Chapter VII: Front Matter (7)

There was once upon a time a pig who lived with her three children in a large, comfortable, old-fashioned farmyard. The eldest of the little pigs was called Browny, the second Whity, and the youngest and best-looking, Blacky. Now, Browny was a very dirty little pig, and I am sorry to say spent most of his time rolling and wallowing about in the mud. He was never so happy as on a wet day, when the mud in the farmyard was soft and thick and smooth. Then he would steal away from his mother’s side, and finding the muddiest place in the yard, would roll about in it and thoroughly enjoy himself. His mother often found fault with him for this and would shake her head sadly and say: “Ah, Browny! some day you will be sorry that you did not obey your old mother.” But no words of advice or warning could cure Browny of his bad habits.

Whity was quite a clever little pig, but she was greedy. She was always thinking of her food and looking forward to her dinner; and when the farm girl was seen carrying the pails across the yard, she would rise up on her hind legs and dance and caper with excitement. As soon as the food was poured into the trough she jostled Blacky and Browny out of the way in her eagerness to get the best and biggest bits for herself. Her mother often scolded her for her selfishness, and told her that some day she would suffer for being so greedy.

Blacky was a nice little pig, neither dirty nor greedy. He had nice dainty ways, for a pig, and his skin was always as smooth and shining as black satin. He was much cleverer than either Browny or Whity, and his mother’s heart used to swell with pride when she heard the farmer’s friends say to each other that some day the little black fellow would be a prize pig.

Now, the time came when the mother pig felt old and feeble and near her end. One day she called the three little pigs around her and said:

“My children, I feel that I am growing old and weak and that I shall not live long. Before I die I should like to build a house for each of you, as this dear old sty in which we have lived so happily will be given to a new family of pigs, and you will have to turn out. Now, Browny, what sort of a house would you like to have?”

“A house of mud,” replied Browny, looking longingly at a wet puddle in the corner of the yard.

“And you, Whity?” said the mother pig in rather a sad voice, for she was disappointed that Browny had made so foolish a choice.

“A house of cabbage,” answered Whity, with a mouth full, and scarcely raising her snout out of the trough in which she was grubbing for some potato parings.

“Foolish, foolish child!” said the mother pig, looking quite distressed. “And you, Blacky,” turning to her youngest son, “what sort of a house shall I order for you?”

“A house of brick, please, mother, as it will be warm in winter, cool in summer, and safe all the year round.”

“That is a sensible little pig,” replied his mother, looking fondly at him. “I will see that the three houses are made ready at once. And now one last piece of advice. You have heard me talk of our old enemy, the fox. When he hears that I am dead he is sure to try and get hold of you, to carry you off to his den. He is very sly, and will no doubt disguise himself and pretend to be a friend, but you must promise me not to let him enter your houses on any pretext whatever,” and the little pigs readily promised, for they had always had a great fear of the fox, of whom they had heard many terrible tales.

A short time afterward the old pig died, and the little pigs went to live in their own houses. Browny was quite delighted with his soft mud walls and with the clay floor, which soon looked like nothing but a big mud pie. But that was what Browny enjoyed, and he was as happy as possible, rolling about all day and making himself exceedingly dirty. One day, as he was lying half asleep in the mud, he heard a soft knock at his door and a gentle voice said:

“May I come in, Master Browny? I want to see your beautiful new house.”

“Who are you?” said Browny, starting up in great fright, for though the voice sounded gentle, he felt sure it was a feigned voice and he feared it was the fox.

“I am a friend come to call on you,” answered the voice.

“No, no,” replied Browny, “I don’t believe you are a friend. You are the wicked fox, against whom our mother warned us. I won’t let you in.”

“Oho! is that the way you answer me?” said the fox, speaking very roughly in his natural voice. “We shall soon see who is master here,” and with his paws he set to work and scraped a large hole in the soft mud walls. A moment later he had jumped through it, and catching Browny by the neck, flung him on his shoulders and trotted off with him to his den.

The next day, as Whity was munching a few leaves of cabbage out of the corner of her house, the fox stole up to her door, determined to carry her off to join her brother in his den. He began speaking to her in the same feigned, gentle voice in which he had spoken to Browny; but it frightened her very much when he said:

“I am a friend come to visit you and to have some of your good cabbage for my dinner.”

“Please don’t touch it,” cried Whity in great distress. “The cabbages are the walls of my house, and if you eat them you will make a hole, and the wind and rain will come in and give me a cold. Do go away. I am sure you are not a friend, but our wicked enemy the fox.” And poor Whity began to whine and to whimper, and to wish that she had not been such a greedy little pig and had chosen a more solid material than cabbages for her house. But it was too late now, and in another minute the fox had eaten his way through the cabbage walls and had caught the trembling, shivering Whity and carried her off to his den.

