Part 7

Away they all ran, Goose-loose at the head of them, and they ran and ran until they came to the turkey-yard, and there was Turkey-lurkey strutting and gobbling.

“Oh, Turkey-lurkey! don’t strut! Don’t strut!” cried Goose-loose.

“Why should I not strut?” asked Turkey-lurkey.

“Because the sky’s falling down.”

“How do you know it is?”

“Duck-luck told me!”

“How do you know, Duck-luck?”

“Hen-pen told me!”

“How do you know, Hen-pen?”

“Chicken-diddle told me!”

“How do you know, Chicken-diddle?”

“I couldn’t help knowing! I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and a part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run until we get some place.”

“Yes, we’d better run,” said Turkey-lurkey, so away they all ran, first Turkey-lurkey, and then Goose-loose, and then Duck-luck, and then Hen-pen, and then Chicken-diddle.

They ran and ran until they came to Fox-lox’s house, and there was Fox-lox lying in the doorway and yawning until his tongue curled up in his mouth. When he saw Turkey-lurkey and Goose-loose and Duck-luck and Hen-pen and Chicken-diddle he stopped yawning, and pricked up his ears, and he was very glad to see them.

“Well, well,” said he, “and what brings you all here?”

“Oh, Fox-lox, Fox-lox, don’t yawn,” cried Turkey-lurkey, “the sky’s falling down.”

“How do you know that, Turkey-lurkey?” asked the fox.

“Goose-loose told me.”

“How do you know that, Goose-loose?”

“Duck-luck told me.”

“How do you know that, Duck-luck?”

“Hen-pen told me.”

“How do you know that, Hen-pen?”

“Chicken-diddle told me.”

“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”

“I couldn’t help knowing, for I saw it with my eyes, and I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, where shall we run? We ought to go some place.”

“Well,” said the Fox, “you come right in here, and I’ll take such good care of you that even if the sky falls down you won’t know anything about it.”

So in ran Turkey-lurkey, and Fox-lox put him in the big room, and shut the door. In ran Goose-loose, and he put him in the little room, and shut the door. In ran Duck-luck, and he put him in the cellar, and shut the door. In ran Hen-pen, and he put her in the attic, and shut the door. In ran Chicken-diddle, and Fox-lox kept him right there in the room with him. And what happened to them after that I don’t know, but nobody ever saw them again; if the sky really fell, I never heard about it. They were only a pack of silly fowls, anyway.

A PACK OF RAGAMUFFINS

“My dear,” said the cock to the hen one day, “what do you say to our taking a walk over to Mulberry Hill? The mulberries must be ripe by now, and we can have a fine feast.”

“That would suit me exactly,” answered the hen. “I am very fond of ripe fruit, and it is a long time since I have tasted any.” So the cock and hen set off together.

The way was long, and the day was hot, and before the two had reached the top of the hill they were both of them tired and out of breath. The mulberries lay thick on the ground, and the cock and the hen ran about hither and yon, pecking and eating—pecking and eating, until they could eat no more, and the sun was near setting.

“Oh! oh!” groaned the hen, “how weary I am. How in the world are we to get home again. My legs are so tired, I could not go another step if my life depended on it.”

“My dear,” said the cock, “I too am weary, but I see here a number of fallen twigs. If I could but weave them into a coach we might ride home in comfort.”

“That is a clever thought,” sighed the hen. “Make it by all means. There is nothing I like better than riding in a coach.”

The cock at once set to work, and by weaving sticks and grasses together he made a little coach with body, wheels, and shafts all complete.

The hen was delighted. She at once hopped into the coach, and seated herself. “Now, my dear Cock-a-lorum,” she cried, “nothing more is needed but for you to get between the shafts and step out briskly, and we will be at home in less than no time.”

“What are you talking about?” asked the cock sharply. “I have no idea of pulling the coach myself. My legs ache as well as yours, and if you wait for me to pull you home you may sit there till doomsday.”

“But how then are we to get home?” asked the hen, beginning to weep.

