Part 3

Who’s the bravest in this land? She who holds in her right hand The long lost precious story; She’s the bravest in this land.

Then Mary Frances remembered, and stepped forward with the story.

She was met by a beautiful young lady, who introduced herself as the Story Lady, and a small company of story people, who led her to the castle of the King and Queen of Story Island. They took her into the court, where the rulers sat in state.

“Welcome!” said the Story King, rising.

“Welcome!” said the Story Queen, rising.

Then the King made a speech.

“You have done us a great service, young friend,” he said; “and we hope to do something for you to show how much we appreciate it.”

“Sir,” said Mary Frances, handing him the bottle, “if it had not been for the dolphin and the cat, I never could have found the story.”

“The dolphin has been rewarded,” said the Story King; “he has had his head cut off----”

“Oh,” cried Mary Frances, “the poor, dear dolphin!”

“And has been turned again into a prince!” added the Story Queen. “He was the prince who kissed the Sleeping Beauty, and was under the spell of the old witch outside the chain curtain.”

“And the cat has been rewarded,” said the King. “He has charge of all the cats and kittens in all the stories ever told, or ever-to-be-told.”

This made Mary Frances happy, for she knew the cat would love that charge.

“Now,” said the Story King, “if you are not too tired, we will get over the business of trying the pirate and the witch!”

“I am not tired, thank you,” said Mary Frances, “for I slept three hundred and sixty-five days and nights on my way here.”

“Good!” said the King. “Please have this seat,” and he led her to a deep blue velvet chair.

The King then touched a button under the table, and a door opened.

In came a large man with a large beard. Mary Frances knew him at once. He was Blue Beard. He was trembling terribly.

“Fetch in the pirate, Blue Beard,” ordered the King.

Blue Beard bowed and left the room. Soon there came the clanging of chains, and Blue Beard led the pirate into the room, all wound up in a great section of the iron-chain curtain. He was dreadfully pale and very angry. His mouth was frothing and his breath was coming out of his nostrils like smoke.

He glowered at Mary Frances as though he would like to bite her, but she was not afraid.

“Behave!” said the King. “You cannot frighten a person who has been so brave as to part the iron-chain curtain. If she had been afraid of the old witch, the curtain would not have parted, and all the children in the world would have been still waiting for new stories.”

He turned to the Queen. “Have you a fitting punishment, my dear?” he asked.

“I have,” said the Queen, very solemnly. “It is this: the pirate shall _never again hear a story or read a story_!”

On hearing his fate the pirate screamed, “Anything rather than that! Please have mercy!” And he fell down in a dead faint.

Blue Beard dragged him out. Immediately after, the King ordered the old witch in.

“Tell the story of the lost story,” ordered the King.

“Oh, S-Sir,” stammered the old witch, “Oh, S-Sir, the pirate st-stole it, and took it on his sh-ship, and I st-stole it from him and put it in a bottle, and was going to bring it back, but I lost it overboard in a st-storm. I didn’t want the pirate to know I took it, for he would have beaten me to death.”

“Why did you try to take it from this young lady?” asked the Queen.

The old witch hung her head. “Because I wanted to keep it for my-s-self,” she said.

“Well, what shall her punishment be, my dear?” asked the King.

“She shall be punished by never hearing the end of a story,” declared the Queen. “_Only to the middle of a story shall she hear--never to the end._”

Then the old witch gave a loud shriek, and ran out of the room as fast as she could. The King sent a giant after her, and had him lock both the pirate and the old witch up in big iron baskets, and carry them off to the end of Snowwhere.

“And now, my dear,” said the King, “what is to be our dear little friend’s reward?”

“Two rewards shall be hers,” replied the Queen. “One is that she shall know that all the children of the world can have new stories every day; and the other is that she can stay with us for a visit and hear all the stories she wishes to hear.”

“Very good,” said the King. “Let us now hear the lost story.” And all the Story People sat down to form a double circle.

With that the Story Lady, dressed like a butterfly, came dancing in. The King opened the green bottle, took out the roll of paper and handed it to her. She took her place at the end just where the circle closed, and began to read aloud the lost story, which is entitled “The Bubble Story.”

