Chapter IV: Part 4

The huntsman thought awhile, and at last said: “I have heard of a wonderful garden some three miles east of the forest, where all kinds of fruits made of precious stones grow all the year round. The currants are rubies, the apples are topazes, and the plums are amethysts or sapphires. If you are able to reach this garden and gather a basketful of cherries you might enrich yourself and family for life; and then your father might have the best doctors. He would want for nothing and might soon get well.”

Winikin was delighted at the idea of such a garden, and asked Roger to show him the way to it.

The old huntsman then took him to a kind of grotto that was so completely hidden by brushwood that the little boy had never seen it before though he had often crossed that part of the forest. When the twigs that choked up the entry had been put aside he saw a hollow passage and a view of distant meadows and hills. Then Roger carefully described all the objects the lad was to pass on the road, so that he could not miss the way. Also, he bade him not to loiter on the way for fear he should not be back by nightfall.

Winikin now entered the grotto but kept stopping every minute to admire its pretty sparkling walls, which glistened like diamonds and rubies as a sunbeam shone through the narrow opening. At last, however, he came out into the open meadows, in a part of a country which he had never seen before. Here he met a beautiful little boy with golden locks and cheeks as blooming as a ripe peach. He was carrying a couple of hoops on his arm.

“Will you come and play with me?” asked the little stranger whose name was Goldlocks.

“Why,” said Winikin slowly, thinking of the huntsman’s advice not to loiter on the way, “I should like that very much, but I’m going to a beautiful garden beyond the hills and I’m afraid of being too late.”

“Oh, don’t fear that,” said the little boy, “for we will trundle our hoops that way. You will get on much faster with a hoop than without one. Come!”

The lad offered Winikin one of the hoops which were made of finely worked silver. Also, there was a small ivory stick to trundle it with.

Winikin could not resist. He took a beautiful hoop and stick from Goldlocks who said:

“Once, twice, thrice, away!” and off they went like the wind.

Winikin thought to reach the hills in about five minutes, but at a turn in the road little Goldlocks kept trundling on his hoop faster than before.

Winikin suspected they were not taking the shortest road to the hills, but fearing Goldlocks would win the game he sped after him as fast as he could.

At length Winikin stopped and was panting for breath. Goldlocks laughed and stopped, too, saying, “There’s enough of hoop-trundling!” and he flung them over a hedge into a neighbouring field. “Now we’ll stop and rest and play at marbles.”

Then he drew from his pocket some pearls as large and round as other children’s marbles and Winikin, who dearly loved this game, could not resist playing.

“I have come along so fast,” he said to himself, “that no time will be lost.”

It was now high noon and the sun had grown so hot that Winikin felt tired and thirsty.

“Let us go into this wood and gather strawberries,” said Goldlocks.

Winikin thought the idea was excellent, so he said, “Yes, we shall get on faster after we have eaten some fruit.”

Accordingly, the little boys went into the wood, and, in about five minutes, Goldlocks had gathered enough strawberries to fill Winikin’s hat. They were larger and more delicious than any he had ever tasted before.

When Winikin had eaten his fill, he wished to go on.

“Oh!” said his companion, “it is still too hot to walk fast. If you wait awhile under the shade of this pretty wood, you will get on all the better a little later in the afternoon.”

“All right,” said Winikin, and the lads sat down on the grass. Goldlocks now drew from his pocket a humming top and set it spinning. It was made of a single carbuncle and was topped at each end with a diamond. It was called a humming top but it should have been called a musical top for the sounds it gave forth were as beautiful as an Eolian harp, and they formed distinct tunes. Winikin listened in speechless joy, till at length, tired out with play and amusement, he fell fast asleep.

Little Finikin, meanwhile, on getting out into the meadows, carefully noticed all the objects the hermit had described, so as to be sure to lose neither time nor way till at last he came to a field where he saw a little boy sitting on a bank, and crying bitterly.

Finikin felt so sorry for him that he stopped and said, “What is the matter?”

“Oh,” cried he, “I am waiting for someone to play with. My name is Brownlocks. Who are you?”

“I am Finikin,” said our little friend, “but I cannot stop to play. I am trying to find an orchard of wonderful fruit. I shall take some of it back to my sick father. The fruit will help to cure him.”

“Play with me awhile,” said Brownlocks. “I can take you to a garden where you will find better fruit than that which grows in the orchard you are looking for.”

But Finikin remembered the hermit’s words and persisted in going on his way. When he looked to see if the little boy was following him, Finikin found he had disappeared.

Finikin hurried on, and at length the scenery began to grow wilder as he came near the end of his journey. The rocks were higher and more abrupt and the vegetation more luxuriant, and soon in great joy he stopped, looked at the top of a great pile of rocks, and cried out, “There is the wonderful garden! It looks like a giant basket of fruit and flowers! How shall I ever climb up to it!”

