Part 7

But there was no room opening out of the hall she was in, so the Princess went up the stairs, and here again she found herself in a large hall, but this was so beautiful she looked about her in wonder, for it was a much more beautiful place than her own castle. The floor was of opals and the walls were the same; the sunlight shining through the windows made the most wonderful colors wherever it fell, and all around the place were white roses, making the air sweet with their fragrance.

There was another flight of stairs, and up these the Princess went. The stairs were of silver, and on the next floor the Princess found herself in a hall of crystal with roses all around; beautiful pink roses such as she had never before beheld.

“Oh, how I wish I could pick them!” said the Princess as she went from bush to bush, and to her surprise the roses nodded as if to tell her she could if she liked.

Princess Dido broke one from its stem, and then another, and as the roses still nodded she picked more until her arms were full.

But there was another flight of stairs, and these were of gold. So the Princess walked up these and found herself in another beautiful room, which was blue, the color of sapphires, and around this room grew red roses.

But there was still another flight of stairs, and the Princess did not stop long here, with her arms filled with the pink roses. She went up the last flight and found herself in a hall filled with red, pink, and white roses, but the walls were hung with soft gray silk and the floor covered with velvet of the same color.

“Oh, how beautiful! I wish I could live here among the roses,” she said.

“You can, my Princess of the Roses,” said a voice, and from behind a curtain stepped a handsome prince, dressed in a suit of gray velvet, with trimmings of silver and pink.

He took from his head a hat with a long plume of pink and bowed low before the Princess Dido, who had dropped her roses and stood blushing as pink as the roses she had dropped.

“This is my castle, the Castle of the Roses,” explained the Prince, “and I vowed I would never marry until I found a princess who loved my roses as well as me, and you have proved you do by coming into all of my rose-garden. Others have been here, but when they found only roses in each room they never came to this floor.

“Behind these curtains is my palace. These halls of roses are but a part of my private rooms. Will you stay, Princess, or shall I call the fairies to take you back to your own castle?” asked the Prince.

“You may call the fairies to take the news to my people that I will live in the Castle of Roses, with the Prince of Roses,” said Princess Dido.

“But who hung the little gold key on the bush?” she asked the Prince.

“Oh! I asked the fairies to help me find a wife,” said the Prince. “They hung it there. You see, we shall live in an enchanted castle, as well as in the Castle of Roses, so there is nothing for us but happiness.”

CATVILLE GOSSIP

Mr. Tommy Kat was in love with Tabby Gray--at least so all the gossips in Catville say, for Tabby was as graceful as a little kit can be. Said Tommy, when he saw her, “She’s just the wife for me.”

But Tabby Gray was fickle, as sometimes kittens are; so she giggled and told Tommy he would have to ask her pa. For there was big white Tom Cat, with coat as smooth as silk, who often took her walking and treated her to milk. He had told her he would give her a ribbon bright of red, if she would only promise no other cat to wed.

Then there was Tommy Mouser, who by all was called a sport. He had told her that he loved her, and once for her had fought.

And there was Tommy Black, the dandy of the town, who was called by all who watched him the best dancer to be found.

He often danced with Tabby Gray, and frightened all the rest away; for when he danced they all stood by and looked on him with jealous eye.

And Tiger Tom, another swain, who always said he felt a pain around his heart when any other danced with her except her brother.

An admirer, too, was Tommy Buff; he said and vowed it was no bluff when he declared he loved Miss Gray and in his heart she held full sway.

And there was Tommy Black-and-White, who said he sat up many a night to serenade Miss Tabby Gray on the back-yard fence till break of day.

And Tommy, who was nicknamed Slim, said she was the only girl for him and that his eyes had turned to green because another cat was seen to walk with Tabby down the road. Since that his heart was like a load.

And so, you see, Miss Tabby Gray needed time these things to weigh, and that was why she told Tom Kat her pa would have to answer that question he had asked that night on the back-yard fence in the bright moonlight.

Said Tommy Kat as he looked at a star: “I don’t want to marry your pa. Now why do you keep me here a-guessing when we might go round and get pa’s blessing?”

