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Title: The true story of Humpty Dumpty
Author: Anna Alice Chapin
Illustrator: Ethel Franklin Betts
Release date: February 16, 2026 [eBook #77961]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Dodd, Mead & Company, 1905
Credits: deaurider, Jack Janssen and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRUE STORY OF HUMPTY DUMPTY ***
[Illustration: HUMPTY DUMPTY]
To ALICE
WHO LISTENED TO MY FIRST FAIRY STORIES,
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
[Illustration: THEY ALL THREE STOOD IN A ROW BEFORE HER
(_Page 34_)]
[Illustration:]
THE TRUE STORY
OF
HUMPTY DUMPTY
How he was rescued by Three Mortal Children
in Make Believe Land
By ANNA ALICE CHAPIN
With Illustrations and Decorations
BY ETHEL FRANKLIN BETTS
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
1905
[Illustration]
_Copyright, 1905_
+By Dodd, Mead & Company+
Published October, 1905
THE UNIVERSITY PRESS · CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
+Chapter+ +Page+
I +The Way It All Began+ 1
II +Make-Believing+ 7
III +At the Owls’ Inn+ 19
IV +Mother Goose’s Cottage+ 31
V +Through the Wonderful Wood+ 43
VI +How Bab Rescued the Wooden Cow+ 55
VII +Meg’s Journey to Fairyland+ 67
VIII +The Court of the Fairy Queen+ 81
IX +Under the Sea of Glass+ 93
X +A Fish Tea-Party+ 105
XI +Into the City of the Wicked King+ 117
XII +Princess Star+ 129
XIII “+Harness the Reindeer!+” 137
XIV +Danger!+ 151
XV +By the City Wall+ 163
XVI +Behind the Reindeer+ 175
XVII +Mother Goose Once More+ 187
XVIII +At Last+ 199
[Illustration]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
They all three stood in a row before her [Page 34] _Frontispiece_
The Owl-Innkeeper’s story [Page 23] 38
Bab and the Sand Man [Page 51] 84
“She was surely the Queen of the Fairy Folk” [Page 89] 120
“‘I don’t think I like you,’ said the Sea Kobold; ‘you may
go’” [Page 98] 146
They were all three back on the nursery hearth rug [Page 206] 192
_Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again._
I
_The Way It All Began_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Humpty Dumpty
CHAPTER I
_The Way It All Began_
“I hate eggs!” said Meg, and smashed hers viciously with a spoon.
“There, now, Miss Meg,” exclaimed Nurse, reprovingly, “you’ll never be
able to eat it prettily out of the shell now!”
“I don’t want to eat it prettily,” declared Meg. “I’m going to mix it
up in a mess!”
Bab made a face at hers, and did not even break the shell. Dick, being
a boy and always hungry, ate his, but grumbled all the time.
“Why do we always have eggs for tea?” demanded Meg. “I hate ’em!”
“You oughtn’t to hate poor Humpty Dumpty!” said Nurse, smiling and
shaking her finger at her.
“Humpty Dumpty!” scoffed Meg. “So silly!”
“Nursery rot!” cried Dick.
“Nurse, what an old goose you are!” said Bab, eating bread and jam as
fast as she possibly could.
From all this you will see just what disagreeable children Dick and
Meg and Bab were. If they had not been, this story would never have
been written, for they would not have had to be taught better by being
summoned to—But that comes later on!
Our three children found fault with everything, particularly their
food, and were discontented and quarrelsome most of the time. Poor
Nurse loved them dearly, but found them very trying to take care of,
and the children only laughed at her mild scoldings, and made fun of
the fat finger which she shook at them as she sighed, “My dears, my
dears!”
They were quite pretty children. Meg had yellow hair, Bab black, and
Dick brown; and they looked far too nice to be so horrid. And as a
matter of fact, they were really, down in their hearts, much nicer
than they seemed. The whole trouble with them was that—and this is
a dreadful thing to say of any child!—they would have nothing to do
with Make Believe Land! They did not believe in elves or goblins or
giants or brownies, or anything really important and sensible, and they
thought fairy tales silly!
“Tell us a story, Nurse,” said Bab, when they had finished their tea.
But Nurse shook her head.
“You don’t care for my stories,” she said. “I only know the old ones,
about the Fairy Queen—”
“Silly!” said Meg.