Finikin went round the base of the rocks and looked carefully to see if he could find a path leading to the summit. No such thing was to be found but he saw a cleft between two rocks over which fell a cascade. The water had shrunk to a mere thread because the season had been very dry. Either the work of nature or the hand of man had formed rocks into rough steps, which were almost covered with a sheet of water. Finikin determined to climb the steps although they were slippery and dangerous. Slowly and carefully he made his way to the top where a hedge formed a circle round the garden. He crept through the prickly bushes and saw before him an earthly paradise. The grass was dotted over with every variety of rare, richly coloured flowers; the trees were loaded with fruit that shone like precious stones; the air was studded with the gayest butterflies; and birds with gold and silver plumage were hopping from branch to branch and trilling the sweetest songs.

Though Finikin was dazzled and charmed by all he saw, he walked on without stopping until he came to some little boys who were gathering plums.

“Who comes here?” said the boys on seeing the little stranger. “And how did you get into our garden?”

“I come from the hermit in the forest,” cried Finikin. “He said you could give me some pippins that would cure my father.”

“Oh! if you come from the hermit you shall have some pippins,” said one of the boys who was Brownlocks. “Only you must gather them yourself.”

Then they led Finikin to another tree with a trunk as smooth and shining as glass. Golden pippins grew on the great branches at the top of the tree.

“Gather as many as you like,” said the little boys.

Finikin then began to climb the tree. He kept slipping down every moment and, strange to say, the trunk kept growing higher and higher as if it would reach the sky.

Now it happened that Finikin had a lot of chalk in his pocket. By crumbling it to pieces in his hands he managed to grasp the tree trunk firmly and after many patient efforts he reached the top of the tree. He now filled his hat and pockets with pippins that were as clear as topazes. The fruit was very heavy and when Finikin began to descend the tree his load of pippins was so heavy that it dragged him down faster and faster until he reached the ground. It was now twilight. The boys had picked up all their plums and had gone.

Finikin looked around in all directions, and finally, he discovered in the distance a gleam of light. He walked quickly up to it and found it came from a fruit storehouse of white marble. Here were silver filigree baskets filled with every kind of fruit and arranged neatly on shelves. All the fruit in the silver baskets was soft and eatable, while that in the golden baskets was turned to precious stones! The dark plums were sapphires and amethysts; the greengages and gooseberries, emeralds; the cherries, garnets; the white-hearts, rubies, dark on one side and almost white on the other; the black currants, black pearls. A number of beautiful empty baskets were hanging on gold and silver hooks.

Here Finikin found one of the boys, who wished him joy of his success, and after helping him to empty his pippins into a gold basket, the lad led Finikin down a flight of greenish marble steps into a beautiful hall which was lighted up with mother-of-pearl lamps hanging from the ceiling. Here in the center of the room supper was laid. The table was of citron-wood, and round the board were set cedar stools. On the walls countless toys of every description hung on golden hooks.

Finikin was so hungry after his day’s work that he was glad enough to sit down and eat his supper.

When their meal was over Brownlocks said: “Now, Finikin, we will play some games.”

But Finikin begged leave to go, as it was already late and he was afraid he could not reach home till the night was half spent.

“If you are afraid of being out in the night,” said one of the little friends, “you may stay and sleep in the empty bed of one of our comrades who is absent; and to-morrow, at sunrise, we will go with you a part of the way, and play together as we go along.”

“I must not stay,” said Finikin. “My father is very ill, dear friends, and I hope to reach home before it is too late.”

“You shall do as you like,” said the boys. Then one of them took down from the wall a stick with a nag’s head.

“Take this toy with you,” he said.

It was a very simple toy, but Finikin was delighted with the gift.

“It will carry you six times as fast as a horse, wherever you wish to go,” cried the little boys.

Finikin clapped his hands for joy and said, “May I have a toy for Winikin, my brother?”

“No,” they said, “Winikin must come himself for a toy. We cannot send him one.”

Finikin thanked the lads and wished them good-night.

“Good-night, Finikin,” they cried; “you may come to see us every Midsummer Eve on your nag. _He_ will always find the way although you couldn’t. Good-night!”

So Finikin left Magic Toyland. As soon as he was out-of-doors and had placed his basket of pippins on his arm he mounted his stick with the nag’s head.

Away he started! He had scarcely time to wonder how he should manage to ride down the steep rocks. He seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper and without knowing how, he found himself in the long narrow passage leading to the hermit’s garden.

All this time Winikin lay asleep in the woods. The sun was low in the western sky when he opened his eyes and saw Goldlocks sitting on the grass playing with a cup and ball.

“Lend me that plaything,” said Winikin.

“No,” said Goldlocks, “I have something which two of us can play with.”

He pointed to a couple of golden drums covered with finest vellum that were lying in the grass. The drumsticks were of ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

“We’ll play hide-and seek,” he said. “I’ll hide first and then I will beat my drum and you must try to guess from the sound where I am.”

“That will be good fun,” said Winikin.