X

THE BUBBLE STORY

LILLA walked through the garden, saying--

“I should like to be a princess,” for she had been reading a story about a princess who had only to say “Come,” and anything she wished for came at once.

It was a hot summer day, and she sat down on a mossy bank under an elm tree thinking what she should wish for if she had the power of the princess. All at once the garden seemed strange to her, and she heard a voice saying:

“If you take a rose from me You will then a princess be.”

She looked up and saw an aster growing in a green flower-pot which she had never seen before; and on one of the flowers was perched a tiny fairy.

“And you can have everything you can wish for except one thing. If you wish for that you will lose the rose.”

“And what is that?” asked Lilla, taking the rose which the fairy offered her.

“You must never ask for soap bubbles.”

“Oh, soap bubbles? Of course, I shall not wish for them!” said Lilla.

“Whenever you want anything,” said the fairy, “just say:

“Rose, Rose, bring to me Everything I wish to see.”

“You will be a princess as long as you keep the rose. But you must never ask for soap bubbles. Good-by; now I must go back to my home.”

So the fairy went to Fairyland, and Lilla went home; but no one knew her, because she was now a princess with long hair and a golden crown.

“I will go up to the castle on the hill,” thought Lilla; “princesses go there to stay.”

At the castle they were expecting a princess, so they thought Lilla must be the one who was coming, and they gave her a grand room, all hung with velvet curtains, to sleep in. On the table was a silver box which Lilla thought just right to keep her rose in.

“Now, I shall try what I can do with my rose,” thought Lilla. So she thought of a box of toys, and said:

“Rose, Rose, bring to me Everything I wish to see.”

Scarcely had she spoken when a maid came to say that a box had come for her.

When the box was opened, Lilla saw so many pretty things that she thought she would like a Christmas tree to hang them on, and again she said:

“Rose, Rose, bring to me Everything I wish to see.”

And in a few minutes a Christmas tree arrived hung all over with gold and silver drops, and colored lights, and bonbons, and still more bonbons, and gifts of all kinds.

The people at the castle had never seen such a beautiful Christmas tree, and they were delighted with the gifts which Lilla divided among them.

Day after day Lilla asked her rose for something new, and every day more and more beautiful things came, till not only her own room, but the whole castle was full of them.

She gave them away to every one, for she soon grew tired of them.

Every day she was trying to think of something she did not have, but at last there seemed nothing left to wish for.

That was when she began to long for--soap bubbles, which were the only things she must not have.

“But how beautiful thousands of soap bubbles would look, floating about in the sunshine with rainbow colors upon them,” she thought.

She could think of nothing else, and grew quite sad because she could not ask for soap bubbles.

So one day, she went into the garden, taking her rose with her. “Shall I ask? or shall I not?” she kept thinking, but she could not make up her mind.

So she counted on the buttons of her dress.

“Yes; no; yes; no; yes; no; My mother told me to say-- Yes; no.”

“Oh, dear,” sighed Lilla, “I wanted it to come, ‘yes’--I am going to ask for them!”

So she said the magic rhyme:

“Rose, Rose, bring to me Everything I wish to see.”

But no soap bubbles came. She looked all around the garden, even up in the branches of the trees, but no bubbles were to be seen.

Then she grew impatient; she took the rose, and said:

“Rose, Rose, bring to me Everything I wish to see.”

Then suddenly the air was filled with soap bubbles; little ones, big ones, floated all over the garden.

“Oh, aren’t they lovely!” cried Lilla, holding out her arms to catch some; and then a bubble larger than the others opened, and closed around the golden rose, and lifted it out of her hand, floated quickly away with it, higher, higher, higher, until Lilla could no longer see it.

She watched and watched until only two soap bubbles were to be seen; then she sank on her knees, and stretched out her hands after them.

But it was too late; her rose was gone, the bubbles were gone, and she was no longer a princess. Her hair was as short as it ever had been, and her crown had disappeared.

It was of no use to return to the castle now, as the people would not know her. Where should she go? What could she do? She was so worried that she cried aloud, and you can imagine how glad she was to hear her own mother’s voice saying:

“Lilla, dear, you must have fallen asleep. Come, wake up! Tell mother about your dream.”

