Part 3

"But the third time we could do nothing. It was a piece of a poisoned apple that the stepmother brought her. Snowdrop took a bite of the apple and it lodged in her throat. When we came home, there she lay on the floor as though dead and we could not tell what it was that ailed her.

"We put her in a crystal casket, meaning to keep her always.

"But a prince came by that way and saw Snowdrop lying there motionless. Though she could not move nor speak he loved her so dearly that when he begged for her we could not refuse him. We gave her to him and he carried her away, but on the journey the apple jolted out and she opened her eyes and spoke and lived.

"She is a great queen now, but she has never forgotten us. Every month she comes to see us in her great chariot drawn by six white horses and with out-riders. Oh, you should see her then, so grand and beautiful. But she is not proud. She sits and eats with us just as she used to do. Yes, and she cooked us a dinner, too, one time. Cooked it with her own royal hands, laughing all the while."

"Oh, I _wish_ I could see her," cried Ellen.

The dwarf sat smiling to himself and rubbing one hand over the hairy back of the other.

Suddenly he started from his thoughts. "There come my brothers," he cried.

Gathering up the wooden bowls he carried them over to the porridge pot and began to fill them.

There was a sound of footsteps and voices outside, and presently in through the doorway came six more sturdy dwarfs, all looking as like the one by the stove as one pea is like another. They all stopped and stared at Ellen. "Who is this?" asked one of them.

"Oh, it's just a child from the real world," said the dwarf by the stove. "Nothing to be afraid of. She just stopped here to ask her way to the Queerbodies' house, but I don't know how to tell her."

"I know the way," said one of the new-comers. "But sit down, child; you must have a bite and a sup with us before you go."

"Thank you, I don't think I'm hungry," said Ellen.

"What's this?" cried another dwarf, eying the porridge that had been set before him. "Where's our good dinner of soup and meat?"

While the stay-at-home told his story of the lost dinner the looks of the other dwarfs grew blacker and blacker. "See now," cried one of them, striking his hairy fist upon the table; "'tis just as I tell you; those underground dwarfs grow more bold and mischievous every day. There's nothing for it but for two of us to stay at home, one to cook and one to act as guard."

"But, brother, how can we do that?" asked another. "Our hands are few enough as it is, for the work to be done."

"If there were but some way to frighten them off," said another mournfully. "But I don't see how we could do that."

"Why don't you make a scarecrow to frighten them away? That's the way we do at home," Ellen suggested.

"What is a scarecrow?" asked another dwarf hopefully, but when Ellen told him he shook his head. "No, no; they're so quick they'd guess in a minute that we were trying to trick them, and that it couldn't move."

"Well, I know what we'll do," cried Ellen. "We won't make a scarecrow; we'll make a scare-gander. We'll dress the gander up like a figure and it shall sit there quietly, and then, when the dwarfs come in to look at it, it can fly up and beat them with its wings so they'll never dare to come back again."

The gander stretched its great wings up and beat them loudly. "Yes, yes," it hissed.

"That might do," said the dwarfs; "but first we'll have our dinners, for we have been working hard and we're hungry."

So, as soon as they had finished eating their porridge they dressed the white gander. Ellen put her hat on its head and her shoes on its feet. They tied an apron that had belonged to Snowdrop about his neck, and put on a veil that hung down over his beak. Then they set him in a chair, and he looked so funny that Ellen could hardly help laughing.

"Now we'll all go back to our work," said the oldest dwarf, "and when those evil ones count that all seven of us have gone they'll soon be here to see what mischief they can do about the house."

So the dwarfs all put on their caps, and, shouldering their drills and picks, off they started, leaving the white gander sitting in the chair.

As for Ellen, she hid in the dresser, keeping the door just a crack open so she could see out.

She had only been in there a few minutes when there was a noise at the window and an evil looking dwarf peered in. He peered all about the kitchen and then he cried, "It's all right. They've all gone and left the house to take care of itself. They'll be sorry enough they left it when they come back. Quick! In, all of us, and see what mischief we can do."

