Chapter X: Part 10

The Scandinavian Dwarf having resumed his place, Oberon turned to his Queen and said that her Nymphidia had given them all a very pretty little song, perhaps some of her attendants had stories they would like to tell.

“Of course they have,” replied Titania, and turned to the fairies immediately about her throne, saying, “now who shall it be?”

Quick, as befitted her name, was the first to respond with, “If a very short story will do I can tell one,” and Pink almost in the same breath said “I can tell one if a very short one will do.”

Titania stopped the others who would have offered also, and said, “Quick and Pink shall tell them, then.”

At once Quick took her place, and when all the fairy kingdom was attentive began to tell about

The Fairy at the Well

There was once a widow who had two daughters. The elder was so like her mother in temper and face, that to have seen the one was to have seen the other. They were both so disagreeable and proud, that it was impossible to live with them. The younger, who was the exact portrait of her father in her kindly and polite ways was also as beautiful a girl as one could see. As we are naturally fond of those who resemble us, the mother doted on her elder daughter, while for the younger she had a most violent aversion, and made her take her meals in the kitchen and work hard all day. Among other things that she was obliged to do, this poor child was forced to go twice a day to fetch water from a place a mile or more from the house, and carry back a large jug filled to the brim. As she was standing one day by this spring, a poor woman came up to her, and asked the girl to give her some water to drink.

“Certainly, my good woman,” she replied, and the beautiful girl at once stooped and rinsed out the jug, and then, filling it with water from the clearest part of the spring, she held it up to the woman, continuing to support the jug, that she might drink with greater comfort. Having drunk, the woman said to her, “You are so beautiful, so good and kind, that I cannot refrain from conferring a gift upon you,” for she was really a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor village woman, in order to see how far the girl’s kindheartedness would go. “This gift I make you,” continued the fairy, “that with every word you speak, either a flower or a precious stone will fall from your mouth.”

The girl had no sooner reached home than her mother began scolding her for being back so late. “I am sorry, mother,” said she, “to have been out so long,” and as she spoke, there fell from her mouth two roses, two pearls, and two large diamonds. The mother gazed at her in astonishment. “What do I see!” she exclaimed, “pearls and diamonds seem to be dropping from her mouth! How is this, my daughter?”--it was the first time she had called her _daughter_. The poor child related in all simplicity what had happened, letting fall quantities of diamonds in the course of her narrative. “I must certainly send my other daughter there,” said the mother. “Look, Fanchon, see what falls from your sister’s mouth when she speaks! Would you not be glad to receive a similar gift? All you have to do, is to go and fetch water from the spring, and if an old woman asks you for some to drink, to give it her nicely and politely.” “I should like to see myself going to the spring,” answered the rude, cross girl.

“I insist on your going,” rejoined the mother, “and that at once.”

The elder girl went off, still grumbling; with her she took the handsomest silver bottle she could find in the house.

She had no sooner arrived at the spring, than she saw a lady magnificently dressed walking towards her from the wood, who approached and asked for some water to drink. It was the same fairy who had appeared to the sister, but she had now put on the airs and apparel of a princess, as she wished to see how far this girl’s rudeness would go. “Do you think I came here just to draw water for you?” answered the arrogant and unmannerly girl; “I have, of course, brought this silver bottle on purpose for madam to drink from! Well, all I have to say is--drink from it if you like.”

“You are scarcely polite,” said the fairy, without losing her temper; “however, as you are so disobliging, I confer this gift upon you, that with every word you speak, a snake or a toad shall fall from your mouth.”

Directly her mother caught sight of her, she called out, “Well, my daughter!” “Well, my mother!” replied the ill-tempered girl, throwing out as she spoke two vipers and two toads. “Alack!” cried the mother, “what do I see? This is her sister’s doing, but I will pay her out for it,” and, so saying, she ran towards the younger girl with intent to beat her. The unhappy girl fled from the house, and went and hid herself in a neighbouring forest. The King’s son, who was returning from hunting, met her, and seeing how beautiful she was, asked her what she was doing there all alone, and why she was crying. “Alas! sir, my mother has driven me from home.” The King’s son, seeing five or six pearls and as many diamonds, falling from her mouth as she spoke, asked her to explain how this was, and she told him all her tale. The King’s son fell in love with her, and thinking that such a gift as she possessed was worth more than any ordinary dower brought by another, he carried her off to his father’s palace, and there married her.