“And Santa Claus—” went on Nurse.
“Rubbish!” cried Bab.
“And Mother Goose—” Nurse continued.
“Stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed Dick.
Nurse looked really very sad and shocked.
“My dears, my dears!” she said solemnly. “Some day, if you are not
careful, you will be sorely punished for the things you have said about
the friends of all the children of the world! Why, it’s downright
wicked for a child not to love the Fairy Queen and Santa Claus and
Mother Goose!”
“If there ever was a Fairy Queen,” said Meg, scornfully, “she was a
disagreeable thing,—turning people into spiders and toads and things!”
“If there ever _had_ been a Santa Claus, he would have been an awful
bore!” remarked Bab.
“If there ever _could_ be a Mother Goose,” declared Dick, “she’d be a
regular goose, and no mistake!”
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! However can you talk so, my lambs?” cried poor
Nurse. She piled some wood on the fire, and cleared away the dishes
that were on the nursery table. Then, while the children sat on the
hearth-rug and chattered, she left the room, shaking her head, and
muttering:
“Oh, dear! I hope they’ll never be punished for the dreadful things
they say. Poor lambs! Just to think of not believing in the Make
Believe folk!”
Now, as our three children sat on the rug in front of the nursery fire,
they all fell asleep; and a very strange thing happened. Whether the
events that followed were real or only dreamed, they never could know
quite surely. But if it was all a dream,—_if_ it was all a dream, I
say,—there is something very odd about it: _for they all dreamed the
same thing_!
The first thing that happened was that a hum and buzz like that of a
great big bumblebee filled the room. Next moment a small, anxious voice
was exclaiming:
“At last I’ve found you! I’ve nearly worried my wings off; I have
indeed!”
They all three started up, rubbing their eyes. Just alighting on the
hearth-rug before them, was a little green sprite, with goggle eyes,
and gauzy wings like a dragon-fly.
“Heavens!” gasped Meg. “What in the world is it?”
“I am the Bizzybuzz,” answered the small creature. “And I have been
sent by Mother Goose to summon you all three to Make Believe Land!”
[Illustration]
II
_Make-Believing_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER II
_Make-Believing_
The children rubbed their eyes. What was a bizzybuzz? And Make Believe
Land! Mother Goose! Were they dreaming? No, they knew they could not be
dreaming, for they would never dream such nonsense as this!
Meanwhile the sprite stood on the hearth-rug, his slender wings still
whirring faintly, and his goggle eyes quite anxious.
“Oh, dear!” he exclaimed at last. “You really are slow about starting,
you know! Or”—hopefully—“have you been getting ready,—packing up and
all that?”
This was too much for Meg’s practical soul. Besides, she was glad to
have a chance to vent her ruffled and bewildered feelings.
“What nonsense!” she said sharply. “You know we haven’t moved! How
could we have been packing up?”
“Why,” exclaimed Bizzybuzz, looking greatly surprised, “do you really
have to _do_ things here? In Make Believe Land we have only to
_imagine_ we are doing them.”
“Rot!” blurted Dick, like an explosion.
“‘Rot’!” repeated Bizzybuzz, innocently. “What is that?” And Dick felt
rather ashamed of himself.
“But how do you make believe things?” asked Bab, the curious.
Bizzybuzz looked at her in as pitying a way as he could manage,
considering the queerness of his eyes. “Don’t you know how to make
believe?” he asked earnestly. “And you a little girl!”
He almost cried about it.
The children looked at each other. For the first time they were just a
wee bit discontented with their sensible views. How did it feel, they
wondered, to make believe?
“Now,” said Bizzybuzz, “just suppose that you want to pack up something
to carry away with you on your journey. What would you each like to
have most?”
“My new jack-knife,” answered Dick.
“My pink silk dress,” declared Meg.
“Wiggles,” said Bab.
“What is Wiggles?” asked Bizzybuzz.
“My fox-terrier,” she explained enthusiastically. “I wish he were here
now for you to see. He’s the dearest—”
“Oh, it wouldn’t do at all!” cried Bizzybuzz, hastily. “For if you had
him here, how would you make believe that you had him?”
This seemed unanswerable.
“Now,” went on Bizzybuzz, in a business-like way, “you must each
pretend that you are carrying what you most want. You”—to Meg—“have a
pink dress hanging on your arm. Oh, what a pretty pink dress! It has
ribbons and lace and ruffles! It must be very becoming.”
