Part 9

But the most surprising thing was that, although it hopped along with the most wonderful strides and jumps over the rough places in its path, it did not spill one single drop of water in its progress. This puzzled Patty, who, with her utmost care, could never avoid wetting her dress whenever she had tried to run with the pitcher, even half full.

“What will people think when we get into the village?” thought Patty, as she looked at her strange companion; “I’m sure they will be frightened, and what will father and mother say when they see what I have brought home with me?”

“Do not trouble yourself about that,” said the pitcher, who seemed to know her thoughts; “your parents will soon get accustomed to me, and be much pleased when they see how handy I am, for you do not yet know half of my good qualities.”

As he was speaking, they came to a very high stile. “Shall I help you over?” said Patty, thinking of his short legs.

“Oh, dear, no,” said the pitcher; “see how little I need it.” And, so saying, he skipped over the stile in the most graceful manner. As he did so, a dog who was passing put his tail between his legs, and after two or three very weak barks, scurried off in evident fright and surprise.

A man was at the same time coming along the road with a slow and pompous walk--for he was the squire of the village--who, upon seeing the strange pitcher clear the stile, was rendered almost speechless with amazement; but as soon as he saw the little legs speeding toward him, he uttered one loud exclamation of terror, and fled!

His hat flew one way, his cane another, and his cloak mounted into the air like wings. Being very fat, however, he had not gone far before his legs failed him, and he lay kicking in a furze bush, roaring for help. Patty could not help laughing at the sight, but the pitcher, trotting on with the greatest unconcern, soon reached the cottage door to the astonishment of Patty’s parents.

The pitcher walked quietly into the cottage, and sat down in a corner, tucking its legs carefully under it, so that no one could see them. The neighbors, therefore, who had been alarmed at the squire’s account of his fright and disaster, and came to the cottage in crowds, only saw a pitcher, such as they all had at home, and put the old squire down as being a little bit out of his mind.

Patty was awakened next morning by hearing a noise below, as if someone was very busy with the furniture. She heard the chairs pushed about, and presently the handle of a pail klink down as plain as could be. So she put on her clothes and crept down stairs. She peeped cautiously through the red curtains at the bottom, and there, to her wondering surprise, she saw, what do you think?--not any thieves, but the astonishing pitcher; and what do you think it was doing? Why, it was mopping up the red tiles of the floor as handily as if it had never done anything else all the days of its life; and more wonderful still, the fire was made, and was burning brightly upon the hearth!

We can imagine a pitcher of water washing the floor, but we cannot imagine it doing anything else with a fire except putting it out. But, no! the fire was lighted, the kettle was on, and there it was, merrily singing a little song about breakfast being nearly ready.

“Good morning, dear mistress,” said the pitcher, cheerfully; “you need not trouble yourself to do anything but grow and improve your mind; for from henceforth you will have but little labor to do, as I am here to do it for you.”

You may suppose that Patty was well pleased to hear this, for she was now growing to be a tall girl, and felt a great desire to improve herself with books, which as yet she had had very little time to do, having been so much taken up with her household cares.

When Patty was left alone in the evening with the pitcher, she told him how much she was obliged to him for all he had done, and how much she wished to learn; but did not know what to do for books, as she had read the few she already possessed, many times over.

“Oh, I can soon help you there,” said the pitcher, “for you have only to wish, and I will yield you as much milk as you desire. You can then make butter and cheese, and go sell them at the market town; buy as many books as you like, and have something left for other purposes besides.”

No sooner said than done. Patty set out all the pans she had, and all she could borrow from her kind neighbors, and as fast as they came the pitcher ran about and filled them; so that she soon had plenty of cream for her butter and cheese.

She had only to ask, and a good neighbor lent her a churn, while the pitcher furnished a pair of arms to do the churning, and such butter was produced as had not been seen in the village for many a day. You may suppose that Patty was pleased; and as for her dear old parents, they hardly knew what to make of it all.