As for her sister, she made herself so hated, that her own mother drove her from the house. The miserable girl, having gone about in vain trying to find someone who would take her in, crept away into the corner of a wood, and there died.

Of higher worth are gentle words
Than diamonds or gold,
And even o’er the minds of men
A greater power they hold.

It costs some pains to be polite,
And needs some kindly thought,
But soon or late, as here you see,
Reward will come unsought.

* * * * *

“I hope that Quick was short enough,” said Titania, laughingly, and then turning to Pink said “and yours?”

“Will be shorter still, your Majesty,” promptly answered Pink, stepping to the stool directly Quick had left it, and beginning at once the story of

Dolly, draw the Cake

At an early age St Dolly showed the sweetness of her nature by her tender love for her widowed father, a baker, dwelling at Pie Corner, with a large family of little children. It chanced that with bad harvests bread became so dear that, of course, bakers were ruined by high prices. The miller fell upon Dolly’s father, and swept the shop with his golden thumb. Not a bed was left for the baker or his little ones. St Dolly slept upon a flour sack, having prayed that good angels would help her to help her father. Now sleeping, she dreamt that the oven was lighted, and she felt falling in a shower about her, raisins, currants, almonds, lemon peel, flour, with heavy drops of brandy. Then in her dreams she saw the fairies gather up the things that fell, and knead them into a cake. They put the cake into the oven, and dancing round and round, the fairies vanished, crying, “Draw the cake, Dolly--Dolly, draw the cake.” And Dolly awoke and drew the cake, and, behold, it was the first Twelfth Cake, sugared at the top, and bearing the images of Faith, Hope and Charity. Now this cake, shown in the window, came to the king’s ear; and the king bought the cake, and married Dolly to his grand falconer, to whom she proved a faithful and loving wife, bearing him a baker’s dozen of lovely children.

* * * * *

There was a general laugh at Pink’s story, it was so _very_ short, and Pink felt quite proud of herself in having got through her tale telling about twice as quickly as Quick.

“Only two more stories,” said Oberon, “and then all must fly back to their proper work as fairies. There are so many of us here that would like to take a turn on the tale-teller’s stool that it is now not easy to choose, so we will have our next story from the first fairy who can get on the stool--but wait,” for as soon as Oberon spoke the rush began, “you must all go to your places and start fair when I say ‘three.’” There was a pause while all settled back in their places, and then Oberon said slowly, “One--Two--Three.”

As soon as the last word was heard there was such a scramble and rush from all parts of the ring, some running, some flying, but the nimblest of all was a Kobold, who seated himself firmly on the stool and would not let himself be pushed off. As soon as it was seen that the stool was occupied all the fairies who had tried to get there went laughing merrily back to their places, and the Kobold triumphantly began the story of

The Little Glass Shoe

A peasant, named John Wilde, found one time a glass shoe on one of the hills where the little people used to dance. He clapped it instantly into his pocket and ran away with it, keeping his hand as close on his pocket as if he had a dove in it, for he knew that he had found a treasure which the underground people must redeem at any price.

Others say that John Wilde lay in ambush one night for the underground people, and gained an opportunity of pulling off one of their shoes, by stretching himself there with a brandy-bottle beside him, and acting like one that was dead drunk; for he was a very cunning man, not over scrupulous in his morals, and had taken in many a one by his craftiness, and, on this account, his name was in no good repute among his neighbours, who, to say the truth, were willing to have as little to do with him as possible. Many hold, too, that he was acquainted with forbidden arts, and used to carry on an intercourse with the fiends and old women that raised storms, and such like.

However, be this as it may, when John had gotten the shoe, he lost no time in letting the folk that dwell under the ground know that he had it. So at midnight he went to the Nine-hills, and cried with all his might, “John Wilde of Rodenkirchen has got a beautiful glass shoe. Who will buy it, who will buy it?” For he knew that the little one who had lost the shoe must go barefoot till he got it again, and that is no trifle, for the little people have generally to walk upon very hard and stony ground.

John’s advertisement was speedily attended to. The little fellow who had lost the shoe made no delay in setting about redeeming it. The first free day he got, that he might come out into the daylight, he came as a respectable merchant, and knocked at John Wilde’s door, and asked if John had not a glass shoe to sell. “For,” says he, “they are an article now in great demand, and are sought for in every market.” John replied that it was true he had a very little little, nice, pretty little glass shoe, but it was so small that even a dwarf’s foot would be squeezed in it, and that God Almighty must make people on purpose for it before it could be of any use, but that, for all that, it was an extraordinary shoe and a valuable shoe, and a dear shoe, and it was not every merchant that could afford to pay for it.

