Part 3

“Alas!” sighed the princess, “how I wish he were of noble birth! But a farmer’s lad! Dear me!”

Day after day Olaf took the rabbits out to browse in the meadow. At noon he scattered them in the deep wood, and when the sun began to sink behind a distant hill, he gathered them together and led them back to the palace.

The king was very much puzzled and determined to send a servant to spy upon Olaf. With greatest care the servant slipped into the field and noticed Olaf asleep on the soft green bank near the edge of the wood. The servant hid himself in the low underbrush of the wood and waited until evening. At sunset, Olaf awoke, drew out his magic horn, gathered together the rabbits, and led them back to the palace. The servant explained to the king what he had seen, and the king told his queen and the princess. “I shall steal his horn while he is asleep in the meadow,” said the princess, “for I am determined not to marry a common farmer’s son.”

The next day she stole carefully to Olaf’s side while he lay asleep and took the magic horn from his pocket. She had not reached the palace before Olaf awoke and thought of his rabbits. But where was his horn? He searched about the banks in vain. “Oh, how I wish I had my magic horn!” he cried. No sooner had he made his wish than he found the horn in his hands. He blew into the larger end of it and again the rabbits danced and frisked about him ready to return.

Now the queen thought she would try her skill in getting Olaf’s horn. She had no trouble in getting it from his pocket, but as she neared the palace, the horn slipped away from her. In the evening, Olaf returned with his flock as usual.

“I see that I must do the thing myself,” muttered the king. “That farmer’s lad shall not outwit me. I’ll tie the horn in one of my hunting bags to make sure of it.”

Anxiously the queen and princess awaited the king’s return. At last he came, untied the bag, and reached in for the horn. Alas! it had disappeared. And there in the distance came Olaf and the rabbits. The king sent word for Olaf to appear before the royal family. “Tell me about that horn of yours. Where did you get it? Hasn’t it magic power?” said the king, impatiently.

“Sire, it is a magic horn,” began Olaf.

“Prove it,” said the king.

“I would rather not,” said Olaf.

“Do as I bid you, without a word!” roared the king, becoming red with anger.

Olaf raised the little end of his horn to his lips and blew a strong blast, while secretly he made a wish. In a moment the royal family scattered in all directions.

“Bring us back! Bring us back! How dare you? I’ll have you punished for this!” roared the king, as he tumbled into the distance.

Olaf blew into the big end of his horn and instantly the royal family were back at the palace. The king, in a rage, tried to seize Olaf, but just then the rabbit keeper raised the small end of the horn to his lips.

“Hold, hold!” cried the king. “I will do you no harm if you will keep that wicked horn from your lips. I would rather give up half my kingdom than take another flighty trip. You are a wonderful lad and the best of rabbit keepers. The reward is yours.”

In a short time there was a beautiful wedding at the palace. Olaf had won the princess.

THE LEAPING MATCH

A flea, a grasshopper, and a frog once wanted to see which one of them could jump the highest. So they made a festival and invited the whole world and everybody else besides, who would like to come, to see the frolic. When the people assembled to see the contest they all admitted that these three famous jumpers were indeed well worth seeing.

“I will give the princess, my daughter, to the one who can jump the highest,” said the king. “The champion in such a trial of skill must be rewarded.”

The flea was the first to come forward. His manners were perfect and he bowed to the company on every side, for noble blood flowed in his veins; and, besides, he had been accustomed to associating with human beings, which was much to his advantage.

The grasshopper came next. The green uniform, which he always wore, set off his figure very well. He carried himself with great dignity, for he belonged to a very old Egyptian family, he said, and was highly thought of in the house in which he lived.

In fact when he was brought out of the fields he was put into a card house, three stories high. The colored sides of the cards were turned in and the doors and windows were cut out of the Queen of Hearts. “It was built on purpose for me,” he said, “and I sing so well that sixteen crickets who had chirped all their life, and still had no card house to live in, were so angry at hearing me that they grew thinner than they ever had been before.”

