Part 21

When the messengers of the King reported that the wine was all drunken, the King said: "Now are we put to it, for we cannot have this fellow wed the Princess." So he sent his messengers to the ship bidding Simple come to the palace and make ready for the wedding, and prepared a bath for him. And when Simple entered the room for the bath he found that it was heated so hot that the walls burned his hands when he touched them, and the floors were like red-hot iron. But the man with the straw had come in behind him, warned by the man with the wonderful hearing, and seeing what was afoot, scattered his straw all about the bathroom, and at once it became as cold as one could wish, and, the door having been locked, Simple climbed up on the stove and went to sleep, and there they found him in the morning, wrapped in a blanket.

When this was reported to the King he was very angry, and he said, "This fellow is evidently very smart, but for all of that we cannot have him wed the Princess. I will give him an impossible task. Go you to him," he said to the messenger, "and tell him that he must come to me at to-morrow's sunrise with an army fitting the rank of one who would wed the Princess."

When the man with the wonderful hearing reported this to Simple he was in despair, and lamented and said: "Now at last am I beaten, though, after all, I have a flying ship, even if I do not wed the Princess. It will take me a year to raise an army, perhaps it would take all the rest of my life."

But the man with the sticks said: "You forget that I am here. Now all of these others have proven that they could help you to win the Princess, let me at least do my share."

So at dawn they flew out over the parade ground, and the man with the sticks threw them down upon the ground, and immediately there sprung up soldiers, in platoons and regiments, with armor, and captains and colonels and generals to command them. And the King and his courtiers had never seen such an army, and the Princess, standing on the balcony beside her father, as they rode by the palace, seeing Simple riding at the head of the band, with the generals paying him homage, said: "This man must be a very great prince indeed, and, now that I look at him he is not so uncomely, after all."

And Simple, riding at the head of his army, looking up at the balcony and seeing the Princess there said to himself: "A flying ship is all very well, but the Princess is very beautiful, and to wed her will be the most wonderful thing in the world."

So Simple and the Princess were married, and the crew of the flying ship were at the wedding, and all of the captains and the colonels and the generals of his army, and never had there been such a wedding in the kingdom. And by and by the King died, and Simple became the King, and the Princess became the Queen, and they lived happily ever after.

ROBIN OF THE LOVING HEART

BY EMMA ENDICOTT MAREAN

"_Please, Mother, tell us a story. Have him a wood-chopper boy this time. Please, Mother, quick, for Elizabeth is sleepy already. Oh, Mother, hurry!_"

_So here is the story._

* * *

Once upon a time there was a little boy who lived all alone with his parents in the heart of a deep wood. His father was a wood-chopper who worked hard in the forest all day, while the mother kept everything tidy at home and took care of Robin. Robin was an obliging, sunny-hearted little fellow who chopped the kindling as sturdily as his father chopped the dead trees and broken branches, and then he brought the water and turned the spit for his mother.

As there were no other children in the great forest, he made friends with the animals and learned to understand their talk. In the spring the mother robin, for whom he thought he was named, called him to see the blue eggs in her nest, and in the autumn the squirrels chattered with him and brought him nuts. But his four dearest friends were the Owl, who came to his window evenings and gave him wise counsel; the Hare, who played hide-and-seek with him around the bushes; the Eagle, who brought him strange pebbles and shells from the distant seashore; and the Lion, who, for friendship's sake, had quite reformed his habits and his appetite, so that he lapped milk from Robin's bowl and simply adored breakfast foods.

Suddenly all the happiness in the little cottage was turned to mourning, when the good wood-chopper was taken ill, and the mother was at her wits' end to take care of him and to provide bread and milk. Robin's heart burned within him to do something to help, but he could not swing an ax with his little hands.

"Ah," he said that night to his friend the Owl, "if I were a great knight, perhaps I could ride to the city and win the Prize for Good Luck."

"And what is the Prize for Good Luck?" asked the Owl, who knew everything in the world except that.