“I do not know,” answered the cock. “But what I do know is that I am not going to pull you.”

“But you must pull me,” wept the hen.

“But I won’t pull you,” stormed the cock.

So they scolded and disputed and there is no knowing how it would have ended, but suddenly a duck appeared from behind some bushes.

When the duck saw the hen and the cock it ruffled up its feathers and waddled toward them, quacking fiercely. “What is this! What is this!” cried the duck. “Do you not know that this hill belongs to me? Be off at once or I will give you a sound beating.”

It flew at the cock with outspread wings. The cock, however, was a brave little fellow. Instead of running away he met the duck valiantly, and seizing it he pulled out a beakful of feathers. The hen shrieked, but the cock continued to punish the duck until it cried for mercy.

“Very well,” said the cock, settling his feathers. “I will let you go this time, but only if you will promise to draw our coach to the nearest inn, where we can spend the night.”

The duck was afraid to refuse the cock’s demand. He put himself between the shafts, the cock mounted the coach and cracked his whip, and away they all went as fast as the duck could waddle. The coach rocked and bumped over the stones, and suddenly the duck gave a jump that almost upset it. “Ouch! ouch!” it cried. “Something stuck me.”

“I do well to stick you,” replied a small sharp voice. “I may teach you to look where you are going, and not step on honest travelers who are smaller than you.”

The voice was that of a needle, who, with a pin for a comrade, was journeying along the same road.

The cock looked out from the coach. “I am sorry,” said he, “that my duck should be so careless. Will you not get in and ride with us?”

This the pin and the needle were glad to do. The hen was somewhat nervous at first, lest one of them might tread on her foot, but they were so polite, and so careful not to crowd her, that she soon lost her fear of them.

Just before nightfall the coach reached the door of an inn. Here the duck stopped, and the cock called loudly for the landlord.

The man came running, but when he saw the strange guests that sat in the coach he almost shut the door on them. “We want no ragamuffins here,” he cried.

“Wait a bit,” cried the cock. “Just see this fine white egg that the hen has laid. And every morning the duck lays an egg also. Both of these shall be yours if you will take us in for the night.”

Well, the landlord was willing to agree to that bargain. He bade the companions enter and make themselves comfortable. This they did, eating and drinking to their hearts’ content. Then the cock and the hen made themselves comfortable in the best bed, and the others tucked themselves away as best they could.

As soon as they were all asleep the landlord said to his wife, “Listen! This is a fine bargain that I have made. Roast duck is very good, and so is chicken pie, and to-morrow our travelers shall furnish us with both of them. As for the needle and pin you can put them away in your work-basket, and they will always be useful.”

After saying this the landlord and his wife also went to sleep, for the landlord intended to be up early in the morning before his guests had wakened.

The cock, however, was not one to let anyone catch him sleeping. While it was still dark the next morning, he awakened the hen. “Come,” said he; “we’d best be up and away. This landlord of ours seems to me a sly and greedy man; he might take a notion to have roast chicken for dinner to-day, so we had better be gone before he is stirring.”

To this the hen agreed, but she and the cock were both hungry, so before starting they shared the egg between them. The shells they threw in among the ashes on the hearth. Then they took the needle and stuck it in the back of the landlord’s chair; the pin they put in the towel that hung behind the door, and this done they took to their wings and away they flew.

The sound of their going awoke the duck. It opened its eyes and looked after them. “Well, well! So they’re off. I think I’d better be moving myself,” and so saying it waddled down to the river, and swam back to the place whence it had come.

It was not long after this the landlord himself awoke. “I’ll just slip down and see to the travelers before breakfast,” said he.

“Do,” answered his wife.

First, however, the landlord stopped to wash in the kitchen. He picked up the towel to dry his face, and the pin that was in it scratched him from ear to ear. He went to the hearth to light his pipe and the egg-shells flew up in his face. He sat down in his chair for a moment, but scarcely had he leaned back, when he jumped up with a cry. The needle had run into him.

