Chapter IV: Part 4

“Squawk! Squawk!” cried Chicken-diddle, “the sky’s falling down”; and away she ran as fast as her legs would carry her. She ran until she came to the barnyard, and there was Hen-pen rustling in the dust of the barnyard.

“Oh, Hen-pen, don’t rustle—run, run!” cried Chicken-diddle. “The sky’s falling down.”

The hen stopped rustling. “How do you know that Chicken-diddle?” asked Hen-pen.

“I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run, until we get some place.”

“Quawk! Quawk,” cried the hen, and she began to run, and Chicken-diddle ran after her.

They ran till they came to the duck-pond, and there was Duck-luck just going in for a swim.

“Oh, Duck-luck! Duck-luck! don’t try to swim,” cried Hen-pen. “The sky’s falling down.”

“How do you know that, Hen-pen?” asked Duck-luck.

“Chicken-diddle told me.”

“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”

“Why shouldn’t I know it? I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run until we get some place.”

“Yes, we had better run,” quacked Duck-luck, and away he waddled with Hen-pen, and Chicken-diddle after him.

They ran and ran till they came to a green meadow, and there was Goose-loose eating the green grass.

“Oh, Goose-loose, Goose-loose, don’t eat; run, run,” cried Duck-luck.

“Why should I run?” asked Goose-loose.

“Because the sky’s falling down.”

“How do you know that, Duck-luck?”

“Hen-pen told me.”

“How do you know that, Hen-pen?”

“Chicken-diddle told me.”

“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”

“Because I saw it with my eyes, and heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run some place.”

“Yes, we’d better run,” cried Goose-loose.

Away they all ran, Goose-loose at the head of them, and they ran and ran until they came to the turkey-yard, and there was Turkey-lurkey strutting and gobbling.

“Oh, Turkey-lurkey! don’t strut! Don’t strut!” cried Goose-loose.

“Why should I not strut?” asked Turkey-lurkey.

“Because the sky’s falling down.”

“How do you know it is?”

“Duck-luck told me!”

“How do you know, Duck-luck?”

“Hen-pen told me!”

“How do you know, Hen-pen?”

“Chicken-diddle told me!”

“How do you know, Chicken-diddle?”

“I couldn’t help knowing! I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and a part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run until we get some place.”

“Yes, we’d better run,” said Turkey-lurkey, so away they all ran, first Turkey-lurkey, and then Goose-loose, and then Duck-luck, and then Hen-pen, and then Chicken-diddle.

They ran and ran until they came to Fox-lox’s house, and there was Fox-lox lying in the doorway and yawning until his tongue curled up in his mouth. When he saw Turkey-lurkey and Goose-loose and Duck-luck and Hen-pen and Chicken-diddle he stopped yawning, and pricked up his ears, and he was very glad to see them.

“Well, well,” said he, “and what brings you all here?”

“Oh, Fox-lox, Fox-lox, don’t yawn,” cried Turkey-lurkey, “the sky’s falling down.”

“How do you know that, Turkey-lurkey?” asked the fox.

“Goose-loose told me.”

“How do you know that, Goose-loose?”

“Duck-luck told me.”

“How do you know that, Duck-luck?”

“Hen-pen told me.”

“How do you know that, Hen-pen?”

“Chicken-diddle told me.”

“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”

“I couldn’t help knowing, for I saw it with my eyes, and I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, where shall we run? We ought to go some place.”

“Well,” said the Fox, “you come right in here, and I’ll take such good care of you that even if the sky falls down you won’t know anything about it.”

So in ran Turkey-lurkey, and Fox-lox put him in the big room, and shut the door. In ran Goose-loose, and he put him in the little room, and shut the door. In ran Duck-luck, and he put him in the cellar, and shut the door. In ran Hen-pen, and he put her in the attic, and shut the door. In ran Chicken-diddle, and Fox-lox kept him right there in the room with him. And what happened to them after that I don’t know, but nobody ever saw them again; if the sky really fell, I never heard about it. They were only a pack of silly fowls, anyway.

A PACK OF RAGAMUFFINS

“My dear,” said the cock to the hen one day, “what do you say to our taking a walk over to Mulberry Hill? The mulberries must be ripe by now, and we can have a fine feast.”

“That would suit me exactly,” answered the hen. “I am very fond of ripe fruit, and it is a long time since I have tasted any.” So the cock and hen set off together.

The way was long, and the day was hot, and before the two had reached the top of the hill they were both of them tired and out of breath. The mulberries lay thick on the ground, and the cock and the hen ran about hither and yon, pecking and eating—pecking and eating, until they could eat no more, and the sun was near setting.

“Oh! oh!” groaned the hen, “how weary I am. How in the world are we to get home again. My legs are so tired, I could not go another step if my life depended on it.”