Instinctively Meg crooked her arm and looked at it.
“Such a lovely dress!” proceeded Bizzybuzz.
“I don’t see it,” said Meg, at last.
“Oh, dear!” sighed Bizzybuzz. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” said Meg, “I’m quite sure. I don’t see it at all. Do you?”
“Of course I do!” said Bizzybuzz. “Never mind, you’ll see it yourself
in time.” Then he turned to Dick. “Do you mind letting me see your
jack-knife?” he said. “Thanks!” He pretended to take something in
his hand. “What a fine one! May I open it? One—two—three blades! It
certainly is a fine jack-knife. Here, take it back again.” He seemed
to hand the imaginary knife back to Dick. “Do you see it?” he demanded
anxiously.
“N-no,” said Dick, doubtfully. “I don’t think I do. But I’m not quite
sure. I feel as though I might see it if you kept on making believe
long enough.”
“That’s much better!” exclaimed Bizzybuzz, looking pleased. “And now
for you,” he went on, turning to Bab. “You have Wiggles in your
arms; suppose you put him down. Oh, he doesn’t want to get down,
does he? He loves you very much! See if he’ll come to me. Here,
doggie,—doggie,—doggie!”
Bab stared hard at the spot where her beloved Wiggles was supposed to
be. For a moment she did really seem to see his fat white and brown
body wriggling ecstatically and trying to wag its stump of a tail.
“Oh!” she cried, “I almost saw him then—almost—yes, yes, _yes!_ I
_quite_ see him! Oh, Wiggles, dear!” And down she went on her knees.
“Don’t be so silly!” said Meg, crossly; and Wiggles disappeared.
“_You_’ll learn very quickly,” said Bizzybuzz, approvingly, “you,
little girl with the dog. But you’ll all learn in time. And now we must
be off.”
“Off!”
“Yes; Mother Goose will be growing impatient. Come, hurry up! And don’t
forget that you are bringing with you the jack-knife, and the pink
dress, and Wiggles!”
“Bringing things we can’t see!” said Meg, scornfully.
“Ah! But you _will_ see them,” said Bizzybuzz. “I can see them now,
though they’re not _my_ make-believes! And the moment that you have
learned to believe in all the make-believe things in Make Believe Land,
and love them as you should, you’ll find that you have with you the
knife and the dress and the dog! Now come!”
He spread his wings and flew to the window. Perching on the sill, he
beckoned to them.
“But what does your old Mother Goose want with us?” asked Bab,
hesitating.
“She’ll tell you herself,” said Bizzybuzz, and bowed low. “Bless her
Majesty’s heart!”
“Her Majesty!” repeated Meg.
“She is one of the many rulers of Make Believe Land,” said Bizzybuzz,
bowing again. “Come, come, come! You really must not delay any longer.”
He pointed through the open window into the dark outside.
“But you don’t expect _us_ to fly!” said Dick.
“I have something waiting for you to fly _on_!” said Bizzybuzz,
mysteriously.
“That isn’t right,” said Meg. “You should say ‘on which to fly.’ My
teacher told me so.”
Bizzybuzz looked at her disapprovingly. “You really are a disagreeable
child, aren’t you?” he remarked. “Never mind. There is your steed _on
which to fly_!”
He pointed again. The three children could not help hurrying to the
window to see what it was.
On the ledge outside was sitting a huge owl. His feathers ruffled out
and then subsided in the night wind, and his great eyes were like
moons. He looked tremendously wise.
“O-o-oh!” cried Bab, drawing back, “I’m afraid of owls!”
“Nonsense! Don’t be so silly!” said Bizzybuzz,—for it was his turn to
be scornful. “Come, climb on! Or no—I suppose you _think_ you are too
big! Well, shut your eyes!”
They obeyed, and suddenly felt themselves lifted quickly through the
air and deposited upon a nest of soft, warm feathers.
“All right; open your eyes,” said the voice of Bizzybuzz. “We’re off!”
Everything was quite dark when they opened their eyes, but looking up
they could see the stars and a driving shoal of faintly shining clouds.
Beneath them was a motion as soft and steady as the rocking of a great
cradle; they were riding on the owl!
Above them flew Bizzybuzz, and they noticed that he was quite
transparent against the least bit of light, and that they could see the
stars through him very clearly.