“It is all the fault of those ragamuffins,” cried the landlord in a rage, and he caught up a knife and ran to find them. But search as he might there was not a sign of them anywhere, for they were already safely home again.

So all the landlord had for his trouble after all, was his pains.

THE FROG PRINCE

There was once a king who had one only daughter, and her he loved as he loved the apple of his eye.

One day the Princess sat beside a fountain in the gardens, and played with a golden ball. She threw it up into the air and caught it again, and the ball shone and glittered in the sunshine so that she laughed aloud with pleasure. But presently as she caught at the ball she missed it, and it rolled across the grass and fell into the fountain. There it sank to the bottom. The Princess tried and tried to reach it, but she could not. Then she began to weep, and her tears dripped down into the fountain.

“Princess, Princess, why are you weeping?” asked a hoarse voice.

The Princess looked about her, and there was a great squat green frog sitting on the edge of the fountain.

“I am weeping, Froggie, because I have dropped my ball into the water and I cannot get it again,” answered the Princess.

“And what will you give me if I get it for you?”

“Anything in the world, dear Frog, except the ball itself.”

“I wish you to give me nothing, Princess,” said the frog. “But if I bring back your ball to you will you let me be your little playmate? Will you let me sit at your table, and eat from your plate, and drink from your mug, and sleep in your little bed?”

“Yes, yes,” cried the Princess. She was very willing to promise, for she did not believe the frog could ever leave the fountain, or come up the palace steps.

“Very well, then that is a promise,” said the frog, and at once he plunged into the fountain and brought back the ball to the Princess in his arms.

The little girl took the ball and ran away with it without even stopping to thank him.

That evening the child sat at supper with her father, and she ate from her golden plate, and drank from her golden mug, and she did not even give a thought to the frog down in the fountain.

Presently there came a knocking at the door, but it was so soft that no one heard it but the Princess. Then the knocking came again, and a hoarse voice cried, “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, let me in. Have you forgotten the promise you made me by the fountain?”

The Princess was frightened. She slipped down from her chair, and ran to the door, and opened it and looked out. There on the top-most step sat the great green frog.

When the Princess saw him she shut the door quickly, and came back to the table, and she was very pale.

“Who was that at the door?” asked the King.

“It was no one,” answered the Princess.

“But there was surely someone there,” said the King.

“It was only a great green frog from the fountain,” said the Princess. And then she told her father how she had dropped her ball into the fountain, and how the frog had brought it back to her, and of what she had promised him.

“What you have promised that you must perform,” said the King. “Open the door, my daughter, and let him in.”

Very unwillingly the child went back to the door and opened it; the frog hopped into the room. When she returned to the table, the frog hopped along close at her heels.

She sat down and began to eat. “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, set me upon the table that I too may eat from your golden plate,” said the frog.

The Princess would have refused, but she dared not because of what her father had said. She lifted the frog to the table, and there he ate from her plate, but she herself could touch nothing.

“I am thirsty,” said the frog. “Tilt your golden mug that I may drink from it.”

The Princess did as he bade her, but as she did so she could not help weeping so that her tears ran down into the milk.

When supper was ended the Princess was about to hurry away to her room, but the frog called to her, “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, take me along. Have you forgotten that I was to sleep in your little white bed?”

“That you shall not,” cried the Princess in a passion. “Go back to the stones of the fountain, where you belong.”

“What you have said that you must do,” said the King. “Take the frog with you.”

The Princess shuddered, but she dared not refuse.

She took the frog with her up to her room, and put him down in the darkest corner, where she would not see him. Then she undressed and went to bed. But scarcely had her head touched the pillow when she heard the frog calling her.

“King’s daughter, King’s daughter! Is this the way you keep your promise? Lift me up to the bed, for the floor is cold and hard.”

The Princess sprang from the bed and seized the frog in her hands. “Miserable frog,” she cried, “you shall not torment me in this way.” So saying she threw the frog against the wall with all her force.

But no sooner did the frog touch the wall than it turned into a handsome young prince, all dressed in green, with a golden crown upon his head, and a chain of emeralds about his neck.