The same good neighbor lent her a gentle horse and some baskets; and early one lovely morning, she started for the market-town, to which the pleased pitcher pointed out the way. He did not go with her, as he said the people of the town were not accustomed to see brown pitchers with legs, so he should stay at home and see about making the cheese.

Patty rode cheerfully on her way, looking as happy and handsome as the best farmer’s daughter of them all--so everybody in the market said--and she soon sold all her butter at the very best prices of the day.

And so Patty went on thriving, and doing good to every one in need, until in course of time, she grew into a beautiful and lovable young woman, living in comfort with her old parents in one of the prettiest cottages in the village.

Every one said that she deserved her good fortune; no one envied her; she was loved by young and old; so, as you may well believe, she was happy as the day is long.

_The Well-dressed Stranger_

And now, a wonderful thing came to pass, which changed the whole course of Patty’s simple and contented life. One evening, she was standing in her garden, feeding her pigeons, when a well-dressed stranger approached the gate. After looking at her with admiration for a moment, he bowed gracefully, at the same time removing his plumed hat, and, in the politest manner, inquired the way to the next town.

Patty answered him pleasantly, and as she spoke, the music of her voice and the charming modesty of her manner seemed to strike the young man with surprise and pleasure.

He looked at her intently for a moment, which made Patty’s eyes seek the ground in blushing confusion; then bowing again with greater respect than before, he proceeded slowly on his way, often looking back for another glimpse of sweet Patty.

And now, as you probably guess, the handsome young stranger came again and again, although he knew his way very well indeed between the village and the neighboring town. At last she found that it was the way to her heart he was seeking. He told her parents that he was rich, and wished to have a wife of whom every one spoke well. He did not care how poor she might be, so that she loved him; since he had wealth enough for both, and could choose to marry when and where he pleased.

You must not suppose, however, that Patty fell into the arms of the young stranger at once. He coaxed her a great deal before she consented to be his wife; as she wanted to make sure that he was as upright in character as he was handsome in appearance.

The parents smiled as they looked upon the ardent and handsome lover, whom, however, they did not think a bit too good for their darling Patty; and so, in as short a time as was possible, they were happily married.

Now the stranger who had married Patty was a prince in disguise; and the pretty cottage-girl became a great princess, surrounded with all the splendor of her high station!

Did Patty now forget her early home and her old friend, the pitcher? No, she did not, for the pitcher went with her; but her parents wished to end their days in the peaceful village where they were born. In the splendid state in which she now lived, the pitcher was as useful to her as before, though in a different way. When the poor came to the palace gate, he gave them bread and nourishing soup for their families, for which they daily blessed the kind princess who relieved their wants. So you see the pitcher, although now not called upon to work, still continued, in the name of his mistress, to do good to all around.

_Patty in Trouble_

But, alas! the best of us cannot escape from envious hearts and wicked tongues, and so it befell with Patty. Her dream of happiness was short. Many of the wicked courtiers envied her the love of the people, to whom Patty was endeared by her gentle kindness; and they whispered slanders into the ears of the prince, her husband, who at last, I am sorry to say, was weak enough to listen to them; for they aroused his fears by telling him that she was trying to bribe the people by her charities to rebel against him.

They also said that she was served by evil spirits, and pointed to the good and innocent pitcher as a proof of their wicked tales. Alas for human weakness! The prince at last became convinced of her guilt; and although his heart ached, he had her put into one of the dungeons of the palace; and there poor Patty was left to mourn over the too easy belief of her husband in her guilt.

She did not, however, mourn long, for as night came on, the prison door gently opened, and there, to her great delight, she saw the faithful pitcher, with a bunch of keys in his hand.

“Come,” said he, “let us return to your peaceful home, and show your husband that it is his heart and not his riches that you covet. He will come back to reason and repentance when he finds he has lost you.”

Poor Patty followed him in deep grief; but they had not gone far in their flight, when she perceived with alarm, that they were followed by a band of soldiers. She screamed with fright.

_The Pitcher to the Rescue_

“Be not alarmed, dear mistress,” said the pitcher; “I will soon stop their pursuit.” So saying, he bent over the side of a rock and poured out a cataract of water through the valley in which the soldiers were marching.