With that he dropped back from the window, and in a minute a great crowd of dwarfs came tumbling in through the door. They were not as large as the good dwarfs, but they looked so spiteful and evil that Ellen was frightened and wished she and her white gander were well out of it.

"What mischief shall we begin with?" cried one.

"Let's pull all the pots and pans out of the dresser first," said another, "and see what ones we can break."

"Yes, yes," cried still others.

Several of them started over toward the dresser where Ellen was hidden, and if they had found her there it would have gone hard with her, but at the same moment one of them cried, "Oh, look here! Just see this puppet they've dressed up. Did they think they could scare us with that? Let's tear it to pieces before we do anything else."

All the dwarfs rushed pell-mell toward the chair where the gander sat, dressed in Ellen's hat and shoes and with a veil over its face. It sat as still as a stone until they were close upon it. Then up rose the great white gander with a hiss. It spread its wide strong wings, and before the dwarfs could escape it had brought them down with such a blow that three of the dwarfs were knocked head over heels. The rest cried out in terror at the sight, and hastened towards the door, but the goose was after them.

It beat and buffeted them with its wings and hissed so piercingly in their ears that they did not know what was after them. Out through the door they went and away over stump and through brier with the great white gander after them. The forest re-echoed with their harsh cries of fear.

The good dwarfs heard it, and came hastening home to learn how Ellen's plot had succeeded. Just after they came in, back came the gander, and if ever a bird laughed it was laughing then.

"Mistress, did I not beat them well?"

"You did indeed," said Ellen, and all the dwarfs agreed with a loud voice.

Then Ellen showed them how to take a pillow and dress it up as the gander had been dressed. They set it in a chair and moved the chair in front of the window, so that when you look at it from the outside it was exactly as though it were the gander itself sitting there. "I think they'll be afraid ever to come near the house again as long as that is there," said Ellen.

"They will indeed," cried all the dwarfs.

Then the child again begged them to tell her which way she was to go to find the Queerbodies' house.

"That's easily told," answered the oldest dwarf. "All you have to do is to watch the leaves and follow the way they turn, and that will soon bring you where you want to go."

"How queer!" cried Ellen. "With us the leaves turn every which way, as the wind happens to blow."

"I don't see much use in that," said the dwarf. "I don't see how you ever find your way through the woods if that's the way they do. Come, look here."

He led Ellen out under the trees in front of the house. There was no breath of air and the leaves all hung motionless. "Now take a few steps," said the dwarf. Ellen did so and immediately all the leaves stirred and began pointing toward the right, like wise little green fingers. "That's your way," said the dwarf. "Only remember and follow the direction they point out and you can't lose it."

Ellen thanked the kindly dwarfs, and she and her gander started briskly off toward the right.

On and on they went, and after a while they passed close to where there was a great heap of rocks; something kept bobbing about back of this heap, now appearing, now disappearing. At first Ellen thought it was a big bird, but as she went nearer the gander spoke: "Mistress, it's one of those wicked dwarfs."

Ellen stopped short, feeling rather frightened, but now the dwarf climbed on top of the rock and called to her: "Child, child, did you see a little house in the woods as you came along?"

"Yes, I did," answered Ellen.

"And did you stop there?"

"Yes, I did."

"And did you see anything of the big doll that beats you with flails?" He meant the gander and its wings.

"Oh, yes," said Ellen; "I saw that too."

"And is it still there?"

"No, they haven't that one, but they have another doll half as big again. It sits by the window, and if you'll go and look you'll see it there now."

"No, no," cried the dwarf. "If that's true we'll never go near the house again," and away he went, hopping over the rocks and disappearing in a big crack, and Ellen saw no more of him or his kind.

_Chapter Six_

_The Great Gray Wolf_

On and on went Ellen and the gander, following the pointing of the leaves, and all the while the forest kept growing deeper and greener and lonelier.