Goldlocks ran and hid himself. At the beating of the drum Winikin found him quite easily. Then Winikin hid but he had hardly struck the drum with his stick until there was Goldlocks! So they played for some time but at last Goldlocks hid himself so well that, though he kept beating his drum, Winikin could not find him. He ran to the right and to the left but it was of no use. The sound seemed to come from all directions at once. He tapped his own drum, and cried out, “Come back, Goldlocks! Where are you? Come back!”

He beat his drum so hard that it snapped! It was growing very dark! The brambles grew thicker at every step! The sound of Goldlocks’ drum was growing fainter and fainter until at last Winikin could not hear it at all. He scratched his hands and tore his clothes at every step, but at last he found a path which led out of the thick wood.

He walked along until he came to a small lake; “Oh! what shall I do,” he cried. “I’ve missed the way old Roger told me to take! Where shall I stay to-night!”

In a little while he saw Goldlocks with smiling face coming towards him. The lad carried a couple of battledores, covered with silver nets. The handles were of richly carved gold. He had a shuttlecock, too, which was made from the plumes of a hummingbird.

“Why, what is the matter?” asked Goldlocks.

“Oh! I thought you had run away, and left me,” cried Winikin. “And I’ve lost my way! I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s play a game of battledore,” was Goldlocks’ answer.

Winikin dried his tears and said. “Tell me where you get such pretty toys.”

“I’ve plenty more at home, and prettier ones than these,” replied his companion.

“I wish you would take me home with you,” said Winikin. “Where do you live?”

“There across the lake,” said the little boy, pointing to some distant hills.

The lads now played a game of battledore and kept tossing the shuttlecock higher and higher till at last it fell into the lake at a great distance, but remained floating on the surface.

“Let us jump in and see who will catch it first,” said Goldlocks.

Away he darted into the water, and soon swam out of sight among the bulrushes that grew on an islet in the middle of the lake. Winikin believed he could swim, too, so into the water he jumped. In the dusk a white water-lily looked like the lost shuttlecock. Poor Winikin snatched at it, lost his balance, and fell down in the water. He tried to scream out to his companion, but he could not make a sound. After this he could not remember what took place.

Luckily the lake was not deep; he quickly rose to the surface and the gentle waves bore him to the shore where he lay insensible for several hours.

It was near daybreak when Winikin came to his senses again. He stared about wondering whether it was all a dream, or whether he had really played with Goldlocks the day before. Then he saw one of the battledores lying besides him and the lost shuttlecock.

“I had better stop here, or else he won’t find me if he returns,” thought Winikin.

He looked up and saw a little boy galloping along as fast as his wooden horse would carry him! It was Finikin!

The good little fellow had carried home his basket of fruit and had seen his father improve after eating one of the golden pippins. Then he had gone to find Roger, the huntsman, who said he had sent Winikin to the magical garden. Away went Finikin at full speed, like a small knight-errant, to seek his brother.

Of course Winikin was ashamed when he heard what his brother had done.

“I shall go to the wonderful garden and bring back a basket of cherries,” he cried. “Perhaps they will give me a hobby-horse! Nothing shall tempt me again to idle on the way. Will you not lend me your wooden nag, brother!”

“Yes, take it and hurry along,” said Finikin.

“Gee-ho!” cried Winikin striding the stick. But the nag would not stir a bit faster than other sticks that children play with.

“Come!” said Finikin. “Get up behind me!”

Away went the little lads on the wooden horse. In a little while they came to the foot of the rocks, where Finikin left his brother. Then Finikin galloped home for the little boys had told him not to come again until Midsummer Eve.

When he was gone Winikin sat down and wondered how he should ever reach the garden. Perhaps the little boys would come out and help him. At least he would let them know where he was. He began to toss up the shuttlecock. Away it soared as if it had wings and lighted on a tree in the garden. At this moment a few red streaks were seen in the sky and the little boys came out into the garden. One of them saw the shuttlecock!

“Who is there?” he cried.

“My name is Winikin. I am Finikin’s twin brother,” was the answer.

“What do you want?” asked the boy in the garden.

“I want to see your pretty toys! and I want a basket of cherries,” said Winikin.

The garden lads let down a basket and drew him up. There was Goldlocks as merry and mischievous looking as ever.

“You left me in the water, Goldlocks!” said Winikin to his playfellow.

“Yes, I had lost too much time to stay any longer,” said Goldlocks. “Come, let us have breakfast.”

They all sat down on the grass under the trees and feasted on strawberries and cream served in the finest porcelain bowls.

After breakfast Winikin said, “Now let us play.”

“Oh! we must gather fruit first! There is work to be done. You had better gather your basket of cherries,” said one of the lads. “The cherry trees are over there. Gather a basketful from the one which stands in the middle.” The lads then went about their work.

With his usual idle habits Winikin began plucking flowers and chasing butterflies. When his little friends came to fetch him to play games, they found he was not a jot farther than when they left him.