Then Robin explained that the lovely princess, whose hair was like spun gold and whose eyes were like the blue forget-me-nots by the brook, had lost her precious amulet, given to her by her godmother, which kept her, as long as it lay on her neck, healthy and beautiful and happy. One day, when she was playing in the flower-garden, the little gold chain snapped and the amulet rolled away. Everybody in the palace had searched, the soldiers had been called out to help, and all the small boys had been organized into an amulet brigade, for what they cannot see is usually not worth seeing at all. But no one could find it, and in the meantime the princess grew pale, and, truth to tell, rather cross. Her hair dulled a little, and her eyes looked like forget-me-nots drowned in the brook. When the court philosopher reasoned the matter out and discovered that the amulet had been carried far away, perhaps outside the kingdom, the king offered the Prize for Good Luck for its return.

"Now, if I could win the Prize for Good Luck," said Robin, "we should have bread and milk all the time, and Mother need not work so hard."

Then the Owl in her wisdom called a council of Robin's best friends, and asked them what they were going to do about it. They waited respectfully for her advice; and this was her wonderful plan:

"Robin could win the Prize for Good Luck," declared the Owl, "if only he were wise and swift and clear-sighted and strong enough. Now I will lend him my wisdom, the Hare shall lend his swiftness, the Eagle shall lend his eyesight, and the Lion shall lend his strength." And thus it was agreed.

Then the Owl went back to little Robin's window and explained the plan.

"You must remember," she said warningly, "time is precious. It is almost morning now. I cannot long spare my wisdom, for who would guide the feathered folk? If the Hare cannot run, how can he escape the fox? If the Eagle cannot see, he will dash himself into the cliff if he flies, and he will starve to death if he sits still. If the Lion's strength is gone, the wolves will be the first to know it. Return, then, without delay. At the stroke of nine o'clock to-morrow night, we shall await you here. Now go quickly, for rather would I die than live like the feather-brained blue jay."

Immediately Robin felt himself so strong and so brave that he hesitated not a minute. Swift as a hare he hastened to the palace, and at daybreak he blew the mighty horn that announced the coming of one who would seek for the amulet. The king groaned when he saw him, sure that it would be a vain quest for such a little fellow. The truth was that the court philosopher feared the amulet had been stolen by the Ogre of Ogre Castle, but no one dared to mention the fact, much less to ask the Ogre to return it. The princess, however, immediately sat up and took notice, charmed by the brave light in Robin's eyes and his merry smile.

Robin asked to be taken up into the highest tower of the palace, and there, looking leagues and leagues away to Ogre Castle, he saw with his Eagle sight the amulet, glowing like sunlight imprisoned in a ruby.

The Ogre was turning it over and over in his hand, muttering to himself, in the stupid way ogres always have: "It must be a nut, for I can see something good inside." Robin could not hear him, but he was sure, by the help of the Owl's wisdom, that it was the amulet.

In a thrice--that means while you count three--Robin was speeding away with the Hare's swiftness toward Ogre Castle, and in a few minutes he was demanding the amulet from the Ogre.

Now usually the Ogre was not at all a disagreeable fellow, and the Owl's wisdom would have easily sufficed to enable Robin to secure the amulet without trouble, but he had just tried to crack the amulet with his teeth. It broke off the very best tooth he had in his head, and his poor jaws ached so that he was in a very bad temper. He turned fiercely, and for a few minutes Robin needed all the strength the Lion had given him.

After all, the Ogre was one of the pneumatic-tire, hot-water-bag kind of giants, who flat out if you stick a pin into them and lie perfectly limp until they are bandaged up and set going once more. That is really a secret, but Robin knew it by the help of the Owl's wisdom, and he was not the least little bit afraid.

So Robin managed to get the amulet away without too much difficulty, and the Hare's swiftness quickly took him back to the palace. When the princess, who was watching from the tower window, saw the rosy light of the amulet in the distance, pinkness came back to her cheeks, and her eyes shone like stars, and she waved her lily hand to Robin in perfect happiness.