In this way the flea and the grasshopper went on with their long praises, each thinking himself quite an excellent match for the princess.

The frog said nothing, but his silence only made the people think he knew a great deal, and the house dog who sniffed at him walked away with an air of approval.

The old counselor who had issued three orders for keeping quiet, said at last, that the frog was a prophet, for one could tell from his back whether the coming winter would be severe or mild. Such wisdom could never be gained from the back of the man who writes almanacs.

“I shall say nothing,” said the king, “but I have my own opinion; for I see everything.”

And now the leaping match began. The flea jumped first. He jumped so high that no one could see what had become of him. So the people said he did not jump at all. How shameful it was of him after all his boasting!

The grasshopper jumped only half as high; but he jumped right into the king’s face. This act the king thought extremely rude.

The frog stood still for a long time; some began to think that he did not mean to jump at all.

“Perhaps he’s ill,” said the house dog; so he went up to sniff at the frog again; when “pop” he made a side jump which landed him right into the lap of the princess, who was sitting on a little golden stool.

“There is nothing in the world higher than my daughter,” called out the king. “The frog has made the highest jump that can be made. Only one who has a good mind could have done anything so clever as that.” And so the leaping frog won the princess.

“I jumped the highest,” said the flea, “in spite of what the king said, but the decision does not matter to me. The princess may have that heavy, stiff-legged, ugly creature if he’s to her taste. Dullness and heaviness win in this stupid world. I’m too light and airy.” So the flea went into foreign lands.

The grasshopper sat down upon a green bank and thought about the world and its ways. “Yes,” he said to himself, “dullness and heaviness do win in this stupid world. People care most about fine looks nowadays.” Then he began to sing in the grasshopper way; and from his song we have taken this little story.

THE CLEVER TURTLE

A turtle lay upon a large rock sunning himself. His eyes were turned toward the palace of the king which overlooked the beautiful river. He could hear the merry voices of the little princes playing in the royal courtyard.

“What happy times they have!” thought the turtle. “I have heard that there is a lovely little lake in the princes’ playground, where they have fine fun, swimming and sailing tiny boats. How dull it is living out here on the rocks! I’m sure I should be happier if I lived in a royal courtyard.”

At that moment the turtle was startled by the voices of two men who were carrying fishing nets and large buckets to the river. He slipped under the rock and lay very still and listened.

“You see,” said one of the men, “we are to put the fishes into the courtyard lake and surprise the young princes. His majesty, the king, heard them wish that fishes swam in their lake, and he decided to surprise them.”

“How happy they will be in the morning!” replied the other man. “Come, let us climb to the edge of these rocks and throw our nets into the river. Then we will draw them in, empty the fishes into those buckets, and carry them to the courtyard lake this evening.”

When the turtle heard that some of his neighbors were to live in the royal courtyard, he was very jealous indeed!

“Fishes are such stupid creatures!” he said to himself. “How much more delight a turtle would give those young princes. I’ll not live on this rock any longer. I’ll slip very quietly into one of those buckets, and the men will carry me into the royal courtyard. They will never notice me. Fishes for the delight of royalty! It is absurd!”

The next morning the little princes took their sailboats and ran to the lake in the courtyard.

“See, see!” cried one of them. “Our wish has come true! There are fishes swimming about in the water. Oh, what fun?”

“Come away! Come, come, brother!” shouted the other little prince in terror. “See, there is a demon on the bank! Perhaps the fishes belong to him! Come!”

To the turtle’s great surprise off ran the lads, crying out, “A demon has come to live on the bank of our lake!”

When the king saw how frightened the princes were, he ordered an attendant to capture the demon and bring him to the palace. So, before the poor turtle could make up his mind what to do, he was caught and brought before the king.

“How shall we kill him?” asked an attendant.

“Throw him into the fire,” said one.

“Drop a large rock on his head and crush him,” said another.