Soon the water swelled into huge waves, which swept the soldiers from their path, and compelled them to save their lives by swimming to the nearest land, when, wet and dispirited, they soon returned to their master, the foolish prince.

That night Patty slept once more beneath the sheltering roof of her parents, who, as you may suppose, received their darling with open arms.

She once more found herself in her beloved garden, and the flowers, as you may believe, were often watered with her tears. It was but natural that her thoughts should wander to the home of her husband, and that she should grieve over his cruelty in return for her pure and ardent love. Hope, however, whispered to her, in the midst of her tears, that he would yet learn how false the stories were that had caused not only her unhappiness, but his also. The pitcher, too, was always at her side to give her comfort in her silent sorrow.

And thus days and weeks rolled on, but no news or messenger reached her from her husband. Had he entirely abandoned her? Or did he believe her to have been swept by the torrent that had so nearly drowned his soldiers, who were too busy looking out for their own safety to notice what had become of her?

She hoped that it was so, as that in a measure would excuse him; and even now, he might be mourning her as lost to him forever! For surely, she thought, long ere this the evil tongues must have appeared to him in their true light.

One morning, she rose earlier than usual. She was restless and could not sleep. The pure air was cool and refreshing to her fevered brow. Looking sadly around her, she saw the dear old pitcher trimming the flowers just like an experienced gardener.

“Good morning, dear mistress,” said he, rubbing his hands cheerfully; “you are up betimes to-day, for the sun has hardly yet peeped into the valley. I am glad you are so early afoot. As you see, I am taking extra care with the garden, for I expect visitors to-day!”

“Visitors?” said Patty with an inquiring look.

“Yes, visitors,” said the pitcher, from whose mouth issued a low, chuckling laugh; “I can distinctly hear footsteps in the distance, and they are coming this way. Listen! they are now near enough for mortal ears to hear!”

And so they were; nearer and nearer they came. Presently the figure of a traveler, with a hood over his face, came in sight. He stopped a moment, threw back his hood, and stood, struck with amazement; for it was the prince, her husband, who believed her to be dead--drowned in the valley, after she had escaped from prison!

“This,” said the pitcher, “is the visitor I expected. Believing you to be dead, he has wandered in many lands to cure his grief; and at last ventured to this quiet cottage to see once more the spot where he first had the good fortune to meet you. He has bitterly grieved over the sin he has committed in believing you guilty of coveting his riches, when he alone was all your riches and your delight.

“That you are still alive, is the reward for his sincere repentance. He finds you in your parents’ home where he saw you first, regretting nothing of your past life, except the loss of the husband you love so well.”

The faithful pitcher here ceased speaking. The prince rushed forward with a cry of delight, and knelt at Patty’s feet and begged her forgiveness.

The pitcher, like a discreet friend, placed her hand in his, and went into the cottage.

The prince now happy in his love, which had increased a hundred fold, wished at once to return to his palace; and desired to send forward a messenger, so that he might bring back his recovered wife in triumph. The pitcher, upon this, came out and joined them.

“Prince,” said he, “spare yourself this trouble. I am here to render a last service to my mistress. Since your sincere love now leaves nothing for her to desire, the fairy who appointed me to reward her for the greatest of human virtues--self-denial, now recalls me to her water-palace.”

Behold! As he ceased speaking, jets of sparkling water rose high in the air from his mouth, until the valley was filled by a lovely lake, upon which floated a gilded barge, manned by stout rowers in the prince’s livery, and gay with flags of all colors.

Patty then took an affectionate leave of her parents, and she and her husband stepped into the barge. Still the water flowed from the pitcher’s mouth, until the lake grew into a mighty river, down which they floated until they came in sight of their beautiful home, standing high upon the rocks which bordered the stream.

Hundreds of flags floated from the towers, and booming cannon sent forth a noisy welcome. Crowds of rejoicing people stood to receive their beloved mistress, whose kindness had long ago endeared her to their grateful hearts; and, when at length they landed, the people rushed forward--happy if they even succeeded in kissing the hem of her garment.