“My dear,” said the cock, “I too am weary, but I see here a number of fallen twigs. If I could but weave them into a coach we might ride home in comfort.”

“That is a clever thought,” sighed the hen. “Make it by all means. There is nothing I like better than riding in a coach.”

The cock at once set to work, and by weaving sticks and grasses together he made a little coach with body, wheels, and shafts all complete.

The hen was delighted. She at once hopped into the coach, and seated herself. “Now, my dear Cock-a-lorum,” she cried, “nothing more is needed but for you to get between the shafts and step out briskly, and we will be at home in less than no time.”

“What are you talking about?” asked the cock sharply. “I have no idea of pulling the coach myself. My legs ache as well as yours, and if you wait for me to pull you home you may sit there till doomsday.”

“But how then are we to get home?” asked the hen, beginning to weep.

“I do not know,” answered the cock. “But what I do know is that I am not going to pull you.”

“But you must pull me,” wept the hen.

“But I won’t pull you,” stormed the cock.

So they scolded and disputed and there is no knowing how it would have ended, but suddenly a duck appeared from behind some bushes.

When the duck saw the hen and the cock it ruffled up its feathers and waddled toward them, quacking fiercely. “What is this! What is this!” cried the duck. “Do you not know that this hill belongs to me? Be off at once or I will give you a sound beating.”

It flew at the cock with outspread wings. The cock, however, was a brave little fellow. Instead of running away he met the duck valiantly, and seizing it he pulled out a beakful of feathers. The hen shrieked, but the cock continued to punish the duck until it cried for mercy.

“Very well,” said the cock, settling his feathers. “I will let you go this time, but only if you will promise to draw our coach to the nearest inn, where we can spend the night.”

The duck was afraid to refuse the cock’s demand. He put himself between the shafts, the cock mounted the coach and cracked his whip, and away they all went as fast as the duck could waddle. The coach rocked and bumped over the stones, and suddenly the duck gave a jump that almost upset it. “Ouch! ouch!” it cried. “Something stuck me.”

“I do well to stick you,” replied a small sharp voice. “I may teach you to look where you are going, and not step on honest travelers who are smaller than you.”

The voice was that of a needle, who, with a pin for a comrade, was journeying along the same road.

The cock looked out from the coach. “I am sorry,” said he, “that my duck should be so careless. Will you not get in and ride with us?”

This the pin and the needle were glad to do. The hen was somewhat nervous at first, lest one of them might tread on her foot, but they were so polite, and so careful not to crowd her, that she soon lost her fear of them.

Just before nightfall the coach reached the door of an inn. Here the duck stopped, and the cock called loudly for the landlord.

The man came running, but when he saw the strange guests that sat in the coach he almost shut the door on them. “We want no ragamuffins here,” he cried.

“Wait a bit,” cried the cock. “Just see this fine white egg that the hen has laid. And every morning the duck lays an egg also. Both of these shall be yours if you will take us in for the night.”

Well, the landlord was willing to agree to that bargain. He bade the companions enter and make themselves comfortable. This they did, eating and drinking to their hearts’ content. Then the cock and the hen made themselves comfortable in the best bed, and the others tucked themselves away as best they could.

As soon as they were all asleep the landlord said to his wife, “Listen! This is a fine bargain that I have made. Roast duck is very good, and so is chicken pie, and to-morrow our travelers shall furnish us with both of them. As for the needle and pin you can put them away in your work-basket, and they will always be useful.”

After saying this the landlord and his wife also went to sleep, for the landlord intended to be up early in the morning before his guests had wakened.

The cock, however, was not one to let anyone catch him sleeping. While it was still dark the next morning, he awakened the hen. “Come,” said he; “we’d best be up and away. This landlord of ours seems to me a sly and greedy man; he might take a notion to have roast chicken for dinner to-day, so we had better be gone before he is stirring.”

To this the hen agreed, but she and the cock were both hungry, so before starting they shared the egg between them. The shells they threw in among the ashes on the hearth. Then they took the needle and stuck it in the back of the landlord’s chair; the pin they put in the towel that hung behind the door, and this done they took to their wings and away they flew.

The sound of their going awoke the duck. It opened its eyes and looked after them. “Well, well! So they’re off. I think I’d better be moving myself,” and so saying it waddled down to the river, and swam back to the place whence it had come.

It was not long after this the landlord himself awoke. “I’ll just slip down and see to the travelers before breakfast,” said he.

“Do,” answered his wife.

First, however, the landlord stopped to wash in the kitchen. He picked up the towel to dry his face, and the pin that was in it scratched him from ear to ear. He went to the hearth to light his pipe and the egg-shells flew up in his face. He sat down in his chair for a moment, but scarcely had he leaned back, when he jumped up with a cry. The needle had run into him.

