Chapter 3

"There they are at it again," said the Little Old Woman; "they are Mrs. Opie's children. People don't know them so well now, but they used to be notorious for telling White Lies. I have no doubt that they are doing it now; they are exaggerating."

"What's that?" asked Miss Muffet.

"It's telling how large a thing is before you've measured it."

"But what if you haven't a tape-line with you?"

"Then you should say nothing about it."

"There is Hal," said Miss Muffet; "I know him by the miserable piece of string hanging out of his pocket. Hal cut his string. It was a sin and he suffers for it. His cousin Ben untied his and has it always ready for emergencies. All his emergencies are of that kind; they need a piece of whipcord to bring them out right. I've no doubt but that to-night the coach of one of the very prettiest princesses will break down and Ben will tie it up. It would be just his luck."

Of course it was not long before Miss Muffet sought out Rollo Halliday.

"I always did like Rollo," she said. "I almost forget that he is a Youth sometimes. The nicest thing about him is that you always know what he means. He always tells you where he is and how he got there, without skipping anything that you ought to know. When he goes into a room, he goes through the door, opening and shutting the door just as you expected. He isn't at all like Humpty Dumpty. I don't think I ever knew two persons more different. There was only one time when he puzzled me. When he went to Europe, and they told him how the French did things, 'Rollo laughed long and loud.' It was so unusual. I read it over and over, but I couldn't tell what he laughed at. I think he might have explained, but I suppose he forgot."

It certainly was a pleasant thing to see Rollo surrounded by a group of kindred spirits. They were the healthiest and happiest Youths in the company, for they had lived a great deal in the open air, and had kept their eyes open.

Rollo was engaged in a dispute with little Francis about the comparative merits of New England and a Desert Island for farming. Jonas said little, but what he did say carried great weight.

Rollo expressed himself as highly pleased with the Symposium. He was sorry that there was not time for a paper on "The New Boy" and a discussion of the question, "Are not the Young Growing Younger?" He said he had seen some dangerous tendencies in that direction.

Having said this, Rollo walked to the other side of the room, and having found a settee, sat down on it.

Scarcely had Rollo sat down when Miss Muffet saw a little girl whose face was very familiar.

"You are Rosamond, aren't you? And once you bought a beautiful purple jar instead of shoes, even though your old shoes had holes in them?"

"It was a youthful indiscretion," said Rosamond, "and I have learned a lesson from it."

"It was just lovely. Any one can have shoes, but a purple jar is something one dreams about: it's almost as good as having a party."

Then she looked very anxiously at Rosamond and said,--

"I hope it didn't happen to you? Since first I read the story Miss Edgeworth told about you and the purple jar, I couldn't get out of my head the dreadful lines with which she begins,--

'O teach her while your lessons last To judge the future by the past, The mind to strengthen and anneal While on the stithy glows the steel.'

It seemed such a dreadful thing to have your mind annealed, and you so little. I'm sure it's something uncomfortable. And then how hard it was for your mamma to make you _choose_ to do all the unpleasant things. I don't mind doing them when I'm told to, but to have to choose them rumples up my mind. That must have been an awful time when you had to choose a needle-book instead of that funny stone plum that you could have fooled the boys with."

"But Mamma wanted to train me to be a Free Moral Agent," said Rosamond.

"I don't like agents," said Miss Muffet, and then she was sorry that she had been so rude. "I mean I don't believe in being one till one is more grown up. And now that we are talking about it, maybe you could tell me what the other line means,--

'While on the stithy glows the steel.'"

"A stithy," said Rosamond, "is a kind of blacksmith shop."

"Now I know what every word means," said Miss Muffet, "but what was it all about?"

"It was poetry."

"I suppose that this evening you had to choose between the Symposium and the rest of the party where they don't have papers? And you are glad you chose the Symposium?"

"No, I'm not," said Rosamond impulsively.

"You dear little Rosamond!" cried Miss Muffet, throwing her arms about her. "The annealing's come off. Now let's go where there's music."

As she returned from the Symposium, Miss Muffet was compelled to pass through some of the more remote parts of the palace, and whom should she see but the Caliph Haroun al Raschid, whom she recognized at once because he was in full disguise. He had no sooner come to the party than he had begun to poke around in search of adventures, as was his habit. At length he found two little girls engaged in a violent quarrel over a lamb. One was beating the other over the head with a crook, and accusing her of theft. This was just what the Caliph was after, and summoning the girls before him, he prepared to try the case. The younger girl, whose name was Mary, testified that the lamb had followed her to school. The elder girl, known as Bo-Peep, stated that on that same day she had lost her whole flock of sheep.