There were no flowers now as there had been at first, but here and there on the trees or ground grew wonderful fungi. Some were yellow as gold, some were red as blood, and still others were streaked and spotted as beautifully as sea-shells. The only flowers to be seen were the wax-white "Indian-pipes" and there were whole clumps of them.

Ellen had just stooped to pick some, when suddenly the gander hissed, and at the same moment a harsh voice spoke so close to her ear that it made her start, "Good morning!"

Ellen glanced around, and there, standing close to her, was an enormous gray wolf, ragged and scarred. The sound of his paws had been so muffled by the moss that she had not heard him coming.

"Good morning," answered Ellen, her heart beating a little faster at sight of him.

"Where are you going this pleasant day?" asked the wolf.

"I am on my way to the Queerbodies' house."

"The Queerbodies! I never heard of them. Are they good to eat?" said the wolf. Then he added hastily, "No, no; I don't mean that. I meant are they pleasant, merry people?"

"I don't know," answered Ellen. "I've never seen them, and I'm not sure whether I can find them at all. But if I mean to get to their house to-day I think I'd better be going; so good-bye," and she began to walk on, for she did not like to be there in that lonely spot with a great gray wolf for company.

The wolf, however, trotted along beside her. "Not good-bye," he said, "for I have nothing to do just now, so I'll just go with you part of the way for the sake of the walk and the company."

Ellen said nothing, but quickened her steps, while the gander and the gray wolf kept up with her, the one on one side, the other on the other.

Presently the wolf began again. "Now about those Queerbodies, it's curious I never heard of them, for I thought I knew everybody hereabouts: the dwarfs, and Little Red Riding Hood, and the three bears, and--" he hesitated for a moment, and then added with a gulp, "and the woodsmen; but no Queerbodies that I ever heard tell of."

"Who lives there?" asked Ellen, pointing to a little house she had just caught sight of in a dank and lonely glade. It had occurred to her that she might stop there for a glass of water and so rid herself of the wolf's company.

The wolf grinned, as though he guessed her thought. "Nobody lives there now. Queer looking house isn't it?"

Ellen thought it was indeed a queer looking house. "Why, what is it made of?" she asked.

"Bread and cake and barley sugar. But wouldn't you like to see it closer? You might eat some of it, too, if you like, for no one ever visits it now except the wind and rain."

Ellen walked over toward the house, while the wolf stopped a moment to bite out a burr that had stuck between his toes. "I'll be with you in a moment," he called after her.

"Mistress," said the gander stretching up its neck to whisper in Ellen's ear, "that old Gray-coat means no good to us."

"He frightens me," Ellen whispered back, "but what can I do?"

"He isn't looking now. Let's slip inside the house and lock the door."

Ellen glanced back over her shoulder. The wolf was still busy over the burr, but it was some distance to the house. "Do you think we can get there before him?" she asked.

"We can but try."

"Come, then," and Ellen began to run toward the house; while the gander ran beside her, helping himself along with his wings.

At the noise they made, the wolf looked up, and then with a howl of rage came tearing after them with long swift bounds. By the time Ellen and the gander were on the threshold of the house he was at the foot of the steps, but, turning, the little girl slammed the door and shot the bolt into place.

With a howl of rage, the wolf flung himself against it so that it shook again, and Ellen and the gander trembled as they stood within; but the good door held, the bolt was true, and the wolf might do his worst; they were safe from him for the time at least.

Finding that he could do nothing, old Gray-coat sat down panting, his fierce eyes fixed upon the house. "Wait a bit," he muttered to himself. "You have escaped me this time, but I have as much time to spend as you, and how will it be when you have to come out again?"

Ellen, who heard this, looked at the gander. "What he says is true," she whispered. "We are safe now, but we can't stay here; and how are we to get away without his catching us?"

"Let us think about that, perhaps we can contrive some way," the gander made answer.

He began to look about. The inside of the house was not built of cake and bread like the outside, but of wood, and the furniture was wooden also. At one end of the room was a great iron cage with a door and a padlock and key to fasten it. The cage was open at the top, but the bars were too high for any one but a monkey to climb out over them.