“It is all the fault of those ragamuffins,” cried the landlord in a rage, and he caught up a knife and ran to find them. But search as he might there was not a sign of them anywhere, for they were already safely home again.

So all the landlord had for his trouble after all, was his pains.

THE FROG PRINCE

There was once a king who had one only daughter, and her he loved as he loved the apple of his eye.

One day the Princess sat beside a fountain in the gardens, and played with a golden ball. She threw it up into the air and caught it again, and the ball shone and glittered in the sunshine so that she laughed aloud with pleasure. But presently as she caught at the ball she missed it, and it rolled across the grass and fell into the fountain. There it sank to the bottom. The Princess tried and tried to reach it, but she could not. Then she began to weep, and her tears dripped down into the fountain.

“Princess, Princess, why are you weeping?” asked a hoarse voice.

The Princess looked about her, and there was a great squat green frog sitting on the edge of the fountain.

“I am weeping, Froggie, because I have dropped my ball into the water and I cannot get it again,” answered the Princess.

“And what will you give me if I get it for you?”

“Anything in the world, dear Frog, except the ball itself.”

“I wish you to give me nothing, Princess,” said the frog. “But if I bring back your ball to you will you let me be your little playmate? Will you let me sit at your table, and eat from your plate, and drink from your mug, and sleep in your little bed?”

“Yes, yes,” cried the Princess. She was very willing to promise, for she did not believe the frog could ever leave the fountain, or come up the palace steps.

“Very well, then that is a promise,” said the frog, and at once he plunged into the fountain and brought back the ball to the Princess in his arms.

The little girl took the ball and ran away with it without even stopping to thank him.

That evening the child sat at supper with her father, and she ate from her golden plate, and drank from her golden mug, and she did not even give a thought to the frog down in the fountain.

Presently there came a knocking at the door, but it was so soft that no one heard it but the Princess. Then the knocking came again, and a hoarse voice cried, “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, let me in. Have you forgotten the promise you made me by the fountain?”

The Princess was frightened. She slipped down from her chair, and ran to the door, and opened it and looked out. There on the top-most step sat the great green frog.

When the Princess saw him she shut the door quickly, and came back to the table, and she was very pale.

“Who was that at the door?” asked the King.

“It was no one,” answered the Princess.

“But there was surely someone there,” said the King.

“It was only a great green frog from the fountain,” said the Princess. And then she told her father how she had dropped her ball into the fountain, and how the frog had brought it back to her, and of what she had promised him.

“What you have promised that you must perform,” said the King. “Open the door, my daughter, and let him in.”

Very unwillingly the child went back to the door and opened it; the frog hopped into the room. When she returned to the table, the frog hopped along close at her heels.

She sat down and began to eat. “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, set me upon the table that I too may eat from your golden plate,” said the frog.

The Princess would have refused, but she dared not because of what her father had said. She lifted the frog to the table, and there he ate from her plate, but she herself could touch nothing.

“I am thirsty,” said the frog. “Tilt your golden mug that I may drink from it.”

The Princess did as he bade her, but as she did so she could not help weeping so that her tears ran down into the milk.

When supper was ended the Princess was about to hurry away to her room, but the frog called to her, “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, take me along. Have you forgotten that I was to sleep in your little white bed?”

“That you shall not,” cried the Princess in a passion. “Go back to the stones of the fountain, where you belong.”

“What you have said that you must do,” said the King. “Take the frog with you.”

The Princess shuddered, but she dared not refuse.

She took the frog with her up to her room, and put him down in the darkest corner, where she would not see him. Then she undressed and went to bed. But scarcely had her head touched the pillow when she heard the frog calling her.

“King’s daughter, King’s daughter! Is this the way you keep your promise? Lift me up to the bed, for the floor is cold and hard.”

The Princess sprang from the bed and seized the frog in her hands. “Miserable frog,” she cried, “you shall not torment me in this way.” So saying she threw the frog against the wall with all her force.

But no sooner did the frog touch the wall than it turned into a handsome young prince, all dressed in green, with a golden crown upon his head, and a chain of emeralds about his neck.

The Prince came to her, and took her by the hand.

“Dear Princess,” said he, “you have broken the enchantment that held me. A cruel fairy was angry with my father, and so she changed me into a frog, and put me there in the fountain. But now that the enchantment is broken we can really be playmates, and when you are old enough you shall be my wife.”

The Princess did not say no. She was delighted at the thought of having such a handsome playmate. And as for marrying him later on, she was quite willing for that, too.

So the Prince stayed there in the palace, and the King was very glad to think he was to have him for a son-in-law, and when he and the Princess were married, there was great rejoicing and feasting through all the kingdom.

The Prince, however, was not willing to stay away from his own kingdom any longer. He said he must return to see his old father.