Miss Tabby stretched and heaved a sigh, then on Tommy Kat she cast her eye. He was handsomer, far, than all the rest, and she felt quite sure she loved him best. But, like all others of her kind, she pretended to make up her mind.

But Tommy Kat was a hasty fellow. He knew present time was always mellow; so he told Miss Tabby ’twas getting late, and whisked her over the back-yard gate. And before she knew where she was at they stood at the door of Minister Cat.

In a minute more they came out married, for Minister Cat he never tarried. He married off couples quick as scat, and for his fee he took a rat.

The reception they held was a howling success, as all who came to it had to confess. And all the way through Catville Town bottles and shoes were strewn up and down. And when Old Sun Man o’er the hill did peep every kit in the town was fast asleep.

HOW THE ELEPHANT GOT HIS TRUNK

One night in the Zoo when the keepers were asleep the other animals were awakened by the chattering in the monkey cage.

“I have heard that Mr. Lion can be made very tame,” said Jocko, “and while I doubt very much if he really can bite, his growl is most unpleasant to hear.”

“Oh, well, it may be worse than his bite,” said Tito. “Those who make the most noise are not always to be feared, I have been told.”

“There is Hippo; he is much bigger than Mr. Lion, and he doesn’t make as much noise all the time as Mr. Lion.”

“Oh, dear me, but what a big mouth Hippo has!” laughed Tito. “I wonder how he happened to get such a big one. He must have been the first one there when they gave out mouths.”

“I have heard something about almost every animal here,” said Jocko. “Want to hear it?”

“Yes, tell me,” said Tito, moving close to Jocko. “Where did Mr. Lion get his long hair?”

“Oh dear! don’t you know?” laughed Jocko, “Mrs. Lion pulled it so much it made it long. She hasn’t any, you see. Oh dear, yes, Mr. Lion is a henpecked husband if ever there was one.”

“You don’t tell me so,” said Tito. “What about Hippo? How did it happen he is so big and clumsy?”

“Oh, don’t you know?” said Jocko. “When the animals were being made there was a lot of each animal left and it was all stirred together, and that made Hippo. They made his body first and then they did not have enough to give him a long tail or fill in his mouth. That is the reason it is so large.”

“Ho, ho, ho!” laughed Tito, and Jocko laughed, too, until they nearly fell off the place where they were sitting.

“Where did old Reynard get his bushy tail, Jocko?”

“Oh, don’t you know that either?” replied Jocko. “He was caught trying to steal chickens by the farmer’s wife, and she threw the brush she was using at him with such force that it struck him handle first, and there it stuck right on his back, and he never could be rid of it.”

“Ho, ho, ho!” laughed Tito. “And where did the giraffe get his long neck?”

“Oh, that is easy,” said Jocko. “He was so big-feeling and so haughty he would not look at the other animals, and it stretched his neck until now he can’t see the ground, so I have been told. I don’t know, of course.”

“He has a very little head, anyway,” said Tito.

“There is very little in it, my dear Tito,” said Jocko. And then they both laughed again.

One by one the animals had awakened, but, hearing what was being said, they each hoped to hear something about the other that would offset the fun Jocko was making of them, so they kept still.

“Where did the elephant get his trunk? That is what I should most like to hear about,” said Tito.

“Well, that is a long story,” said Jocko. “It seems that it really was only a nose to begin with, and not much of a nose at that, so I have heard it said, but because he was so big he thought he was the boss of the jungle, where he lived, and he went about poking his nose into every place he could find to see what was going on. They used to call him Old Nosey, I have been told, and he had such big ears that what he did not see he heard, so every one disliked him, but it took Old Man Crocodile to cure him of his bad habit.”

“What did he do to Mr. Elephant?” asked Tito, excitedly.

“I’ll tell you,” said Jocko. “One day Mr. Elephant was walking by the water when he saw something queer-looking sticking out of the water.

“Mr. Elephant had to know what it was, so he poked it with his nose, and, zip! it had him right by the nose, and held him, too.

“My, how he did yell, I was told, but Old Man Crocodile would not let go. He held right on tight.

“Mr. Elephant pulled and cried, ‘Let go!’ and the harder he pulled the harder Old Man Crocodile pulled, until Mr. Elephant had that nose you see on him now called a trunk.