The next day the fox started off for Blacky’s house, because he had made up his mind that he would get the three little pigs together in his den, then kill them, and invite all his friends to a feast. But when he reached the brick house he found that the door was bolted and barred, so in his sly manner he began: “Do let me in, dear Blacky. I have brought you a present of some eggs that I picked up in a farmyard on my way here.”

“No, no, Mr. Fox,” replied Blacky, “I am not going to open my door to you. I know your cunning ways. You have carried off poor Browny and Whity, but you are not going to get me.”

At this the fox was so angry that he dashed with all his force against the wall and tried to knock it down. But it was too strong and well built; and though the fox scraped and tore at the bricks with his paws he only hurt himself, and at last he had to give it up and limp away with his fore paws all bleeding and sore.

“Never mind!” he cried angrily as he went off. “I’ll catch you another day, see if I don’t; and won’t I grind your bones to powder when I have got you in my den!” And he snarled fiercely and showed his teeth.

Next day Blacky had to go into the neighboring town to do some marketing and to buy a big kettle. As he was walking home with it slung over his shoulder he heard a sound of steps stealthily creeping after him. For a moment his heart stood still with fear, and then a happy thought came to him. He had just reached the top of a hill, and could see his own little house nestling at the foot of it among the trees. In a moment he had snatched the lid off the kettle and had jumped in himself. Coiling himself round he lay quite snug in the bottom of the kettle, while with his foreleg he managed to put the lid on, so that he was entirely hidden. With a little kick from the inside he started the kettle off, and down the hill it rolled full tilt; and when the fox came up, all that he saw was a large black kettle spinning over the ground at a great pace. Very much disappointed, he was just going to turn away when he saw the kettle stop close to the little brick house, and in a moment Blacky jumped out of it and escaped with it safely inside, when he barred and bolted the door and put the shutter up over the window.

“Oho!” exclaimed the fox to himself, “you think you will escape me that way, do you? We shall soon see about that, my friend,” and very quietly and stealthily he prowled round the house looking for some way to climb on to the roof.

In the mean time Blacky had filled the kettle with water, and having put it on the fire, sat down quietly waiting for it to boil. Just as the kettle was beginning to sing and steam to come out of the spout he heard a sound like a soft, muffled step, patter, patter, patter overhead, and the next moment the fox’s head and forepaws were seen coming down the chimney. But Blacky very wisely had not put the lid on the kettle, and with a yelp of pain the fox fell into the boiling water, and before he could escape Blacky had popped the lid on and the fox was scalded to death.

As soon as he was sure that their wicked enemy was really dead and could do them no further harm, Blacky started off to rescue Browny and Whity. As he approached the den he heard piteous grunts and squeals from his poor little brother and sister, who lived in constant terror of the fox killing and eating them, but when they saw Blacky appear at the entrance to the den their joy knew no bounds. He quickly found a sharp stone and cut the cords by which they were tied to a stake in the ground, and then all three started off together for Blacky’s house, where they lived happily ever after; and Browny quite gave up rolling in the mud and Whity ceased to be greedy, for they never forgot how nearly these faults had brought them to an untimely end.

_How to Tell a True Princess_

There was once upon a time a prince who wanted to marry a princess, but she must be a true princess. So he traveled through the whole world to find one, but there was always something against each. There were plenty of princesses, but he could not find out if they were true princesses. In every case there was some little defect, which showed the genuine article was not yet found. So he came home again in very low spirits, for he had wanted very much to have a true princess. One night there was a dreadful storm; it thundered and lightened and the rain streamed down in torrents. It was fearful! There was a knocking heard at the palace gate, and the old king went to open it.

There stood a princess outside the gate; but oh, in what a sad plight she was from the rain and the storm! The water was running down from her hair and her dress into the points of her shoes and out at the heels again. And yet she said she was a true princess!

“Well, we shall soon find that!” thought the old queen. But she said nothing and went into the sleeping-room, took off all the bedclothes, and laid a pea on the bottom of the bed. Then she put twenty mattresses on top of the pea and twenty eider-down quilts on the top of the mattresses. And this was the bed in which the princess was to sleep.

The next morning she was asked how she had slept.

“Oh, very badly!” said the princess. “I scarcely closed my eyes all night! I am sure I don’t know what was in the bed. I lay on something so hard that my whole body is black and blue. It is dreadful!”

Now they perceived that she was a true princess, because she had felt the pea through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down quilts.

No one but a true princess could be so sensitive.

So the prince married her, for now he knew that at last he had got hold of a true princess. And the pea was put into the Royal Museum, where it is still to be seen if no one has stolen it. Now, this is a true story.

_The Five Servants_

Once upon a time, in a country far away, there lived and ruled an old queen who had such a wicked heart that she was not happy unless she was working evil to others. She had one daughter who was very beautiful, and whom she made use of to further her own evil plans; for, whenever a suitor came to apply for her hand, the old queen set him an impossible task, and chopped off his head without any pity when he could not perform it.