One day a handsome golden coach drawn by eight white horses drove up to the door. It had been sent by the Prince’s father to fetch him home again. Upon the box rode the faithful servant who had cared for the Prince when he was a child.

When the Prince had been carried away by the fairy this faithful servant had grieved so bitterly he had feared his heart would break. To keep this from happening he had put three great iron bands around his body.

The Prince and the Princess entered the coach, and away went the horses. They had not driven far, however, when a loud crack was heard.

“What is that?” cried the Princess. “Surely something has broken.”

“Yes, mistress,” answered the faithful servant,

“It was a band that bound my heart.
My joy hath broken it apart.”

They drove a little farther, and then there came another crack, even louder than the first.

“Surely the coach is breaking down,” cried the Prince.

“Nay, master,” answered the faithful servant,

“’Tis but my joy that rives apart
The second band that held my heart.”

A little farther on there came a crack that was louder than any.

“Now surely something has broken,” cried the Prince and Princess together.

“’Tis the last band that held my heart,
And joy has riven all apart,”

answered the servant.

After that they drove on quietly until they reached their own country. There the Prince and Princess lived in happiness to the end of their lives, and the faithful servant with them.

THE WOLF AND THE FIVE LITTLE GOATS

There was once a mother goat who had five little kids, and these kids were so dear to her that nothing could have been dearer.

One day the mother goat was going to the forest to gather some wood for her fire. “Now, my little kids,” said she, “you must be very careful while I am away. Bar the door behind me, and open it to nobody until I return. If the wicked wolf should get in he would certainly eat you.”

The little kids promised they would be careful, and then their mother started out, and as soon as she had gone they barred the door behind her.

Now it so happened the old wolf was on the watch that day. He saw the mother goat trotting away toward the forest, and as soon as she was out of sight, he crept down to the house and knocked at the door—rap-tap-tap!

“Who is there?” called the little kids within.

“It is I, your mother, my dears,” answered the wolf in his great rough voice. “Open the door and let me in.”

But the kids were very clever little kids. “No, no,” they cried. “You are not our mother. Our mother has a soft, sweet voice, and your voice is harsh and rough. You must be the wolf.”

When the wolf heard this he was very angry. He battered and battered at the door, but they would not let him in. Then he turned and galloped away as fast as he could until he came to a dairy. There he stuck his head in at the window, and the woman had just finished churning her butter.

“Woman, woman,” cried the wolf, “give me some butter. If you do not I will come in and upset your churn.”

The woman was frightened. At once she gave him a great deal of butter—all he could eat.

The wolf swallowed it down, and then he ran back to the goat’s house and knocked at the door—rat-tat-rat!

“Who is there?” asked the little goats within.

“Your mother, my dears,” answered the wolf, and now his voice was very soft and smooth because of the butter he had swallowed.

“It _is_ our mother,” cried the little kids, and they were about to open the door, but the littlest kid of all, who was a very wise little kid, stopped them.

“Wait a bit,” said he. “It sounds like our mother’s voice, but before we open the door we had better be very, very sure it is not the wolf.” Then he called through the door, “Put your paws up on the windowsill.”

The wolf suspected nothing. He put his paws up on the windowsill, and as soon as the little kids saw them they knew at once that it was not their mother. “No, no,” they cried, “you are not our mother. Our mother has pretty white feet, and your feet are as black as soot. You must be the wolf.”

When the wolf heard this he was angrier than ever. He turned and galloped away again, and as he galloped he growled to himself and gnashed his teeth.

Presently he came to a baker’s shop, and there he stuck his head in at the window.

“Baker, baker, give me some dough,” he cried. “If you do not I will upset your pans and spoil your baking.”

The baker was frightened. At once he gave the wolf all the dough he wanted. The wolf seized it and ran away with it. He ran until he came to the goat’s house. There he sat down and covered his black feet all over with the white dough. Then he knocked at the door—rat-tat-tat!

“Who is there?” cried the little goats within.

“Your mother, my dears, come home again,” answered the wolf, in his smooth buttery voice.

“Put your paws up on the windowsill.”

The wolf put his paws up on the windowsill, and they looked quite white because of the dough. Then the little kids felt sure it was their mother, and they gladly opened the door.

“Woof!” In bounded the wicked wolf.

The little goats cried out and away they ran, some in one direction, and some in another. They hid themselves one behind the door, and one in the dough-trough, and one in the wash-tub, and one under the bed, and one (and he was the littlest one of all) hid in the tall clock-case. The wolf stood there glaring about him, and not as much as a tail of one of them could he see.

Then he began to hunt about for them, but he had to be in a hurry, because he was afraid the mother goat would come home again.