“We can’t play with you, Winikin, until you have gathered your fruit,” said Goldlocks.

And then he laid a golden trap-ball down on the grass, and the five little boys began to play merrily.

Winikin saw that he must work before he could join them at play so he began to climb the tree. What a long time it took him to reach the top. The fine cherries which were white-hearts were so ripe and juicy you may be sure he ate a good many of them. But at last he filled his pockets, descended the tree and lay down on the grass tired out with his work.

After a time the lads came to fetch him to dinner. They first led him through the fruit-chamber where they helped him to empty his pockets into a silver filigree basket.

“Put all you have brought into the basket,” said one of the lads; “for your cherries will harden into rubies in two or three days. Come now into the hall where dinner is ready.”

Winikin could scarcely eat for looking at the toys in the magical hall. When the meal was over he asked leave to play with some of them.

The boys showed him a great many playthings he had never seen before but at last one of them said, “It is time to start, Winikin, if you wish to reach home before night.”

“Won’t you give me a little wooden nag like my brother’s?” asked Winikin.

“We haven’t another in our collection but you may have this toy,” they answered giving him an agate cup and ball fastened to a delicate gold chain.

Winikin was well pleased with this toy and taking up his basket, he followed the little boys down a long, long flight of steps which brought them to the bottom of the rocks where he saw a little crack just large enough for him to creep through.

“Do you see that large brown butterfly whose wings are tipped with dark blue?” asked Goldlocks. “Follow him. If you don’t lose sight of him he will show you the way.”

So Winikin started. The butterfly kept bobbing up and down, now lighting on this flower, and now on that. In fact Winikin could very easily keep up with him. But at a turn in the road a splendid butterfly rose out of a bush. Away darted Winikin after him although the lad noticed that the brown butterfly went in the opposite direction.

“I can soon catch up with old Browncoat again,” thought Winikin.

Sunwings, the beautiful butterfly, led Winikin a fine dance over bank and bush, but at last the lad was obliged to give up the chase. He was a little surprised to find that he had lost some of his cherries in running after the golden butterfly.

“I’ll go back and find old Browncoat,” he said to himself. “After all the loss of a few cherries does not matter much. How thirsty I am. A few cherries will refresh me.”

So he sat down and ate several and then took out his cup and ball to amuse himself. After awhile he got up and again tried to find his way.

“How hungry and thirsty I am,” he thought, taking one cherry after another from his basket until it was almost emptied.

After wandering about until twilight he found himself at the foot of the rocks on top of which was the magic garden. He tried to find the crevice through which he had crept out that morning but a foaming cascade was dashing down over it.

He shouted at the top of his voice, “I’ve lost my way, boys. Let me eat supper with you in the hall of toys and sleep here for the night.”

“We have eaten supper,” answered the boys; “but you shall have some. We can’t let you stay all night for we have no spare bed.”

They let down a basket and drew Winikin up as before and after taking him into the hall they went to bed. After he had eaten a hearty meal the boys called out to him to put out the lights and leave.

“But,” said Winikin, “how am I to get out of the garden?”

Goldlocks peeped out of his snowy bed and said, “There is a bat outside which will show you the way, and if you follow him better than you did the butterfly you will reach home in fairly good time.”

Then Winikin put out the lamps in the sleeping-room, but before he put out the lights in the large hall he couldn’t resist sauntering around once more to look at the toys. When he reached the door that led to the fruit-chamber he thought he might as well fill up his basket again, as a few cherries could not be missed from such a quantity. This he did. Then fearing the boys would chide him for his delay he began to put out the lights. Very foolishly he started with the one nearest the outer door, so that by the time he reached the end of the long hall and put out the last lamp, he found himself in the dark.

Winikin was now so frightened that he didn’t know what to do, for, if he tried to move in the dark he would be sure to overturn the table or the stools, so he cowered down in the corner hoping the boys would fall asleep and forget him, and that next morning he might escape before they were up. But presently he heard the boys get up very softly and come into the hall saying, “There’s a thief here!” Winikin held his breath, and hoped to escape without notice; but they marched up to the corner where he lay hid just as if it had been broad daylight. Each had a rod in his hand and Winikin received a sound thrashing. At last he cried out, “It is only I. Don’t hurt me!”

Then they stopped and dragged Winikin out of the hall. They emptied the basket of the cherries he had taken, which were easily distinguished from the others, as in his hurry he had helped himself out of a golden basket to some cherries that had hardened into rubies. Then the lads fetched an ivory ladder of great length and putting it over the hedge they forced him to leave the garden at once.

Winikin cried bitterly when he saw the ladder taken up again but at last he began to think he had better make the best of a bad bargain. So he set off and, as Goldlocks had promised, a bat flew before him to show him the way.

For awhile he followed his leader carefully and made good resolutions as he went along, but alas! Suddenly a troop of fireflies flitted past him, and he said to himself, “How much better they would light me than this tiresome bat which keeps flapping his wings in my eyes! The fireflies are like so many lanterns and surely they’ll know the way best.” But they led him into a bog where he spent the night.