Ah, such a merrymaking as they planned for that evening! Robin was to receive the Prize for Good Luck, so much gold coin that it would take three carts and six mules to carry it back to the cottage. The king counted out money all the afternoon, and the queen put up tarts and jars of honey for Robin to take to his mother, and the princess gave him her photograph.

Now comes the sad part. It had taken so much time to reach the palace, to explain to the king, to ascend the tower and find the amulet, to conquer the Ogre of Ogre Castle, and to return to the palace, that it was almost night before Robin realized it. When the money had been counted out and the tarts wrapped in paraffin paper and the pots of honey packed in excelsior, it was seven o'clock.

Now the party was to begin at nine, for the princess had to have her white satin frock sent home from the dressmaker, and her hair had to be curled. The Punch and Judy was to come at ten, and the ice-cream was to be served at eleven, for in palaces people keep terribly late hours, not at all good for them. Just as Robin had dressed himself in a beautiful blue velvet suit, thinking how fine it was that he should open the dance with the princess and how lucky it was that he had the strength of a lion, so that he could dance at all after his busy day, he suddenly remembered his promise to the Owl.

It was such a shock that, in spite of the Lion's strength, he nearly fainted. Then he went quickly to the king and told him that he must go away at once. The king was very angry and bade him have done with such nonsense.

"Faith, you must stay," he said crossly. "There would be no living with the princess if her party is spoiled. Besides, you will lose the Prize for Good Luck, for the people have been promised that they shall see it presented to somebody to-night and we must not disappoint them."

Poor Robin's heart was heavy. How could he lose all that he had gained and go away as poor as when he came? That wasn't all nor half of all. To lose the money would be bad, but he had much more to lose than that. For one day he had enjoyed the fun of being stronger and wiser and swifter and keener-sighted than anybody else. Isn't that better than money and all the prizes for good luck? Yes, indeed, his heart answered over and over again. How could he go back and give up the wisdom and the swiftness and the clear sight and the strength, even if he could give up the money?

"I know now," he thought bitterly, "how the Owl felt when she said she would not be a feather-brain like the blue jay. And it is much more important for a boy to be strong than for a common old lion, who is pretty old anyway. And there are lots of hares in the forest and eagles on the mountain."

Then Robin slowly climbed the stairs to the tower, for he thought he would see what the Owl and the Hare and the Eagle and the Lion were doing in the forest. He looked over to the cottage, leagues and leagues away. There, under a big oak, lay the Owl, her feathers all a-flutter. She had had no more sense than to go out in the brilliant sunshine, and something had gone wrong inside her head. The saucy blue jay stood back and mocked her. Robin's heart gave one little throb of pity, but he was wise enough to see the value of wisdom, and he hardened himself. "I don't believe she has sense enough to know that anything is wrong," he said to himself.

Then he looked for the Hare. "Oh, he's all right," said Robin, gladly. But just then he saw a dark shape, only about a mile away, following the Hare's track.

Robin's heart gave two throbs of pity. "Poor old Hare!" he said. "I have had lots of fun with him."

Then he looked for the Eagle, and his heart beat hard and fast when he saw him sitting alone on the dead branch of a tree, one wing hanging bruised, perhaps broken, and his sightless eyes turned toward the tower, waiting, waiting. Blind!

Robin looked quickly for the Lion. For a time he could not find him, for tears came in his eyes as he thought of the Eagle. Then he saw the poor creature, panting from thirst, trying to drag himself to the river. He was almost there when his last bit of strength seemed to fail, and he lay still, with the water only a few yards away.

Then Robin's heart leaped and bounded with pity, and with pure gladness, too, that he was not yet too late to save his friends from the consequences of their own generosity. The last rays of sunset struck the tower as Robin, forgetting all about his blue velvet clothes and the princess and the Prize for Good Luck, ran and raced, uphill and down, through brambles and briers, over bogs and hummocks, leaving bits of lace caught on the bushes, swifter than ever he hastened to the Ogre of Ogre Castle or to the lovely princess with the amulet.

