Part 12

“Kathleen, or Kay, as she was always called for short, lived by the ocean in a little fishing village,” said daddy. “She used to watch the men fishing all day and hauling their nets in at night. And she would watch her mother cook the fish for their meals, for they practically lived on it. One day a big trunk was washed ashore which without a doubt had fallen off one of the big boats passing by.

“In the trunk were lots and lots of lovely dresses—a pink dress, a yellow satin dress, a green velvet coat, a hat with soft, big plumes on it, and, oh, so many lovely things! Kay was breathless for a moment, she was so excited—all those gorgeous things for a little girl who had seen little else beside fishing-nets and such things.

“‘Is it for me?’ cried Kay.

“‘Yes; all for you,’ said her daddy. ‘Nobody else wants these things here in our fishing village, and you can have them to play with.’

“‘Oh, how marvelous!’ said Kay. ‘I’ll never be lonely now. I can play I’m a queen when I wear that yellow satin dress and the velvet coat, and I’ll pretend that the fishes are my subjects, and I can play I’m a beautiful lady going to a ball when I wear the pink dress.’

“She jumped around and around with joy, crying: ‘Oh, what a fine time I’ll have dressing up! Oh, such fun!’”

MAY 12: The Sun Talks to Harry

“There was a little boy,” said daddy, “whose name was Harry, and he loved sunsets and everything that had bright colors. But as he had spent all his life in the city, he had not seen half the wild flowers and lovely wood flowers you children can always see.

“One day he had been playing very hard as it was his birthday and his mother had given him a party. So he was tired before it was time to go to bed, and he was sitting by the open window looking at the sun just beginning to think about going to bed too.

“But the Fairy Queen was whispering to the sun to tell Harry a story as a special birthday treat, and at the same time Harry was saying ‘Oh, please go to bed, Mr. Sun, for I want to see all your bright colors.’

“But the sun had no intention of being hurried. He wanted to go to bed when he was tired and not before. Besides, in the warm weather he liked to stay up longer, and it was only in the cold winter that he cared about going to bed before the afternoon really was over.

“In a moment or two Harry was sound asleep in his chair by the window. And the sun had listened to the Fairy Queen’s whisper, for soon Harry was having the most wonderful talk with Mr. Sun.

“He came right in the window, and sat on the sill, just as friendly as friendly could be. He told Harry the history of his life, and oh, how very, very old he was. It made Harry feel quite old too, to hear the sun talking, and he said to him, ‘Mr. Sun, don’t you feel very blue when you think how old you are?’

“‘Sometimes to be sure I do. That is only natural. And it is then that you see many blue clouds and pale lavender colors around me as I’m going to bed. But you will agree that isn’t very often. For when I am sensible I say to myself that there is nothing disgraceful about being old. And it is then that I look bright and rosy. For it is very foolish to mind being old when you are as strong and well as I am and have such a wonderful long record.’”

MAY 13: Old Mr. Owl Writes a Book

“Old Mr. Owl wanted to write a book and he asked the fairies how to set about doing it,” commenced daddy.

“‘Well,’ said the fairy queen, ‘it makes a good deal of difference, old Mr. Owl, what you want to write about.’

“‘What nonsense!’ he said. ‘It’s just that I want to know how to start off with my book. Just think what a marvelous book it will be—for as long as folks can remember I’ve been called the Wise Bird—the bird who’s awake at night and whose eyes are so very bright!’

“‘Before I started saying what a fine book it would be, if I were you, I’d write it and give other people the chance to say so,’ said the fairy queen.

“Mr. Owl began to write with his pen, made out of one of Mr. Turkey Gobbler’s best feathers, on a large, flat stone, which he put in the hollow of his tree. Very late in the night, he awakened his fairies who had been sleeping, and told them to listen to his book. Then he called all the owls from the neighborhood with a loud hoot-hoot. But before he began to read, he said:

“‘I’ve not enough light. I will hurt my eyes—my beautiful, wise, big eyes.’

“You see he had made a special arrangement to have his own lights, and when he said that he hadn’t enough, from all over came countless little fireflies. They sparkled and gave the most beautiful light all over the woods, and Mr. Owl put his spectacles on his nose, and said:

“‘Now I see to perfection—which means quite all right.’ And Mr. Owl commenced reading his book.

