to the ground in the hope that it would be found and forwarded by another messenger, sped ahead as fast as his weary wings would bear him.

But in point of speed, even the freshest, swiftest bronze-wing pigeon is very slow compared with the mighty onrush of a powerful eagle, and almost before the Prince’s bird had time to try and escape, the eagle dropped upon his back, and with one stroke of his curved and cruel beak, struck the pigeon dead, and holding him in his strong talons, sped away and away until he was entirely lost to sight.

Now the card of invitation which the bronze-wing pigeon had let fall was picked up by a passing Desert Fairy. He immediately took it to the head of the tribe, who forthwith called his followers about him to consider the news. Having gained such an important piece of information as the invitation disclosed, they were put upon their metal to discover everything else about the marriage that it was possible to learn. By dint of much spying and listening they at last got to know the whole of the details. They thereupon decided to waylay the Princess on her journey to the Fairy City, and by all the means at their command, beat down whatever escort was provided, and carry her away.

In some respects they were luckier than they could have expected to be. Their great difficulty was how to bring the flying-carriage to the ground; for if they could not stop it, they could not capture the Princess.

After a good deal of hard thinking, they finally decided to station a certain number of their members at different points along the route, somewhere near the places at which it was believed the birds that drew the carriages would have to stop and rest.

As it chanced, at the third stopping place, the carriage that contained the Princess and her father King Acacia, had somehow become separated from the others which were carrying Queen Cootamundra and her daughters. This was an opportunity not to be missed, and in order to prevent the carriage from again rising into the air, they tried to blind the driver with little gusts of gritty sand. Had they succeeded in doing this, it was their intention to rush in, seize the Princess Wattle Blossom, and compel her to go with them. But the driver was happily able to defeat them in their object by using a fine silk handkerchief to protect his eyes and face.

Finding themselves foiled in this endeavour, they then sought to overset the carriage by bringing up a blustery wind to rush against it from the side. Again they failed. Hastily changing their tactics, just as the carriage was rising into the air, they sent the wind beneath it in a wild attempt to tip it over on its face; but as before, their efforts proved resultless. Very much disheartened, there was nothing left for them to do but to sulkily stand and watch the flying carriage speeding on its way.

From this time onward, everything would have gone well but for something which the Princess asked the driver to do. They were then within about half an hour of the Fairy City, and getting along famously. All at once the Princess espied a sight the like of which she had never seen before. Looking down upon the earth she saw amid the dreary wastes of sand a splendid patch of green plentifully splashed with red. Rather excitedly calling the driver’s attention to it, she asked him to descend in order that she might examine it more closely. This he did, stopping right beside a very large number of plants that are known as Sturt’s Desert Pea, all in a flaming riot of glorious blossoms. The Princess was enchanted; and very incautiously stepping out of the carriage, she delightedly proceeded to gather an armful of the truly beautiful flowers.

Meantime, quite a number of the vicious Desert Fairies, hoping that some such thing would happen, had hidden themselves among the plants. As they hate the Garden Fairies and all their works, it was their intention to destroy the blossoms in any case; but believing that they would prove attractive to the Princess, they simply bided their time. Seeing her walking along the edge of the desert peas, absorbed in picking the deep red clustering blooms, they suddenly rushed out from their hiding places, seized her by the hands and arms, and started pushing and dragging her over the sandy desert. Her startled cries awoke her father, who, tired with travelling, had fallen asleep in his seat. The driver did not need to be wakened. Watching the Princess plucking the flowers, he had seen what had taken place. In a flash he realised the danger she was in, and without an instant’s hesitation he sent an S.O.S. message to the Prince at Fairy Island. And it was well that he did; for the very next moment, some of the Desert Fairies who had been left behind to prevent him going to the assistance of the Princess, dashed a swirling, blinding cloud of dust full into his face. They then retreated as fast as they could, throwing up a regular wall of sand and dust behind them as they went. This device prevented the driver from seeing in which direction the Princess was being taken, and left him almost helpless.

To make matters worse, when King Acacia realised that the Princess was being stolen, he was almost distracted, and nothing the driver could say or do made any impression on his mind. He was so distraught, so full of anger, that he appeared to be unable to listen, and stamped up and down in utter helplessness.

The driver tried to get him back into the carriage so that they might at least follow and attempt to rescue his daughter. But it was all to no purpose; and as he dared not leave the King behind, he also was compelled to remain inactive and to do nothing. And all the time, despite her pitiful struggles, the Princess was being taken further and further away. The situation was indeed desperate, and it wrung the driver’s heart to think that like a ninny he must stand about in stupid idleness. Oh, how he prayed that the message he had sent the Prince might safely reach him!

