Part 6

Facing the “Official Recorder,” to the right and left, in two great triangles, sat the wedding guests. There was thus formed a middle pathway up which the Bridal Party was to come at the appointed hour. Whilst waiting for that auspicious moment all were interested to note the singular grace and beauty of the two noble Princes.

The Bridegroom, Prince Waratah, was naturally the first to come under observation. Taller than the average, his face aglow with animation and happiness, he was in truth a striking figure. He was superbly dressed! Upon his head—above the curls of glossy red it did not try to hide—he wore a golden coloured cap, from which there rose a splendid feather of the very shade that matched his hair. His coat was of a glossy green colour; the collar, edges and pockets being trimmed with a broad band of golden embroidery. At his throat and wrists he wore the most beautiful white lace. His vest was of a rich yellow; and his knee-breeches and stockings were of delicate white. On his feet were shoes of the same colour as his vest; whilst his garters were of a deep-sea blue, fastened with diamond clasps!

Prince Floral was similarly attired as far as style was concerned, except that his coat was the colour of golden brown wall flowers, and his vest a perfect pink.

When the Bride appeared, leaning on her father’s arm, it was seen that her dress was of the purest white silk, into which was worked in golden thread, the daintiest sprays of Golden Wattle. And very lovely did she look, her face suffusing with blushes as she felt the gaze of so many pairs of eyes.

Two of her sisters were in attendance as “First Ladies,” or Bridesmaids. And they, too, were very beautiful in their dresses of hydrangea-blue, decorated and adorned with sashes and knots of faintest pink.

On their arrival at the platform, Prince Waratah stepped swiftly down, and, taking the Princess by the hand, together they mounted the steps and stood before the “Official Recorder.” In a clear, ringing voice the Prince then said to that Officer: “I, Prince Waratah, desire you to note that I, here and now, take the Princess Wattle Blossom, to be my wife!” The Princess immediately added: “And I, Princess Wattle Blossom, desire you to note, that I, here and now, take the Prince Waratah to be my husband and my Lord.” They both then turned towards the assembled guests, and the “Official Recorder,” standing a little to one side, raised his voice, and said, “Be it known that, before me, this day, the Prince Waratah and the Princess Wattle Blossom, have become husband and wife. So be it! Praise be to God!” And so, amidst a burst of acclamation and applause, the wedding ceremony ended!

Then followed a long, long series of congratulations and good wishes ere it was possible to adjourn to the great dining-room in which the wedding feast was spread. It must have been quite six o’clock before everyone was in place. Any observant person, looking round the room, would then have noted a curious fact. The number seated at every table except the one at which the Bride and Bridegroom sat, was exactly seven. At the chief table there were nine. This arrangement was in no wise accidental. In point of fact it was done deliberately, the Fairies, like the ancient peoples, having the greatest regard and respect for numbers and their meanings. To them, three is the perfect number—and three multiplied by three, which is nine, the limit to which perfection can go. Never at any time therefore do they seat together more than nine; and then only when they are very distinguished persons indeed. In like manner they look upon seven as God’s own number; the one that means rest after labour; for, as you will remember, in six days God made Heaven and Earth, and on the seventh day He rested. Furthermore, they know that just as in the Alphabet, A, B and C, contain the lines and curves of all the other letters, so in ordinary numbers, 1, 2 and 3, contain all the lines and curves of all the others. But what impresses them most are the following two remarkable facts. Firstly, if you double over the first three numbers, you cover up 4, 5 and 6, and arrive at 7, the perfect number, the one that in itself holds the lines and curves of all the others! Secondly, if you double over the first three letters of the Alphabet you cover up D E F, and arrive at G, the seventh letter, the perfect letter that in itself embraces the lines and curves of all the others—the initial letter of the mightiest name in the Universe: its Creator, God!

The Fairies, however, were so used to being seated in the way described, and so understood the reason for it, that in effect they took no notice; but gave themselves up to the full enjoyment of the splendid fare provided for them.