The merchant asked to see it, and when he had examined it, “Glass shoes” said he, “are not by any means such rare articles, my good friend, as you think here in Rodenkirchen, because you do not happen to go much into the world. However,” said he, after hemming a little, “I will give you a good price for it, because I happen to have the very fellow of it.” And he bid the countryman a thousand dollars for it.

“A thousand dollars are money, my father used to say when he drove fat oxen to market,” replied John Wilde, in a mocking tone; “but it will not leave my hands for that shabby price, and, for my own part, it may ornament the foot of my daughter’s doll. Harkye, friend; I have heard a sort of little song sung about the glass shoe, and it is not for a parcel of dirt that it will go out of my hands. Tell me now, my good fellow, should you happen to know the knack of it, that in every furrow I make when I am ploughing I should find a ducat. If not, the shoe is still mine, and you may inquire for glass shoes at those other markets.”

The merchant made still a great many attempts, and twisted and turned in every direction to get the shoe, but when he found the farmer inflexible he agreed to what John desired, and swore to the performance of it.

Cunning John believed in him, and gave him up the glass shoe, for he knew right well with whom he had to do. So the business being ended, away went the merchant with his glass shoe.

Without a moment’s delay, John repaired to his stable, got ready his horses and his plough, and drove out to the field. He selected a piece of ground where he would have the shortest turns possible, and began to plough. Hardly had the plough turned up the first sod, when up sprang a ducat out of the ground, and it was the same with every fresh furrow he made. There was now no end of his ploughing, and John Wilde soon bought eight new horses, and put them into the stable to the eight he already had--and their mangers were never without plenty of oats in them--that he might be able every two hours to yoke two fresh horses, and so be enabled to drive them the faster.

John was now insatiable in ploughing, every morning he was out before sunrise, and many a time he ploughed on till after midnight. Summer and winter it was plough, plough with him evermore, except when the ground was frozen as hard as a stone. But he always ploughed by himself, and never suffered any one to go out with him, or to come to him when he was at work, for John understood too well the nature of his crop to let people see what it was he ploughed so constantly for.

But it fared far worse with himself than with his horses, who ate good oats and were regularly changed and relieved, while he grew pale and meagre by reason of his continual working and toiling. His wife and children had no longer any comfort of him, he never went to the ale-house or the club, he withdrew himself from every one, and scarcely ever spoke a single word, but went about silent and wrapped up in his own thoughts. All the day long he toiled for his ducats, and at night he had to count them and to plan and meditate how he might find out a still swifter kind of plough.

His wife and the neighbours lamented over his strange conduct, his dulness and melancholy, and began to think that he was grown foolish. Everybody pitied his wife and children, for they imagined that the numerous horses that he kept in his stable, and the preposterous mode of agriculture that he pursued, with his unnecessary and superfluous ploughing, must soon leave him without house or land.

But their anticipations were not fulfilled. True it is, the poor man never enjoyed a happy or contented hour since he began to plough the ducats up out of the ground. The old saying held good in his case, that he who gives himself up to the pursuit of gold is half way in the claws of the evil one. Flesh and blood cannot bear perpetual labour, and John Wilde did not long hold out against this running through the furrows day and night. He got through the first spring, but one day, in the second, he dropped down at the tail of the plough like an exhausted November fly. Out of the pure thirst after gold he was wasted away and dried up to nothing whereas he had been a very strong and hearty man the day the shoe of the little underground man fell into his hands.

His wife, however, found after him a considerable treasure, two great nailed up chests full of good new ducats, and his sons purchased large estates for themselves, and became lords and noblemen. But what good did all that do poor John Wilde.

* * * * *

“And now,” said the King, “we come to our last story, and I think it shall be told us by the fairy who comes from the furthest North.”

Several dwarfs and Elves started up at this word, but the King signalled them back to their places; “No,” he said, “none of you is the one from farthest North.” Then slowly up the middle of the circle came a quaint little figure all in white with long white hair and beard--looking, only of course the idea is ridiculous, like an _old_ fairy. He had come from the land of perpetual winter, where everything is white as the everlasting snow, but though he looked old he was lively and youthful as the most frolicsome of the flower fairies there. He skipped briskly on to the stool, then passing his hand down his long white beard--strange guest where all was so brilliantly coloured--he began a story which he named

East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon

Once on a time there was a poor husbandman who had so many children that he hadn’t much of either food or clothing to give them. Pretty children they all were, but the prettiest was the youngest daughter, who was so lovely there was no end to her loveliness.