"This is a strange coincidence," said Haroun al Raschid: "one girl loses her sheep and another has one in her possession. There is a great mystery here that must be looked into. Appear before me to-morrow, little girls, and tell me your stories." And then he added, with a terrible frown and an expressive glance at the executioner,--"And be sure, little girls, that your stories are interesting."

Miss Muffet had hoped to have a long quiet talk with Haroun al Raschid and to ask him ever so many questions. But when she saw the executioner she changed her mind, and she felt, too, that the Caliph was more used to asking questions than to answering them.

It was a great relief, therefore, to see a Dervish sitting on the floor, as if he had all the time in the world. He didn't seem in the least afraid of Haroun al Raschid; for Dervishes are great people in their way and have no need of being afraid of anybody.

"Good-evening, Mr. Dervish, may I sit down by you and have a little talk about dervishry?"

The Dervish said something she didn't quite understand about not talking shop on social occasions. "However," he added, "I will be glad to tell about my neighbors; that will be more polite." This suited Miss Muffet just as well.

"It's what I really want to hear about," she said. "Dervishry must be very hard work when you do it well, but it gives you a chance to meet all the interesting people. Let me see; you have a bowl, and you sit under a palm-tree by a well, and then the Calendars and Cadis and Muftis and Merchants and Mendicants and the ladies of Bagdad come and ask you questions, and when they put things in your bowl you answer them?"

The Dervish said that that would be against the rule.

"Oh, I remember. You look wise and tell them to come again to-morrow. The next day they come again, and you tell them which camel was blind in one eye and where their lovers are. That is very wonderful."

The Dervish said that was the easiest part of it. The hardest thing was to look wiser than the Muftis.

Very soon they were having a delightful talk about all the great personages Miss Muffet had always admired at a distance, but the Dervish had known them intimately and could tell all their weak points, which were not in the books. Indeed, Miss Muffet was surprised to find how many mistakes the books had in them, all because the persons who made them hadn't taken the trouble to talk with the Dervish. Almost all the numbers were wrong.

"There weren't forty thieves, there were only thirty-nine. I counted them myself."

"But didn't everything else happen as I was told?" asked Miss Muffet; "and didn't it come out as it is in the book?"

The Dervish admitted this, but said that that wasn't the important part: the important part was to count straight.

A remarkable discovery was that all the famous people had brothers, and the brothers were always the ones who ought to have been famous, but every one forgot about them.

"There is Aladdin, he's a greatly overrated man. I could tell you some curious things I learned about him. I know they are true, for they were told to me in confidence. People admire him because they think he is so lucky. Now if it had been his brother! He came over from China and used to sit by the day under my palm-tree talking about the chances he had just missed. They were truly marvelous. He missed more chances than Aladdin ever dreamed of, but nobody ever writes about him."

"Perhaps they don't know about him," said Miss Muffet.

"That's the injustice of it."

"Speaking of brothers, did you ever find out why it is that the third one is always the wisest? I asked one of the North Country princes about it just now, and he bowed and said he thanked me for the compliment, but he was no philosopher. It doesn't matter where it is, in the Red Fairy Book or the Green Fairy Book or any color, the third is always the charm, and it seems very much the same way in your country. The oldest brother is always vain and selfish, and when he goes into the forest, always does the very thing he was told not to. And the second brother is selfish, and stupider, for he ought to know better when his brother doesn't come back and there are so many witches around. Then it comes to the third brother, and I never expect anything of him because he is so little and his stepmother has kept him back, but he turns out splendid. Did you ever meditate on that, Mr. Dervish?"

The Dervish said that he had meditated on it for a great many years, and had at last come to the conclusion that it was a law of nature.

"I am so glad to know that," said Miss Muffet, "for it has always troubled me."

The Dervish remarked that when one was troubled by that kind of questions, it was always better to consult a wise man at once. It was not safe to let the case run on.

"There's another thing I should like to ask about. Since I first read of the Three Royal Mendicants, I've always wondered what a Mendicant is. I know he must be very proud and great, but what does he do? The Mendicants are here this evening, but I don't like to ask them; it might seem rude."

Then the Dervish explained about the Mendicants, and seemed so familiar with their way of life that Miss Muffet suspected that he might have been one himself. He explained too about the Calendars.

The time passed so rapidly that Miss Muffet would have talked with him all the evening, had he not at last said that he feared he was monopolizing the attention of his hostess; besides, it was about time for him to do some more meditating.

There was a surprise at the party that delighted many of the young people. Old Mr. Esop passed through the hall, distributing handbills, announcing that, at immense expense, he had brought from Greece his unparalleled aggregation of Fables, which would now be open for exhibition in a grand pavilion just outside the south door of the palace. Out of compliment to Miss Muffet's party, admission to the Fables would be free, though ten cents would be charged to those who remained to the Morals,--which, I am sorry to say, very few did. Some of the Fables were unusually terrifying, such as the Lions and the hungry Wolves, and Miss Muffet was glad to see what strong bars there were to their cages. But a number of the Fables, having been for a long time on exhibition, had become quite tame, and walked about conversing so amiably that the youngest children felt no apprehension.