After they had partaken of as much as they desired, the Prince, always alert, nodded his head to the waiting attendants, and in less time than it takes to tell it, the tables were cleared, and there began the various entertainments that were to grace the evening.

First, the Band, which played a most engaging selection of soft harmonious airs, sweet enough to have made the stars of Heaven brighten could they have heard them. Then came the first of the “Five Story Tellers”—the most popular persons in Fairyland.

These Story Tellers, who need never lack an audience, are the most ancient of all the Fairies—so old (though they do not look it) that they seem to have existed ever since the World began. What they were first called, no one now remembers. Some think they once had names which meant Faith, Love, Truth, Knowledge and Art; but be that as it may, to-day they are called “Touch,” “Taste,” “Sight,” “Smell,” and “Hearing.” Whenever they tell a story they always begin it in the same way. First they give the title of the tale, and then, as in all Fairy Stories, they say: “Once upon a time, a long while ago,” such and such a thing happened. So, when “Touch” began his Tale, he being first to be asked, this is what he said:—

THE SKYLARK’S STORY

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I was passing over a field. Pausing for a moment to look at a flower, a Lark fell palpitating at my feet, hot and weary with singing. Taking him up in my left hand, whilst I gently fanned him with my right, I said, ‘Tell me, Lark, what is your story, and why do you sing?’ And when he was cool again, this is the tale he told:—

“‘Once I was an egg, and I lay in a tiny nest among the grasses of the field. The shell, within which I lived, was very small and somewhat dark, but warm! Occasionally, however, I could see just a little glimpse of light; and now and then I could indistinctly hear my father talking or singing to my mother. But I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t speak.

“‘Then came a day when I thought I heard an awful crash. It was so loud and thunderous that it seemed to me as if the sky had fallen. At the time it happened I was almost asleep, I think, for I appeared to have waked with such a sudden start, that I pushed my beak clean through the shell in which I lived; broke it in half; and there I sat, blinking and winking at the sunlight in the most stupid manner conceivable.

“‘In a minute or two I saw my mother! She was looking down at me as proudly as if I were an eagle instead of a wee little lark—almost naked, and so weak, that I couldn’t stand up, no matter how hard I tried. In fact, every time I tried, I fell back so funnily that my mother laughed a little, and that made me cry!

“‘When she saw me crying she said: “Never mind, little one! You’ll soon do much more than stand up—you’ll fly! And now just lie down until I go and get you your breakfast!” and off she flew! My word, she was quick! I hardly seemed to have lain down before she was back with it—the queerest little pinky-red wriggly thing you ever saw in your life; but so soft and juicy looking that, when she put it on my tongue, I just popped it down my throat and gave a little squeak for more!

“‘But that’s a long while ago!

“‘As I grew and got some feathers, my mother taught me first to walk a little, then to run, and finally to fly! Very well do I remember my first little flight. I could scarcely have gone a dozen yards, when down I came plop! right on my mother’s back! How she got beneath me, goodness only knows! But it was a good thing for me that she did, for when I saw where I should have fallen; it was right on top of an old spiky post in a fence—and I certainly would have been hurt.

“‘One day my father came to me and said: “Up you come with me, little laddie! You’re old enough now to get into the air, and to get your first singing lesson!”

“‘I fairly worshipped my father! He really was wonderful, for on all the days when my mother was feeding me or teaching me to fly, we could just see him away up overhead, singing rapturously.

“‘And the songs he sang! The notes came raining down like dew-drops, diamonds, rubies, sapphires. They were made of sunshine, jewels, and running water! You never heard the like of them! And my mother, who loved him to distraction, would often stop in her teaching and just gaze up at him as if he were an angel!

“‘But, as I was saying, my father came to me for my first skyward lesson. How I loved it! Round and up, and up and round we went, until we appeared to be miles and miles above the earth!

“‘And, looking about me, at the sun, the sky, and the good green earth, all at once I knew what everything meant, and almost without knowing it, I opened my throat and sang till I dropped!