“By and by Old Man Crocodile had to catch his breath, and he let go, and down sat Mr. Elephant on the ground with a bang.

“Old Man Crocodile began to cry and say how sorry he was that he had grabbled Mr. Elephant--that he had no idea he was hurting a friend. He thought it was a hunter, and would Mr. Elephant please forgive him this once!--he would never do it again.”

“Is there where Old Man Crocodile got his tears?” asked Tito.

“That is how he began to cry,” said Jocko.

“Ho, ho, ho!” they both laughed, and then a terrible roar and trumpeting and all sorts of cries went up from the animals, for Mr. Elephant could not keep quiet when he heard what Jocko said about his trunk.

When Mr. Elephant began to trumpet Mr. Lion began to roar, and Jocko and Tito fled to the back of their cage and huddled together, trembling with fright.

“They can’t get us,” said Jocko. “Let them talk and scream. I guess we woke them up talking and laughing.”

The other animals made such a noise that the keepers came running to see what had happened, but, of course, they did not understand a thing they told them about the awful stories Jocko had told about them, and so all they could do was to give them a drink of water or a biscuit, hoping they would be quiet.

Far into the morning the animals scolded and told Jocko what they thought of him, but Tito and Jocko fell asleep in spite of the noise and Tito laughed in his dreams about the funny things Jocko had told him.

WHY RABBITS HAVE SHORT TAILS

Bunny Rabbit was sitting in his yard one day, thinking very hard, when his grandfather came along.

“Why are you so quiet and sober, grandson?” he inquired.

“I am wondering, grandfather,” said Bunny, “why we have such long ears and so short a tail. I should think it would be much better if it were just the other way about.”

“Of course; of course,” said Grandfather Rabbit, bobbing his ears back and forth. “We all think we could have made a better rabbit if we had been consulted. But let me tell you why your tail is short and your ears are long, and then you will learn you are better off now than was your great-grandfather’s great-grandfather, who had a long tail and short ears.”

It did not take Bunny Rabbit long to find a nice soft seat for his grandfather and to sit close and very still, with his ears sticking up to listen, for he dearly loved the stories his grandfather told.

“Once upon a time,” began Grandfather Rabbit, just as all grandfathers begin a story--“a long, long time ago there lived in some woods a rabbit. He had a long tail and short ears, just as all the rabbits in those days had.

“One day he ran over the hill to the garden where Mr. Man lived. He should have been very careful, but he wasn’t, and when he was crawling under the rail fence around the garden didn’t Mr. Dog see him and begin to bark and chase Short Ears, as he was called.

“Short Ears was a good runner, and it was lucky he was or there would be an end to this story right here. Through the garden he ran under cover of the vegetable leaves, and when he got out he was a good bit ahead of Mr. Dog.

“Over the field they ran, and under the stone wall went Short Ears and over it went Mr. Dog. Down the road they ran lickety split, and into his house ran Short Ears just as Mr. Dog came into the yard.

“Short Ears had no time to lose, I can tell you. He slammed the door, and what do you suppose happened?”

Bunny Rabbit was so interested in his grandfather’s story he only started; he did not answer at all. So his grandfather went on.

“Why, Short Ears slammed that door right on his long tail, and there he was held fast, with his tail hanging outside.”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” cried Bunny Rabbit, feeling of his stubby little tail, to be sure it was safe behind him.

“What did poor Short Ears do then?” he asked.

“He could not do a thing, for there was Mr. Dog right in the yard and running straight for the door,” said Grandfather Rabbit.

Bunny Rabbit sat closer to his grandfather and his ears grew longer as he listened.

“Yes,” said Grandfather Rabbit, “Short Ears was in a bad fix, as you can see. He could not open the door to get his tail out, because Mr. Dog would come in and catch him.

“He did not have long to think about it, for the very next thing he knew Mr. Dog grabbed at his tail and off it came right up to the door. And off he ran. For, you see, he thought he had Short Ears on the end of the tail, and he did not stop to look. He just ran.

“When his tail broke off, over went Short Ears on the floor, for that set him free. ‘Oh dear! Oh dear! What shall I do?’ he cried, when he jumped up and looked in the mirror and saw that his long tail was gone and all that remained was a little stubby tail, just like yours.