It was while Mr. Esop was engaged in attaching the Morals to the Fables that Miss Muffet caught sight for the first time of Uncle Remus and the Little Boy. Mr. Esop was pointing out the Hare asleep by the wayside while the Tortoise was coming gayly down the home stretch, and he was about to exhibit the Moral when Uncle Remus broke out with a hearty laugh.

"You don't fool dis chile, does you, honey? Brer Rabbit he sometime play 'possum, but he sleep wid one eye open; he not let hisself be beat by a triflin' mud turtle. Jess when Brer Turtle thinks he's thar, Brer Rabbit'll give a jump, an' Brer Turtle'll find he's jess in time to be too late. Oh! I know Brer Rabbit's owdacious ways." But still the Hare slept while the Tortoise came deliberately over the line. Then Uncle Remus cried out with infinite scorn, "Come along, little boy; dat ain't worth shucks; dat ain't Brer Rabbit, nohow. I 'low dat rabbit's stuffed."

"But, Uncle Remus," said Miss Muffet, "perhaps you will like the Fables better when you get acquainted with them. I'm sure they have always borne a good reputation. And now I should like to introduce you to Mr. Esop; it's such a pleasure to bring together people of the same tastes. Mr. Esop, allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Remus. I am sure that you will feel a common interest in Zoölogy."

Miss Muffet felt a little frightened at making such a formal speech, but she knew that she was showing the quality called "tact," which is something very useful in a hostess. To tell one's guests what they are expected to talk about is often a great convenience to them.

But Mr. Esop, the moment he heard the name, drew back with an air that was quite chilling and businesslike.

"Another of those early Romans out of a job! He has just discovered that he is a Fable and is looking for a situation." Then turning to Uncle Remus he said, "I'm very particular about my Fables, and I want everything straight and plain so that parents may have no hesitation in bringing their children. I don't like to mix up Myths with my Fables, for the chances are that the Mythical Personage, instead of having a Moral, may turn out to be only a Sign of the Zodiac. This is always confusing to the Public. I suppose, Mr. Remus, that you have brought Mr. Romulus with you. In the case of twins, I give no consideration, if I'm offered only a broken lot. I must have the full set, Mr. Remus."

Uncle Remus's feelings would have been much hurt if he had not at that moment caught sight of Mowgli accompanied by Baloo and Bagheera. Just how it happened Miss Muffet could never find out, but before she had time to introduce them they had become fast friends, and Uncle Remus only chuckled when she asked him if she might have the pleasure of making them acquainted.

"Nebber you mind 'bout us, we mus' hab met befo'. I disremember whar, but it mus' hab been somewhar down de big road."

And the old man laughed at the thought that there ever was a time when he didn't know Mowgli.

At the mention of the big road Mowgli began to sing the "Road Song of the Bandar-log." It was a very strange song, and not at all like those that her music teacher taught her, but for all that Miss Muffet felt that it was just the kind of a song she would sing if she were a Bandar-log.

Uncle Remus was in an ecstasy, and the Little Boy shouted for joy. Every one praised it except Sandford and Merton, who said that it didn't give any useful information except that monkeys had tails, a fact which was already well known, being mentioned in all the Natural History books. For their part, when it came to poetry they preferred some fine passages in Dr. Young's "Night Thoughts."

A great many boys and girls who were on their way to the pavilion had remained outside listening to a pleasant gentleman who was telling them anecdotes about the Wild Animals he had known.

This troubled Mr. Esop, who, though an excellent man, was inclined to be jealous. Miss Muffet went out to remind the children of the Morals, but in a little while she became as interested as the rest of them.

"His way of talking is different from Mr. Esop's, but I am not sure but he may be right. At any rate, I am glad to hear some one who speaks respectfully about animals, and who doesn't say anything behind their backs that he wouldn't say to their faces. He always remembers that they are persons and have feelings. Then when they do things, he doesn't blame them or call them bad names. That's one thing I don't like about Mr. Esop. He isn't quite fair, and he is always accusing them of Folly."

"It's remarkable how small the world is, after all," said the pleasant gentleman, when more than a score of persons told him that the Wild Animals he had known were among their most intimate acquaintances, and that they had met them under a great many different circumstances. Then followed a good deal of gossip about their family life and the way they got their living. Miss Muffet was glad to hear that they were all so kind to their children, but the way they got their living troubled her. She remembered what the spider said, that "business is business," but that didn't make it seem any more kind.