“‘Very fortunately my father, who probably guessed what would happen, was watching closely, and the very instant that my wings gave way he caught me on his back, and down we came in the most graceful spirals you ever saw! Day after day we did the same thing, until at last, strong of wing, and mellow throated as my father, he gave me the right to soar and sing whenever I pleased!

“‘As to why I sing, I can only say that everything in the World seems so good, so lovely and so bright, that I cannot help it. Besides, I love to hear my own voice, it is so sweet. And I rather think that the Angels of Heaven, looking down as I often do at this beautiful earth, must find it not only easy to sing, but must simply long for the time when they can come and teach their songs to human beings,—just as my father taught me his!’”

So concluded the story.

Then someone sang a Fairy song, and everybody joined in the chorus.

After that the Prince asked one of the Couriers—one of those who are sent out with important letters—to repeat something he once heard at a concert. And this is what the Courier said:—

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I stopped to listen to a children’s concert, and there I heard a bright-faced boy recite this tale:—

GOURDS AND QUINCES

Two Beetles brown, came up to Town, Beneath a load of pumpkins; With Simon Strong they rode along, A pair of Country Bumpkins. And though ’twas hot they murmured not, Nor thought upon the weather; For their delight, both day and night, Was just to be together!

And this was so, as you may know, Because, by love incited, Their wedding tour began the hour That they were thus united! And so, ’twould seem, a foolish dream, By fate and Fortune aided, Began to be a true decree, When they the cart invaded.

For Beetles’ tastes, whate’er else wastes. Run much to fruity flavours; And so, mayhap, they hoped to tap The best of orchard savours, When in the straw they thought they saw,— (And this the truth evinces!) Amid the heap of pumpkins cheap, The gleam of golden quinces!

But hopes are vain and fraught with pain When backed by judgments hasty; And yellow gourds are hard as boards, And not like quinces, tasty! And so these twain must Town attain, By love sustained, but thinner; In hopes at least, that they might feast, When Simon stopped for dinner!

Yet, sad to say, alack aday! The journey being ended, Upon their backs, on some old sacks. They found themselves extended! And then, instead of meat and bread, Or food of more pretension,— They heard the squeal of pigs at meal: Oh, sorry, sad declension!

For to a pen of porkers ten, Old Simon tipped his pumpkins, And with the load, to that abode. Were thrown the Beetle-bumpkins! To them, indeed, an awful meed Of rude and rough requiting— When they had schemed and fondly dreamed Of pelf, with love uniting!

And so, ’tis plain—that those who gain The World’s rewards and pleasures Can ne’er be sure they them secure, By raiding others treasures! And one more fact remains intact: (The doubters this convinces!) That those who rise to high emprise, Know yellow gourds from quinces!

At the conclusion of the Recitation a number of what might be termed the brighter members of the audience took occasion to comment on it; but, judging by what they said to each other, they had not much sympathy for the silly little beetles.

When they were quite quiet again, “Taste,” the second of the Five Story Tellers, began his tale as follows:—

THE GRAPE VINE’S STORY

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, faint and weary from the heat of the day, I sheltered myself under a shady vine. When I looked up I saw beautiful bunches of grapes—like ladies’ fingers—hanging all about me. A bunch I took, and found them so delicious that I said to the vine, ‘Tell me, Grape Vine, what is your story, and why do you grow such grapes?’ And this is what the Grape Vine said:—

“‘My story is a very simple one! When I was a little hard white pip I was covered with pale, firm flesh, and my green skin was as smooth as silk! As I grew older my flesh got softer, and my skin expanded to allow for my growth.

“‘About this time the Sun began to take notice of me; and in a playful way he took to patting my cheeks every time he passed. In spite of myself I always blushed; and, somehow, try as I might, I never could get rid of the blush again. The result was, that the oftener I blushed the deeper my colour became.

“‘One day he stopped to tease me about it, and I got so annoyed that I became almost red with indignation. At that very moment, a pretty little lady, passing by, evidently seeing my plight, promptly plucked me from my place and popped me in her mouth! For a moment or two I was pleased to be out of the sight of the Sun; but presently I got so warm that I was glad to be taken out, even if it was only to be stared at by my tiny lady friend!