He was there--oh, yes, he was there long before nine o'clock. The Owl received back her wisdom, and I can tell you that she soon sent the saucy blue jay packing. The Hare had his swiftness, and the fox was left so far behind that he was soon glad to limp back home and eat the plain supper that Mrs. Fox had prepared for him. The poor blind Eagle opened his eyes, and saw the moon and the stars, and, better than moon and stars, the loving face of his comrade, Robin. The Lion drank his fill, and said that now he would like some breakfast food, please. So the story ended happily after all.

Oh, yes, I forgot about the Prize for Good Luck, didn't I? When the king told the princess that Robin was foolish enough to give back the wisdom and the swiftness and the clear sight and the strength that had won the prize for him, and that without them he was only a very common little boy, not good enough for a princess to dance with, she stamped her foot and called for the godmother who gave her the amulet in the first place.

Then the princess's godmother said that the princess for once was quite, quite right--that Robin must have the three cartloads of gold coin drawn by six mules, and the tarts and honey for his mother, and whenever the princess gave another party she must ask him to open the dance with her, blue velvet suit or no blue velvet suit--"because," said the godmother, "there is one thing better than wisdom or swiftness or clear sight or strength, and that is a loving heart."

* * *

_But Elizabeth had gone to sleep._

IN SPRING

Rippling and gurgling and giggling along, The brooklets are singing their little spring song; Laughing and lively and gay as can be, They are skipping right merrily down to the sea.

A FAMOUS CASE

BY THEODORE C. WILLIAMS

Two honey-bees half came to blows About the lily and the rose, Which might the sweeter be; And as the elephant passed by, The bees decided to apply To this wise referee.

The elephant, with serious thought, Ordered the flowers to be brought, And smelt and smelt away. Then, swallowing both, declared his mind: "No trace of perfume can I find, But both resemble hay."

MORAL

Dispute is wrong. But foolish bees, Who will contend for points like these, Should not suppose good taste in roses Depends on elephantine noses.

OLD-FASHIONED STORIES

THE TWELVE HUNTSMEN

Hundreds of thousands of years ago a prince met a fair maiden as he traveled through the Enchanted Land. The prince loved the maiden dearly, and she loved him as much as he loved her.

"Will you marry me?" asked the prince one day.

"Indeed I will," said the maiden, "for there is no one in all the world I love so well."

Then all was as merry as merry could be. The maiden danced and sang, and the prince laughed aloud for joy.

But one day, as they were together, a messenger arrived hot and breathless. He came from the prince's father, who was King of a neighboring kingdom.

"His Majesty is dying," said the messenger, "and he would speak with you, my lord."

"Alas," said the prince to the maiden, "I must leave you, and remain with my father until his death. Then I shall be king and I will come for you and you shall be my queen. Till then, good-by. This ring I give you as a keepsake. Once more, farewell."

The maiden drew the ring on her finger, and, with a sad heart, watched the prince ride off.

The King had but a short time to live when his son arrived at the palace. "Ah," said the dying man, "how glad I am that you are come. There is one promise I wish you to make ere I die. Then I shall close my eyes in peace."

"Surely, dear father, I will promise what you ask. There is nothing I would not do to let you rest at ease."

Then said the dying King, "Promise that you will marry the bride whom I have chosen for you," and he named a princess well known to the prince.

Without thinking of anything but to ease his father's mind, the prince said, "I promise." The King smiled gladly as he heard the words, and closed his eyes in peace.

The prince was now proclaimed King, and the time soon came when he must go to the bride his father had chosen for him, and ask, "Will you marry me?" This he did, and the princess answered, "Indeed I will."