“Oh, that would not do,” said one of the princes. “See! He has pulled his head inside that shell back of his. Perhaps his back is too strong to be crushed by a rock.”

“I have it,” said an old servant who was afraid of the water, “let us fling him over the rocks into the river. Then he will be swept away into the sea and drowned.”

In a twinkling out came the turtle’s head.

“My friends,” he said, “pray do not throw me into the river that flows to the great wide sea! Of all your plans to punish me, that is the worst! Burn me, or crush me if you will, but do not throw me into the river that flows to the great wide sea! I shudder at the thought of it.”

“Take the demon to the rocks and throw him into the river,” said the king.

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the turtle when he whirled about in the water and swam back to the friendly rocks where he had lived so long.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW

From Oberon, in fairy land, The king of ghosts and shadows there, Mad Robin, I, at his command, Am sent to view the night sports here. What revel rout Is kept about In every corner where I go, I will o’ersee And merry be, And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho!

More swift than lightning can I fly About this airy welkin soon; And, in a minute’s space, descry Each thing that’s done below the moon. There’s not a hag Or ghost shall wag Or cry, ‘ware goblins! where I go; But, Robin, I, Their feats will spy And send them home with ho, ho, ho!

Whene’er such wanderers I meet, As from their night sports they trudge home, With counterfeiting voice I greet, And call them on with me to roam; Through woods, through lakes, Through bogs, through brakes, Or else, unseen, with them I go, All in the nick To play some trick, And frolic it, with ho, ho, ho!

Sometimes I meet them like a man, Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound; And to a horse I turn me can, To trip and trot about them round. But if to ride, My back they stride, More swift than wind away I go, O’er hedge and lands Through pools and ponds I hurry laughing, ho, ho, ho!

By wells and rills in meadows green We nightly dance our heyday guise; And to our fairy King and Queen We chant our moonlight minstrelsies. When larks ‘gin sing Away we fling; And babes new born steal as we go; And elf in bed, We leave instead, And wend us, laughing ho, ho, ho!

From hag-bred Merlin’s time have I Thus nightly revel’d to and fro; And for my pranks men call me by The name of Robin Goodfellow. Fiends, ghosts, and sprites Who haunt the nights, The hags and goblins do me know; And beldames old My feats have told, So _vale, vale_, ho, ho, ho!

MERLIN’S CRAG

One evening the master of a fine estate and a farm laborer were walking over the fields. The master said, “To-morrow I want the peat cut from yonder crag, which rises at the end of the moorland.”

“Do you mean Merlin’s Crag, master?” asked the laborer.

“You have been here but a short time. How did you learn that name?” said the master in surprise.

“One of the old servants told me about it, sir. He said that long, long ago an enchanter named Merlin lived there. And, master, there is a haunted cave under the crag where—”

“Nonsense! Pay no attention to the stories servants tell, but see to it that the peat is cut to-morrow,” said the owner impatiently.

The next afternoon the laborer began to cut the peat which covered the curiously shaped crag. He was about to lift up a piece of turf when, suddenly, there appeared before him the daintiest little creature he had ever seen. She was twelve inches tall and was dressed in a gown of sparkling green. She wore red stockings and dainty red sandals with jeweled buckles. On her head was a tiny, dazzling coronet. Her lovely golden hair rippled down under the crown and over her shoulders.

The laborer stopped his work and in amazement gazed silently at this exquisite little queen. She raised her tiny wand in warning and said in a silvery small voice:

“Now tell me, pray, what would you think if I should send one of my people to unroof your home? I am out of patience with you mortals! I am, indeed. You are selfish creatures. You do anything that pleases you and you consider no one but yourselves.” Here she stamped her tiny sandaled foot and continued, “Now listen to me! Put back that turf this instant, or I declare you shall rue the day that you disturbed the roof of Merlin’s Crag.” Then she vanished.

The poor bewildered laborer could hardly believe his senses. He put back the turf exactly where it belonged, took up his spade, and went back to his master.