Very fortunately it did! And still more fortunately, the Prince had contemplated going out to meet the Princess and her father as they neared the City, and so was ready with his famous team of blue kingfishers to make an immediate start. Pausing only to give instructions for a band of Shower Fairies to follow after him as hard as they could, he leaped into his flying-carriage, and almost in the twinkling of an eye, was off to save the Princess from an awful fate.

If ever the Kingfishers put forth their best speed they did it that afternoon. So swiftly did they fly that within twenty minutes after he had received the wireless message, Prince Waratah, flying high above the dust, had sighted the Princess and her kidnappers, and was bearing down upon the group with the swiftness of a shooting star.

Howling with rage and disappointment, the Desert Fairies loosed a tearing wind against the Prince, and filling the air with sand and dust, and even little pebbles, desperately strove to prevent him getting near them. But what cared the Prince for such an attack! Urging his obedient Kingfishers upward, he shot over the top of the flying dust and sand, and dashing downward with amazing speed, sprang out of his carriage and rushed upon his foes. Craven cowards that they are, they fled before him in all directions, just as the Shower Fairies, rapidly following after the Prince, sent their pelting raindrops hurtling after them.

Very, very timely was the Shower Fairies’ aid, and the Prince was very grateful for it.

Tenderly lifting the exhausted Princess in his arms he bore her to his carriage; and taking out a little phial of cordial, mixed it with some water from the Magic Well, and giving it to her to drink, in a minute or two she was her smiling self again.

She then told him how she had come to be captured. It was because she had, unthinkingly, left the carriage to get some flowers. Now, strewn about the desert over which she had been dragged, they all lay dead!

The Prince at once resolved that she should have some others to take their place. After resting a little while, they, therefore, returned to the spot where they could be obtained, and the Prince himself gathered her a giant posy. Then, seating her beside her father in the carriage in which she had been travelling, he placed the lovely blossoms in her arms, contriving as he did so, to kiss the dainty hand that on the morrow was to be given him in marriage.

On the wedding morning, from quite an early hour, the sky was filled with flying carriages bringing in the guests.

Perhaps you can imagine the curiosity and wonder with which the arrival of each newcomer was viewed by the Fairy Folk. No doubt the deportment and demeanour of all were silently admired or criticised; whilst the mere novelty of seeing distinguished personages whom they had never seen before must have been considered quite a treat!

By noon, however, the last of the wedding guests had arrived, and all were happily preparing for the ceremony, which was timed to take place at four o’clock precisely.

The ceremony arrangements were of the simplest character. On a raised platform reached by steps, beneath a spreading blackwood tree, in the middle of a velvety green lawn, stood the “Official Recorder,” he who causes to be recorded everything that must be kept in what are called the “Archives”; in other words, the place in which public records and historic documents are safely stored.

A little behind him, at a table, sat his clerk, ready to write down in letters of gold on this occasion, an official record of whatever was said or done.

At the right hand side of the “Official Recorder,” stood Prince Waratah and his “First Friend,” Prince Floral—the last remaining member of the Royal House of the Garden Fairies. It was a very nice thought on the part of Prince Waratah to have for his “best man,” so to speak, the somewhat lonely but lovable Prince of the scattered Garden Fairies, and when it became known that this was to be the case, there was not a Garden Fairy throughout the whole of Australia who did not feel a thrill of pride and joy in consequence!

Facing the “Official Recorder,” to the right and left, in two great triangles, sat the wedding guests. There was thus formed a middle pathway up which the Bridal Party was to come at the appointed hour. Whilst waiting for that auspicious moment all were interested to note the singular grace and beauty of the two noble Princes.

The Bridegroom, Prince Waratah, was naturally the first to come under observation. Taller than the average, his face aglow with animation and happiness, he was in truth a striking figure. He was superbly dressed! Upon his head—above the curls of glossy red it did not try to hide—he wore a golden coloured cap, from which there rose a splendid feather of the very shade that matched his hair. His coat was of a glossy green colour; the collar, edges and pockets being trimmed with a broad band of golden embroidery. At his throat and wrists he wore the most beautiful white lace. His vest was of a rich yellow; and his knee-breeches and stockings were of delicate white. On his feet were shoes of the same colour as his vest; whilst his garters were of a deep-sea blue, fastened with diamond clasps!

Prince Floral was similarly attired as far as style was concerned, except that his coat was the colour of golden brown wall flowers, and his vest a perfect pink.