So one day, ’twas on a Thursday evening late at the fall of the year, the weather was so wild and rough outside, and it was so cruelly dark, and rain fell and wind blew, till the walls of the cottage shook again. There they all sat round the fire busy with this thing and that. But just then, all at once, something gave three taps on the window-pane. Then the father went out to see what was the matter; and, when he got out of doors, what should he see but a great big White Bear.

“Good evening to you!” said the White Bear.

“The same to you,” said the man.

“Will you give me your youngest daughter? If you will, I’ll make you as rich as you are now poor,” said the Bear.

Well, the man would not be at all sorry to be so rich, but still he thought he must have a bit of a talk with his daughter first, so he went in and told them how there was a great White Bear waiting outside, who had given his word to make them so rich if he could only have the youngest daughter.

The lassie said “No!” outright. Nothing could get her to say anything else; so the man went out and settled it with the White Bear, that he should come again the next Thursday evening and get an answer. Meantime he talked his daughter over, and kept on telling her of all the riches they would get, and how well off she would be herself, so at last she thought better of it, and washed and mended her rags, made herself as smart as she could, and was ready to start. I can’t say her packing gave her much trouble.

Next Thursday evening came the White Bear to fetch her, and she got upon his back with her bundle, and off they went. So when they had gone a bit of the way, the White Bear said:--

“Are you afraid?”

“No! she wasn’t.”

“Well! mind and hold tight by my shaggy coat, and then there’s nothing to fear,” said the Bear.

So she rode a long, long way, till they came to a great steep hill. There on the face of it the White Bear gave a knock, and a door opened, and they came into a castle, where there were many rooms all lit up, rooms gleaming with silver and gold, and there too was a table ready laid, and it was all as grand as grand could be. Then the White Bear gave her a silver bell, saying that if she rang it when she wanted anything she would get it at once.

Well, after she had eaten and drunk, and evening wore on, she got sleepy after her journey, and thought she would like to go to bed, so she rang the bell, and she had scarce taken hold of it before she came into a chamber, where there was a bed made, as fair and white as any one would wish to sleep in, with silken pillows and curtains and gold fringe. All that was in the room was gold or silver, but when she had gone to bed, and put out the light, a man came and laid himself alongside her. That was the White Bear, who threw off his beast-shape at night, but she never saw him, for he always came after she had put out the light, and before the day dawned he was up and off again. So things went on happily for a while, but at last she began to get silent and sorrowful, for there she went about all day alone, and she longed to go home to see her father and mother, and brothers and sisters. So one day, when the White Bear asked what it was that she lacked, she said it was so dull and lonely there, and how she longed to go home to see her father and mother, and brothers and sisters, and that was why she was so sad and sorrowful, because she couldn’t get to them.

“Well, well!” said the Bear, “perhaps there’s a cure for all this, but you must promise me one thing, not to talk alone with your mother but only when the rest are by to hear, for she’ll take you by the hand and try to lead you into a room alone to talk, but you must mind and not do that, else you’ll bring bad luck on both of us.”

So one Sunday the White Bear came and said now they could set off to see her father and mother. Well, off they started, she sitting on his back, and they went far and long. At last they came to a grand house, and there her brothers and sisters were running about out of doors at play, and everything was so pretty, ’twas a joy to see.

“This is where your father and mother live now,” said the White Bear, “but don’t forget what I told you, else you’ll make us both unlucky.”

“No! bless her, she’d not forget”; and when she had reached the house, the White Bear turned right about and left her.

Then when she went in to see her father and mother, there was such joy, there was no end to it. None of them thought they could thank her enough for all she had done for them. Now they had everything they wished, as good as good could be, and they all wanted to know how she got on where she lived.

Well, she said, it was very good to live where she did; she had all she wished. What she said beside I don’t know, but I don’t think any of them had the right end of the stick, or that they got much out of her. But so in the afternoon, after they had done dinner, all happened as the White Bear had said. Her mother wanted to talk with her alone in her bedroom, but she minded what the White Bear had said, and wouldn’t go upstairs.