“Go to sleep if you like,” he told them, “for the journey is a long
one.” Then he added something the children did not understand at the
time: “I came to your country in less than a second, but it will take a
longer time to carry _you_ to Make Believe Land!”
The children were far too excited to sleep. They leaned over the owl’s
back to catch glimpses of the world underneath, and more than once they
nearly fell. It was a thrilling ride! Sometimes they flew low down,
through forests dense and fragrant and black; then up, up, into the
clouds and starlight; then straight on, over shining water, and cities
full of twinkling yellow lights,—on—on—on!
Often they passed other birds, even a bat or two, and strange,
shimmering insects of monstrous size, and big, soft, stupid, graceful
moths with wings of gray or green. The air seemed full of sounds,—the
whirr of wings, the call of one flying thing to another, the rustling
stir of the tree-tops, the low murmur of the wind, the laughing noise
of running water underneath. Never had their ears been so busy.
“Greeting, brother!” called Bizzybuzz to a big white owl that was
flapping along beside them. But the owl said never a word.
“He will not speak,” explained Bizzybuzz, flitting down to whisper,
“because he is known as the wisest of all owls, and he is afraid that
if he talks people will find out that he isn’t!”
“Has the white owl anyone on his back?” asked Bab.
“Look!” said Bizzybuzz, shooting up in the air once more. “He is still
travelling beside us. He, like ourselves, is flying in the Wind Channel
of Echoes. It is the best at this hour of the night.”
They stood up to look. The white owl wore a collar of glittering
silver, and on his back was sitting a wee old woman dressed all in
white.
“She is the Witch of Silence,” said Bizzybuzz. “She is very, very
wise. She lives in a hollow tree, and the white owl sits outside and
meditates. She is on her way now to the North Star, where there is a
very learned oracle who can teach her some new spells.”
“How will she get to the North Star?” asked Dick.
“She will ride along the Wind Channel of Echoes until she reaches the
North Star’s Ladder of Light, and then climb up, step by step. It will
take her a hundred years.”
“What in the world do you mean by Wind Channels and Ladders of Light?”
demanded Meg, crossly.
“You have roads on the ground in your country,” said Bizzybuzz. “_We_
have roads in the air. Isn’t that quite simple? We have the Wind
Channel of Echoes and the Tree-Top Pathway and the Road of Clouds for
times of storm; and the Moon-Wake when we want to cross the water and
are too tired to fly. Sometimes we lose our way and have a dreadful
time getting to shelter before daylight! As for the Ladder of Light,
every star has a ladder leading straight up to it if only you can
find it. The North Star is the hardest of all to reach, for it is so
very far and cold, and the people there will receive only witches
or air-spirits. They are very exclusive! The Witch of Silence will
be welcome. She and the oracle will sit opposite each other for two
hundred and seventy years, and then she will be truly wise, so she will
climb down the Ladder of Light and go into her hollow tree again.”
The white owl with the witch suddenly swerved off toward the right, and
flapped away into the mists.
“Now I wonder why he did that!” murmured Bizzybuzz, anxiously. “He must
have had a reason. They’ve gone toward the Road of Clouds. That’s it!”
he exclaimed; “there’s a storm coming up! That’s the reason! Hear the
thunder! Fly, Moon-Eyes, fly!” And he buzzed around their owl’s head
excitedly. “Fly as you never flew before, and give the signal for ‘Way
for the owl-carriers!’”
The owl gave a long, weird call, “Too-hoo-hoo-hoo-oo-oo!” that sounded
along the Wind Channel of Echoes in a thousand different tones. Other
cries answered it,—some near, some far; and the thunder growled louder
and louder.
“Everyone is going toward the Owls’ Inn,” cried Bizzybuzz. “Turn in
there, Moon-Eyes; the storm is going to be a sharp one!”
The owl swept to the left, and dropped suddenly to earth. Bizzybuzz
helped the children off, and they found themselves on a rocky ledge in
the side of a cliff. Just before them was a dark cave or hole in the
cliff, in the depths of which were glowing many owl-eyes.
“Hurry in!” ordered Bizzybuzz. And they all, including the owl, entered
the cave.
“This,” declared their Goblin friend, “is the hostelry which is known
to every flying thing of every land, and which has been here since
eight thousand years before the beginning of the world: it is the
famous Owls’ Inn.”