After that Patty lived many years in peace and prosperity; but the magic pitcher was seen no more, for Patty was happy, and its loving task was done.

* * * * *

As the Story Lady ceased speaking, the actors vanished from the magic circle into thin air.

“Oh, I wish I could learn to tell stories like that!” exclaimed Mary Frances.

“You can,” said the Story King, heartily; “for you have come to the home of good story-tellers.”

“Yes, you can, my dear, because you love stories,” said the Story Queen.

“And for that reason you will always be young,” added the Story King; “for good story-tellers never grow old.”

“It seems too good to be true; the Story Lady is so wonderful,” returned Mary Frances.

This outspoken admiration pleased the Story People very much, for they were very proud of their Story Lady.

Now the Ready Writer folded the copies of the five stories; stepped up with a funny little bow and handed them to their guest as before; and that was the end of the Second Day.

THE STORIES OF THE THIRD DAY

SIR GALAHAD

KING ARTHUR AND THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.--GALAHAD RECEIVES THE ORDER OF KNIGHTHOOD.--THE ADVENTURE OF THE SWORD IN THE STONE.--SIR GALAHAD SITS IN THE PERILOUS SEAT.--SIR GALAHAD WINS THE SWORD OF BALIN LE SAVAGE.--THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE SET OUT IN QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.--SIR GALAHAD FINDS A WHITE SHIELD WITH A RED CROSS.--SIR LAUNCELOT AND SIR PERCIVAL ATTACK SIR GALAHAD.--THE ADVENTURE OF THE GENTLEWOMAN, THE MYSTERIOUS SHIP, AND THE SWORD OF THE STRANGE BELT.--THE GENTLEWOMAN RISKS HER LIFE FOR ANOTHER.--SIR GALAHAD MEETS A KNIGHT IN WHITE ARMOR.--SIR GALAHAD ACHIEVES HIS QUEST, AND BEARS THE HOLY GRAIL ACROSS THE SEA.--THE PASSING OF SIR GALAHAD, THE END OF SIR PERCIVAL, AND THE RETURN OF SIR BORS TO CAMELOT.--HOW SIR LAUNFAL ACHIEVED THE HOLY GRAIL.

THE STORIES OF THE THIRD DAY

XXV

SIR GALAHAD

_King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table_

WHEN the Story People were assembled on the third day, the Story Lady began:

In the early days of Britain there lived a noble king, Arthur, and his brave knights of the Round Table. The king and his knights were famous for their feats of arms, their deeds of valor, and their many adventures. Among them none was nobler and braver than King Arthur, until Galahad came; but Galahad surpassed them all, because he accomplished the feat in which so many failed--he conquered himself, as you shall hear.

Now King Arthur held his court three times a year, at Christmas, at Easter, and at Pentecost, in the lovely town of Camelot. Here stood Camelot Castle, with its high towers and great jousting field in the meadow by the river, where the knights held their tournaments and performed their feats of arms.

At these times all the brave knights of Christendom flocked to Camelot, and the bravest were chosen to sit at the Round Table, where they feasted, told their adventures, and planned new deeds of valor. Here King Arthur would charge them to commit no murder, outrage, or treason; also to be courteous and never to refuse mercy; always to defend women and children on pain of death; and never to fight in a wrong quarrel for law or worldly goods; and to this he pledged both old and young every year at the high feast of Pentecost.

In the center of the great hall of the castle, with its lofty arches and high windows, stood the Round Table. “Merlin, the magician,” so the tale goes, “made the Round Table in token of the roundness of the world; for all the bravest of the world, Christian and heathen, resort to the Round Table; and when they are chosen to be of that company, they think themselves more happy and more in honor, than if they had gotten half the world.”

When Merlin had made this wonderful table he said that, by the knights who sat about it, the truth of the Holy Grail should be well known.