"I believe I know exactly what house this is," Ellen cried suddenly. "It's the house where Hänsel and Gretel came when they were lost in the forest; the house where the wicked witch lived. And this is the cage where she kept Hänsel. You know she put him in the cage and shut the door and fastened him in."

Stooping, she picked up some hard red bits of shell from the floor. "Crabs' claws! Yes, now I know it's the same. Don't you know the story says, 'the best of food was cooked for poor Hänsel, but Gretel received nothing to eat but crabs' claws.'"

The gander walked into the cage and looked it over carefully. "Mistress, I believe I can get rid of the wolf," he said.

"How is that?"

"In this way," and the gander began to tell his scheme, while the little girl listened eagerly. "Yes, yes," she cried; "that might do. And I'm to hide in the cupboard while you open the door. Yes, and then to slip out and fasten the lock. Yes, I'll do it."

After they had their plan all arranged Ellen did as she said. She tiptoed across the floor and hid herself in the closet.

The gander waited until she was safely settled and all was quiet, and then he waddled over to the house door and peeped out through the keyhole. There at the foot of the steps sat the wolf, his red tongue hanging out over his long white teeth, his fierce eyes fixed on the house.

Suddenly with a rattle and noise the gander unbolted the door and flung it open. Like a flash the wolf bounded up and into the house. He gave a glance about him. Ellen was not to be seen, because she was hiding in the cupboard, but there was the plump white gander. It had flown away from the door as if in a great fright and into the cage. "Just where it is easy to catch you!" cried the wolf, as he bounded into the cage in pursuit of it, every tooth in his head showing.

The gander, however, was not to be so easily caught as the wolf had thought. In a moment it spread its wings and flew up over his head, while at the same time Ellen slipped out of the cupboard and shut the cage door, turning the key, tick-a-lock.

There was the wolf safely fastened behind the iron bars, but the gander flew out over the top of the cage and alighted on the floor at Ellen's side. "Come, Mistress," he said, "the way is clear now, and we can journey on as soon as we choose."

How the wicked old wolf did howl and threaten! But it was no good. Ellen and the gander let him make all the noise he chose, but they left him there. All they would do was to promise to send the first woodsman they met in the woods to take charge of the cruel old Gray-coat.

They had scarcely travelled beyond sound of his howls when they met a huntsman with horn and gun journeying along under the trees. He greeted the two, and would have passed on, but Ellen stopped him.

"If you please," said she, "there's a wolf fastened in a cage in the little cake house back there. If you live near here would you mind taking care of him and seeing that he gets food and water?"

"A wolf!" cried the huntsman. "Who caught it?"

"This gander and I," and Ellen began telling the huntsman all about their meeting it, and what a narrow escape they had had.

The huntsman could not wonder enough. "I know that old wolf well enough," he said. "You have had a narrow escape, child. That is the same wolf that came so near to eating up Red Riding Hood." The man then went on to say that he would get some of his fellows and they would bind the wolf and carry him to King Thrush-beard, who was making a collection of wild animals.

He begged the little girl to come with him as the king would be sure to give a large reward for such a large, fierce beast, but Ellen said she had no time. She must hasten on if she wished to reach the Queerbodies' house that day.

"Then at least accept this horn," and the huntsman unslung the one that he carried at his shoulder. "It is all I have to offer you, but it may serve to remind you of your adventure."

Ellen thought the horn very pretty, and was delighted. She thanked the huntsman, and then, bidding him good-by, she and her gander started forward once more upon their journey.

_Chapter Seven_

_The Magic Lamp_

"Mistress, I think we must be coming to the end of the forest," said the gander. "The trees are not so close together, and I seem to see a light beyond."

"I hope we are," answered the little girl.

"Once we are out from under the trees I can use my wings and then we'll get along faster," the gander added.

Even sooner than he had thought, they came to the edge of the forest, where the open country began. It seemed very bright after the leafy shade where they had travelled so long.