“Why, mother, it was just like a story,” said Lilla, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

Then she told her mother all about it.

“A very pretty story,” said her mother, “and one that shows you that people who can have almost everything they wish for, are not really happier than others. There is always something just out of their reach, and that makes them discontented with what they have.”

“Yes, even soap bubbles,” said Lilla, laughing.

* * * * *

“That’s a good story--too good to be lost,” said the Story King, when the Story Lady finished.

“Yes, but we have better, and you shall hear some of them to-morrow,” said the Story Queen to Mary Frances, smiling graciously.

Then to the people she announced:

“There will be a reception in the court of honor this evening to our visitor, Mary Frances, the finder of the lost story. As it is now dark, let every one retire and prepare.”

Then all the people applauded, formed in line and marched out, each bowing to the King, Queen and Mary Frances, who stood rather timidly in her place with the Story Lady beside her.

After the others were gone, the Story Lady turned to her and said:

“The Queen has planned for you to be in my charge during your visit, and all you wish to see or hear is at your command.”

“How kind, and how perfectly lovely!” exclaimed Mary Frances, clapping her hands. “I couldn’t possibly wish for anything I would rather have than to be with you!”

This pleased the Story Lady greatly, and she led the way to their apartments.

I wish I had the time and space to tell you more about the wonderful and delightful reception--how Mary Frances stood in line with the King and Queen, and was introduced to all the people of the island as a distinguished visitor whose deed would never be forgotten as long as stories were told.

But if I were to relate all they said and did this book would not hold one-quarter of the stories which the Story Lady had planned for Mary Frances to hear.

The revels continued far into the night; and when at last they ended, Mary Frances retired to her apartment, excited and happy. As the Story Lady kissed her good-night, she said:

“To-morrow will be the first day.”

STORIES TOLD THE FIRST DAY

MISCHIEVOUS ANNA AND PETER.--DIAMONDS AND TOADS.--THE MAGIC NECKLACE.--THE CAT AND THE CARROTS.--THE BRAHMIN, THE TIGER, AND THE JACKAL.--THE RED DRAGON.--TWO POEMS.--TINY’S ADVENTURES IN TINYTOWN.--MORE ADVENTURES.

STORIES TOLD THE FIRST DAY

XI

MISCHIEVOUS ANNA AND PETER

NOW, you must know that the Story People met at a certain hour every day to hear and to tell stories, new and old; for, as you may well believe, it is no small task to provide stories enough to feed the story-hungry children of the world.

Accordingly, when all were assembled, the Story King in his place, and Mary Frances in the seat of honor beside the Story Queen, the Story Lady began to tell the story of Mischievous Anna and Peter.

* * * * *

Anna and Peter were always in mischief. One day they climbed to the top of a high wall. It was a fairy wall, and it grew higher and higher, until at last it went so high that they got frightened, for they did not know how they should get down again. So they held tight by each other and the wall, and began to cry.

But no one heard them. For they were far away from home; besides, they were as high up in the air as the top of a mountain.

“Oh! oh! oh!” sobbed Anna.

“Oh! oh! oh!” sobbed Peter.

And their eyes were red and their faces quite wet and dirty.

“I shall fall,” said Peter.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” said Anna. And then they both sobbed “Oh! oh! oh!” again.

Then they heard a voice saying, “Oh! oh! oh!” after them. Only it was not any one crying, for the “oh! oh! oh!” had a very sweet sound.

They could not look round, for they dared not move their heads, and they dared not look down for fear of getting dizzy. But the voice seemed to be coming nearer. And so it was, for a fairy gate, with a tree beside it, and a little bit of ground to stand upon, was shooting up into the air just as the wall had done. And when it was as high as the wall it stopped, and Peter and Anna saw that a boy was leaning against the gate. He was playing on a whistle-pipe, and that made the sound they had heard.

“I will play you a tune,” said the boy. And he played so softly and sweetly that Peter and Anna left off crying.

“How did you come up?” asked Anna.

“On the gate,” said the boy.

“How are you going down?” asked Peter.

“On the gate, to be sure,” said the boy; “I have only to say--

“Gate, gate, let me go Far down to the earth below.”

And as he said the words, down he went.