He found the kid behind the door, and he was in such a hurry he swallowed it whole without hurting it in the least. He found the one in the wash-tub, and he swallowed it whole, too. He found the one in the dough-trough, and it, too, he swallowed whole. He found the one under the bed and he swallowed it whole. The only one he did not find was the one in the clock-case, and he never thought of looking there. He hunted around and hunted around, and he was afraid to stay any longer for fear their mother would come home.

But now the old wolf felt very heavy and sleepy. He looked around for a place to go in order to lie down and rest.

Not far away were some rocks and trees that made a pleasant shadow. Here the wolf stretched himself out, and presently he was snoring so loudly that the leaves of the trees shook overhead.

Soon after this the mother goat came home. As soon as she saw the door of the house standing open, she knew at once that some misfortune had happened. She went in and looked about her. The furniture was all upset and scattered about the room. “Alas, alas! My dear little kids!” cried the mother. “The wicked wolf has certainly been here and eaten them all.”

“He didn’t eat me,” said a little voice in the clock-case.

The mother goat opened the door of the clock-case and the littlest kid of all hopped out.

“But why were you in the clock-case? And what has happened?” asked the mother.

Then the little kid told her all about how the wolf had come there with his buttery voice and his whitened paws, and how they had let him in, and how he had swallowed all four of the other little kids, so that he alone was left.

After the mother goat had heard the story she went to the door and looked about. Then she heard the old wolf snoring where he lay asleep under the nut-trees in the shade of the rocks.

“That must be the old wolf snoring,” said the mother goat, “and he cannot be far away. Do not make a noise, my little kid, but come with me.”

The mother goat stole over to the heap of rocks, and the little kid followed her on tiptoes. She peeped and peered, and there lay the old wolf so fast asleep that nothing less than an earthquake would have wakened him.

“Now, my little kid,” whispered the mother, “run straight home again as fast as you can, and fetch me my shears and a needle and some stout thread.”

This the little kid did, and he ran so softly over the grass that not even a mouse could have heard him.

As soon as he returned the mother goat crept up to the old wolf, and with the sharp shears she slit his hide up just as though it had been a sack. Out popped one little kid, and out popped another little kid, and another, and another, and there they all were, just as safe and sound as though they had never been swallowed. And all this while the old wolf never stirred nor stopped snoring.

“And now, my little kids,” whispered the mother, “do you each one of you bring me a big round stone, but be very quick and quiet, for your lives depend upon it.”

So the little kids ran away, and hunted around, and each fetched her back a big round stone, and they were very quick and quiet about it, just as their mother had bade them be.

The old goat put the stones inside the wolf, where the little kids had been, and then she drew the hide together and sewed it up, using the stout, strong thread. After that she and the little kids hid themselves behind the rocks, and watched and waited.

Presently the old wolf yawned and opened his eyes. Then he got up and shook himself, and when he did so the stones inside him rattled together so that the goat and the little kids could hear them, where they hid behind the rocks.

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear me!” groaned the wolf;

“What rattles, what rattles against my poor bones?
Not little goats, I fear, but only big stones.”

Now what with the stones inside of him and the hot sun overhead the wolf grew very thirsty. Near by was a deep well, with water almost up to the brink of it. The old wolf went to drink. He leaned over, and all the stones rolled up to his head and upset him. Plump! he went down into the water, and the stones carried him straight to the bottom. He could not swim at all, and so he was drowned.

But all the little kids ran out from behind the rocks and began to dance around the well.

“The old wolf is dead, A-hey! A-hey!
The old wolf is dead, A-hey!”

they sang, and the mother goat came and danced with them, they were all so delighted.

THE GOLDEN GOOSE

There was once an honest laborer who had three sons. The two eldest were stout clever lads, but as to the youngest one, John, he was little better than a simpleton.

One day their mother wanted some wood from the forest, and it was the eldest lad who was to go and get it for her. It was a long way to the forest, so the mother filled a wallet with food for him. There was a loaf of fine white bread, and a bit of cheese, and a leathern bottle of good red wine as well.

The lad set off and walked along and walked along and after awhile he came to the place where he was going, and there under a tree sat an old, old man. His clothes were gray, and his hair was gray, and his face was gray, so he was gray all over.

“Good-day,” said the man.

“Good-day,” said the lad.

“I am hungry,” said the gray man. “Have you not a bite and sup that you can share with me?”

“Food I have, and drink too,” said the lad, “but it is for myself, and not for you. It would be a simple thing for me to carry it this far just to give it to a beggar”; and he went on his way.

But it was bad luck the lad had that day. Scarcely had he begun chopping wood when the head of the ax flew off, and cut his foot so badly that he was obliged to go limping home, with not even so much as a fagot to carry with him.

The next day it was the second son who said he would go to the forest for wood.

“And see that you are more careful than your brother,” said his mother. Then she gave him a loaf of bread, and a bit of cheese, and a bottle of wine, and off he set.