“First he ran to the medicine-closet and got some salve and a soft piece of cloth. But he found he could not reach the end of his tail--it was too short.

“His first thought was to run over to his cousin Rabbit’s house, not far-off, but when he started toward the door he remembered Mr. Dog.

“Short Ears leaned his head to the crack in the door and listened hard. His ears were short, you remember, but not so short but that he heard Mr. Dog barking.

“Nearer and nearer came the bark. Short Ears locked the door and ran to the windows and fastened them and drew the shades, and then he ran into the closet and closed the door.

“Away back he crept under his Sunday clothes, where he was sure no one would find him, and there he sat and listened and listened and listened.

“Mr. Dog barked and jumped about outside the house, for he was very much upset when he found that he did not have Short Ears on the end of the tail he carried off.

“But it was no use. He could not get into Short Ears’s house, and at last he gave it up and ran off home, barking all the way.

“Short Ears listened, and though Mr. Dog’s tones grew fainter and fainter, Short Ears was surprised to find he could hear the barking, though it was a long way off.

“After it was dark he came out of the closet and crept into his bed without even thinking of the end of his tail, he was so tired and worn out listening.

“And now what do you think had happened to him, and what do you think he saw when he looked in the mirror in the morning to brush his hair?”

Bunny Rabbit shook his head. “I don’t know, grandfather,” he said. “What had happened to Short Ears?”

“His ears had grown long, he had listened so hard to the barking of Mr. Dog,” said Grandfather Rabbit. “And from that day all the Rabbit family have had short tails and long ears, which is just as it should be, for we can hear Mr. Dog a long way off, and we do not have the bother of looking after a long tail when we run to cover. So don’t wish to have yours changed again, for you see now that you are better off than poor Short Ears was, don’t you?”

Bunny Rabbit said he did, and that he should never wish for a long tail and short ears again. And he didn’t.

THE HUNTER’S FRIEND, JOHNNIE BEAR

In a hut on the side of a mountain lived an old hunter all alone. He had only one room, which was very scantily furnished, and he cooked his meals in a fireplace. In the fireplace was a big hook where he hung his kettle, and he cooked his meat by holding it between two sticks over the coals.

You need not pity this old man, for he would rather eat his food cooked in this way than in any other. He had a bunk built in the room about half-way up the wall, where he had to climb a ladder to reach it, and when he went to bed he covered himself with a big bearskin. Beside the bunk a gun hung on the wall where he could quickly reach it if it were needed. Across the door at night he fastened a big bar, for he did not intend that any one should enter while he was asleep.

The old hunter had set a trap by his door, and one morning he found a baby bear caught in it by the left hind paw. He very carefully opened the trap and took the little fellow out. Then he took Johnnie Bear, as he named him, into his cabin and very carefully washed the poor cut foot and bound it up with some healing salve.

Johnnie Bear seemed to know that the hunter was helping him, and he did not bite or try to get away. He made a funny little noise like a baby when it is hurt. Then the hunter warmed some milk and put it in a bottle, which he gave to the bear. Johnnie Bear took the bottle in both his paws and held it to his mouth and drank the milk very greedily. Then the hunter fixed a bed for him and put a log on the fire to keep the place warm while he went for a hunting trip.

Johnnie Bear slept all day, and when the hunter returned at night he tried to run to meet him, but his poor foot hurt him so he had to lie down again. Several weeks passed before Johnnie Bear’s foot became quite well, and he always limped, because the trap had cut so deep.

The little fellow became very fond of the hunter and would run to meet him at night, and when the hunter brought in his game Johnnie Bear would poke it over with his nose and paw, as though to tell the hunter that he had done well.

One day he did not run to meet the hunter, and when night came he did not come to his supper. The old hunter began looking around the cabin and he found the footprints of two bears. One was Johnnie Bear’s, which he could tell by the light mark which the lame foot made, and the other was of a big bear, which had enticed Johnnie back into the woods. The hunter felt very lonely and looked for Johnnie every day for a long time, but after a year had gone by he gave up all hope of ever seeing Johnnie again.