Now, in another country there lived a young prince who had heard of this lovely girl, and he begged his father to let him go and try his luck.

“Not a bit of it,” said the king. “You would only lose your head like the rest.”

But the prince was very anxious to go, and when he found his father was firm, he fell ill and took to his bed for seven years, and not all the doctors in the land could make him well again or restore his fallen spirits. Then the father knew that the lad must die, unless he was allowed to have his own way, so he said:

“Get up, my son, and try your fate.”

At these joyful words the boy jumped out of bed, quite recovered, and you may be sure it was not long before he was ready for his journey and on the road.

One day, as he was swinging along over hill and dale, and fern and brake, he saw a great big thing lying by the roadside. At first he thought it was a huge animal, but as he drew nearer he saw that it was really an enormously fat man, who was as round and jolly as you can imagine. Seeing the traveler, he rose to his feet, and I do believe the earth trembled as he did so.

“If you are in need of a servant, take me, and you will not repent,” he said, pulling off his cap and bowing.

“Why, whatever should I do with such a fat fellow as you?” answered the prince.

“If I were three thousand times as fat it would not matter, so long as I served you well,” said the man.

“Hum! well, that is very true,” replied the prince. “You may come along, and I dare say I shall be able to put you to some use.”

So they journeyed on together, and presently they came upon a man lying with his ear pressed to the ground.

“What are you doing?” asked the prince.

“I am listening,” answered the man. “I can hear everything that is going on in the world, even the growing of the grass.”

“Ah,” said the prince, “then you can tell me what you hear in the palace of the old queen.”

“I hear the cutting off of a suitor’s head.”

“Come with me, then,” said the prince, “for I can see that you will be useful.”

A little farther on they came upon a pair of legs lying stretched on the grass, but they were so long that the travelers had to walk an hour before they came to the body, and then nearly another hour before they reached the head.

“Well, what a long strip of a chap you are!” said the prince.

“Why, master, you have only seen me when I am lying down,” replied the man. “Just you wait till I stand up. I am thrice as tall as the highest mountain you have ever seen on your travels. Just let me come and be your servant, and I promise that you will find me useful.”

“Willingly,” answered the prince.

Then they all went on their way again till they came to a wood, and here they found a man who, though he was lying in the full heat of the sun, was shivering and shaking so that it was a wonder his teeth did not fall out of his head.

“Why, my good man,” said the prince, “what makes you shiver so on this hot day?”

“Alas!” groaned the man, “the hotter the day the colder I am; the sun freezes the very marrow in my bones; and when it is what you call cold, I begin to grow hot, so that I nearly burn to death. I cannot bear cold because it is so hot, nor heat because it is so cold.”

“Well, you are an odd fellow,” said the prince. “Suppose you get up and join my train?” So the man agreed.

The next man they met was standing in a field turning his head from side to side in a way that made your neck ache to watch him.

“What are you looking for?” asked the prince.

“I am looking for nothing,” answered the man. “But I have such keen sight that I can see all over the world, through woods and forests, and hills and mountains; nothing can escape my eyes.”

“Well,” said the prince, “if you are willing to take service, join my train, for I have need of such as you.”

Then they all journeyed on together in a very merry fashion, for the prince was light-hearted at the thought of his beautiful bride that was to be. You see, he had quite made up his mind to get the better of the wicked queen. Soon they reached the palace, and the prince presented himself to the queen, and said:

“I am come to ask the hand of your daughter in marriage. Set me what task you like, so long as I may marry her when it is done.”

“Three tasks I will set you,” said the queen, “and when they are done you shall be her husband. First, you must find me the ring that I have dropped in the sea near the palace.”

The prince went home to his servants, and said:

“Now is your chance to prove your worth. You must find me a ring that lies at the bottom of the sea.”

“I will see where it lies,” said the keen-sighted one; and suddenly he shouted: “There it is; it lies on a rock at the bottom of the waves!”

“I would soon fetch it, if I could see it,” said the long man.

“I can arrange that,” chimed in the fat one, and he lay down beside the sea and began to drink.

And he drank and drank till the sea disappeared, and the bottom lay stretched out before them as dry as a meadow. Then the long man took one stride, and picked up the ring and brought it to the prince.

The old queen was very much surprised to see the ring, but she concealed her annoyance, and, leading the youth to the window, said:

“In yonder field a hundred fat oxen are feeding. You must eat them all before noon, and, in case you are thirsty, you must drink the contents of the hundred casks of wine that are in the cellar.”

“Certainly,” said the youth, cheerfully. “But I should like to invite a friend to eat with me.”

“Oh, by all means,” replied the old hag, with a smile.

So the prince went to his friends and told them the news.

“You will help me to-day?” he said, turning to the fat man; “and for once you will have a good meal.”

So they went straightway to the field where the oxen were, and in no time at all the fat man had gobbled up every one, and still looked hungry. Then the prince took him down to the cellar, and he quenched his thirst with the hundred casks of wine.