Presently he came to the forest, and there, sitting in the same place where he had sat before, was the old gray man.

“Good-day,” said the man.

“Good-day,” said the lad.

“I am hungry,” said the gray man. “Have you not a bite or a sup to share with me?”

“Food I have and drink as well, but I am not such a simpleton as to give it away when I need all for myself.”

The lad went on to the place where he was going, and took his ax and began to chop, but scarcely had he begun when the ax slipped and cut his leg so badly that the blood ran, and he could scarcely get home again.

That was a bad business, for now both of the elder brothers were lame.

The next day the simpleton said he would go to the forest for wood.

“You, indeed!” cried his mother. “It is not enough that your two brothers are hurt? Do you think you are smarter than they are? No, no; do you stay quietly here at home. That is the best place for you.”

But the simpleton was determined to go, so his mother gave him an end of dough that was left from the baking and a bottle of sour beer, for that was good enough for him. With these in his wallet John started off, and after awhile he came to the forest, and there was the gray man sitting just as before.

“Good-day,” said the man.

“Good-day,” answered the simpleton.

“I am hungry,” said the gray man. “Have you not a bite or sup that you can share with me?”

Oh yes, the simpleton had both food and drink in his wallet. It was none of the best, but such as it was he was willing to share it.

He reached into his wallet and pulled out the piece of dough, but what was his surprise to find that it was dough no longer, but a fine cake, all made of the whitest flour. The old man snatched the cake from John and ate it all up in a trice. There was not so much as a crumb of it left.

“Poor pickings for me!” said John.

And now the old gray man was thirsty. “What have you in that bottle?” he asked.

“Oh, that was only sour beer.”

The old man took the bottle and opened it. “Sour beer! Why it is wine,” he cried, “and of the very best, too.”

And the simpleton could tell it was by the smell of it. But the smell of it was all he got, for the old man raised the bottle to his lips, and when he put it down there was not a drop left in it.

“And now I may go thirsty as well as hungry,” said John.

“Never mind that,” said the old man. “After this you may eat and drink of the best whenever you will. Go on into the forest and take the first turning to the right. There you will see a hollow oak tree. Cut it down, and whatever you find inside of it you may keep; it belongs to me, and it is I who give it to you.”

Then of a sudden the old man was gone, and where he went the simpleton could have told no one.

The lad went on into the forest, as the gray man had told him, and took the first turn to the left, and there sure enough was a hollow oak tree. The lad could tell it was hollow from the sound it made when his ax struck it.

John set to work, and chopped so hard the splinters flew.

After awhile he cut through it so that the tree fell, and there, sitting in the hollow, was a goose, with eyes like diamonds, and every feather of pure gold.

When John saw the goose he could not wonder enough. He took it up under his arm and off he set for home, for there was no more chopping for him that day.

But if the goose shone like gold it weighed like lead. The farther John went the wearier he grew. After awhile he came to an inn, just outside of the city where the King lived. There the simpleton sat him down to rest. He pulled a feather from the golden goose, and gave it to the landlord and bade him bring him food and drink, and with such payment as that it was the very best that the landlord sat before him you may be sure.

While the simpleton ate and drank the landlord’s wife and daughter watched him from a window.

“Oh, if we only had a second feather,” sighed the daughter.

“Oh, if we only had!” sighed the mother.

Then the two agreed between them that when the simpleton had finished eating and drinking, the daughter should creep up behind him and pluck another feather from the bird.

Presently John could eat and drink no more. He rose up and tucked the golden goose under his arm, and off he set.

The landlord’s daughter was watching, and she stole up behind him and caught hold of a feather in the goose’s tail. No sooner had she touched it, however, than her fingers stuck, and she could not let go. Off marched John with the goose under his arm, and the girl tagging along after him.

The mother saw her following John down the road, and first she called, and then she shouted, and then she ran after her and caught hold of her to bring her home. But no sooner had she laid hands on the girl than she, too, stuck, and was obliged to follow John and the golden goose.

The landlord was looking from the window. “Wife, wife,” he cried, “where are you going?” And he hurried after her and caught her by the sleeve. Then he could not let go any more than the others.

The simpleton marched along with the three tagging at his heels, and he never so much as turned his head to look over his shoulder at them.

The road ran past a church, and there was the clergyman just coming out of the door. “Stop, stop!” he cried to the landlord. “Have you forgotten you have a christening feast to cook to-day?” And he ran after the landlord and caught hold of him, and then he too stuck.

The sexton saw his master following the landlord, and he ran and caught hold of his coat, and he too had to follow. So it went. Everyone who touched those who followed the golden goose could not let go, and were obliged to tag along at John’s heels.