“Oh! what we have to talk about will keep,” she said, and put her mother off. But somehow or other, her mother got round her at last, and she had to tell her the whole story. So she said, how every night, when she had gone to bed, a man came and lay down beside her as soon as she had put out the light, how she never saw him, because he was always up and away before the morning dawned, and how she went about woeful and sorrowing, for she thought she should so much like to see him, and how all day long she walked about there alone, and how dull, and dreary, and lonesome it was.

“My!” said her mother; “it may well be a Troll you slept with! But now I’ll teach you a lesson how to set eyes on him. I’ll give you a bit of candle, which you can carry home in your bosom; just light that while he is asleep, but take care not to drop the tallow on him.”

Yes! she took the candle, and hid it in her bosom, and as night drew on, the White Bear came and fetched her away.

But when they had gone a bit of the way, the White Bear asked if all hadn’t happened as he had said.

“Well, she couldn’t say it hadn’t.”

“Now, mind,” said he, “if you have listened to your mother’s advice, you have brought bad luck on us both, and then all that has passed between us will be as nothing.”

“No,” she said, “she hadn’t listened to her mother’s advice.”

So when she had reached home, and had gone to bed, it was the old story over again. There came a man and lay down beside her; but at dead of night, when she heard he slept, she got up and struck a light, lit the candle, and let the light shine on him, and so she saw that he was the loveliest Prince one ever set eyes on, and she fell so deep in love with him, on the spot, that she thought she couldn’t live if she didn’t give him a kiss there and then. And so she did, but as she kissed him she dropped three hot drops of tallow on his shirt, and he woke up.

“What have you done?” he cried; “now you have made us both unlucky, for had you held out only this one year, I had been freed. For I have a stepmother who has bewitched me, so that I am a White Bear by day and a man by night. But now all ties are snapped between us, now I must set off from you to her. She lives in a castle which stands +EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+, and there, too, is a Princess, with a nose three ells long, and she’s the wife I must have now.”

She wept and took it ill, but there was no help for it; go he must.

Then she asked if she mightn’t go with him.

No, she mightn’t.

“Tell me the way then,” she said, “and I’ll search you out; that surely I may get leave to do.”

“Yes, she might do that,” he said, “but there was no way to that place. It lay +EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+, and thither she’d never find her way.”

So next morning when she woke up both Prince and castle were gone, and then she lay on a little green patch, in the midst of the gloomy thick wood, and by her side lay the same bundle of rags she had brought with her from her old home.

So when she had rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and wept till she was tired, she set out on her way, and walked many, many days, till she came to a lofty rock. Under it sat an old hag, and played with a golden apple which she tossed about. Her the lassie asked if she knew the way to the prince, who lived with his stepmother in the Castle, that lay +EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+, and who was to marry the Princess with a nose three ells long.

“How did you come to know about him?” asked the old hag; “but maybe you are the lassie who ought to have had him?”

Yes, she was.

“So, so, it’s you, is it?” said the old hag. “Well, all I know about him is, that he lives in the castle that lies +EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+, and thither you’ll come, late or never; but still you may have the loan of my horse, and on him you can ride to my next neighbour. Maybe she’ll be able to tell you; and when you get there, just give the horse a switch under the left ear, and beg him to be off home; and, stay, this gold apple you may take with you.”

So she got upon the horse, and rode a long long time, till she came to another rock, under which sat another old hag, with a gold carding-comb. Her the lassie asked if she knew the way to the castle that lay +EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+, and she answered, like the first old hag, that she knew nothing about it, except it was +EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+.

“And thither you’ll come, late or never, but you shall have the loan of my horse to my next neighbour; maybe she’ll tell you all about it; and when you get there, just switch the horse under the left ear, and beg him to be off home.”

And this old hag gave her the golden carding-comb; it might be she’d find the use for it, she said. So the lassie got up on the horse, and rode a far far way, and a weary time; and so at last she came to another great rock, under which sat another old hag, spinning with a golden spinning-wheel. Her, too, she asked if she knew the way to the Prince, and where the castle was, that lay +EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+. So it was the same thing again.

“Maybe it’s you that ought to have had the Prince?” said the old hag.

Yes, it was.

But she, too, didn’t know the way a bit better than the other two. “+EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+ it was” she knew--that was all.

“And thither you’ll come late or never; but I’ll lend you my horse, and then I think you’d best ride to the East Wind and ask him; maybe he knows those parts, and can blow you thither. But when you get to him, you need only give the horse a switch under the left ear, and he’ll trot home of himself.”