Again the youth presented himself to the witch, and astonished her with the news that the task was done.

“Oho! my fine fellow,” she grumbled to herself, “I will catch you yet.

“To-night,” she added aloud, “I will bring the princess and leave her to sit with you; but beware lest you fall asleep, for if I come at twelve and find the princess gone, you are a lost man!”

“That does not sound difficult,” thought the prince. “Surely I can keep awake, if I want to.”

So he told his servants what the third task was to be, and they all agreed that a watch had better be kept, lest the old woman should play some trick.

At nightfall the old queen brought her daughter to the prince’s house and returned to the palace. As soon as she was gone, the long man wound himself around the house; the listener lay with his ear to the ground; the fat one stood in the doorway, completely blocking the entrance, and the keen-eyed one kept watch. Within sat the princess, silent as a statue, the moonlight lighting up her beautiful face with a radiant glory, so that the prince could only gaze at her in awe and wonder. So far it was well; but at half past eleven a spell, cast by the old queen, fell on them all, and they slept, and immediately the princess was spirited away.

At a quarter to twelve the spell lost its power, and they awoke to discover what a calamity had fallen upon them.

“Oh, woe is me! woe is me!” cried the prince. “What can save us now?” and the faithful servants wept in unison.

Suddenly the listener said:

“Hark! be still, and I will listen.”

They were quiet at once, and he listened for a moment.

“I hear her bewailing her fate!” he cried.

Then the keen-sighted man turned his head from side to side and cried joyfully:

“I see her sitting on a rock, three hundred miles away. Our long friend can reach her in two strides.”

“Willingly,” cried the man, and he was up and at the foot of the rock before the others could look round. He took the princess in his arms, and she was back in the prince’s house just one moment before twelve, and they all sat down together and rejoiced.

As the clock struck twelve, the old queen came creeping along, looking very spiteful, as she thought she had really won this time; for was not her daughter three hundred miles away? She was not, as we know, and when the queen saw this she felt so angry she would like to have ordered all their heads to be chopped off.

“There must be some one here who is cleverer than I!” she screamed, and then she fell to crying, but it was of no use. The prince was firm as a rock, and she had to consent to the wedding; but she whispered to her daughter:

“His servants have done everything for him. Aren’t you ashamed to have a husband who can do nothing at all for himself?”

The daughter had a proud and haughty temper, and her pride began to rise up angrily. So next day she commanded three hundred loads of wood to be brought and piled up in the palace yard and set alight. Then she told the prince that he had performed the tasks only by the help of his servants, and before she would marry him some one must sit upon the woodpile and stay there till it was burned out; for she thought no servant would do so much for him, and he surely would have to do this himself. However, she was wrong, for the freezing man claimed this as his share of the work, and he mounted the woodpile without delay.

For three days and three nights it blazed away, till only ashes were left, and there stood the freezing man shivering like a jelly.

“If it had burned much longer, I should have been benumbed with the cold,” he said, with chattering teeth.

Now, the princess saw that she could delay no longer, so they set off to the church, but the queen made yet another attempt to prevent the wedding. She called her attendants, and sent them to waylay the party and kill every one but the princess. However, the listener had been keeping his ears open, and he heard this order; so they put on more speed and reached the church first, and were married. At the church door the five servants took leave of their master and went out into the world to try their fortune alone.

The prince and his wife set forth on their homeward journey, and at the end of the first day they came upon a village where a swineherd stood feeding his pigs.

“Do you know who I am?” said the prince to his wife. “Yonder man is my father, and our duty now is to tend the pigs with him.”

They went into the cottage, and during the night the prince took away her splendid clothes, so that in the morning she had to put on an old dress and shoes belonging to the swineherd’s wife.

These were given to her grudgingly, and only for her husband’s sake, as the woman told her. So the princess was now very miserable, and believed that her husband was really a swineherd; but she determined to make the best of it, and turn to and do her share of the work, and said to herself:

“It is a punishment for all my pride.”

This went on for a week, and then she was so worn out that she sat down by the wayside and burst into tears. Some kindly villagers asked her what was the matter, and if she knew what her husband was?

“He is a swineherd,” she answered, “and has just gone to market with some of his pigs.”

“Come with us, and we will show you where he is,” they said; and they took her away over the hill to the king’s palace, and there in the hall stood her husband surrounded by courtiers, and so richly dressed that she did not know him, till he fell upon her neck, saying:

“We have borne much for each other, now let us be happy.”

Then there was great rejoicing, and the marriage-feast was celebrated, and all I can say is, that I wish we had been there to share the merrymaking.

_The Hare and the Fox_

A hare and a Fox were traveling together. It was winter time. Not a blade of grass was to be seen, not a bird or mouse stirred in the fields.

“It’s hungry weather,” said the Fox to the Hare. “I feel as hollow as an egg-shell.”