Now the King of that country had a daughter who was so sad and doleful that she was never known to smile. For this reason a gloom hung over the whole country, and the King had promised that any one who could make the Princess laugh should have her as a wife and a half of the kingdom as well.

It so chanced the simpleton’s way led him through the city and by the time he came in front of the King’s palace the whole street was in an uproar, and John had a long train of people tagging along after him.

The Princess heard the noise in the room where she sat sighing and wiping her eyes, and as she was very curious she went to the window and looked out to see what all the uproar was about.

When she saw the simpleton marching along with a goose under his arm and a whole string of people after him, all crying and bawling and calling for help, it seemed to her the funniest thing she had ever seen. She began to laugh, and she laughed and laughed. She laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks and she had to hold her sides for laughing.

But it was no laughing matter for the King, as you may believe. Here was a poor common lad, and a simpleton at that, who had made the Princess laugh; so now, by all rights, he might claim her for a wife, and the half of the kingdom, too.

The King frowned and bit his nails, and then he sent for John to be brought before him, and the lad came in alone, for he had set the people free at the gates.

“Listen, now,” said the King to John. “It is true I promised that anyone who made the Princess laugh should have her for a wife, but there is more to the matter than that. Before I hand over part of the kingdom to anyone, I must know what sort of friends he has, and whether they are good fellows. If you can bring here a man who can drink a whole cellar full of wine at one sitting then you shall have the Princess and part of the kingdom, just as promised; but if you cannot you shall be sent home with a good drubbing to keep you quiet.”

When John heard that he made a wry face. He did not know where he could find a man who could drink a whole cellar full of wine at one sitting.

He went out from the castle, and suddenly he remembered the old gray man who had given him the golden goose. If the old man had helped him once perhaps he might again.

He set out for the forest, and it was not long before he came to it. There, sitting where the old gray man had sat before, was a man with a sad and rueful face. He looked as though he had never smiled in all his life. He was talking to himself, and when the simpleton drew near he found the man was saying over and over, “How dry I am! How dry I am! Not even the dust of a summer’s day is as dry as I.”

“If you are so thirsty, friend,” said John, “rise up and follow me. Do you think you could drink a whole cellar full of wine at one sitting?”

Yes, the man could do that, and glad to get it, too. A whole cellar full of wine would be none too much to satisfy such a thirst as his.

“Then, come along,” said John.

He took the man back to the castle and down into the cellar where all the casks of wine were stored. When the man saw all that wine his eyes sparkled with joy. He sat him down to drink, and one after another he drained the casks until the very last one of them was empty. Then he stretched himself and sighed. “Now I am content,” said he.

As for the King his eyes bulged with wonder that any one man could drink so much at one sitting.

“Yes, that is all very well,” said he to the simpleton. “I see you have a friend who can drink. Have you also a friend who can eat a whole mountain of bread without stopping? If you have, you may claim the Princess for your wife, but if you have not, then you shall be sent home with a good drubbing.”

Well, that was not in the bargain, but perhaps the simpleton might be able to find such a man.

He set off for the forest once more, and when he came near the place where the thirsty man had sat he saw there another man, and he was enough like the thirsty man to be his brother.

As John came near to where he sat he heard him talking to himself, and what he was saying over-and-over was, “How hungry I am. Oh, how hungry I am.”

“Friend,” said the simpleton, “are you hungry enough to eat a whole mountain of bread? If you are I may satisfy you.”

Yes, a whole mountain of bread would be none too much for the hungry man.

So John bade the stranger follow him and then he led the way back to the castle.

There all the flour in the kingdom had been gathered together into one great enormous mountain of dough. When John saw how big it was his heart failed him.

“Can you eat that much?” he asked of the hungry man.

“Oh, yes, I can eat that much, and more, too, if need be,” said the man.

Then he sat down before the mountain of bread and began to eat. He ate and he ate, and he ate, and when he finished not so much as a crumb of bread was left.

As for the King he was a sad and sorry man. Not only was his daughter and part of the kingdom promised to a simpleton, but he had not even a cupful of flour left in the palace for his breakfast.

And still the King was not ready to keep the promises he had made. There was one thing more required of the simpleton before he could have the Princess and part of the kingdom for himself. Let him bring to the King a ship that would sail both on land and water, and he should at once marry the Princess, and no more words about it.

Well, John did not know about that, but he would do the best he could. He took the road that led back to the forest, and when he reached the place where the old man had sat, there was the old man sitting again just as though he had never moved from that one spot.

“Well,” said the old man, “and has the golden goose made your fortune?”

“That,” answered John, “is as it may be. It may be I am to have the half of a kingdom and a princess for a wife, and it may be that I am only to get a good drubbing. Before I win the Princess I must find a ship that will sail on land as well as on water, and if there is such a thing as that in the world I have never heard of it.”