Before them was the gentle slope of a hill, and away beyond it stood a castle that shone like gold against the sky. "Oh see," cried Ellen, "a castle. Let's go nearer and look at it."

"Very well," answered the gander. "Seat yourself upon my back and we'll soon be there."

As the little girl was settling herself between his wings they heard a far-off sound of trumpets, and saw a number of people coming out of the castle. Even at that distance she could tell by the way the sunlight glittered on their clothing that they must be very magnificently dressed. There were horses, too, with nodding plumes. They all seemed to be forming in a procession, and then with another sound of trumpets they began to move away in an opposite direction.

"Oh hurry," cried Ellen, almost falling off the gander in her eagerness. "It must be a parade."

The gander spread his wings and flew as fast as he could, but when he reached the castle the procession had disappeared. No one was to be seen but two slavesstanding at the foot of the steps before the door. They were very magnificent, being dressed all in cloth of gold, and wearing about their necks collars of diamonds and rubies.

"Was that a parade that just went away?" asked Ellen, as the gander alighted softly upon the palace steps.

The slaves seemed struck with terror and amazement at her sudden appearance. They threw themselves down before her hiding their eyes. "Do not harm us," they cried. "We are only poor slaves."

"Why I'm not going to hurt you," said Ellen. "I couldn't, anyway. I'm only a little girl."

"But surely you must be a magician to ride through the air in this way," and one of the slaves raised his head a little.

Ellen felt like laughing. "No, I'm not anything but a child, and this is Mother Goose's gander."

The slaves now rose from the ground with a relieved look, "And you are really not a magician?"

"No, of course not. But what was all that we saw? We thought it was a parade."

"It was our master Aladdin with his slaves and guards riding away to pay a visit to his father-in-law, the sultan."

"_Aladdin!_ Do you mean the Aladdin who has the wonderful lamp?"

"Even the same."

"Oh, I do wish I could see the lamp," and the child clasped her hands in her eagerness. "I never believed it was true before. Don't you think he would let me look at it?"

"He is away now, as we have just told you."

"But couldn't you let me see it? I've always wondered what it looked like, and thought what I'd wish for, if I had it."

The slaves looked at her suspiciously and began to whisper together. Then one of them turned to her again and spoke, "I cannot promise," he said, "but if you will be pleased to follow me it may be that the soldiers will allow you to see the lamp."

The gander plucked at Ellens sleeve. "Mistress, Mistress, do not follow him," he whispered. "I don't know why, but I fear danger."

Ellen, however, was too eager to heed what the gander said. It was too wonderful a chance to lose; the chance of really seeing--perhaps even handling--the lamp of Aladdin. So she drew her sleeve away, and as the slaves led the way she followed them into a great hallway all of gold, set with patterns of rubies and emeralds.

The hall was empty with no one in sight except themselves, though Ellen could hear a distant sound of music and singing from some other part of the castle.

Along the hall they went, and up a flight of golden steps. After this there was another hall and more stairs and winding ways, until Ellen felt completely lost.

At last they came to a barred and bolted door before which stood two soldiers with drawn swords in their hands. As they saw Ellen and the gander coming up the hall they crossed their swords before the door. "Who are these whom you have dared to bring hither?" they cried to the slaves.

The slaves made a deep reverence. "If you please," answered one of them, "it is one who says she is a child, and who comes begging to see the lamp of Aladdin."

Ellen began to feel somewhat timid, the soldiers looked at her so frowningly and suspiciously. "If you don't mind," she began, "I thought I would like to see it, but if it's too much trouble, of course it doesn't matter."

The foremost slave advanced with great respect and began whispering to the soldiers. They frowned more and more heavily as they listened. At last as the slave finished whispering they lowered their swords. "Very well," said one of them to Ellen, "you shall see the lamp." He made a motion and the slaves sprang forward and unbolted and unbarred the door.

At a gesture from the soldier Ellen stepped inside. On the instant, and before the gander had time to follow her in, the door was shut behind her with a crash, and she heard the bolts and bars falling into place.