"It's the Law of the Jungle," said Mowgli; and then he recited the law word for word just as he had learned it.

"Can't they change it?" asked Miss Muffet.

"The Jungle people can't. It's too strong for them."

From this the conversation drifted to hunting for sport. The pleasant gentleman who knew so many animals personally didn't like it. The Boy Hunters, who had spent a great deal of time in the woods, didn't agree with him. They said that the proper way to become acquainted with animals was to carry a gun. It showed that you entered into the spirit of the thing. They fancied that it was good for wild animals to be hunted; in fact, that was what kept them wild.

Miss Muffet didn't think that was a very good reason, though it sounded logical; and she asked several of the Animals what they thought about it.

A Duck, a Dodo, a Lory, and an Eaglet, who had come with Alice from Wonderland, were the nearest, and she asked them first, but they refused to answer on the ground that they never had thoughts so late in the evening. The Lory said that he had one at home, but he had forgotten to bring it.

"You can't make anything out of these Wonderland creatures," said Miss Muffet. "I can't really feel that they are animals I have known, though of course I know their names."

When Bagheera was asked his opinion, he only growled that it was all in the day's work. But wise old Baloo answered:--

"It all depends on grammar."

This made every one look very solemn, for they realized now that it was a serious matter.

"First Person, Singular, I hunt. Second Person, Thou huntest. Third Person, He or She hunts. So long as you confine it to the First Person, it's proper and right. When you go beyond that, it's carrying it too far. When you get to the Second Person, that's where the danger comes in."

This was such sound sense that they all agreed to it, though Mr. Wolf declared that the First Person, Plural, seemed to him to be more sociable.

"Does it make any difference about the moods and tenses?" asked Miss Muffet.

"Passive--First Person, Singular, I am hunted."

There was a general cry of horror. "What a dreadful point of view!" said the Dodo; "it makes me shiver to think about it."

Even the wildest animals agreed that it was atrocious. What was most remarkable was that the Boy Hunters, who had been on the Orinoco and the Congo and all the most dangerous places, admitted that they had the same feelings.

"There's a limit beyond which hunting is not true sport. It should not be allowed to go as far as the First Person, Singular, in the Passive."

"I'm so glad that you agree about it," said Miss Muffet. "I knew you would when you came to understand one another. That's the great good of being at parties; it makes us feel that we are all more alike than we thought."

When Miss Muffet began to be a little tired, Mr. Spider asked her to take a stroll with him into the open air. So he led her through a low archway which brought them at last into the Child's Garden of Verses.

"We had to make the entrance quite small," he said apologetically, "to keep out the big boys. They run over everything, and we should have to put up those horrid signs,'Keep off the Verses.'"

"I am so glad that you have brought me into the garden where I can see the verses growing. Mamma told me that people make verses just as they make the flowers on her bonnet. But I like the kind that grow, don't you, Mr. Spider?"

Mr. Spider said that he was no judge of poetry, but he was inclined to be of her opinion; which made Miss Muffet very happy, for she had not been used to having people agree with her,--at least before she had a party.

It was very pleasant in the garden, for the noisier children had not found it out. It was surprising how many things were in it. There was a little river with golden sand; and the tiniest mountain, which looked as high as the sky when you got the right point of view; and there were ships and pirates and a beautiful cow. When you looked in the right direction, you could see the big world stretching away much further than the eye could reach.

Miss Muffet watched a wide-eyed little boy who was wandering about and having such an adventurous time as never was. Everything was so great and strange, yet he wasn't a bit afraid, only now and then when he turned a corner he was a little prudent, as any traveler would be who had come to the end of the world and was not sure that the next step might not take him off the edge. But it never did, for no matter how far he went, there was always a next step for him, as if the good Scotch gardener who had laid out the paths had known that such a great traveler was coming. As she left the garden she heard him singing to himself his glad little song,--

"The world is so full of a number of things, I think we should all be as happy as Kings."

The idea of the little song was exactly the same that Miss Muffet had had in her head for a long time, though she hadn't been able to express it so well. Even after she came back to the company, she kept repeating the words to herself.

"I think the nicest part about being happy," she confided to the spider, "is that it keeps you from being lonesome, and it makes you like such a number of things."

"And such a number of people," added Mr. Spider.

"Yes; all the different kinds. It's not because they are so very pretty. You like the queer ones too, and you are glad that the world's full of them. There's Rumpelstiltzkin, he's not at all like anybody else, and his features aren't regular, but I'm glad he came to the party. He's so interesting."

Mr. Spider was sure that if he could get every one to feel that way, it would make life easier for the members of his own family. He agreed that the way to keep people from being cruel was to make them happy in their own minds.

"And it's such an easy way," said Miss Muffet, "I wonder that nobody has thought of it before."