“Well, there might be harder things than that to find,” said the old man. It might be he could help John out of that ditch, and what was more he would, too, and all that because John had once been kind to him. The old man then reached in under his coat and brought out the prettiest little model of a ship that ever was seen. Its sails were of silk, its hull of silver, and its masts of beaten gold.

The old man set the ship on the ground, and at once it began to grow. It grew and grew and grew, until it was so large that it could have carried a score of men if need be.

“Look,” said the old man. “This I give to you because you were kind to me and willing to share the best you had. Moreover it was I who drank the wine and ate the mountain of bread for you. Enter into the ship and it will carry you over land and water, and back to the King’s castle. And when he sees this ship he will no longer dare to refuse you the Princess for your wife.”

And so it was. John stepped into the ship and sailed away until he came to the King’s palace, and when the King saw the ship he was so delighted with it that he was quite willing to give the Princess to the simpleton for a bride.

The marriage was held with much feasting and rejoicing, and John’s father and mother and his two brothers were invited to the feast. But they no longer called him the simpleton; instead he was His Majesty, the wise King John.

As for the old gray man he was never seen again, and as the golden goose had disappeared also, perhaps he flew away on it.

THE THREE SPINNERS

There was once a girl who was so idle and lazy that she would do nothing but sit in the sunshine all day. She would not bake, she would not brew, she would not spin, she would not sew. One morning her mother lost patience with her entirely, and gave her a good beating. The girl cried out until she could be heard even into the street.

Now it so chanced the queen of the country was driving by at that time, and she heard the cries. She wished to find out what the trouble was, so she stopped her coach and entered the house. She went through one room after another, and presently she came to where the girl and her mother were.

“What is all this noise?” she asked. “Why is your daughter crying out?”

The mother was ashamed to confess what a lazy girl she had for a daughter, so she told the queen what was not true.

“Oh, your majesty,” cried she, “this girl is the worry of my life. She will do nothing but spin all day, and I have spent all my money buying flax for her. This morning she asked me for more, but I have no money left to buy it. It was because of that she began to cry, as you heard.”

The Queen was very much surprised. “This girl of yours must be a very fine spinner,” she said. “You must bring her to the palace, for there is nothing I love better than spinning. Bring her to-morrow, and if she is as wonderful a spinner as I suspect, she shall be to me as my own daughter, and shall have my eldest son as a husband.”

When the girl heard she was to go to the palace and spin she was terrified. She had never spun a thread in her life, and she feared that when the Queen found this out she would be angry and would have her punished. However, she dared say nothing.

The next day she and her mother went to the palace, and the Queen received them kindly. The mother was sent home again, but the daughter was taken to a tower where there were three great rooms all filled with flax.

“See,” said the Queen. “Here is enough flax to satisfy you for awhile at least. When you have spun this you shall marry my son, and after that you shall have all the flax you want. Now you may begin, and to-morrow I will come to see how much you have done.”

So saying the Queen went away, closing the door behind her.

No sooner was the girl alone than she burst into tears. Not if she lived a hundred years could she spin all that flax. She sat and cried and cried and cried.

The next morning the Queen came back to see how much she had done. She was very much surprised to find the flax untouched, and the girl sitting there with idle hands. “How is this?” she asked. “Why are you not at your spinning?”

The girl began to make excuses. “I was so sad at being parted from my mother that I could do nothing but sit and weep.”

“I see you have a tender heart,” said the Queen. “But to-morrow you must begin to work. When I come again I shall expect to see a whole roomful done.”

After she had gone the girl began to weep again. She did not know what was to become of her.

Suddenly the door opened, and three ugly old women slipped into the room. The first had a splayfoot. The second had a lip that hung down on her chin. The third had a hideous broad thumb.

The girl looked at them with fear and wonder. “Who are you?” she asked.

The one with the splayfoot answered. “We are three spinners. We know why you are weeping, and we have come to help you, but before we help you, you must promise us one thing: that is that when you are married to the Prince, we may come to your wedding feast, that you will let us sit at your table, and that you will call us your aunts.”

“Yes, yes; I will, I will,” cried the girl. She was ready to promise anything if they would only help her.

At once the splayfoot sat down at the wheel, and began to spin and tread. She with the hanging lip moistened the thread, and the woman with the broad thumb pressed and twisted it. They worked so fast that the thread flowed on like a swift stream. Before the next evening they had finished the whole roomful of flax.

When the Queen came again she was delighted to find so much done. “To-morrow,” said she, “you shall begin in the second room.”

The next day the girl was taken into the second room, and it was larger than the first and was also full of flax.

Scarcely had the Queen left her when the door was pushed open, and the three old women came into the room.

“Remember your promise,” said they.

“I remember,” answered the girl.

The old women then took their places and began to spin. Before the next evening they had finished all the flax that was in the room.