When the Bride appeared, leaning on her father’s arm, it was seen that her dress was of the purest white silk, into which was worked in golden thread, the daintiest sprays of Golden Wattle. And very lovely did she look, her face suffusing with blushes as she felt the gaze of so many pairs of eyes.

Two of her sisters were in attendance as “First Ladies,” or Bridesmaids. And they, too, were very beautiful in their dresses of hydrangea-blue, decorated and adorned with sashes and knots of faintest pink.

On their arrival at the platform, Prince Waratah stepped swiftly down, and, taking the Princess by the hand, together they mounted the steps and stood before the “Official Recorder.” In a clear, ringing voice the Prince then said to that Officer: “I, Prince Waratah, desire you to note that I, here and now, take the Princess Wattle Blossom, to be my wife!” The Princess immediately added: “And I, Princess Wattle Blossom, desire you to note, that I, here and now, take the Prince Waratah to be my husband and my Lord.” They both then turned towards the assembled guests, and the “Official Recorder,” standing a little to one side, raised his voice, and said, “Be it known that, before me, this day, the Prince Waratah and the Princess Wattle Blossom, have become husband and wife. So be it! Praise be to God!” And so, amidst a burst of acclamation and applause, the wedding ceremony ended!

Then followed a long, long series of congratulations and good wishes ere it was possible to adjourn to the great dining-room in which the wedding feast was spread. It must have been quite six o’clock before everyone was in place. Any observant person, looking round the room, would then have noted a curious fact. The number seated at every table except the one at which the Bride and Bridegroom sat, was exactly seven. At the chief table there were nine. This arrangement was in no wise accidental. In point of fact it was done deliberately, the Fairies, like the ancient peoples, having the greatest regard and respect for numbers and their meanings. To them, three is the perfect number—and three multiplied by three, which is nine, the limit to which perfection can go. Never at any time therefore do they seat together more than nine; and then only when they are very distinguished persons indeed. In like manner they look upon seven as God’s own number; the one that means rest after labour; for, as you will remember, in six days God made Heaven and Earth, and on the seventh day He rested. Furthermore, they know that just as in the Alphabet, A, B and C, contain the lines and curves of all the other letters, so in ordinary numbers, 1, 2 and 3, contain all the lines and curves of all the others. But what impresses them most are the following two remarkable facts. Firstly, if you double over the first three numbers, you cover up 4, 5 and 6, and arrive at 7, the perfect number, the one that in itself holds the lines and curves of all the others! Secondly, if you double over the first three letters of the Alphabet you cover up D E F, and arrive at G, the seventh letter, the perfect letter that in itself embraces the lines and curves of all the others—the initial letter of the mightiest name in the Universe: its Creator, God!

The Fairies, however, were so used to being seated in the way described, and so understood the reason for it, that in effect they took no notice; but gave themselves up to the full enjoyment of the splendid fare provided for them.

After they had partaken of as much as they desired, the Prince, always alert, nodded his head to the waiting attendants, and in less time than it takes to tell it, the tables were cleared, and there began the various entertainments that were to grace the evening.

First, the Band, which played a most engaging selection of soft harmonious airs, sweet enough to have made the stars of Heaven brighten could they have heard them. Then came the first of the “Five Story Tellers”—the most popular persons in Fairyland.

These Story Tellers, who need never lack an audience, are the most ancient of all the Fairies—so old (though they do not look it) that they seem to have existed ever since the World began. What they were first called, no one now remembers. Some think they once had names which meant Faith, Love, Truth, Knowledge and Art; but be that as it may, to-day they are called “Touch,” “Taste,” “Sight,” “Smell,” and “Hearing.” Whenever they tell a story they always begin it in the same way. First they give the title of the tale, and then, as in all Fairy Stories, they say: “Once upon a time, a long while ago,” such and such a thing happened. So, when “Touch” began his Tale, he being first to be asked, this is what he said:—

THE SKYLARK’S STORY

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I was passing over a field. Pausing for a moment to look at a flower, a Lark fell palpitating at my feet, hot and weary with singing. Taking him up in my left hand, whilst I gently fanned him with my right, I said, ‘Tell me, Lark, what is your story, and why do you sing?’ And when he was cool again, this is the tale he told:—

“‘Once I was an egg, and I lay in a tiny nest among the grasses of the field. The shell, within which I lived, was very small and somewhat dark, but warm! Occasionally, however, I could see just a little glimpse of light; and now and then I could indistinctly hear my father talking or singing to my mother. But I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t speak.

“‘Then came a day when I thought I heard an awful crash. It was so loud and thunderous that it seemed to me as if the sky had fallen. At the time it happened I was almost asleep, I think, for I appeared to have waked with such a sudden start, that I pushed my beak clean through the shell in which I lived; broke it in half; and there I sat, blinking and winking at the sunlight in the most stupid manner conceivable.