[Illustration]
III
_At the Owls’ Inn_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER III
_At the Owls’ Inn_
The storm broke, sounding like a cannon-ball rolling against a thousand
giant ninepins. The rain gushed out of the sky like water from a
trough, the winds screamed, and the lightning flashed in forks and
zigzags of green and gold and purple and diamond-white against the big
banks of clouds.
The children would have been frightened at any other time, but now the
storm seemed only part of the excitement and queerness of everything.
It went with the owls and the wind channels, and the rest of the
strange things with which they had come in contact for the first time.
Bizzybuzz took a tiny lantern from somewhere in his laced-up doublet,
and set it on the ground. It seemed to light itself instantly, giving
out greenish blue rays.
“Fire from the marshes,” he explained. “Goblin-fire! Isn’t it pretty?”
The children looked about them, staring at the occupants of the Owls’
Inn with great curiosity.
“This is the Owl Innkeeper, known as the Tail-less One,” declared
Bizzybuzz, with a wave of his hand.
The Owl Innkeeper bowed politely, though very solemnly. He was a large,
fine owl, but he had no tail-feathers at all.
“How did he lose them?” asked Bab, in a whisper.
“He’ll tell you before long,” answered Bizzybuzz. “He always does.”
“What are all these owls?” asked Meg.
“Carriers,” said Bizzybuzz. “The owls are the chief
carriers,—steeds,—conveyances,—what you like,—for the Make Believe
People. Of course some sprites use bats or smaller birds, and the very
little elves have a liking for moths. But most of us Make-Believers
prefer the owls. They are the biggest and strongest and most steady,
and then they are very patient, and so wise!”
“I’d like to talk to our owl,” said Bab. “He looks kind.”
“Oh, he is,” said Bizzybuzz, “and wise. Dear, dear! How very wise he
is, to be sure!”
The owls talked little, but looked volumes. They sat around in rows,
staring unblinkingly with their great shining eyes. Every minute a new
one would flap heavily into the cave, settle down, and begin to stare
like the others.
“Did I ever tell any of you how I lost my tail-feathers?” asked the Owl
Innkeeper, at last, in a sad deep voice.
“_All_ of us!” said the owls, in a chorus.
“No, no!” cried Bab, eagerly, “not all! _We_ haven’t heard it.”
“Then listen,” said the Owl Innkeeper, solemnly. “For it is my best
story, though very painful to me.”
He settled himself down in the centre of the cave, and blinked three
times, by way of a preface.
“It is about ghosts,” he began.
“Ghosts!” repeated Bab, with a laugh.
“Ghosts!” exclaimed Meg, scornfully.
“Did you ever see a ghost?” asked Dick.
“Did I ever see a ghost?” said the Owl Innkeeper. “My eyes and
feathers! Yes! Hundreds, thousands of them. That is one of the very
easiest things we owls do. We can see all sorts of things that you
can’t, because we can see in the dark. Cats do the same, and bats. And
the dark is always full of ghosts. If _you_ could see in the dark, you
would see ghosts too!”
“Yes,—because _if_ we could see in the dark, we’d be owls or cats or
bats ourselves!” laughed Meg.
“The owls,” explained their feathered friend, solemnly, “have no sense
of humor, so that is lost on me.”
“Oh, go on, please!” urged Bab, who was really anxious to hear the
ghost-story.
“Well,” proceeded the owl, “I once lived in a yew-tree near an old
house,—oh, a very old house! It was peopled only by ghosts, and a
horrid lot they were,—ill natured and even quite savage sometimes.
And they were so strong, through living so many hundreds of years
undisturbed, that they were really almost quite solid, like real people.
“Well, one day the old place was bought by a young man, who laughed
when they told him that it was haunted. _I_ didn’t laugh. I felt quite
worried, for I like young people (when they don’t make too much noise
in the daytime), and I did not know what those horrid ghosts would do
to that poor lad. So, the night he moved in, _I_ moved in too; that is,
I sat on the window-sill, where I could see everything that went on
inside.
“Dinner was served by a man-servant, and there were lights and shiny
things on the table, and wine, and a smell of cooked food, and queer
enough it did seem, to be sure! Suddenly, just as the young man was
helping himself to the roast, in walked one of the head ghosts,—an old
fellow in armour he was, with a sinfully ugly face.