“And so do I,” replied the Hare. “I’m hungry enough to eat my own ears, if only I could reach them.”

When they had gone a little way they spied a peasant girl coming toward them. She carried a basket, and out of the basket came a very pleasant smell—the smell of hot rolls.

“I tell you what,” said the Fox. “You lie down and pretend to be dead. The girl will put down her basket to take you up for the sake of your skin, for out of hare-skins they make gloves; then I’ll snatch the rolls, and we shall have a splendid meal!”

The Hare did as the Fox told him, fell down, and pretended to be dead, while the Fox hid behind a snow-drift. The girl came along, saw the Hare with his legs stretched out stiff and stark, put down her basket sure enough, and stooped over the Hare. The Fox snatched up the basket and scampered off with it. The Hare in a twinkling came to life, and followed his companion. But he ran on ahead, and showed quite plainly that he meant to keep the rolls all to himself.

But that was not what the Hare had bargained for, you may guess. So when they came to a little lake, he called out to the Fox:

“What do you say to catching a dish of fish? Then we should have fish and rolls to eat like any lord. Just dangle your tail down in the water; the fish haven’t much to bite these days, so they’re bound to hang on to your tail. You must make haste, though, before the lake freezes over.”

Well, the Fox thought that a good idea. So he went to the lake, which was just beginning to freeze, and dangled his tail in the water. In a very short time the tail was frozen in.

Now, the Hare took the basket and gobbled up the rolls one after the other as comfortably as you please, right before the Fox’s face.

“Wait till it thaws,” he said to the Fox. “Wait till the spring. Wait till it thaws!” and then he ran away.

And the Fox was so angry at the way he had been caught that he barked and barked like a savage dog on a chain.

_The Story of Zirac_

Once upon a time a raven, a rat, and a tortoise, having agreed to be friends together, were having a pleasant chat when they saw a wild goat making its way toward them with surprising swiftness. They took it for granted by her speed that she was pursued by some hunter, and they at once without ceremony separated, every one to take care of himself. The tortoise slipped into the water, the rat crept into a hole, which he fortunately found near at hand, and the raven hid himself among the boughs of a very high tree. In the mean time the goat stopped quite suddenly, and stood to rest herself by the side of a fountain, when the raven, who had looked all round and perceived no one, called to the tortoise, who immediately peeped above the water, and seeing the goat afraid to drink, said: “Drink boldly, my friend, for the water is very clear.”

After the goat had done so, the tortoise continued: “Pray tell me what is the reason you appear in such distress?”

“Reason enough,” said the goat; “for I have just made my escape out of the hands of a hunter, who pursued me with an eager chase.”

“Come,” said the tortoise, “I am glad you are safe. I have an offer to make you. If you like our company, stay here and be one of our friends; you will find our hearts honest and our company useful to you. The sages say that a number of friends lessens trouble.”

After this short speech the raven and the rat joined in the invitation, so that the goat at once promised to become one of them, each promising the other to prove himself a real and true friend whatever might happen in days to come. After this agreement these four friends lived in perfect harmony for a very long time, and spent their time pleasantly together. But one day, as the tortoise, the rat, and the raven were met, as they used to do, by the side of the fountain, the goat was missing. This gave great trouble to them, as they knew not what had happened. They very soon came to a resolution, however, to seek for and assist the goat, so the raven at once mounted into the air to see what discoveries he could make; and looking round about him, at length, to his great sorrow, saw at a distance the poor goat entangled in a hunter’s net. He immediately dropped down in order to acquaint the rat and tortoise with what he had seen; and you may be sure that these ill tidings caused great grief.

“What shall we do?” said they.

“We have promised firm friendship to one another and lived very happily together so long,” said the tortoise, “that it would be shameful to break the bond and not act up to all we said. We cannot leave our innocent and good-natured companion in this dire distress and great danger. No! we must find some way to deliver our poor friend goat out of captivity.”

Said the raven to the rat, who was nicknamed Zirac: “Remember, O excellent Zirac, there is none but thyself able to set our friend at liberty; and the business must be quickly done for fear the huntsman should lay his hands upon her.”

“Doubt not,” replied Zirac, “but that I will do my best, so let us go at once that no time may be lost.”

On this the raven took up Zirac in his bill, and flew with him to the place where the poor goat was confined in the net. No sooner had he arrived than he at once commenced to gnaw the meshes of the net that held the goat’s foot and had almost set him at liberty when the tortoise arrived.

As soon as the goat saw the tortoise she cried out with a loud voice: “Oh, why have you ventured to come hither, friend tortoise?”

“Because I could no longer bear your absence,” replied the tortoise.