“‘It was then that I had time to notice that she had lovely blue eyes, milk-white teeth, and the prettiest little fingers in the world! “Poor little grape,” said she; “I don’t suppose you know I’m going to eat you; but I am! What a pity you are so round and red! I wonder why you don’t grow as long as my finger? You would be far prettier if you were shaped like a lady’s finger instead of like an owl’s eye!”

“‘And she laughed so suddenly that I nearly fell out of her hand with fright!

“‘Now, although she said that funny thing about me, I was so charmed with the way in which she spoke, that I there and then resolved, if ever I got the chance, to try and grow in the shape she had suggested.

“‘But an instant after I thought that the end of the world had come, for, with a smart little nip of her teeth she cut right into my flesh, and in less than a minute she had stripped me bare, and I lay in the palm of her hand, nearly frightened to death!

“‘“Poor little seed,” she murmured, looking down at me strangely, “I wonder if you know what has happened to you, and whether you’ve got any life left! Well, you can’t say, and I don’t know!” And with that she blew me off the palm of her hand into the soft brown earth of her father’s orchard!

“‘There I lay for many a day, waiting for something, though what it was I couldn’t understand.

“‘By-and-by the winter rains began to fall, and the soil about me tightened its grip.

“‘At first I didn’t like it; but I soon found out that if I wanted to be cosy and warm I had better not wriggle and struggle, as at first I felt inclined. Oh, how good and kind I found the Earth to be! For quite a long time she let me sleep, and when it was time to wake she softly whispered: “Feet down! Head up! Head up! Feet down!” And almost without knowing what I was doing, I felt myself pressing downwards with two little legs, and pushing upwards with a little green head as hard as ever I could.

“‘The moment I got my head through the soil I knew that I had done the right thing! There was the orchard I knew so well, and there, too, the Sun, who somehow seemed different, for instead of patting me on the cheeks as he used to do, he kept on saying, “Come up! Climb! Climb! If you want to get on in the world you must climb!”

“‘Well, as it seemed the right thing to do, climb I did; and I kept on climbing, until one day my little lady’s father stopped to examine me.

“‘“Oh, ho!” said Mr. Orchardist, “what have we here? A good-looker right enough! I must watch you grow, my lady!”

“‘And he did too, giving me regular attention, treatment and care, until I began to feel that the deepest wish of my heart would be gratified. And sure enough it was, for in my fourth year, much to my little lady’s delight, I began to grow a grape she had never seen before—a long and shapely grape, with just the daintiest pink flesh on its delicate skin!

“‘Quite unknown to her, Mr. Orchardist had also seen what was taking place, and one day, to my intense joy, he said to the little lady, “Come hither, little lady, and show me your hand!” And as she held it out, he dropped into it my first bunch of grapes, saying, as he did so: “At last! At long last! Here are My Lady’s Fingers!”

“‘As to why I grow such grapes there is surely no need to say. It is to perpetuate the memory of the sweet little lady on whose hand I saw the fingers which inspired me to imitate their dainty shape.’”

So ended the story.

There followed a second selection by the Band; after which the Prince announced that a “Storks’ Companion”—one of the Fairies who goes with a Stork when he takes a new baby home—would say what he overheard on one well remembered occasion.