“Why, where is the peat?” began the landlord.

“O master,” said the poor man, “the fairies live in Merlin’s Crag! I have seen the queen, and she warned me not to take the turf from the top. May I cut the peat from the other side of the moor?”

“What do you mean? I believe your senses are wandering, or you would not say such stupid things,” replied the master. “Go back immediately and cut all the peat from Merlin’s Crag. Even if the old wizard himself appears, you must do as I command.”

The poor laborer was obliged to obey, so he went back to the crag and cut the peat. His heart beat very fast, for every minute he expected the fairy to reappear and upbraid him, but strange to say, nothing of the kind happened.

Exactly one year from the day when the peat was cut from the top of Merlin’s Crag, the laborer started on his way home across the fields. The master had given him a present of a can of milk and some cheese for his wife and children; so he whistled a merry tune as he hurried along. In the distance he noticed the queerly-shaped outline of Merlin’s Crag against a pale amber sky and his thoughts wandered back to the day one year ago. How strange that he had never again seen the exquisite little fairy! What a funny threat she had made! As he drew near the crag he began to feel strangely tired. He seemed to drag his leaden feet, and his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

“I must rest a bit,” he thought. “How long the road seems this evening!” So he sat down in a shadow near the crag and fell into a deep sleep.

When he awoke, the soft silvery moonlight flooded the fields, and he heard distinctly the village bell striking the midnight hour. Then there floated to his ears the happiest ripple of laughter. He rubbed his eyes and aroused himself. He heard a sweet, small voice singing:

“Come, follow, follow me Ye fairy elves that be, Which circle on the green, Come follow Mab, your queen; Hand in hand, let’s dance around, For the place is fairy ground.”

And a fairy chorus answered:

“O’er tops of dewy grass So nimbly do we pass, The young and tender stalk Ne’er bends when we do walk; Yet in the morning may be seen Where we the night before have been.”

Ringed about him was a host of dainty fairies singing and dancing, and laughing and pointing wee elfin fingers at him as if he were the funniest object in the whole world. What could it all mean?

He determined to break through their circle and make for home, but, when he rose and tried to walk away, the magic green ring and the dancing fairies accompanied him and held him prisoner. How the wee folks enjoyed his dilemma! They fairly shrieked with laughter. In a little while the queen, whom he had met before, danced forward and said slyly, “Wilt thou not tread a measure, O mortal? Come, thou mayest have our loveliest maiden for a partner. Join our sport, do. Then thou wilt not be so eager to depart.”

She waved her wand to the circle of fairies, and a charming little creature flitted up to him. Before the poor man realized what was happening the wee dancer took one of his fingers in each of her tiny hands and away they went, swinging, whirling, waltzing about in the gayest manner. The little people shrieked again and again with elfin laughter at the sight of this strange couple treading a measure. All night long the merriment continued.

Finally the moon set behind the dark crag, and rosy streaks broke through the gray curtain in the east. Then the queen held up her tiny wand and said, “Come, the cock is welcoming the dawn.” She led the way and the other fairies forced our friend to accompany them. As she drew near the crag a mysterious door opened and the fairies trooped through into a beautiful hall carpeted with velvet moss and dimly lighted by glow-worms. On tiny couches the wee people soon fell asleep. Our friend the countryman sat on a fragment of rock in the corner of the hall.

When the fairies woke each went, about some special task. Some mixed wonderful colors for flower petals, birds’ eggs, and delicate shells, others powdered gold dust for pollen and spun gossamer threads, while still others mixed the most delicious odors for violets, wild roses, and hyacinths.

The countryman was so charmed with the sight that he desired nothing more than the joy of watching these elfin people forever. Toward evening the queen touched his arm with her wand and said,

“Your punishment is over.”

“What do you mean?” asked our friend.

She replied, “The turf you cut from the roof of Merlin’s Crag has grown again. Once more the roof of our hall is whole. You may go back to your friends now. But first you must take a solemn oath that you will never disclose to mortal ears where you have been, or what you have seen. Do you promise?”