“Dear friend,” said the goat, “your coming to this place troubles me as much as the loss of my own liberty; for if the hunter should happen to come, what would you do to make your escape? For my part I am almost free, and my being able to run will prevent me from falling into his hands again; our friend the raven can find safety in flight, and Zirac can run into any hole. Only you, who are so slow of foot, will become the hunter’s prey.” No sooner had the goat thus spoken, when sure enough the hunter appeared; but the goat, being free, swiftly ran away; the raven mounted into the air, and Zirac slipped into a hole, and true enough, as the goat had said, only the slow-paced tortoise remained without help.

When the hunter arrived he was a little surprised to see his net broken and the goat missing. This was no small vexation to him, and caused him to look closely around, to see if he could discover who had done the mischief; and unfortunately, in thus searching, he spied the tortoise.

“Oh! Oh!” said he. “Very good; I am glad to see you here. I find I shall not go home empty-handed after all; here is a plump tortoise, and that is worth something, I’m sure.” Thus saying, he took up the tortoise, put it in a sack, threw the sack over his shoulder, and was soon trudging home.

After he had gone the three friends came out from their several hiding-places, and met together, when, missing the tortoise, they at once judged what had become of him. Then, uttering bitter cries and lamentations, they shed torrents of tears. At length the raven broke the silence, and said: “Dear friends, our moans and sorrow do not help the tortoise. We must, if it be at all possible, devise some means of saving his life. Our sages have often told us that there are three persons that are never well known but on special occasions—men of courage in fight, men of honesty in business, and a true friend in extreme necessity. We find, alas! our dear companion the tortoise is in a sad condition, and therefore we must, if possible, help him.”

“It is first-class advice,” replied Zirac. “Now I think I know how it can be done. Let our friend the goat go and show herself to the hunter, who will then be certain to lay down the sack to run after her.”

“All right,” said the goat, “I will pretend to be lame, and run limping at a little distance before him, which will encourage him to follow me, and thus draw him a good way from his sack, which will give Zirac time to set our friend at liberty.”

This plan appeared such a good one that it was at once approved of, and immediately the goat ran halting before the hunter, and appeared to be so feeble and faint that her pursuer thought he had her safe in his clutches again, and so, laying down his sack, ran after the goat with all his might. That cunning creature suffered him now and again almost to come up to her, and then led him another wild-goose chase till at last she had lured him out of sight; which Zirac seeing, began gnawing the string that tied the mouth of the sack, and soon set free the tortoise, who went at once and hid himself in a thick bush.

At length the hunter, tired of running after his prey, gave up the chase, and returned to take up his sack.

“Here,” said he, “I have something safe; thou art not quite so swift as that plaguing goat; and if thou wert, art too well confined here to find the way to make thy little legs any use to thee.” So saying, he went to the bag, but not finding the tortoise he was amazed, and thought himself in a region of hobgoblins and spirits, since he had by some mysterious means lost two valuable objects, a goat and a tortoise! He did not know, you see, what wonders true friendship can work when all are pledged to help one another.

The four friends soon met together again, congratulated one another on their escapes, made afresh their vows of friendship, and declared that they would never separate until death parted them.

_Johnny-Cake_

Once upon a time there was an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy. One morning the old woman made a Johnny-cake, and put it in the oven to bake. “You watch the Johnny-cake while your father and I go out to work in the garden,” she said, so the old man and the old woman went out and began to hoe potatoes, and left the little boy to tend the oven. But he didn’t watch it all the time, and all of a sudden he heard a noise, and he looked up and the oven door popped open, and out of the oven jumped Johnny-cake, and went rolling along end over end, toward the open door of the house. The little boy ran to shut the door, but Johnny-cake was too quick for him and rolled through the door, down the steps, and out into the road long before the little boy could catch him. The little boy ran after him as fast as he could clip it, crying out to his father and mother, who heard the uproar, and threw down their hoes and gave chase too. But Johnny-cake outran all three a long way, and was soon out of sight, while they had to sit down, all out of breath, on a bank to rest.

On went Johnny-cake, and by and by he came to two well-diggers, who looked up from their work and called out: “Where ye going, Johnny-cake?”

He said: “I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and I can outrun you too-o-o!”

“Ye can, can ye? We’ll see about that,” said they; and they threw down their picks and ran after him, but couldn’t catch up with him, and soon they had to sit down by the roadside to rest.

On ran Johnny-cake, and by and by he came to two ditch-diggers who were digging a ditch. “Where ye going, Johnny-cake?” said they. He said: “I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and two well-diggers, and I can outrun you too-o-o!”

“Ye can, can ye? We’ll see about that!” said they; and they threw down their spades, and ran after him too. But Johnny-cake soon outstripped them also, and seeing they could never catch him, they gave up the chase and sat down to rest.

On went Johnny-cake, and by and by he came to a bear. The bear said: “Where are ye going, Johnny-cake?”

He said: “I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and two well-diggers, and two ditch-diggers, and I can outrun you too-o-o!”

“Ye can, can ye?” growled the bear. “We’ll see about that!” and trotted as fast as his legs could carry him after Johnny-cake, who never stopped to look behind him. Before long the bear was left so far behind that he saw he might as well give up the hunt first as last, so he stretched himself out by the roadside to rest.