When morning dawned, he looked round for some hut where he could ask his way, but he recollected to his horror that neither yesterday nor the day before had he seen even a single being stirring anywhere. He saw that he was within a charmed circle, and kept turning to no purpose. After toiling for some time he again recognized familiar objects, and the well-known garden in the distance. Winikin hardly dared again apply to the little boys, yet having eaten all the cherries to appease his hunger, and seeing no chance of freeing himself from his desperate position, he went to the rocks and clapped hands. Presently the boys appeared.

“Who dares to come a third time unbidden?” said they.

“Alas!” cried the foolish wanderer, “I have again lost my way, and eaten all the cherries. Please take pity and let me come up.”

“No,” said they, “you do not deserve to come into our garden any more; and as you are not to be trusted to go home, and we don’t wish to be disturbed by you again, we shall now send you back.”

So saying, they disappeared for a moment, and soon crept out at the foot of the rocks, bringing with them a go-cart, into which they put Winikin.

“All right,” they cried out, and away it darted, at the speed which would shame an express train.

The go-cart, which was indeed worthy of its name, ran over hill and dale, rocks and water till Winikin thought every moment he would be dashed to pieces. At length it stopped when it reached his native village, before the door of a fine large farmhouse, and then, as if to make up for the lost time the moment Winikin had got out, it darted away again at double speed and went back to the magical garden.

“How is this?” said Winikin. “I don’t see our cottage anywhere.” And then he stopped a passer-by, and said to him: “Where do my parents live? For some reason I can’t find the house!”

“Straight before your nose, you young idler,” said the man.

At the same moment his mother appeared at the door of the farm house.

“Well, Winikin,” she said, putting her arms around him, “you have been a long time, but I suppose you have brought something worth the trouble.”

It must be explained, that what had appeared three days to Winikin was, in fact, three weeks, for in that enchanted region a single day was equal in time to a week in the ordinary world. Finikin had escaped from this law, because he had returned before midnight, and consequently, had not spent a whole day away from home.

The mother then led Winikin into the house where he found Finikin and his father, who had quite recovered since he had eaten one of the golden pippins. All the rest of them had hardened into topazes, and had been sold by the parents to a rich jeweler in the nearest town. The money received had served to buy and stock the farm where they were living. The old cottage had been pulled down, and a barn was going to be built on its site.

“And now,” said the father, “though you are too late, Winny, to do me any good, let us see what you have brought.”

Winikin was very much ashamed to have nothing to show but an empty basket nor did he improve matters by telling his parents that “there had been some very fine cherries in it.” However, what was done could not now be mended, and the only thing left for Winikin was to try to improve.

For a long time after, whenever he went on a message, the villagers would say: “Don’t be three weeks on the road, as when you went to fetch cherries for your sick father.”

He was still further ashamed when midsummer came round again and his brother set off for the beautiful garden on his little nag, while Winikin had only a cup and ball, that gave him a rap on the head every time he played with it when he ought to have been doing something else!

After receiving many raps, however, he learned that he must not take out his toy except at the proper time.

As long as their childhood lasted Finikin continued to visit the little boys, but when he began to grow too big to play with them, they bade him affectionately farewell, and as a parting gift they gave him branches of their apple-tree and cherry-tree. When these were grafted on two trees at the farmhouse they produced the finest fruit ever eaten. The cherries were the first white-hearts and the apples were ever since called golden pippins, on account of their origin. (Adapted.)

THE STORY OF FAIRYFOOT

FRANCES BROWNE

Once upon a time, there stood far away in the west country a town called Stumpinghame. It contained seven windmills, a royal palace, a market-place, and a prison, with every other convenience befitting the capital of a kingdom. It stood in the midst of a great plain, which for three leagues round its walls was covered with corn, flax, and orchards. Beyond that lay a great circle of pasture land, and it was bounded on all sides by a forest so thick and old that no man in Stumpinghame knew its extent; and the opinion of the learned was, that it reached to the end of the world.

There were strong reasons for this opinion. First, that forest was known to be inhabited time out of mind by the fairies, and no hunter cared to go beyond its borders--so all the west country believed it to be solidly full of old trees from end to end. Secondly, the people of Stumpinghame were no travellers--man, woman, and child had feet so large and heavy that it was by no means convenient to carry them far. Great feet had been the fashion there from time immemorial, and the higher the family the larger were their feet.

Stumpinghame had a king of its own, and his name was Stiffstep; his family was very ancient and large-footed. His subjects called him Lord of the World, and he made a speech to them every year concerning the grandeur of his mighty empire. His queen, Hammerheel, was the greatest beauty in Stumpinghame. Her majesty’s shoe was not much less than a fishing-boat. Their six children promised to be quite as handsome, and all went well with them till the birth of their seventh son.