“‘In a minute or two I saw my mother! She was looking down at me as proudly as if I were an eagle instead of a wee little lark—almost naked, and so weak, that I couldn’t stand up, no matter how hard I tried. In fact, every time I tried, I fell back so funnily that my mother laughed a little, and that made me cry!

“‘When she saw me crying she said: “Never mind, little one! You’ll soon do much more than stand up—you’ll fly! And now just lie down until I go and get you your breakfast!” and off she flew! My word, she was quick! I hardly seemed to have lain down before she was back with it—the queerest little pinky-red wriggly thing you ever saw in your life; but so soft and juicy looking that, when she put it on my tongue, I just popped it down my throat and gave a little squeak for more!

“‘But that’s a long while ago!

“‘As I grew and got some feathers, my mother taught me first to walk a little, then to run, and finally to fly! Very well do I remember my first little flight. I could scarcely have gone a dozen yards, when down I came plop! right on my mother’s back! How she got beneath me, goodness only knows! But it was a good thing for me that she did, for when I saw where I should have fallen; it was right on top of an old spiky post in a fence—and I certainly would have been hurt.

“‘One day my father came to me and said: “Up you come with me, little laddie! You’re old enough now to get into the air, and to get your first singing lesson!”

“‘I fairly worshipped my father! He really was wonderful, for on all the days when my mother was feeding me or teaching me to fly, we could just see him away up overhead, singing rapturously.

“‘And the songs he sang! The notes came raining down like dew-drops, diamonds, rubies, sapphires. They were made of sunshine, jewels, and running water! You never heard the like of them! And my mother, who loved him to distraction, would often stop in her teaching and just gaze up at him as if he were an angel!

“‘But, as I was saying, my father came to me for my first skyward lesson. How I loved it! Round and up, and up and round we went, until we appeared to be miles and miles above the earth!

“‘And, looking about me, at the sun, the sky, and the good green earth, all at once I knew what everything meant, and almost without knowing it, I opened my throat and sang till I dropped!

“‘Very fortunately my father, who probably guessed what would happen, was watching closely, and the very instant that my wings gave way he caught me on his back, and down we came in the most graceful spirals you ever saw! Day after day we did the same thing, until at last, strong of wing, and mellow throated as my father, he gave me the right to soar and sing whenever I pleased!

“‘As to why I sing, I can only say that everything in the World seems so good, so lovely and so bright, that I cannot help it. Besides, I love to hear my own voice, it is so sweet. And I rather think that the Angels of Heaven, looking down as I often do at this beautiful earth, must find it not only easy to sing, but must simply long for the time when they can come and teach their songs to human beings,—just as my father taught me his!’”

So concluded the story.

Then someone sang a Fairy song, and everybody joined in the chorus.

After that the Prince asked one of the Couriers—one of those who are sent out with important letters—to repeat something he once heard at a concert. And this is what the Courier said:—

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I stopped to listen to a children’s concert, and there I heard a bright-faced boy recite this tale:—

GOURDS AND QUINCES

Two Beetles brown, came up to Town,
Beneath a load of pumpkins;
With Simon Strong they rode along,
A pair of Country Bumpkins.
And though ’twas hot they murmured not,
Nor thought upon the weather;
For their delight, both day and night,
Was just to be together!

And this was so, as you may know,
Because, by love incited,
Their wedding tour began the hour
That they were thus united!
And so, ’twould seem, a foolish dream,
By fate and Fortune aided,
Began to be a true decree,
When they the cart invaded.

For Beetles’ tastes, whate’er else wastes.
Run much to fruity flavours;
And so, mayhap, they hoped to tap
The best of orchard savours,
When in the straw they thought they saw,—
(And this the truth evinces!)
Amid the heap of pumpkins cheap,
The gleam of golden quinces!

But hopes are vain and fraught with pain
When backed by judgments hasty;
And yellow gourds are hard as boards,
And not like quinces, tasty!
And so these twain must Town attain,
By love sustained, but thinner;
In hopes at least, that they might feast,
When Simon stopped for dinner!

Yet, sad to say, alack aday!
The journey being ended,
Upon their backs, on some old sacks.
They found themselves extended!
And then, instead of meat and bread,
Or food of more pretension,—
They heard the squeal of pigs at meal:
Oh, sorry, sad declension!

For to a pen of porkers ten,
Old Simon tipped his pumpkins,
And with the load, to that abode.
Were thrown the Beetle-bumpkins!
To them, indeed, an awful meed
Of rude and rough requiting—
When they had schemed and fondly dreamed
Of pelf, with love uniting!