A long time after this the hunter was going through a part of the wood that was filled with bushes and vines and in some way his foot became entangled and he fell, breaking his arm. His gun fell some distance from him, and as he went to pick it up he saw a big mother bear with two cubs coming toward him. She was growling and showing her teeth and the hunter felt that he had little chance for escape from a fight, and with his right arm broken he wondered how the fight might come out.

He braced himself against a tree and waited for the bear to come up. He held his gun in his left hand, intending to use it to beat her off as long as possible. Just then another bear came in sight and the poor hunter gave up all hope. But all at once the first bear stopped and looked at the other bear, then suddenly walked toward him. Both stood and looked at the hunter, who did not move. Suddenly the second bear growled strangely and the first bear walked away with the two cubs. Then the second bear came nearer, and as he walked the hunter saw that he limped. It was Johnnie Bear, and in some unknown tongue he had sent the other bear away and saved the hunter’s life. He did not come any nearer the hunter, but only looked at him, as though to say, “You saved my life once, now I have paid my debt to you.” Then he limped away in the direction the other bears had gone. Perhaps the mother bear was Johnnie’s wife and the cubs were their children.

Who can tell?

PLAID TROUSERS

Mr. Tim Coon had a pair of red-and-green plaid trousers and that was what made everybody in the woods envious.

But there was one who not only was envious--he was very jealous of his rights--and that one was Mr. Fox.

For Mr. Fox thought, and so did every one else in the woods, that he was the very smartest and nattiest fellow around until Tim Coon came along with those red-and-green plaid trousers.

Mr. Fox at first did not bother much about the trousers, for he felt sure that in a short time he could persuade Tim Coon to part with them, but here he was mistaken, as time proved.

Mr. Fox had called on Tim every day. He had carried the fattest hen or duck, and even two fat chickens, and each time he hinted that he might part with each or any of them if he were offered the right thing.

But Tim Coon was well supplied with the season’s good things to eat and would not offer anything worth having.

And that was the reason that Mr. Fox sat on his steps one morning in deep thought while he smoked his old corncob pipe.

While he was thinking his eyes happened to alight upon a piece of paper on which there was some printing, and then he saw the word WOOL in big letters.

“Wool?” thought Mr. Fox; “that is what those red-and-green trousers are; all wool, Tim Coon says.”

Mr. Fox got up from the steps and picked up the paper. He began to read, and as he read his eyes grew big. The more he read the bigger they grew, and at last he became so interested he dropped his pipe from his mouth without noticing it.

Mr. Fox read all the printing. Then he crumpled up the paper and threw it into the bushes.

“If he only would get them soiled,” he said, “the rest would be easy; he would be sure to ask my advice.

“I know what I will do,” he said, starting for his barn. “I’ll paint the seat of my rocking-chair; he loves to sit in that.”

Pretty soon Mr. Fox had his rocking-chair painted a nice shiny black, and then he sat down to watch for Tim Coon, who always passed by about that time. He did not have to wait long before Tim came along, wearing the plaid trousers. “Come in, Tim, and have a smoke,” said Mr. Fox, in his most polite manner.

Mr. Fox went to the closet to get a pipe for Tim, and, just as he expected, down sat Tim Coon in the rocking-chair right on the wet paint.

“Oh dear, oh dear, how sorry I am!” said Mr. Fox, hurrying to Tim.

“Get up quick, Tim! I just painted that chair. I hope you have not got it on your plaid trousers.”

Mr. Fox’s eyes twinkled as he got behind poor Tim to look at the seat of his trousers, but that, of course, Tim Coon did not see, and when Mr. Fox told him there was a big black spot, but that he felt sure he could tell him just how to get it out, Tim thought he was a very kind fellow.

“Don’t you bother at all, Tim. I read the other day just how to wash woolen garments. It said it was sure and safe, so I will help you, for I really feel to blame; I ought to have remembered that rocker was freshly painted.

“First, I must get you some white soap, and as I have none in the house I shall have to run over to Mr. Man’s and get some; he has everything in his house.”

Tim Coon thought Mr. Fox was the very kindest fellow he knew, and he ran right home to take off the trousers and wait for Mr. Fox to return.