On went Johnny-cake, and by and by he came to a wolf. The wolf said: “Where ye going, Johnny-cake?”

He said: “I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and two well-diggers, and two ditch-diggers, and a bear, and I can outrun you too-o-o!”

“Ye can, can ye?” snarled the wolf. “We’ll see about that!” And he set into a gallop after Johnny-cake, who went on and on so fast that the wolf saw there was no hope of overtaking him, and he too lay down to rest.

On went Johnny-cake, and by and by he came to a fox that lay quietly in a corner of the fence. The fox called out in a sharp voice, but without getting up: “Where ye going, Johnny-cake?”

He said: “I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and two well-diggers, and two ditch-diggers, a bear, and a wolf, and I can outrun you too-o-o!”

The Fox said: “I can’t quite hear you, Johnny-cake. Won’t you come a little closer?” turning his head a little to one side.

Johnny-cake stopped his race for the first time, and went a little closer, and called out in a very loud voice: “_I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and two well-diggers, and two ditch-diggers, and a bear, and a wolf, and I can outrun you too-o-o!_”

“Can’t quite hear you; won’t you come a _little_ closer?” said the fox in a feeble voice, as he stretched out his neck toward Johnny-cake, and put one paw behind his ear.

Johnny-cake came up close, and leaning toward the fox screamed out: “I’VE OUTRUN AN OLD MAN, AND AN OLD WOMAN, AND A LITTLE BOY, AND TWO WELL-DIGGERS, AND TWO DITCH-DIGGERS, AND A BEAR, AND A WOLF, AND I CAN OUTRUN YOU TOO-O-O!”

“You can, can you?” yelped the fox, and he snapped up the Johnny-cake in his sharp teeth in the twinkling of an eye.

_The Wee, Wee Mannie_

Once upon a time, when all big folks were wee ones and all lies were true, there was a wee, wee Mannie that had a big, big coo. And out he went to milk her of a morning, and said:

“Hold still, my coo, my hinny,
Hold still, my hinny, my coo,
And ye shall have for your dinner
What but a milk white doo.”

But the big, big coo wouldn’t hold still. “Hout!” said the wee, wee Mannie:

“Hold still, my coo, my dearie,
And fill my bucket wi’ milk,
And if ye’ll be no contrairy
I’ll gi’e ye a gown o’ silk.”

But the big, big coo wouldn’t hold still. “Look at that, now!” said the wee, wee Mannie:

“What’s a wee, wee Mannie to do,
Wi’ such a big contrairy coo?”

So off he went to his mother at the house. “Mither,” said he, “coo won’t stand still, and wee, wee Mannie can’t milk big, big coo.”

“Hout!” said his mother, “take stick and beat coo.”

So off he went to get a stick from the tree, and said:

“Break, stick, break,
And I’ll gi’e ye a cake.”

But the stick wouldn’t break, so back he went to the house.

“Mither,” said he, “coo won’t hold still, stick won’t break, wee, wee Mannie can’t beat big, big coo.”

“Hout!” said his mother, “go to the butcher and bid him kill coo.”

So off he went to the butcher, and said:

“Butcher, kill the big, big coo,
She’ll gi’e us no more milk noo.”

But the butcher wouldn’t kill the coo without a silver penny, so back the Mannie went to the house. “Mither,” said he, “coo won’t hold still, stick won’t break, butcher won’t kill without a silver penny, and wee, wee Mannie can’t milk big, big coo.”

“Well,” said his mother, “go to the coo and tell her there’s a weary, weary lady with long yellow hair weeping for a cup o’ milk.”

So off he went and told the coo, but she wouldn’t hold still, so back he went and told his mother.

“Well,” said she, “tell the coo there’s a fine, fine laddie from the wars sitting by the weary, weary lady with golden hair, and she weeping for a sup o’ milk.”

So off he went and told the coo, but she wouldn’t hold still, so back he went and told his mother.

“Well,” said his mother, “tell the big, big coo there’s a sharp, sharp sword at the belt of the fine, fine laddie from the wars who sits beside the weary, weary lady with the golden hair, and she weeping for a sup o’ milk.”

And he told the big, big coo, but she wouldn’t hold still.

Then said his mother: “Run quick and tell her that her head’s going to be cut off by the sharp, sharp sword in the hands of the fine, fine laddie, if she doesn’t give the sup o’ milk the weary, weary lady weeps for.”

And wee, wee Mannie went off and told the big, big coo.

And when coo saw the glint of the sharp, sharp sword in the hand of the fine, fine laddie come from the wars, and the weary, weary lady weeping for a sup o’ milk, she reckoned she’d better hold still; so wee, wee Mannie milked big, big coo, and the weary, weary lady with the golden hair hushed her weeping and got her sup o’ milk, and the fine, fine laddie new come from the wars put by his sharp, sharp sword, and all went well that didn’t go ill.