For a long time nobody about the palace could understand what was the matter--the ladies-in-waiting looked so astonished, and the king so vexed; but at last it was whispered through the city that the queen’s seventh child had been born with such miserably small feet that they resembled nothing ever seen or heard of in Stumpinghame, except the feet of the fairies.

All the relations of the king and queen assembled at the palace to mourn with them over the singular misfortune. The whole court and most of the citizens helped in this mourning; but when it had lasted seven days they all found out it was of no use. So the relations went to their homes, and the people took to their work, and to cheer up the queen’s spirits, the young prince was sent privately out to the pasture lands, to be nursed among the shepherds.

The chief man there was called Fleecefold, and his wife’s name was Rough Ruddy. They lived in a snug cottage with their son Blackthorn and their daughter Brownberry, and were thought great people, because they kept the king’s sheep. Moreover, Fleecefold’s family were known to be ancient; and Rough Ruddy boasted that she had the largest feet in all the pastures. The shepherds held them in high respect, and it grew still higher when the news spread that the king’s seventh son had been sent to their cottage.

The king and queen had given him fourteen names, beginning with Augustus--such being the fashion in the royal family; but the honest country people could not remember so many, so they called him Fairyfoot. At court it was not thought polite to speak of him at all. They did not keep his birthday, and he was never sent for at Christmas, because the queen and her ladies could not bear the sight. Once a year the undermost scullion was sent to see how he did, with a bundle of his next brother’s cast-off clothes; and, as the king grew old and cross, it was said he had thoughts of disowning him.

So Fairyfoot grew in Fleecefold’s cottage. Perhaps the country air made him fair and rosy--for all agreed that he would have been a handsome boy but for his feet, with which nevertheless, he learned to walk, and in time to run and to jump, thereby amazing everybody, for such doings were not known among the children of Stumpinghame. The news of court, however, travelled to the shepherds, and Fairyfoot was despised among them. The old people thought him unlucky; the children refused to play with him. Fleecefold was ashamed to have him in his cottage, but he durst not disobey the king’s orders. Moreover, Blackthorn wore most of the clothes brought by the scullion. At last, Rough Ruddy found out that the sight of such horrid jumping would make her children vulgar; and, as soon as he was old enough she sent Fairyfoot every day to watch some sickly sheep that grazed on a wild, weedy pasture, near the forest.

Poor Fairyfoot was lying in the shadow of a mossy rock one warm summer’s noon, with the sheep feeding round, when a robin, pursued by a great hawk, flew into the old velvet cap which lay on the ground beside him. Fairyfoot covered it up, and the hawk, frightened by his shout, flew away.

“Now you may go, poor robin!” he said, opening the cap; but instead of the bird, out sprang a little man dressed in russet-brown, and looking as if he were a hundred years old. Fairyfoot could not speak for astonishment, but the little man said:

“Thank you for your shelter, and be sure I will do as much for you. Call on me if you are ever in trouble, my name is Robin Goodfellow;” and darting off he was out of sight in an instant.

For days the boy wondered who that little man could be, but he told nobody, for the little man’s feet were as small as his own, and it was clear he would be no favorite in Stumpinghame. Fairyfoot kept the story to himself, and at last midsummer came. That evening was a feast among the shepherds. There were bonfires on the hills, and fun in the villages. But Fairyfoot sat alone beside his sheepfold, for the children of the village had refused to let him dance with them about the bonfire, and he had never felt so lonely in all his life. But remembering the little man, he plucked up spirit, and cried:

“Ho! Robin Goodfellow!”

“Here I am,” said a shrill voice at his elbow; and there stood the little man himself.

“I am very lonely, and no one will play with me, because my feet are not large enough,” said Fairyfoot.

“Come, then, and play with us,” said the little man. “We lead the merriest lives in the world, and care for nobody’s feet; but there are two things you must mind among us; first, do as you see the rest doing; and, secondly, never speak of anything you may hear or see.”

“I will do that, and anything more you like,” said Fairyfoot; and the little man, taking his hand, led him over the pasture into the forest, and along a mossy path among old trees wreathed with ivy, till they heard the sound of music, and came upon a meadow where the moon shone as bright as day, and all the flowers of the year--snowdrops, violets, primroses, and cowslips--bloomed together in the thick grass. There was a crowd of little men and women, some clad in russet colour, but far more in green, dancing round a little well as clear as crystal. And under great rose-trees which grew here and there in the meadow, companies were sitting round low tables covered with cups of milk and dishes of honey. All the little people about the well cried:

“Welcome, welcome!” and everyone said: “Come and dance with me!” So Fairyfoot was as happy as a prince, and drank milk and ate honey till the moon was low in the sky, and then the little man took him by the hand, and never stopped nor stayed till he was at his own bed of straw in the cottage corner.

Next morning Fairyfoot was not tired for all his dancing. Nobody in the cottage had missed him, and he went out with the sheep as usual; but every night all that summer, when the shepherds were safe in bed, the little man came and took him away to dance in the forest.