The Prince came to her, and took her by the hand.

“Dear Princess,” said he, “you have broken the enchantment that held me. A cruel fairy was angry with my father, and so she changed me into a frog, and put me there in the fountain. But now that the enchantment is broken we can really be playmates, and when you are old enough you shall be my wife.”

The Princess did not say no. She was delighted at the thought of having such a handsome playmate. And as for marrying him later on, she was quite willing for that, too.

So the Prince stayed there in the palace, and the King was very glad to think he was to have him for a son-in-law, and when he and the Princess were married, there was great rejoicing and feasting through all the kingdom.

The Prince, however, was not willing to stay away from his own kingdom any longer. He said he must return to see his old father.

One day a handsome golden coach drawn by eight white horses drove up to the door. It had been sent by the Prince’s father to fetch him home again. Upon the box rode the faithful servant who had cared for the Prince when he was a child.

When the Prince had been carried away by the fairy this faithful servant had grieved so bitterly he had feared his heart would break. To keep this from happening he had put three great iron bands around his body.

The Prince and the Princess entered the coach, and away went the horses. They had not driven far, however, when a loud crack was heard.

“What is that?” cried the Princess. “Surely something has broken.”

“Yes, mistress,” answered the faithful servant,

“It was a band that bound my heart. My joy hath broken it apart.”

They drove a little farther, and then there came another crack, even louder than the first.

“Surely the coach is breaking down,” cried the Prince.

“Nay, master,” answered the faithful servant,

“’Tis but my joy that rives apart The second band that held my heart.”

A little farther on there came a crack that was louder than any.

“Now surely something has broken,” cried the Prince and Princess together.

“’Tis the last band that held my heart, And joy has riven all apart,”

answered the servant.

After that they drove on quietly until they reached their own country. There the Prince and Princess lived in happiness to the end of their lives, and the faithful servant with them.

THE WOLF AND THE FIVE LITTLE GOATS

There was once a mother goat who had five little kids, and these kids were so dear to her that nothing could have been dearer.

One day the mother goat was going to the forest to gather some wood for her fire. “Now, my little kids,” said she, “you must be very careful while I am away. Bar the door behind me, and open it to nobody until I return. If the wicked wolf should get in he would certainly eat you.”

The little kids promised they would be careful, and then their mother started out, and as soon as she had gone they barred the door behind her.

Now it so happened the old wolf was on the watch that day. He saw the mother goat trotting away toward the forest, and as soon as she was out of sight, he crept down to the house and knocked at the door—rap-tap-tap!

“Who is there?” called the little kids within.

“It is I, your mother, my dears,” answered the wolf in his great rough voice. “Open the door and let me in.”

But the kids were very clever little kids. “No, no,” they cried. “You are not our mother. Our mother has a soft, sweet voice, and your voice is harsh and rough. You must be the wolf.”

When the wolf heard this he was very angry. He battered and battered at the door, but they would not let him in. Then he turned and galloped away as fast as he could until he came to a dairy. There he stuck his head in at the window, and the woman had just finished churning her butter.

“Woman, woman,” cried the wolf, “give me some butter. If you do not I will come in and upset your churn.”

The woman was frightened. At once she gave him a great deal of butter—all he could eat.

The wolf swallowed it down, and then he ran back to the goat’s house and knocked at the door—rat-tat-rat!

“Who is there?” asked the little goats within.

“Your mother, my dears,” answered the wolf, and now his voice was very soft and smooth because of the butter he had swallowed.

“It _is_ our mother,” cried the little kids, and they were about to open the door, but the littlest kid of all, who was a very wise little kid, stopped them.

“Wait a bit,” said he. “It sounds like our mother’s voice, but before we open the door we had better be very, very sure it is not the wolf.” Then he called through the door, “Put your paws up on the windowsill.”

The wolf suspected nothing. He put his paws up on the windowsill, and as soon as the little kids saw them they knew at once that it was not their mother. “No, no,” they cried, “you are not our mother. Our mother has pretty white feet, and your feet are as black as soot. You must be the wolf.”