“Let us also try,” said Anna.

“Wall, wall, let us go Far down to the earth below.”

Then down went the wall to the ground, and Peter and Anna slid off, and stood staring at the boy, who was still playing on his pipe.

“What do you want most?” asked the boy. “My pipe will bring anything I ask for.”

“A silk frock with a flounce and a sash, and a bonnet with blue ribbons,” said Anna, who was fond of fine clothes.

“A new suit and pair of leather reins to play at horses with,” said Peter.

The boy played a lively tune, and before Anna could say “ready,” she found herself dressed in a fine new frock; while Peter had the reins in his hands, and a new suit of clothes with a great frill and a round hat.

Then the boy said “Good-by,” and Peter and Anna went towards home.

“I will go this way,” said Peter.

“I will go that,” said Anna.

So they parted.

Anna, as she walked along, heard little feet behind her; and when she reached the steps leading to her home she looked round, and what was her surprise when she saw a large mouse dressed like a lady, with a parasol in its hand.

“I am the Countess Mouse Coming to your house; With you I’ll stay Every day,”

said the mouse.

Now Anna was afraid of mice, and she said, “But I do not want you; besides, we have a large cat that will eat you up.”

“No, it will not; I am a fairy mouse, and can eat up the cat if I please.”

Anna was much frightened; this was truly a dreadful mouse.

“Go away! Oh, go away!” she said.

“No,” answered the mouse; “as long as you wear my clothes I shall stay with you and take care of them.”

“They are not yours,” said Anna; “a boy with a whistle-pipe gave them to me.”

“But he piped to me for them,” said the mouse; “I have wardrobes full in my castle. You are quite welcome to them; but I must see that you do not spoil them. I shall sit by you at dinner, and play with you, and walk out with you, and sleep on your pillow at night.”

“Oh dear! oh dear!” said Anna; “I wish I had never asked for a silk frock and bonnet.”

“Shall I take them back?”

“Oh yes! oh yes! please, Countess Mouse, Take them all back to your house.”

“Well, as you have made a rhyme, I will do so,” said the mouse, and she slapped Anna’s arm sharply with her parasol. Then Anna’s new clothes fell off, and she found herself in her old cotton dress again. And the mouse grew larger and larger, and ran away to her castle with the silk frock and the grand bonnet.

Now while this was happening to Anna a queer-looking man in a peaked hat and long overcoat said to Peter, “Shall I be your horse?”

“Yes,” said Peter. And the man took the reins, and they went along merrily enough.

When they were close by his home, Peter said, “I am going in here.”

But the man said--

“No, no, you are going with me; These are my reins, you cannot get free.”

“They cannot be yours,” said Peter; “a boy with a whistle-pipe gave them to me.”

“Ah, but he got them from me! I am a saddler, and have hundreds of them. And I want some little boys to help me to make more.”

“I don’t want to go,” said Peter.

But he could not loose the reins, and the man pulled him along faster and faster.

“Oh! oh! oh! I should be glad If these reins I hadn’t had,”

said Peter.

“As you have made a rhyme,” said the man, “I’ll take them back, and you may go home.”

Then the man hit Peter sharply with one end of the reins, and his new suit fell off, and he found himself in his old pinafore.

Then Peter went home and told Anna what had happened to him; and Anna told Peter all about the mouse, and they both thought that they had had a lucky escape.

Just then the boy with the pipe came down the street. And the pipe played these words--

“Keep out of mischief; you never know What may come to cause you woe; What you may think is very good fun, May give you trouble before you’ve done.”

Then the boy turned round the corner of the street, and Anna and Peter never saw him again.

* * * * *

“My, but the mouse must have looked cunning!” Mary Frances said. “Thank you for telling me that story. I--I wish----”

“Would you like to hear another--about Isabella and her cruel stepsisters?” asked the Story Lady.

“I should love to hear it!” replied Mary Frances.

The story people smiled and nodded, and the Story Lady proceeded.

XII

DIAMONDS AND TOADS

ONCE upon a time there was a dear little girl named Isabella. She lived with her father, and her stepmother, and her two stepsisters.

Isabella was a pretty child and had sweet manners. Her stepsisters were not pretty, and they and their mother were jealous of Isabella.