And so, ’tis plain—that those who gain
The World’s rewards and pleasures
Can ne’er be sure they them secure,
By raiding others treasures!
And one more fact remains intact:
(The doubters this convinces!)
That those who rise to high emprise,
Know yellow gourds from quinces!

At the conclusion of the Recitation a number of what might be termed the brighter members of the audience took occasion to comment on it; but, judging by what they said to each other, they had not much sympathy for the silly little beetles.

When they were quite quiet again, “Taste,” the second of the Five Story Tellers, began his tale as follows:—

THE GRAPE VINE’S STORY

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, faint and weary from the heat of the day, I sheltered myself under a shady vine. When I looked up I saw beautiful bunches of grapes—like ladies’ fingers—hanging all about me. A bunch I took, and found them so delicious that I said to the vine, ‘Tell me, Grape Vine, what is your story, and why do you grow such grapes?’ And this is what the Grape Vine said:—

“‘My story is a very simple one! When I was a little hard white pip I was covered with pale, firm flesh, and my green skin was as smooth as silk! As I grew older my flesh got softer, and my skin expanded to allow for my growth.

“‘About this time the Sun began to take notice of me; and in a playful way he took to patting my cheeks every time he passed. In spite of myself I always blushed; and, somehow, try as I might, I never could get rid of the blush again. The result was, that the oftener I blushed the deeper my colour became.

“‘One day he stopped to tease me about it, and I got so annoyed that I became almost red with indignation. At that very moment, a pretty little lady, passing by, evidently seeing my plight, promptly plucked me from my place and popped me in her mouth! For a moment or two I was pleased to be out of the sight of the Sun; but presently I got so warm that I was glad to be taken out, even if it was only to be stared at by my tiny lady friend!

“‘It was then that I had time to notice that she had lovely blue eyes, milk-white teeth, and the prettiest little fingers in the world! “Poor little grape,” said she; “I don’t suppose you know I’m going to eat you; but I am! What a pity you are so round and red! I wonder why you don’t grow as long as my finger? You would be far prettier if you were shaped like a lady’s finger instead of like an owl’s eye!”

“‘And she laughed so suddenly that I nearly fell out of her hand with fright!

“‘Now, although she said that funny thing about me, I was so charmed with the way in which she spoke, that I there and then resolved, if ever I got the chance, to try and grow in the shape she had suggested.

“‘But an instant after I thought that the end of the world had come, for, with a smart little nip of her teeth she cut right into my flesh, and in less than a minute she had stripped me bare, and I lay in the palm of her hand, nearly frightened to death!

“‘“Poor little seed,” she murmured, looking down at me strangely, “I wonder if you know what has happened to you, and whether you’ve got any life left! Well, you can’t say, and I don’t know!” And with that she blew me off the palm of her hand into the soft brown earth of her father’s orchard!

“‘There I lay for many a day, waiting for something, though what it was I couldn’t understand.

“‘By-and-by the winter rains began to fall, and the soil about me tightened its grip.

“‘At first I didn’t like it; but I soon found out that if I wanted to be cosy and warm I had better not wriggle and struggle, as at first I felt inclined. Oh, how good and kind I found the Earth to be! For quite a long time she let me sleep, and when it was time to wake she softly whispered: “Feet down! Head up! Head up! Feet down!” And almost without knowing what I was doing, I felt myself pressing downwards with two little legs, and pushing upwards with a little green head as hard as ever I could.

“‘The moment I got my head through the soil I knew that I had done the right thing! There was the orchard I knew so well, and there, too, the Sun, who somehow seemed different, for instead of patting me on the cheeks as he used to do, he kept on saying, “Come up! Climb! Climb! If you want to get on in the world you must climb!”

“‘Well, as it seemed the right thing to do, climb I did; and I kept on climbing, until one day my little lady’s father stopped to examine me.

“‘“Oh, ho!” said Mr. Orchardist, “what have we here? A good-looker right enough! I must watch you grow, my lady!”

“‘And he did too, giving me regular attention, treatment and care, until I began to feel that the deepest wish of my heart would be gratified. And sure enough it was, for in my fourth year, much to my little lady’s delight, I began to grow a grape she had never seen before—a long and shapely grape, with just the daintiest pink flesh on its delicate skin!

“‘Quite unknown to her, Mr. Orchardist had also seen what was taking place, and one day, to my intense joy, he said to the little lady, “Come hither, little lady, and show me your hand!” And as she held it out, he dropped into it my first bunch of grapes, saying, as he did so: “At last! At long last! Here are My Lady’s Fingers!”