“It told about the parties, balls and picnics in fairyland, and of the wild adventures and happenings in the woods. The fairies were absolutely delighted that a book had been written with so much about them in it.

“And the fairy queen was more than happy, for the last chapter was all about her.

“‘Well,’ said Mr. Owl, ‘you made me ashamed of myself for boasting about my book before I had written it, and so the only thing I could do was to write a wise chapter all about you.’

“And the fairy queen smiled with pleasure and also with amusement—for Mr. Owl had certainly thought he could write a wise book—though the next time, perhaps, he wouldn’t say so before he had written it.

“The fireflies had been sparkling and flashing lights all this time, and finally they whispered:

“‘Have a dance, all of you; we’ll give you the light and dance too. It is not well to read books all the time—you must dance.’

“So they all ended off with a fine dance, and old Mr. Owl, with his book under his wing, danced with the rest of the owls and fairies. But before the evening was over he presented to the fairy queen a copy of his book, which said on the cover, ‘A BOOK, by Wise Mr. Owl.’”

MAY 14: The Little Turkeys

“When Mrs. Turkey’s little ones were born,” said daddy, “she taught them the things that all good turkey mothers teach their young in the early spring days, especially how they must keep their feet dry for a number of weeks so they will grow up into fine and strong turkeys. And, as Mother Turkey watched her children she said to herself: ‘What a Thanksgiving turkey you will be, my dear,’ as she pointed to one. ‘And what a Christmas turkey you will be. And do not be sad, because you will be used for meals.

“‘It is a very great honor. A very great honor indeed! Turkeys are especially honored in this way!’”

MAY 15: Billy’s Trip in the Coach

“A little Boy named Billy was sitting in front of a fire,” began daddy. “It was in his own bedroom and he was in a great big armchair toasting his feet before he got into bed.

“He began thinking of the picture over the fireplace. It was a most wonderful picture. There was a stage coach and a driver all dressed in red. There were eight white horses with big red plumes standing up from their harnesses, which made them look very fine indeed. And then there were two footmen just climbing upon the coach. They never seemed to reach the top; they always seemed to be in just the same place trying to get there!

“Now Billy wondered if they didn’t get tired of being over the fireplace all the time, hanging up on a silly hook. To him the eight beautiful horses looked as if they needed a good gallop and run, and the little fat coachman in red looked as if he would like to be off for a trip too.

“As Billy was wondering about it, suddenly he saw the coachman wave his arms, flourish his whip and the two footmen jump—actually jump right upon the top of the coach.

“And then the coach began to fill with passengers. The Fairy Queen was there with all the little Fairies trailing along too. Billy didn’t see how the coach could possibly hold so many passengers, but to his great surprise it began to grow larger and larger. And soon he heard a gruff voice.

“‘Well, Billy, do you want to see where we go when we take our trips? You mustn’t think we stay over this fireplace all the time. We have many friends, and we go upon wonderful trips when you’re fast asleep. But this time we will take you with us.’

“Just then a little Gnome came down from the coach and began to help Billy up.

“Off they went, with the most dashing and daring speed. Around cliffs they tore, and over the narrowest and most dangerous roads.

“Finally they came to the very steepest cliff you can possibly imagine.

“‘Well,’ said the fat little coachman, ‘here we all get dashed to pieces unless the Tipping Bird comes along.’

“‘Dear me,’ said Billy, ‘I do hope he comes. I would hate to be dashed to pieces.’

“‘Oh, that’s just to make it more exciting,’ said one of the Fairies; ‘we won’t really be dashed to pieces. The Tipping Bird is a Bird known only in Fairyland, and he always comes just as the Fairy Queen waves her wand.’

“And soon what should Billy see come flying along but a great big black Bird—the biggest Bird Billy had ever seen in all his life. They left the coach on the side of the cliff, and then the horses, coachman, footmen, Fairies, Gnomes, Billy and all, found nice little parts of the Tipping Bird’s wings to rest in. Soon they were flying over the side of the cliff, and then landed in a beautiful valley of soft feathers.

“‘Oh dear,’ said Billy, ‘where are we going now?’

“‘You must sleep in your good soft bed instead of the chair,’ said Billy’s mother, who had carried him asleep to his bed while he had been dreaming of the trip in the coach.”