And this is what the “Storks’ Companion” said:—

WHEN THE STORK CALLED

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I went with a Stork to deliver a new baby. Next morning, the Nurse told the baby’s father and some friends who had called, all about it. And this is what she said:—

‘The Boy’ and ‘The Girl’ were both abed, Their prayers were said; And each little curly silken head Was laid on its own downy pillow! When, sakes alive! Like bees from a hive, With a buzz and a boom that seemed to run From the earth to the sea, and from there to the sun, There came such a knock! Such a sharp rat-tat! That the boy woke up and said, ‘What’s that?’ And the girl from her bed jumped out on her hat! (A ridiculous place, you must all agree, On the bedroom floor for a hat to be!) And all the while, that rapid rat-tat, Made their little hearts beat ‘a-pity-poor-pat!’ Then the queerest of sounds On their quick ears fell! It was not a cry; And ’twas hardly a yell! But they both felt sure, as they sat so still, ’Twas the Stork had knocked with his hard long bill! But oh, it was an aching time! The Hall clock twice rang out its chime Ere Grandma came, and to them told, How the Stork had come through the night so cold! Had called and said, As they lay abed— As sound asleep as if they were dead; ‘Here’s the baby for which you prayed! A Baby Brother! I’ll leave him with mother! Treat him kindly and be not afraid!’ Then, like a star That shoots afar; Away he flew on pinions light, Oh, so swiftly through the night; Right away on aery wing, Through the pale moon’s Fairy Ring; On to where the Babies wait, Just beside God’s Golden Gate!”

Everybody seemed to be pleased with the effort of the “Storks’ Companion”; but not to have a break in the night’s proceedings, “Sight,” the third of “The Five Story Tellers,” was called upon to tell a tale.

And this is what he said:—

THE RAINDROP’S STORY

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I stood upon a hill-top, watching the rain clouds drifting past. Suddenly a raindrop fell into the palm of my outstretched hand, and lay there looking at me! He was so clear and cool, so bright-eyed and so fearless, that I said to him: ‘Tell me, Raindrop, what is your story, and why do you fall?’

“And this is the tale he told:—

“‘When I was very young, and very, very tiny, I lay upon the bosom of my mother, the Ocean. And many a time when I was inclined to be fretful, because the wind ruffled my spray-like hair, she gently rocked me off to sleep.

“‘Then came a day when the sun held out his hands and arms to me in such a winning fashion, that before I knew what he was doing, he had lifted me up and placed me in the downy folds of a fleecy cloud.

“‘At first I felt a little frightened, especially when I peeped down at the great big moving world beneath.

“‘But very soon I perceived that there were quite a number of us being carried by the cloud, and as we were all in the same boat, so to speak, it was not long before we became quite friendly.

“‘As the days went by we often talked about the things over which we passed, and many a time we wondered what some of them meant.

“‘Very strangely, perhaps, the higher we were taken into the air, the better our eyesight became; until, like ocean birds, we could see right down into the deepest deeps of the sea. It was, therefore, not at all difficult for us to pick out all kinds of things not usually seen from the surface of the water, or even from the top of a ship’s mast.

“‘One of the first and most alluring sights we thus saw, was a circular bed of coral, all pink and glowing in the clear still depths of the Pacific Ocean.

“‘Later on, when crossing the Caribbean Sea, we saw enormous masses of coloured sea-weeds fantastically curling their hands and arms in a never-ending variety of graceful movements. Almost immediately, there came before our eyes dark old Spanish galleons, stuffed with stolen gold, sunk by British merchant-ships, or maybe privateers, all their crews still stark and stiff in the deep unmoving waters. Not far removed was the gallant little ship in which Sir Richard Grenville and his glorious crew fought, single-handed, a fleet of Spanish Buccaneers; and, rather than yield, sank beside their guns. There they were, still resolute of pose in spite of all the years that have gone since then, and, seemingly, ready as ever to uphold the valour and the honour of the British race.

“‘Anon came other sights and scenes. Southward over Africa we float, peering at the Kraals, or houses, of African negroes; the patches where they grow their mealies, and the wide open spaces where their cattle roam. And, heavy now with our growing weight, the cloud just skims over the tall tops of a far-flung forest, when, full in view upon a great square of cleared land, we see a mighty host of stalwart Zulus being marshalled by their Chief in readiness for war. Without the slightest warning, they give vent to a most terrifying shout. Instantly a vast number of our fellow-travellers, thoroughly startled, fall from the cloud to the ground, and, as it suddenly rises again, we see them running as hard as they can for the creeks and the river not far away.