“‘As to why I grow such grapes there is surely no need to say. It is to perpetuate the memory of the sweet little lady on whose hand I saw the fingers which inspired me to imitate their dainty shape.’”

So ended the story.

There followed a second selection by the Band; after which the Prince announced that a “Storks’ Companion”—one of the Fairies who goes with a Stork when he takes a new baby home—would say what he overheard on one well remembered occasion.

And this is what the “Storks’ Companion” said:—

WHEN THE STORK CALLED

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I went with a Stork to deliver a new baby. Next morning, the Nurse told the baby’s father and some friends who had called, all about it. And this is what she said:—

‘The Boy’ and ‘The Girl’ were both abed,
Their prayers were said;
And each little curly silken head
Was laid on its own downy pillow!
When, sakes alive!
Like bees from a hive,
With a buzz and a boom that seemed to run
From the earth to the sea, and from there to the sun,
There came such a knock!
Such a sharp rat-tat!
That the boy woke up and said, ‘What’s that?’
And the girl from her bed jumped out on her hat!
(A ridiculous place, you must all agree,
On the bedroom floor for a hat to be!)
And all the while, that rapid rat-tat,
Made their little hearts beat ‘a-pity-poor-pat!’
Then the queerest of sounds
On their quick ears fell!
It was not a cry;
And ’twas hardly a yell!
But they both felt sure, as they sat so still,
’Twas the Stork had knocked with his hard long bill!
But oh, it was an aching time!
The Hall clock twice rang out its chime
Ere Grandma came, and to them told,
How the Stork had come through the night so cold!
Had called and said,
As they lay abed—
As sound asleep as if they were dead;
‘Here’s the baby for which you prayed!
A Baby Brother!
I’ll leave him with mother!
Treat him kindly and be not afraid!’
Then, like a star
That shoots afar;
Away he flew on pinions light,
Oh, so swiftly through the night;
Right away on aery wing,
Through the pale moon’s Fairy Ring;
On to where the Babies wait,
Just beside God’s Golden Gate!”

Everybody seemed to be pleased with the effort of the “Storks’ Companion”; but not to have a break in the night’s proceedings, “Sight,” the third of “The Five Story Tellers,” was called upon to tell a tale.

And this is what he said:—

THE RAINDROP’S STORY

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I stood upon a hill-top, watching the rain clouds drifting past. Suddenly a raindrop fell into the palm of my outstretched hand, and lay there looking at me! He was so clear and cool, so bright-eyed and so fearless, that I said to him: ‘Tell me, Raindrop, what is your story, and why do you fall?’

“And this is the tale he told:—

“‘When I was very young, and very, very tiny, I lay upon the bosom of my mother, the Ocean. And many a time when I was inclined to be fretful, because the wind ruffled my spray-like hair, she gently rocked me off to sleep.

“‘Then came a day when the sun held out his hands and arms to me in such a winning fashion, that before I knew what he was doing, he had lifted me up and placed me in the downy folds of a fleecy cloud.

“‘At first I felt a little frightened, especially when I peeped down at the great big moving world beneath.

“‘But very soon I perceived that there were quite a number of us being carried by the cloud, and as we were all in the same boat, so to speak, it was not long before we became quite friendly.

“‘As the days went by we often talked about the things over which we passed, and many a time we wondered what some of them meant.

“‘Very strangely, perhaps, the higher we were taken into the air, the better our eyesight became; until, like ocean birds, we could see right down into the deepest deeps of the sea. It was, therefore, not at all difficult for us to pick out all kinds of things not usually seen from the surface of the water, or even from the top of a ship’s mast.

“‘One of the first and most alluring sights we thus saw, was a circular bed of coral, all pink and glowing in the clear still depths of the Pacific Ocean.

“‘Later on, when crossing the Caribbean Sea, we saw enormous masses of coloured sea-weeds fantastically curling their hands and arms in a never-ending variety of graceful movements. Almost immediately, there came before our eyes dark old Spanish galleons, stuffed with stolen gold, sunk by British merchant-ships, or maybe privateers, all their crews still stark and stiff in the deep unmoving waters. Not far removed was the gallant little ship in which Sir Richard Grenville and his glorious crew fought, single-handed, a fleet of Spanish Buccaneers; and, rather than yield, sank beside their guns. There they were, still resolute of pose in spite of all the years that have gone since then, and, seemingly, ready as ever to uphold the valour and the honour of the British race.