_Sir Gammer Vans_

Last Sunday morning at six o’clock in the evening as I was sailing over the tops of the mountains in my little boat, I met two men on horseback riding on one mare: So I asked them: “Could they tell me whether the little old woman was dead yet who was hanged last Saturday week for drowning herself in a shower of feathers?” They said they could not inform me positively, but if I went to Sir Gammer Vans he could tell me all about it.

“But how am I to know the house?” said I.

“Ho, ‘tis easy enough,” said they, “for ‘tis a brick house built entirely of flints, standing alone by itself in the middle of sixty or seventy others just like it.”

“Oh, nothing in the world is easier,” said I.

“Nothing _can_ be easier,” said they: so I went on my way. Now this Sir G. Vans was a giant, and a bottle-maker. And as all giants who _are_ bottle-makers usually pop out of a little thumb-bottle from behind the door, so did Sir G. Vans.

“How d’ye do?” says he.

“Very well, I thank you,” says I.

“Have some breakfast with me?”

“With all my heart,” says I.

So he gave me a slice of beer, and a cup of cold veal; and there was a little dog under the table that picked up all the crumbs.

“Hang him,” says I.

“No, don’t hang him,” says he; “for he killed a hare yesterday. And if you don’t believe me, I’ll show you the hare alive in a basket.”

So he took me into his garden to show me the curiosities. In one corner there was a fox hatching eagle’s eggs; in another there was an iron apple-tree, entirely covered with pears and lead; in the third there was the hare which the dog killed yesterday alive in the basket; and in the fourth there were twenty-four _hipper switches_ threshing tobacco, and at the sight of me they threshed so hard that they drove the plug through the wall, and through a little dog that was passing by on the other side. I, hearing the dog howl, jumped over the wall; and turned it as neatly inside out as possible, when it ran away as if it had not an hour to live. Then he took me into the park to show me his deer; and I remembered that I had a warrant in my pocket to shoot venison for his majesty’s dinner. So I set fire to my bow, poised my arrow, and shot among them. I broke seventeen ribs on one side, and twenty-one and a half on the other; but my arrow passed clean through without ever touching it, and the worst was I lost my arrow. However, I found it again in the hollow of a tree. I felt it; it felt clammy. I smelt it; it smelt honey. “Oh, ho,” said I, “here’s a bees’ nest,” when out sprang a covey of partridges. I shot at them; some say I killed eighteen; but I am sure I killed thirty-six, besides a dead salmon which was flying over the bridge, of which I made the best apple-pie I ever tasted.

_Tom Tit Tot_

Once upon a time there was a woman, and she baked five pies. And when they came out of the oven, they were that over-baked the crusts were too hard to eat. So she says to her daughter:

“Darter,” says she, “put you them there pies on the shelf, and leave ‘em there a little, and they’ll come again.” She meant, you know, the crust would get soft.

But the girl, she says to herself: “Well, if they’ll come again, I’ll eat ‘em now.” And she set to work and ate ‘em all, first and last.

Well, come supper-time the woman said: “Go you, and get one o’ them there pies. I dare say they’ve come again now.”

The girl went and she looked, and there was nothing but the dishes. So back she came, and says she: “Noo, they ain’t come again.”

“Not one of ‘em?” says the mother.

“Not one of ‘em,” says she.

“Well, come again, or not come again,” said the woman, “I’ll have one for supper.”

“But you can’t, if they ain’t come,” said the girl.

“But I can,” says she. “Go you, and bring the best of ‘em.”

“Best or worst,” says the girl, “I’ve ate ‘em all, and you can’t have one till that’s come again.”

Well, the woman she was done, and she took her spinning to the door to spin, and as she span she sang:

“My darter ha’ ate five, five pies to-day.
My darter ha’ ate five, five pies to-day.”

The king was coming down the street, and he heard her sing, but what she sang he couldn’t make out, so he stopped and said:

“What was that you were singing, my good woman?”

The woman was ashamed to let him hear what her daughter had been doing, so she sang, instead of that:

“My darter ha’ spun five, five skeins to-day.
My darter ha’ spun five, five skeins to-day.”

“Stars o’ mine!” said the king, “I never heard tell of any one that could do that.”

Then he said: “Look you here, I want a wife, and I’ll marry your daughter. But look you here,” says he, “eleven months out of the year she shall have all she likes to eat, and all the gowns she likes to get, and all the company she likes to keep; but the last month of the year she’ll have to spin five skeins every day, and if she don’t I shall kill her.”

“All right,” says the woman; for she thought what a grand marriage that was. And as for the five skeins, when the time came, there’d be plenty of ways of getting out of it, and likeliest, he’d have forgotten all about it.

Well, so they were married. And for eleven months the girl had all she liked to eat, and all the gowns she liked to get, and all the company she liked to keep.