When the wolf heard this he was angrier than ever. He turned and galloped away again, and as he galloped he growled to himself and gnashed his teeth.

Presently he came to a baker’s shop, and there he stuck his head in at the window.

“Baker, baker, give me some dough,” he cried. “If you do not I will upset your pans and spoil your baking.”

The baker was frightened. At once he gave the wolf all the dough he wanted. The wolf seized it and ran away with it. He ran until he came to the goat’s house. There he sat down and covered his black feet all over with the white dough. Then he knocked at the door—rat-tat-tat!

“Who is there?” cried the little goats within.

“Your mother, my dears, come home again,” answered the wolf, in his smooth buttery voice.

“Put your paws up on the windowsill.”

The wolf put his paws up on the windowsill, and they looked quite white because of the dough. Then the little kids felt sure it was their mother, and they gladly opened the door.

“Woof!” In bounded the wicked wolf.

The little goats cried out and away they ran, some in one direction, and some in another. They hid themselves one behind the door, and one in the dough-trough, and one in the wash-tub, and one under the bed, and one (and he was the littlest one of all) hid in the tall clock-case. The wolf stood there glaring about him, and not as much as a tail of one of them could he see.

Then he began to hunt about for them, but he had to be in a hurry, because he was afraid the mother goat would come home again.

He found the kid behind the door, and he was in such a hurry he swallowed it whole without hurting it in the least. He found the one in the wash-tub, and he swallowed it whole, too. He found the one in the dough-trough, and it, too, he swallowed whole. He found the one under the bed and he swallowed it whole. The only one he did not find was the one in the clock-case, and he never thought of looking there. He hunted around and hunted around, and he was afraid to stay any longer for fear their mother would come home.

But now the old wolf felt very heavy and sleepy. He looked around for a place to go in order to lie down and rest.

Not far away were some rocks and trees that made a pleasant shadow. Here the wolf stretched himself out, and presently he was snoring so loudly that the leaves of the trees shook overhead.

Soon after this the mother goat came home. As soon as she saw the door of the house standing open, she knew at once that some misfortune had happened. She went in and looked about her. The furniture was all upset and scattered about the room. “Alas, alas! My dear little kids!” cried the mother. “The wicked wolf has certainly been here and eaten them all.”

“He didn’t eat me,” said a little voice in the clock-case.

The mother goat opened the door of the clock-case and the littlest kid of all hopped out.

“But why were you in the clock-case? And what has happened?” asked the mother.

Then the little kid told her all about how the wolf had come there with his buttery voice and his whitened paws, and how they had let him in, and how he had swallowed all four of the other little kids, so that he alone was left.

After the mother goat had heard the story she went to the door and looked about. Then she heard the old wolf snoring where he lay asleep under the nut-trees in the shade of the rocks.

“That must be the old wolf snoring,” said the mother goat, “and he cannot be far away. Do not make a noise, my little kid, but come with me.”

The mother goat stole over to the heap of rocks, and the little kid followed her on tiptoes. She peeped and peered, and there lay the old wolf so fast asleep that nothing less than an earthquake would have wakened him.

“Now, my little kid,” whispered the mother, “run straight home again as fast as you can, and fetch me my shears and a needle and some stout thread.”

This the little kid did, and he ran so softly over the grass that not even a mouse could have heard him.

As soon as he returned the mother goat crept up to the old wolf, and with the sharp shears she slit his hide up just as though it had been a sack. Out popped one little kid, and out popped another little kid, and another, and another, and there they all were, just as safe and sound as though they had never been swallowed. And all this while the old wolf never stirred nor stopped snoring.

“And now, my little kids,” whispered the mother, “do you each one of you bring me a big round stone, but be very quick and quiet, for your lives depend upon it.”

So the little kids ran away, and hunted around, and each fetched her back a big round stone, and they were very quick and quiet about it, just as their mother had bade them be.