MAY 16: Mother Maple Tree

“I am going to tell you,” said the old maple tree, “a little family history. We belong to the Sugar Maple family. Our trees are often used in making furniture, and our sap gives wondrous maple sugar which boys and girls and ladies and gentlemen love so much!

“And when autumn comes we all dress up in the most wonderful costumes of red and orange and flaming gold. But we will not talk about autumn quite yet.

“The work for us to do now is to see that each leaf grows to be as big and beautiful as possible. For we have been known as one of the nicest of shade trees. We keep the sun from shining down too hard on people during the hot summer months. We make shady avenues and streets and driveways.

“Mr. Sun is a perfectly splendid old chap, but in the summer he gets so excited that he is very warm, indeed, and the people love the shade we can give. So you see, leaves, you must not be lazy!”

The leaves rustled and shook their heads. “No, Mother Maple, we will not be lazy.”

“We have many cousins,” continued Mother Maple. “There is Cousin Sycamore Maple whose family comes from far away. Cousin Sycamore is not very strong and its flowers are late in coming out. Now Cousin Norway Maple is quite different. A fine strong tree Cousin Norway is, and a tree that doesn’t mind soot and dust and smoke or insects. Many of Cousin Norway’s children are planted in city streets where there is a great deal of smoke.

“There is Cousin Box Elder which is a relation because it has clusters of ‘keys’ or seeds, which hang on all winter.

“Cousin Striped Maple is very beautiful with its streaked white lines. In the winter oftentimes its bark is used by boys for whistles and in the autumn Cousin Striped Maple is yellow and very handsome.

“As for Mr. Mountain Maple—well, Cousin Mountain is so named because upon all mountains the Mountain Maple loves to grow and Cousin Vine Maple is so named because it hasn’t the strength to stand up by itself and its stems are like vines.

“Cousin Silver Maple is very beautiful but is not strong enough to stand the city. Cousin Silver likes parks which are given over to trees and greens and plants.

“And then there are the red maple and the black maple. Cousin Black Maple is almost exactly like us, but its branches are orange colored and its ‘keys’ spread more widely than ours do.

“Cousin Red Maple loves the swamps and is a beautiful tree, as are all his children, but I’m glad we belong to the Sugar Maple family.”

“So are we, Mother Maple,” said the leaves, as they all promised to be good and beautiful and strong.

MAY 17: The Sport Fish

“At the seashore the other day when it was so warm,” said daddy, “I saw some great things which were made to look like big fish. They were made of rubber, I was told, and pumped up like automobile tires, and then they were covered with canvas.

“Their eyes were painted on the canvas, so were their fins and their tails. They looked like very funny fishes but still they did not look quite right. And people were riding on top of them in the water, and what games they did have with the breakers. The fishes would rush in to the shore when a great wave would come and the people would have a most glorious ride. And children rode them, too. They’re not in the least dangerous, for if any one falls off in the water when he is riding a fish which lies right on top, he has no distance to fall at all, and simply gets a nice, jolly ducking.

“But by holding on fast no one need fall off—just lie or sit on the fish and the breakers and the fish do the rest.

“Well, such fun as every one was having at the beach. The children were laughing and crying out, ‘Let’s ride the sport fish.’

“Big men and grown-up ladies were saying, ‘Let’s ride the breakers on the sport fish. My, how they go! Aren’t they fun.’

“And I am quite sure that farther out in the ocean real fishes were saying, ‘Well, isn’t it a shame! Here there are make-believe fishes that are thought more of than we are. And we’re real, not just imitations!’

“But I also felt sure that old Grandfather Ocean Fish said, ‘Now, look here, we have no right to get mad. We never offered our backs for folks to ride on. And we never rushed in to the shore on the great breakers. So we can’t grumble. For the sport fishes—not real like us, to be sure—will help the grown-ups and children have the kind of fun they like.’”

MAY 18: Mother Sheep

“My beautiful baby, Laura Lamb,” said Mother Sheep, “we always follow the leader. We’re gentle and we’re quiet. We’re rather timid, too. We don’t think a great deal for ourselves.

“They say,” Mother Sheep continued, “that when people cannot sleep they make believe they are seeing sheep, and that they are counting them going through a gate. That is because sheep follow each other, and if one were going through a gate the others would be going through, too.

“Oh, they get tired, you see, of counting the sheep they make believe that they see! And so they go to sleep!