Now the maiden who had first promised to marry the prince heard of this, and it nearly broke her heart. Each day she grew paler and thinner, until her father at last said: "Wherefore, my child, do you look so sad? Ask what you will, and I shall do my utmost to give it you."

For a moment his daughter thought. Then she said: "Dear father, find for me eleven maidens exactly like myself. Let them be fair, and tall, and slim, with curly golden hair."

"I shall do my best," said her father; and he had a search made far and wide throughout the Enchanted Land until the eleven maidens were found. Each was fair, and tall, and slim, and there was not one whose golden hair did not curl.

The maiden was pleased indeed, and she next ordered twelve huntsmen's dresses to be made of green cloth, trimmed with beaver fur; also twelve green caps each with a pheasant's feather. Then to each of the maidens she gave a dress and hat, commanding her to wear them, while the twelfth she wore herself.

The twelve huntsmen then set out on horseback to the court of the King, who, when a prince, had promised to marry their leader.

So well was the maiden disguised by the hunting-dress, that the King did not recognize her. She asked if he were in need of huntsmen, and if he would take her and her companions into his service.

Never had a finer troop been seen, and the King said he would gladly engage them. So they entered his service, and lived at the palace, and were treated with all kindness and respect.

Now among the King's favorites at court was a lion. To possess this lion was as good as to have a magician, for he knew all secret things.

One evening the lion said to the King: "You imagine you engaged twelve young huntsmen not long ago, do you not?"

"I did," said the King.

"Pray excuse me, if I contradict you," said the lion, "but I assure you, you are mistaken. They were not huntsmen whom you engaged, but twelve maidens."

"Nonsense," said the King, "absurd, ridiculous!"

"Again I would crave forgiveness if I offend," said the lion, "but those whom you believe to be huntsmen are, in truth, twelve fair maidens."

"Prove what you say, if you would have me believe it," said the King.

"To-morrow, then, summon the twelve to the royal chamber. On the floor let peas be scattered. Then, as the huntsmen advance toward you, you will see them trip and slide as maidens. If they are men they will walk with a firm tread."

"Most wise Lion!" said the King, and he ordered it to be done as the royal beast had said.

But in the palace was a servant who already loved the fair young huntsmen, and when he heard of the trap that was to be laid, he went straight to them and said, "The lion is going to prove to the King that you are maidens." Then he told them how he would seek to do this, and said, "Do your best to walk with a firm tread."

Next morning the King ordered the twelve huntsmen to be called, and as they walked across the royal chamber, it was with so firm a tread that not a single pea moved.

After they had left, the King turned to the lion and said, "You have spoken falsely. They walked as other men."

But the lion said: "They must have been warned, or they would have tripped and slidden as maidens. I will yet prove to you that I speak the truth. To-morrow, summon the twelve to the royal chamber. Let twelve spinning-wheels be placed there. Then, as the huntsmen advance toward you, you will see each cast longing looks at the spinning-wheels, which, if they were men, you must grant they would not do."

The King was pleased that the huntsmen should again be put to the test, for the lion was a wise beast and had never before been proved wrong.

But again the kind servant warned the disguised maidens, and they resolved not even to glance in the direction of the spinning-wheels.

Next morning the King ordered the twelve huntsmen to be called, and as they walked across the royal chamber there was not one of them but looked straight into the eyes of the King. It seemed as though they had not known that the spinning-wheels were there.

After they had gone the King turned to the lion, and again he said, "You have spoken falsely." Then he told the royal beast that the twelve huntsmen had not even glanced in the direction of the spinning-wheels.

"They must have been warned," repeated the lion, but the King believed him no longer.

So the huntsmen stayed with the King and went out a-hunting with him, and the more he saw of them the more he liked them.

One day, while they were in the forest, news was brought that the princess whom the King was to marry was on her way to meet the hunting-party.

When the true bride heard it, she grew white as a lily, and, staggering, fell backward. Fortunately, the trunk of a tree supported her until the King, wondering what had happened to his dear huntsman, ran to the spot and pulled off her glove.