And so, too, she gave her the gold spinning-wheel. “Maybe you’ll find a use for it,” said the old hag.

Then on she rode many many days, a weary time, before she got to the East Wind’s house, but at last she did reach it, and then she asked the East Wind if he could tell her the way to the Prince who dwelt EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON. Yes, the East Wind had often heard tell of it, the Prince, and the Castle, but he couldn’t tell the way, for he had never blown so far.

“But, if you will, I’ll go with you to my brother the West Wind, maybe he knows, for he’s much stronger. So, if you will just get on my back, I’ll carry you thither.”

Yes, she got on his back, and I should just think they went briskly along.

So when they got there, they went into the West Wind’s house, and the East Wind said the lassie he had brought was the one who ought to have had the Prince who lived in the castle EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON; and so she had set out to seek him, and how he had come with her, and would be glad to know if the West Wind knew how to get to the castle.

“Nay,” said the West Wind, “so far I’ve never blown; but if you will I’ll go with you to our brother the South Wind, for he’s much stronger than either of us, and he has flapped his wings far and wide. Maybe he’ll tell you. You can get on my back and I’ll carry you to him.”

Yes! she got on his back, and so they travelled to the South Wind, and weren’t so very long on the way, I should think.

When they got there, the West Wind asked him if he could tell her the way to the castle that lay EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON, for it was she that ought to have had the Prince who lived there.

“You don’t say so. That’s she, is it?” said the South Wind. “Well, I have blustered about in most places in my time, but so far have I never blown; but if you will, I’ll take you to my brother the North Wind; he is the oldest and the strongest of the whole lot of us, and if he don’t know where it is, you’ll never find anyone in the world to tell you. You can get on my back, and I’ll carry you thither.”

Yes! she got on his back, and away he went from his house at a fine rate, and this time, too, she wasn’t long on her way.

So when they got to the North Wind’s house, he was so wild and cross, cold puffs came from him a long way off.

“+NOW THEN, WHAT DO YOU WANT?+” he bawled out to them ever so far off, so that it struck them with an icy shiver.

“Well,” said the South Wind, “you needn’t be so put out, for here I am, your brother, the South Wind, and here is the lassie who ought to have had the Prince who dwells in the castle that lies EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON, and now she wants to ask you if you ever were there, and can tell her the way, for she would be so glad to find him again.”

“+YES, I KNOW WELL ENOUGH WHERE IT IS+,” said the North Wind; “once in my life I blew an aspen-leaf thither, but I was so tired I couldn’t blow a puff for ever so many days after it. But if you really wish to go thither, and aren’t afraid to come along with me, I’ll take you on my back and see if I can blow you thither.”

Yes! with all her heart; she must and would get thither if it were possible in any way, and as for fear, however madly he went, she wouldn’t be at all afraid.

“Very well then,” said the North Wind, “but you must sleep here to-night, for we must have the whole day before us if we’re to get there at all.”

Early next morning the North Wind woke her, and puffed himself up and blew himself out, and made himself so stout and big, ’twas gruesome to look at him; and so off they went, high up through the air, as if they would never stop till they got to the world’s end.

Down here below there was such a storm; it threw down long tracts of wood and many houses, and when it swept over the great sea ships foundered by hundreds.

So they tore on and on--no one can believe how far they went--and all the while they still went over the sea, and the North Wind got more and more weary, and so out of breath he could scarce bring out a puff, and his wings drooped and drooped, till at last he sunk so low that the crests of the waves dashed over his heels.

“Are you afraid?” said the North Wind.

No! she wasn’t.

But they weren’t very far from land; and the North Wind had still so much strength left in him that he managed to throw her up on the shore under the windows of the castle which lay EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON; but then he was so weak and worn out, he had to stay there and rest many days before he could get home again.

Next morning the lassie sat down under the castle window and began to play with the gold apple; and the first person she saw was the Long-nose who was to have the Prince.

“What do you want for your gold apple, you lassie?” said the Long-nose, and threw up the window.

“It’s not for sale for gold or money,” said the lassie.

“If it’s not for sale for gold or money, what is it that you will sell it for? You may name your own price,” said the Princess.

“Well, if I may get to the Prince who lives here and be with him to-night, you shall have it,” said the lassie whom the North Wind had brought.