The wonder was that he was never tired nor sleepy, as people are apt to be who dance all night; but before the summer was ended Fairyfoot found out the reason. One night, when the moon was full, and the last of the ripe corn rustling in the fields, Robin Goodfellow came for him as usual, and away they went to the flowery green. The fun there was high, but never in all his life did Fairyfoot find such hard work as to keep pace with the company. Their feet seemed to move like lightning. Fairyfoot did his best, for he never gave in easily; but at length, his breath and strength being spent, the boy was glad to steal away and sit down behind a mossy oak, where his eyes closed for very weariness. When he awoke the dance was nearly over, but two little ladies clad in green talked close behind him.

“What a beautiful boy!” said one of them. “He is worthy to be a king’s son. Only see what handsome feet he has!”

“Yes,” said the other, with a laugh that sounded spiteful; “they are just like the feet Princess Maybloom had before she washed them in the Growing Well. Her father has sent far and wide throughout the whole country searching for a doctor to make them small again, but nothing in this world can do it except the water on the Fair Fountain. And only the nightingales and I know where it is.”

“One would not care to let the like be known,” said the first little lady. “But you will surely send word to the sweet princess--she was so kind to our birds and butterflies, and danced so like one of ourselves!”

“Not I, indeed!” said the spiteful fairy. “Her old skinflint of a father cut down the cedar which I loved best in the whole forest, and made a chest of it to keep his money in; besides, I never liked the princess--everybody praised her so. But come, we shall be too late for the last dance.”

When they were gone, Fairyfoot could sleep no more with astonishment. He did not wonder at the fairies admiring his feet, because their own were much the same; but it amazed him that Princess Maybloom’s father should be troubled at hers growing large. Moreover, he wished to see that same princess and her country.

When Robin Goodfellow came to take him home as usual he durst not let him know that he had overheard anything; but never was the boy so unwilling to get up as on that morning, and all day he was so weary that in the afternoon Fairyfoot fell asleep, with his head on a clump of rushes. But it so happened that towards evening the old shepherd, Fleecefold, thought he would see how things went on in the pastures. The shepherd had a bad temper and a thick staff, and no sooner did he catch sight of Fairyfoot sleeping, and his flock straying away, than he shouted all the ill names he could remember, and woke up the boy who jumped up and ran away. The shepherd ran after him as fast as his great feet would allow. Fairyfoot, seeing no other shelter from Fleecefold’s fury, fled into the forest, and never stopped nor stayed till he reached the banks of a little stream.

Thinking it might lead him to the fairies’ dancing ground, he followed that stream for many an hour, but it wound away into the heart of the forest flowing through dells, falling over mossy rocks, and at last leading Fairyfoot, when he was tired and the night had fallen, to a grove of great rose-trees, with the moon shining on it as bright as day, and thousands of nightingales singing in the branches. In the midst of that grove was a clear spring, bordered with banks of lilies, and Fairyfoot sat down by it to rest himself and listen. The singing was so sweet he could have listened forever, but as he sat the nightingales left off their songs, and began to talk together in the silence of the night.

“What boy is that?” said one on a branch above him. “He cannot have come from Stumpinghame with such small and handsome feet.”

“No, I’ll warrant you,” said another, “he has come from the west country. How in the world did he find the way?”

“How simple you are!” said a third nightingale. “What had he to do but follow the ground-ivy, which grows over height and hollow, bank and bush, from the lowest gate of the king’s kitchen-garden to the root of this rose-tree. He looks a wise boy, and I hope he will keep the secret, or we shall have all the west country here, dabbling in our fountain, and leaving us no rest to either talk or sing.”

Fairyfoot listened in great astonishment, but when the talk ceased and the songs began, he thought it might be as well for him to follow the ground-ivy, and see the Princess Maybloom, not to speak of getting rid of Rough Ruddy, the sickly sheep, and the crusty old shepherd. It was a long journey; but he went on, eating wild berries by day, sleeping in the hollows of old trees by night, and never losing sight of the ground-ivy, which led him to a great city, and to a low old-fashioned gate of the king’s kitchen-garden, which was thought too mean for the scullions, and had not been opened for seven years.

He climbed over, and walked through the garden, till a white fawn came frisking by, and he heard a soft voice saying sorrowfully:

“Come back, come back, my fawn! I cannot run and play with you now, my feet have grown so heavy”; and, looking round, he saw the loveliest young princess in the world, dressed in snow-white, and wearing a wreath of roses on her golden hair; but walking slowly, as the great people did in Stumpinghame, for her feet were as large as the best of them.