“I promise,” said the countryman.

Then the fairy led the way to the cave’s door which opened of its own accord, and he passed out into the fields.

As he made his way to the village, he noticed that the people looked at him in astonishment. When he reached his cottage his wife, who came to the door, drew back in fear and wonder.

“Is it indeed you, my husband?” she cried out. “Where have you been so long?”

“So long?” the dazed countryman echoed. “So long? What do you mean? I don’t understand. Where are the children?”

“There they are,” said his wife, pointing to a well-grown boy and girl. “You have been gone from us seven years. No wonder you do not know us.”

“Seven years!” he exclaimed. “Seven years do you say? Let me think.”

Then suddenly he knew what the fairy queen meant by his punishment. He had been imprisoned seven long years by the wee folk of fairyland.

He was besieged with questions when the village people learned about his return, but he shook his head and said nothing.

He never explained the mystery of his long absence, but many noticed that there was one name which always made him hasten to change the subject, and that name was—Merlin’s Crag.

THE STORY OF LI’L’ HANNIBAL

Once on a time, ‘way down South, there lived a little boy named Hannibal, Li’l’ Hannibal. He lived along with his gran’mammy and his gran’daddy in a li’l’ one-story log cabin that was set right down in a cotton field. Well, from morning until night, Li’l’ Hannibal’s gran’mammy kept him toting things. As soon as he woke up in the morning it was:

“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, fetch a pine knot and light the kitchen fire.”

“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, fetch the teakettle to the well and get some water for the tea.”

“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, mix a li’l’ hoecake for your gran’daddy’s brea’fus’.”

“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, take the bunch of turkeys’ feathers and dust the ashes off the hearth.”

And from morning until night, Li’l’ Hannibal’s gran’daddy kept him toting things, too.

“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal,” his gran’daddy would say, “fetch the corn and feed the turkeys.”

“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, take your li’l’ ax and chop some lightwood for gran’mammy’s fire.”

“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, run ‘round to the store and buy a bag of flour.”

“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, fetch your basket and pick a li’l’ cotton off the edge of the field.”

So they kept poor little Hannibal toting ‘most all day long, and he had only four or five hours to play.

Well, one morning when Li’l’ Hannibal woke up, he made up his mind to something. Before they could ask him to light the kitchen fire, or fill the teakettle, or mix the hoecake, or dust the hearth, or feed the turkeys, or chop any wood, or go to the store, or pick any cotton, he had made up his mind that he was not going to tote for his gran’mammy and his gran’daddy any longer. He was going to run away!

So Li’l’ Hannibal got out of bed very quietly. He put on his li’l’ trousers, and his li’l’ shirt, and his li’l’ suspenders, and his li’l’ shoes—he never wore stockings. He pulled his li’l’ straw hat down tight over his ears, and then Li’l’ Hannibal ran away!

He went down the road past all the cabins. He went under the fence and across the cotton fields. He went through the pine grove past the schoolhouse, stooping down low—so the schoolmistress couldn’t see him—and then he went ‘way, ‘way off into the country.

When he was a long way from town, Li’l’ Hannibal met a possum loping along by the edge of the road, and the possum stopped and looked at Li’l’ Hannibal.

“How do? Where you goin’, Li’l’ Hannibal?” asked the possum.

Li’l’ Hannibal sat down by the side of the road and took off his straw hat to fan himself, for he felt quite warm, and he said,

“I done run away, Br’er Possum, my gran’mammy and my gran’daddy kept me totin’, totin’ for them all the time. I don’t like to work, Br’er Possum.”

“Po’ Li’l’ Hannibal!” said the possum, sitting up and scratching himself. “Any special place you bound for?”

“I don’t reckon so,” said Li’l’ Hannibal, for he was getting tired, and he had come away without any breakfast.

“You come along with me, Li’l’ Hannibal,” said the possum; “I reckon I kin take you somewhere.”