Now, the Holy Grail was the cup which was supposed to have been used by our Saviour at the Last Supper, and was said to have been brought into Britain by Joseph of Arimathea. After a time, through the sin of those who had charge of it, this holy vessel became lost, and the knights of the Round Table sought to recover it; but only a knight who was perfectly blameless in thought, word, and act could hope to succeed.

When Merlin was asked who was best fitted for this quest, he said that three blameless knights should achieve it; and that one of the three should surpass his father as much as the lion surpasses the leopard, both in strength and boldness.

Those who heard Merlin say this, said, “Since there is to be such a knight, you should make by your skill a seat for him to sit in.”

Merlin answered that he would do this; and so he made the Perilous Seat, in which no man dare sit on pain of being hurt, except the knight for whom the seat was made. This knight was Sir Galahad, of whom the poet Tennyson writes:

“My good sword carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure.”

The tales themselves are from an old book, “Le Morte d’ Arthur,” written by Sir Thomas Malory in the fifteenth century.

_Galahad Receives the Order of Knighthood_

One day, at Pentecost, when the tables were set, ready for the feasting to begin, there rode into the great hall of the castle a fair gentlewoman on horseback, her horse covered with sweat and foam. Quickly alighting, she came to King Arthur, who was surrounded by his knights, and saluted him.

“Damsel, God bless you,” said the king.

“Sir,” said she, “show me where Sir Launcelot is.”

“There you may see him,” said the king, pointing to the knight.

She went to Sir Launcelot and said, “Sir Launcelot, I salute you and require that you come with me.”

“What is your will with me?” asked Sir Launcelot.

“You shall soon know and understand,” she replied.

“Well,” said he, “I will gladly go with you.”

Sir Launcelot bade his squire saddle his horse and bring his armor.

The queen then came to Sir Launcelot and asked in surprise, “Will you leave us at the high feast?”

The gentlewoman answered for him: “Madam, he shall be with you again to-morrow at mid-day.”

So Sir Launcelot departed with the gentlewoman and rode into a great forest till he came to an abbey. When the squire opened the gates he entered and descended from his horse, and there met two of his cousins, Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, who were very glad to see him.

“Sir,” said Sir Bors, “what adventure brings you here? We thought to see you at Camelot to-morrow.”

“A gentlewoman brought me here,” said Sir Launcelot, “but I know not the cause.”

While they were talking, twelve nuns came in, bringing with them Galahad, a youth so handsome and well-made that scarcely in the world might men find his match; and all the ladies wept.

“Sir,” said one of the ladies, “we bring here your son, whom we have nourished for you; and we pray you now to make him a knight, for he could not receive the order of knighthood from a worthier man’s hand.”

Sir Launcelot looked at the young squire and thought that, for his age, he had never seen so fine a man.

“Is this your own desire?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied his son.

“Then you shall receive the high order of knighthood to-morrow,” said Sir Launcelot.

Early in the morning at Galahad’s desire he made him a knight, and said, “God make him a good man, for he is as handsome as any man that lives.” This he did in the presence of his two cousins and the ladies of the abbey.

“Now, fair sir,” said he, “will you come with me to the court of King Arthur?”

“Sir,” said Sir Galahad, “I cannot go with you at this time, but shortly I will come.”

Sir Launcelot then departed with his cousins and returned to Camelot, and the king and queen and all the knights were exceeding glad to see them.

_The Adventure of the Sword in the Stone_

When the king and his knights entered the great hall for the feast, they were surprised to see on the seats about the Round Table their names in letters of gold, which told where each one ought to sit. When they came to the Perilous Seat, they saw letters newly-written which said:

“Four hundred and fifty-four winters have now passed since the birth of our Lord, and this seat ought to be filled.”

They all said, “This is a strange and a marvelous thing.”

Sir Launcelot then counted the time and said, “It seems to me this seat ought to be filled to-day; for this is the feast of Pentecost after the four hundred and fifty-fourth year; and, if it please all here, let no one see these words till he arrives who ought to achieve this adventure.”

Then they took a silken cloth and covered the letters in the Perilous Seat, and the king ordered the dinner to be served.