“‘Anon came other sights and scenes. Southward over Africa we float, peering at the Kraals, or houses, of African negroes; the patches where they grow their mealies, and the wide open spaces where their cattle roam. And, heavy now with our growing weight, the cloud just skims over the tall tops of a far-flung forest, when, full in view upon a great square of cleared land, we see a mighty host of stalwart Zulus being marshalled by their Chief in readiness for war. Without the slightest warning, they give vent to a most terrifying shout. Instantly a vast number of our fellow-travellers, thoroughly startled, fall from the cloud to the ground, and, as it suddenly rises again, we see them running as hard as they can for the creeks and the river not far away.

“‘Turning northward, for days and days we seemed to do nothing but drift and drift, the weather all the time becoming warmer and warmer. Then, just as if an intervening screen had been pulled suddenly and swiftly away, there below us lay the great Desert of Sahara. Far, far down, a thin stream of camels, heavily laden, were wending their way in the peculiar, tortuous, twisting fashion which is common to them. Upon the camels’ backs were gaily-coloured coverings fringed and tasseled with red and gold. On certain of the camels, in a kind of tent, rode a number of dark-eyed ladies, dressed in the most gorgeous silks and satins, their faces partly veiled, their little feet encased in dainty slippers, but always their flashing teeth and shining eyes to show that they were happy.

“‘All at once the scene is changed. A broad line of swiftly-moving horses comes, as it were, from nowhere—grey horses, whose arching necks, slim legs, and small round feet, show them to be Arab thoroughbreds. Astride these horses there are dark-browed men in cloak-like white burnooses, racing forward in such a way that it is plainly their intention to surround, and, maybe, murder, those connected with the camels.

“‘But not without a struggle will they be permitted to do as they please, for as soon as they are seen, the camels are drawn into a circle, and the dark-eyed ladies set within its very centre. Inside the ring, behind their animals, who have been told to lie down, are crouched the grim, alert, and silent merchants. In their hands are their rifles, ready loaded. Everything is death-like in its stillness. Even the thudding of the horses’ hoofs, at all times faint upon the sand, is, by the gentle breeze blown in the opposite direction.

“‘Suddenly there comes a yell from the charging horsemen, and, at the very same instant, a flash of guns from the merchants. But, alas! in less time than it takes to describe it, the horsemen are victorious, the merchants are dead or captive, the dark-eyed ladies tied with silken cords, and the whole train—camels, horses and human beings—set in motion towards the desert City, wherein those of the merchants who are still alive will be turned into slaves, their goods and camels sold to the highest bidders, and their ladies taken into the harems of the Arabs rich enough to buy them.

“‘Northward still we go, until Mount Vesuvius is reached. Oh, what a smoke and heat! I nearly dropped with suffocation! Indeed, I should have fallen straight into the great red yawning crater, with its awful fires, had it not been for the soft but strong hold by which the cloud upheld me. Never again do I want to see that burning place. The very memory of it, even now, causes me to tremble....

“‘Then, not far from Mount Vesuvius it seemed, we barely succeeded in passing over such gigantic mountains that their tops are forever covered in snow—white, cold and unutterably still. Yet, even as we gazed, dumb-struck with the wonder of it all, there came the sun’s great rays, and, magically, gloriously, turned the snow to gold—to gleaming gold, mountains of gold!

“‘Southward and Eastward then we went! Over the burning plains of India, past the Taj Mahal, that mighty monument to woman’s love and virtue, and to the memory of a great Prince; southward to Ceylon, set within the circling seas, and then, rapidly over the ocean back to Australia, where, glad to see and smell the Eucalypts again, down I fell to do them service!

“‘As to why I fall, it is because that is the only way in which I can do my share of the things that must be done. My chief duty is to nurture and refresh everything that grows; and as that can best be accomplished by falling on or about them, therefore that is the thing I do.’”

When this story was completed, there suddenly broke out such a hum of conversation that it was quite a little time before the Prince was able to announce that, by special request, the Official Recorder had consented to give a contribution towards the evening’s entertainment.

And this is what he said:—

THE DOOR MAT’S STORY

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I met a wandering Scribe who told me how he had once heard a Door Mat and a Bass Broom talking to each other. Strange as it may seem, they appear to have made many shrewd observations, and, put into rhyme, this is the gist of what the Scribe said:—

This is the tale of the front Door Mat,
And this is the pith of his learning:
He who aspires as a brave man should;
She who desires what a sweet maid would;
Must, ere they rise in the World’s affairs,
Learn that the prizes they seek are theirs,
If they, in the struggle with carks and cares,
Keep Sweet!
Clean their feet!
And leave behind them the grit of the street!