They seldom spoke kindly to her; they made her do the hard work of the home, and treated her in a harsh manner, very much as Cinderella’s stepmother and stepsisters treated Cinderella.

One of her hard duties was to fetch the water for the household from the well just outside the village.

It was quite a long walk to the well, and after Isabella had worked all the morning, cooking, and washing the dishes, and washing and ironing, or sweeping, she felt sometimes that she was too tired to go so far and carry home such a heavy load.

One day after washing and ironing, she said, “I wish one of you girls would go with me to the well to-day, and help me bring back the water. I am so tired.”

“Indeed, they shall not!” exclaimed her stepmother angrily. “What do you think--that my daughters shall wait on you?”

“I do not care to get tanned in the sun,” yawned one.

“I do not wish my hands to look as though I work,” said the other haughtily.

So Isabella set out alone. She sat down to rest several times on her way, but after a while she reached the well. It was an old-fashioned affair, and had a moss-covered bucket on a long chain which wound on a roller. It was not hard work to drop the bucket down the well, but it was hard work to turn the handle of the roller until the dripping bucket reached the top. It was still harder work to empty the bucket into the pail she carried.

This day, when Isabella came to the well there was an old woman sitting on the well-curb. She was a wretched-looking old woman. She wore an old shawl about her head and shoulders.

When she saw Isabella she said, “Good-morrow, little maid.”

“Good morning,” said the little girl. “How do you do?”

“I should do very well, thank you,” said the old woman, “if I had a drink of water.”

“That you shall soon have,” said Isabella, forgetting her own tiredness because she felt sorry for her.

Isabella soon had the well bucket up, filled her pail, and then held it so that the thirsty woman could drink out of the side. She drank long and eagerly.

“Thank you,” she said at length. “Dear child, you will never be sorry for your kindness;” and she rose and walked away.

Isabella threw away the rest of the water, and after refilling her pail, set out for home.

When she reached the house, her stepmother said, “You are late! Where have you been?”

Isabella opened her mouth to answer--and what do you think happened? Out fell diamonds and roses.

Quickly the stepmother called her daughters and they began to sweep them up.

“Where have you been?” cried the stepsisters. “What has happened to you?”

Isabella tried to think what could have brought such a thing about, for she was as much surprised as any of them, but she could not think of anything unusual except the meeting with the old woman.

“Speak!” demanded her stepmother. “Are you trying to hide something from us?”

Isabella said that she had met a strange old lady at the well, but that she could not remember anything else that had not happened every time she had gone for water.

Every once in a while as she was speaking diamonds and roses fell from her mouth.

“You need not go for the water the next time,” said her stepmother. “I shall send my own girls.”

The next day the two stepsisters went to fetch the water.

When they came to the well, there sat the old ragged woman on the curb.

“Good-morrow, young maidens,” said the old woman.

The stepsisters just stared at her.

“My, it is a warm day,” said the old woman, “and I am very thirsty. Will you give me a drink of water?”

“Indeed, we will not!” said the older one haughtily.

“The very idea!” exclaimed the younger one, looking at the old woman’s ragged clothes. “I should think not!”

Then they drew the water, all the time complaining and groaning about the hard work.

When they started to go home, the old woman spoke.

“You are not kind,” she said, “you will be sorry.” But they only laughed and hurried away.

Their mother met them at the door.

“Well, my dears,” she said, “how fared you? Did you meet any good fortune?”

“All we saw was an old woman at the well--such a ragged, wretched old thing she was, too!” answered one girl.

“And she wanted us to give her a drink of water. The idea!” the other girl said at the same time.

With the last words, out of their mouths fell several snakes and toads, which went scudding across the floor.

Their mother screamed and, gathering her skirts about her, jumped on a chair.

“Oh, where have you been?” she cried. “What has happened to you?”

And when the girls told her that they did not know, more snakes and toads fell from their mouths.

“This is an outrage!” exclaimed their mother. “Isabella has formed some terrible plot against you. She is to blame! Go bring her here, and I shall punish her. I shall whip her until she tells us the charm she has found.”

The girls ran out, and soon came back dragging Isabella between them.