“And you see what a help we are to people when we do such things, so that they can see us in their minds going through a gate—one after the other.

“You see, my Laura Lamb, if sheep should go different ways then people couldn’t be helped toward sleep by us, and it is nice to think of helping people to sleep, for we’re gentle, kind souls, and it is nice to help.

“So, Laura Lamb, you, too, always follow the leader. Don’t go through one gate yourself and have your cousins going through another and some other cousins through the opening in the fence and the others perhaps going under the fence.

“We must all go together, we sheep.”

And Laura Lamb bleated and said: “Ba-aaa-baa-aaa, Mother Sheep! I will do as you say.”

MAY 19: The Monkeys’ Victory

“The Animals in the Zoo were boasting one day,” said daddy.

“‘I am the most wonderful of you all,’ said the Black-Footed Penguin. ‘I live in water and on the rocks. My ways are interesting. I have strange habits, and what is more my voice is like a donkey’s. I can bray most beautifully.’

“‘Well,’ laughed the Donkey who was passing along the road. ‘The idea of comparing yourself to me.’ And the Donkey stopped quite still, even though he was pulling a cart in which was a little Girl.

“‘Go on,’ said the little Girl. But the Donkey stood quite still.

“‘You can’t bray as well as I can,’ said the Donkey.

“‘I bray just the same way,’ said the Black-Footed Penguin.

“‘Well,’ laughed the Hyena, ‘most People and Animals don’t think a Donkey’s voice is anything very fine.’ And the Hyena went on laughing and laughing, almost until his sides burst!

“‘If you’re going to be rude,’ said the Donkey, ‘I shall leave.’

“‘At last,’ said the little Girl in the cart, ‘the Donkey has decided to move. I thought I might have to sit here all day.’

“‘Ah,’ said the Sea Lion, ‘none of you are as fine as I am. I jump into the air to get my food. I don’t get it in any commonplace, ordinary way. No indeed, I jump for it. Each time I do a trick. And they stop and look at me. For I am very interesting.’

“‘It’s much nicer,’ said the bushy-tailed Wood-Rat, ‘to be what I am. My tail is the wonder of the world.’

“‘I never heard that before,’ said the Flying Squirrels. ‘Now with us, it is different. We can fly! We are like Birds. That’s very superior.’

“‘But you’re not Birds,’ said a Sparrow, who was flying by the cages, and over the yards of the Animals. ‘At the rate you are talking, I am about as interesting as any of you. I can fly for that matter, and I can pick up food. I fly down for it instead of flying up for it like Mr. Sea Lion.’

“‘I don’t fly up for it,’ said Mr. Sea Lion. ‘I jump for it.’

“‘Oh, all right,’ said the Sparrow. ‘I’m sure I don’t care whether you jump or fly. You’re very fussy about words, it seems to me.’

“‘Look at me,’ said the Seal. ‘I come from a wonderful land, and I am a thing of great beauty. My skin is beautiful. And I swim so nicely, and I like the water so much.’

“‘You’re no better than I am,’ said the Alligator crossly.

“‘Nonsense,’ said the Seal, ‘but I won’t quarrel with you about it, for I know I’m right.’

“‘I have the finest coat,’ said the Zebra. ‘Now, in truth, I am something worth looking at.’

“‘You’re queer, that’s all,’ said the Rocky Mountain Sheep from his yard.

“The Australian Dog who looked like a Fox also got into the argument, but back in the Zoo house, the Monkeys were saying:

“‘Now, to-morrow let us see who gets the most admiration and attention. Then we will see who is the most interesting Animal in the Zoo.’

“‘All right,’ agreed the other Animals, for each was quite sure he’d win. The word was whispered about the Zoo that the visitors should decide the question.

“The next day the Children began to arrive—and all day long they kept coming. Each Animal had fussed to look his best, and when the Children would pause and stop to admire any Animal the others would look angry.

“They stopped before every Animal for a few moments, and would say to each other:

“‘Oh, look at this queer Animal! See what he does!’ But then they would pass on and in front of the Monkey cages they stood. The Monkeys performed tricks, they made faces and they ate peanuts which were given to them, and at the end of the day, alas and alack, every Animal had to admit that the one who received the most attention from the Children was the old Monkey and his family.”