This is the story he told his friend,
His friend, the Broom—
The Big, Bass Broom,
Who never was known to enter a Room,
But swept and scrubbed
Until he was dubbed
The terror of Drains and Greasy Stains,
The Garden Paths and the Clothes Yard!
This is his narrative, word for word,
Just as he rendered it; overheard

Up near the door, where the Fairy Scribe
Wrote it all down for his own wee tribe;
And, so he said, to the Town next day
Took it to print; but I grieve to say
That not ’till now has it seen the light!
But, as you know, in the Town’s poor plight,
Things are o’erlooked both by night and day,
And thus, I learn, went the ‘proofs’ astray!
So, not till now has the tale been told:
Just as I give it you, true as gold!
Keep sweet!
Mind your feet!
And bring not in the grime of the street!

Said the Mat:
‘At the big front door I’ve stood for years,
And I’ve heard folks laugh, and seen folks’ tears;
I have seen them gay, and seen them sad,
I have known some good, and met some bad;
But from each and all I learned a truth,
And of this I speak in love and ruth;
For the thing they taught (which all may learn),
Is to purchase not before you earn;
For the man who buys ere his wage be paid,
Though he live in splendour will live afraid.
Keep sweet!
Brush your feet!
And forget, if you can, the mire of the street!

‘I have seen some come with goods to sell,
And I’ve known the truth they would not tell!
For if lies are used when wares are bought,
Then by lies be sure will sale be sought.
But of all such buying, sale and gain,
In the Book of Fate the sum’s writ plain;
For the one who robs by word or deed,
Of his soul sells out in stupid greed;
And for such an one, when life is passed,
There is nought but grief for wealth amassed.
Keep sweet!
Watch your feet!
And step not into the filth of the street!

‘There were those who came with sorrow’s tale,
Of a wife long sick, and children pale;
Of a daughter weak or son just dead,
Of a mother starved for lack of bread!
But in these, I knew, Love’s fires were cold,
That their aim and hope was Pity’s gold!
Yet, for such the gold will turn to dross,
And the profits all shall come to loss;
For the Law is this while justice lives:
To the man be gain who value gives!
Keep sweet!
Dust your feet
And stand not out in the Stour of the Street!

‘But I’ve also seen throughout the years,—
As the worn and weary told their fears;
How the smile of hope effaces pain,
And the listless stir to life again
At the kind word said or good deed done
As they passed along; and everyone,
With a new-born joy and ardour filled,
Has again felt moved, if God so willed,
To withstand the Earth’s consuming fire,
And the nobler realms of Love aspire!
Keep sweet!
Stamp your feet!
And shake off the dust of the windy street!

‘And I’ve seen a child for flowers come in,
With a winning smile and dimpled chin;
And the gift evoked within each breast,
An elation sweet, as of the blest!
For that blossom bright was sure to bloom
In the dullest days of doubt and gloom;
While the fragrance hid within its heart;
Of the child was soon to grow a part!
And the same note rings o’er all earth’s cries,
For a kindly action never dies!
Keep sweet!
Guard your feet!
And you need not touch the mud of the street!’

Said the Broom to the Mat:
‘In the yard I’ve lived most all my life,
And with dust and dirt I’m aye at strife;
So I know ’tis true the tale you tell,
For have I not also learned it well?
And to those who happen to cross my way,
From the facts I’ve gained, I often say:
If you want to win in life’s great game,
It is well to stop when burns the flame!
For the one who dares with fire to play,
Will in burnt-out ash be swept away!
For the Law is this: ’Tis clearly writ—
And the fate of fools all witness it:
Sweep hard!
Dirt discard!
Or you’ll slip on the slime of your own back yard!’”

So these are the words of the Mat and the Broom;
And this is the sum of their learning:
“Attempt not to better the style of your room,
Except by your own honest earning!
For the Liars, and Misers, and Swindlers, and Fools,
Are the handles and hafts of the Arch-Devil’s tools!
And this truth, it were well, should be taught in the schools:
Sweep hard!
Dirt discard!
And never neglect your own back yard!”

When the “Official Recorder” had finished, the Prince stood up and said that he had great pleasure in asking the fourth of the “Five Story Tellers” to tell a tale.

And this is the story told by “Smell”:—

CLOVER PERFUME’S STORY

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I was looking for a lost baby Fairy in a field of well-grown, rich red clover.

“The day was warm, and the drowsy hum of countless bees suggested to my mind that, perhaps the object of my search had fallen down, and was somewhere lying asleep beneath the spreading clover. Very carefully, therefore, I pulled aside many and many a bunch of sweet smelling blossoms, hoping to discover him.