After her came six young ladies, dressed in white and walking slowly, for they could not go before the princess; but Fairyfoot was amazed to see that their feet were as small as his own. At once he guessed that this must be the Princess Maybloom, and made her a bow, saying:

“Royal princess, I have heard of your trouble because your feet have grown large; in my country that’s all the fashion. For seven years past I have been wondering to no purpose what would make mine grow. But I know of a certain fountain that will make yours smaller and finer than ever they were, if the king, your father, will give you leave to come with me. You may be accompanied by two of your maids that are the least given to talking, and the most prudent officer in all the king’s household; for it would grievously offend the fairies and the nightingales to make that fountain known.”

When the princess heard this, she danced for joy in spite of her large feet, and she and her six maids brought Fairyfoot before the king and queen, where they sat in their palace hall, with all the courtiers paying their morning compliments. At first the king would not believe that there could be any use in this offer, because so many great physicians had failed to give any relief. The courtiers laughed Fairyfoot to scorn, and he wished himself safe in the forest again; but the queen said:

“I pray your majesty to notice what fine feet this boy has. There may be some truth in his story. For the sake of our only daughter, I will choose two maids who talk the least of all our train, and my chamberlain, who is the most discreet officer in our household. Let them go with the princess. Who knows but our sorrow may be lessened?”

After some persuasion the king consented, though all his councillors advised the contrary. So the two silent maids, the discreet chamberlain, and her fawn, which would not stay behind, were sent with the princess Maybloom, and they all set out after dinner. Fairyfoot had hard work guiding them along the track of the ground-ivy; but at last they reached the grove of rose-trees and the spring bordered with lilies.

The chamberlain washed--and though his hair had been grey and his face wrinkled, the young courtiers envied his beauty for years after. The maids washed--and from that day they were esteemed the fairest in all the palace. Lastly, the princess washed also--it could make her no fairer, but the moment her feet touched the water they grew less, and when she had washed and dried them three times, they were as small and finely shaped as Fairyfoot’s own. There was great joy among them, but the boy said sorrowfully:

“Oh! if there had been a well in the world to make my feet large, my father and mother would not have cast me off, nor sent me to live among the shepherds.”

“Cheer up!” said the Princess Maybloom. “If you want large feet, there is a well in this forest that will do it. Last summer-time I came with my father and his foresters to see a great cedar cut down, of which he meant to make a money chest. While they were busy with the cedar, I saw a bramble branch covered with berries. Some were ripe and some were green, but it was the longest bramble that ever grew. For the sake of the berries, I went on and on to its root, which grew near a muddy-looking well, with banks of dark green moss, in the deepest part of the forest. The day was warm and dry, and my feet were sore with the rough ground, so I took off my scarlet shoes, and washed my feet in the well; but as I washed they grew larger every minute, and nothing could ever make them less again. I have seen the bramble this day; it is not far off, and as you have shown me the Fair Fountain, I will show you the Growing Well.”

Up rose Fairyfoot and Princess Maybloom, and went together till they found the bramble, and came to where its root grew, near the muddy-looking well, with banks of dark moss in the deepest dell of the forest. Fairyfoot sat down to wash, but at that minute he heard a sound of music, and knew it was the fairies going to their dancing ground.

“If my feet grow large,” said the boy to himself, “how shall I dance with them?” So, rising quickly, he took the Princess Maybloom by the hand. The fawn followed them; the maids and the chamberlain followed it, and all followed the music through the forest. At last they came to the flowery green. Robin Goodfellow welcomed the company for Fairyfoot’s sake, and they danced from sunset till the grey morning, and nobody was tired; but before the lark sang, Robin Goodfellow took them all safe home, as he used to take Fairyfoot.

There was great joy that day in the palace because Princess Maybloom’s feet were made small again. The king gave Fairyfoot all manner of fine clothes and rich jewels; and when they heard his wonderful story, he and the queen asked him to live with them and be their son. In process of time Fairyfoot and Princess Maybloom were married, and still live happily. When they go to visit at Stumpinghame, they always wash their feet in the Growing Well, lest the royal family might think them a disgrace, but when they come back, they make haste to the Fair Fountain; and the fairies and the nightingales are great friends to them, as well as the maids and the chamberlain, because they have told nobody about it, and there is peace and quiet yet in the grove of rose-trees. (Adapted.)

THE SNOW-QUEEN

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

FIRST STORY

_Which Treats of a Mirror and of the Splinters_

Now, then, let us begin. When we are at the end of the story, we shall know more than we know now; but to begin:

Once upon a time there was a wicked Sprite, indeed, he was the most mischievous of all sprites. One day he was in a very good humour, for he had made a mirror with the power of causing all that was good and beautiful, when it was reflected therein, to look poor and mean; but that which was good for nothing and looked ugly, was shown magnified and increased in ugliness. In this mirror the most beautiful landscapes looked like boiled spinach, and the best persons were turned into frights, or appeared to stand on their heads; their faces were so distorted that they were not to be recognized; and if anyone had a mole, you might be sure that it would be magnified and spread over both nose and mouth.

“That’s glorious fun!” said the Sprite.

If a good thought passed through a man’s mind, then a grin was seen in the mirror, and the Sprite laughed heartily at his clever discovery.