MAY 20: The Mosquitoes

“Well, friends,” said the little mosquito, “how about a banquet to-night? It’s the first warm evening of the season, and without a doubt the people will sit out on their porches and enjoy the beautiful air.”

“They won’t enjoy us,” said the second mosquito.

“Well, I’m sure we wouldn’t be flattered if they did,” said the first mosquito. “If they enjoyed us it would mean that we didn’t bite them, and that would never do.”

“It would never do,” agreed the second mosquito.

“Well, let’s be off, for the sun has gone down and the people will have finished their suppers before long.”

“All right,” said the first mosquito, “I’m ready, and I’ll give a call to the children and to the cousins and to all of the family and relatives.”

“Buzz-buzz-buzz,” came back the answers, and soon all the mosquito relatives had joined the first two mosquitoes.

“Is every one ready for a banquet?” asked the first mosquito.

“Every one, without a doubt,” said the mosquitoes.

So they all started forth and buzzed along, talking of people who felt them most.

“We don’t want to go to those who’re not properly bitten by mosquitoes,” said the first mosquito.

“I heard some one say, the other day,” said the second mosquito, “that the two creatures she hated most were the flies and the mosquitoes. She said she didn’t like yellow-jackets and hornets, but practically every other creature she liked.

“Now, wasn’t that a nice compliment?”

“A large one,” said they all.

“What do you mean by a large compliment?” asked the second mosquito. “You should say a big compliment. But still what do we care about words except a few choice ones such as bite and bitten and will bite?” So the mosquitoes hurried, and some of them went on one piazza where people were sitting and some on another, and were happy over their mean banquet.

MAY 21: The Potato Bugs

“Well, it is time we should get started,” said Mrs. Potato Bug.

“And we must work hard,” said Mr. Potato Bug.

“We have such fun working,” said the little potato bugs.

The potato bugs had six legs apiece. They had little black feelers and tiny eyes. They were yellow and black on the back, and blue and brown underneath.

They spit a little yellow juice on any one who took hold of them, for they said:

“It’s all right for us to treat the potatoes badly, but it is a different thing for people to have the bad manners to pick us up as if we were little creatures of no importance.”

There were also brick-red bugs with black dots on either side. These were the little potato bugs, while the others were the daddies and the mothers. They got on the leaves of the first potato crop and fed off them, eating away at the leaves as hard and as fast as such tiny creatures could do.

These little bugs were very anxious to kill the plants and they would have done so if they had made a good headway. That is, they would have done a great deal of harm if they hadn’t been driven away in time.

But these bugs went to other potatoes and they saw some of the potato grubs, so they said to them:

“Potato grubs, what are you doing?”

“We’re eating holes in the potatoes,” said the grubs. “What are you doing?”

“We were eating leaves of potato plants,” said the potato bugs. “We were driven away from some other plants, but here we are, and the dear little children have come, too.”

“Are you going to eat the leaves here?” asked the grubs.

“We think they look good,” said the potato bugs.

“They do,” said the grubs, “but of course we pay all our compliments to the potatoes themselves. We don’t bother about the leaves.”

“Perhaps,” said the potato bugs, “the potatoes wouldn’t mind it if you didn’t pay them such compliments.”

“Perhaps not,” said the grubs, “but we do, just the same. We say to the potatoes:

“‘Dear potatoes, we love you. Let us show you how fond we are of you by eating you.’”

“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed the potato bugs, “that is a good joke.”

“The farmers don’t like the jokes, though,” said the grubs. “They think they and their wives and their children and their neighbors and their friends are the ones who should pay such compliments to the potatoes.”

“Absurd,” said the potato bugs.

“Of course,” admitted the grubs, “it is not so absurd if we put ourselves in their places, but who in the world ever imagined that a grub would put itself in the place of a person? No one would, so why should we do it? And we don’t.”

“That’s so,” said the potato bugs, “and neither do we. If we cared for people we wouldn’t eat the leaves and we wouldn’t try to destroy the plants.”

“We’re not friendly with farmers even if we do like potato hills,” said the grubs.

“That’s so,” said the potato bugs, “and why should we be friendly with the farmers? They don’t like us. They ask us to leave. They try to get rid of us.

“They never invite us to have some of the leaves of the potatoes, any more than they ask you to bite holes and eat of the potatoes.