Yes! she might; that could be done. So the Princess got the gold apple; but when the lassie came up to the Prince’s bedroom at night he was fast asleep; she called him and shook him, and between whiles she wept sore; but all she could do she couldn’t wake him up. Next morning, as soon as day broke, came the Princess with the long nose and drove her out again.

So in the daytime she sat under the castle windows and began to card with her golden carding-comb, and the same thing happened. The Princess asked what she wanted for it; and she said it wasn’t for sale for gold or money, but if she might get leave to go up to the Prince and be with him that night, the Princess should have it. But when she went up, she found him fast asleep again, and all she called, and all she shook, and wept, and prayed, she couldn’t get life into him; and as soon as the first gray peep of day came, then came the Princess with the long nose and chased her out again.

So, in the daytime, the lassie sat down outside under the castle window and began to spin with her golden spinning-wheel, and that, too, the Princess with the long nose wanted to have. So she threw up the window and asked what she wanted for it. The lassie said, as she had said twice before, it wasn’t for sale for gold or money; but if she might go up to the Prince who was there, and be with him alone that night, she might have it.

Yes! she might do that and welcome. But now you must know there were some folk who had been carried off thither, and as they sat in their room, which was next the Prince, they had heard how a woman had been in there, and wept and prayed, and called to him two nights running, and they told that to the Prince.

That evening, when the Princess came with her sleepy drink, the Prince made as if he drank, but threw it over his shoulder, for he could guess it was a sleepy drink. So, when the lassie came in, she found the Prince wide awake; and then she told him the whole story how she had come thither.

“Ah,” said the Prince, “you’ve just come in the very nick of time for to-morrow is to be our wedding-day; but now I won’t have the Long-nose, and you are the only woman in the world who can set me free. I’ll say I want to see what my wife is fit for, and beg her to wash the shirt which has the three spots of tallow on it; she’ll say yes, for she doesn’t know ’tis you who put them there; but that’s a work only for Christian folk, and not for such a pack of Trolls, and so I’ll say that I won’t have any other for my bride than the woman who can wash them out, and ask you to do it.”

So there was great joy and love between them all that night. But next day, when the wedding was to be, the Prince said:--

“First of all I’d like to see what my bride is fit for.”

“Yes,” said the stepmother, with all her heart.

“Well,” said the Prince, “I’ve got a fine shirt which I’d like for my wedding-shirt, but somehow or other it has got three spots of tallow on it, which I must have washed out; and I have sworn never to take any other bride than the woman who’s able to do that. If she can’t she’s not worth having.”

Well, that was no great thing, they said, so they agreed, and she with the Long-nose began to wash away as hard as she could, but the more she rubbed and scrubbed, the bigger the spots grew.

“Ah,” said the old hag, her mother, “you can’t wash; let me try.”

But she hadn’t long taken the shirt in hand, before it got far worse than ever, and with all her rubbing, and wringing, and scrubbing the spots grew bigger and blacker, and the darker and uglier was the shirt.

Then all the other trolls began to wash, but the longer it lasted the blacker and uglier the shirt grew, till at last it was as black all over as if it had been up the chimney.

“Ah,” said the Prince, “you’re none of you worth a straw; you can’t wash. Why there, outside, sits a beggar lassie, I’ll be bound she knows how to wash better than the whole lot of you. Come in, lassie,” he shouted.

Well, in she came.

“Can you wash this shirt clean, lassie, you?” said he.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but I think I can.”

And almost before she had taken it and dipped it in the water, it was as white as driven snow, and whiter still.

“Yes; you are the lassie for me,” said the Prince.

At that the old hag flew into such a rage she burst on the spot, and the Princess with the long nose after her, and the whole pack of Trolls after her--at least I’ve never heard a word about them since.

As for the Prince and Princess, they set free all the poor folk who had been carried off and shut up there, and they took with them all the silver and gold, and flitted away as far as they could from the castle that lay EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON.

* * * * *

“Not quite the last,” exclaimed Queen Titania, and all the fairies who had begun to move hurried back to their places. “Not quite the last, for before we separate I will sing a song that you may tell to all the human children that you meet, and it shall be called the song of Queen Titania or

Queen Mab

A little fairy comes at night,
Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown,
With silver spots upon her wings,
And from the moon she flutters down.

She has a little silver wand,
And when a good child goes to bed,
She waves her wand from right to left,
And makes a circle round its head.

And then it dreams of pleasant things,
Of fountains filled with fairy fish,
And trees that bear delicious fruit,
And bow their branches at a wish:

Of arbours filled with dainty scents
From lovely flowers that never fade;
Bright flies that glitter in the sun,
And glow-worms shining in the shade.

And talking birds with gifted tongues,
For singing songs and telling tales,
And pretty dwarfs to show the way
Through fairy hills and fairy dales.

But when a bad child goes to bed,
From left to right she weaves her rings
And then it dreams all through the night
Of only ugly horrid things.

Then lions come with glaring eyes,
And tigers growl, a dreadful noise,
And ogres draw their cruel knives,
To shed the blood of girls and boys.

Then stormy waves rush on to drown,
Or raging flames come scorching round,
Fierce dragons hover in the air,
And serpents crawl along the ground.

Then wicked children wake and weep,
And wish the long black gloom away;
But good ones love the dark, and find
The night as pleasant as the day.

* * * * *

When the song was finished Oberon and Titania arose on their throne and faint strains of music were heard in the air; for a moment the whole place sparkled with light and colour, and then all the fairies had gone in a flash to their distant places, and nothing but a faint circle of darker grass showed where the great assembly had been. Away under a shady tree Nick Bottom and his companions were fast asleep, and when they awakened again they must have puzzled over what they had seen and heard, and which no doubt they believed that they had only dreamed. But we know better.

LETCHWORTH
THE TEMPLE PRESS
PRINTERS

Transcriber’s Notes

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Small capitals are changed to all capitals and surrounded by +: +SMALL CAPITALS+.

Illustrations have been moved so they do not break up the paragraphs. Captions were taken from the List of Illustrations where none were included.

Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.

The following corrections have been applied to the text (before/after):

(p. xiii)
The Fairyland buys not ...
“The Fairyland buys not ...

(p. xiv)
_Puck_ 98
_Tailpiece_ 97

_Tailpiece_ 97
_Puck_ 98

(p. xvi)
... with the sugar-loaf hat
... with the sugarloaf hat

(p. 33)
... the swallow, and I ...
... the swallow, “and I ...

(p. 38)
... near the fireplace that he ...
... near the fire-place that he ...

(p. 40)
... bespoke a bran-new set of ...
... bespoke a brand-new set of ...

(p. 44)
... as merrily at if nothing ...
... as merrily as if nothing ...

(p. 53)
... “It is not?” ...
... “It is not!” ...

(p. 53)
... be told in ten.
... be told in ten.”

(p. 68)
... in the picture book was alive, ...
... in the picture-book was alive, ...

(p. 76)
... bright day-light, and ...
... bright daylight, and ...

(p. 76)
... stay here If you are ...
... stay here. If you are ...

(p. 108)
... the next storyteller. Who was ...
... the next story-teller. Who was ...

(p. 121)
... favour for themselves
... favour for themselves.

(p. 124)
... many tricks. She then ...
... many tricks.” She then ...

(p. 131)
... about so? move on ...
... about so? Move on ...

(p. 161)
... bird like that I tell ...
... bird like that. I tell ...

(p. 162)
... of the cock-chafers; and these ...
... of the cockchafers; and these ...

(p. 162)
... replied the cock-chafer, “his ...
... replied the cockchafer, “his ...

(p. 162)
... answered the cock-chafer, “we know ...
... answered the cockchafer, “we know ...

(p. 162)
... brother embraced the cock-chafer, and they ...
... brother embraced the cockchafer, and they ...

(p. 176)
... and evening. The king was greatly ...
... and evening. The King was greatly ...

(p. 204)
... to abide spell-bound.
... to abide spellbound.

(p. 215)
... thou thinkest. When the ...
... thou thinkest.” When the ...

(p. 216)
... through the keyhole. The work, ...
... through the key-hole. The work, ...

(p. 221)
Neils was well satisfied ...
Niels was well satisfied ...

(p. 221)
... pocket,” replied Neils.
... pocket,” replied Niels.

(p. 221)
Neils took out of ...
Niels took out of ...

(p. 224/225)
... refreshing slumber But she ...
... refreshing slumber, but she ...

(p. 236)
... get a horse-back upon that ...
... get a horseback upon that ...

(p. 251)
“Now came the seventh ...
Now came the seventh ...

(p. 267)
... “Take courage.” she said ...
... “Take courage,” she said ...

(p. 291)
... size of a windwill, and ...
... size of a windmill, and ...

(p. 300)
... the Elfs”; and ...
... the Elfs; and ...