“‘I always did like beef,’ said he, as bold as brass, ‘so I’ll take
some!’ and he picked the roast off the silver platter the man was
holding, and began to eat it—right in his fingers!
“The servant’s eyes bulged out of his head, and I could see his knees
giving way. Suddenly down went the silver platter, and out of the house
he went, and the other servants after him. I knew _they_ were gone for
good! But my young friend at the table looked at his visitor quite
calmly.
“‘This is very good in you,’ he said. ‘I was feeling a bit lonely this
evening, all by myself. What will you have to drink?’
“Well, they ate and drank together amiably enough for a while, but by
and by the other ghosts began to come in by twos and threes, and I soon
saw there was bound to be trouble.
“‘Now, young man,’ said the old fellow in armour, when he had about
thirty of his own kind to back him up. ‘We want you to get out. We have
owned this house for three hundred and fifty-three years, two months,
four days, five hours, seventeen minutes, and half a second. Now, we
don’t propose to have you here, disturbing us. Get out!’
“‘_That_ I will not!’ said the young man, with a good show of spirit.
‘It’s you who will get out, you old wretch—’
“Then the ghosts set upon him, all of them at once, and I was sure they
would smother him or tear him limb from limb. So into the room I flew,
tu-whooing at the top of my lungs. The ghosts all scattered and stood
still at the sound, for they all respect an owl. You know an owl’s
feather is the only thing that will make a ghost entirely alive again.
“The young man got up from the floor panting. I settled down on
the dinner-table and addressed the room. I won’t repeat to you my
discourse, but it was an admirable one. I have often wished that it
might be published. I tried to induce those ghosts to let the boy
alone; but they were firm and very angry, and after a while they all
flew at him again—in spite of everything I had said! I flapped my way
into the thick of the fight, and tried to beat and peck them off.
Then, growing quite desperate, I cried, ‘If you will go away, I will
give a feather to the leader.’
“That stopped them for a bit, and I let the armoured ghost pull out a
tail-feather. Then others came around me and demanded feathers, and,
one by one, they pulled and pulled until I was quite tail-less!
“The old leader became human first. And he said, looking longingly at
the young man, ‘Now that we’re all men together, I’d dearly love to
finish that upstart!’
“‘I appeal to your honour as a gentleman and a ghost!’ I cried; though
I trembled in my remaining feathers, for, to tell the truth, he did not
look overburdened either with honour or gentlemanliness. But he shook
his head regretfully, and then they all departed together and went to a
tailor-shop, I suppose, to buy themselves some up-to-date clothes.
“‘Well,’ said the young man to me, ‘I’m sure I’m tremendously obliged
to you, and I wish I could do something for you in return. But I can’t
give you back your tail-feathers, and I don’t suppose it would be any
use to even offer you a drink! You’ve really done me a great service.’
“‘Don’t mention it, sir!’ replied I, with a flourish. But just then I
caught a glimpse of my reflection in the big mirror, and I blushed all
over my beak and claws. However, I left the room slowly and with as
much dignity as I could, and I heard the young man suppress a giggle as
I went. I really could not blame him!
“And that,” concluded the Owl Innkeeper, sadly and impressively, “is
the true story of how I lost my tail-feathers!”
“I think he was horrid to let you give up your tail-feathers just to
save him!” exclaimed Bab, indignantly.
“I think myself,” said the owl, “that he might have—well—protested.”
“Hark!” said Meg. They noticed for the first time that the noise of
wind and rain and thunder had died down.
“The storm is over,” announced one of the owls at the door. “Come,
brothers, it is high time to be off!”
The cave was filled with the sound of rushing wings, and a minute later
the three children found themselves again mounting their feathered
steed.
“Good-bye, good-bye!” called the Owl Innkeeper, from the entrance of
the cave. “May you keep all your feathers until you are old, and always
have plenty of mice for supper!”—which, after all, was the best sort of
a wish he knew how to make!
This time they were so tired that they fell asleep at once, with the
fresh, damp winds blowing over them. And they seemed to have but just
closed their eyes when Bizzybuzz waked them. As they stared about them
sleepily, the air seemed full of a shining silver light.
“Look!” said Bizzybuzz, pointing. “Look your last upon your own country
for some time to come, for we have passed over the border, and are now
in Make Believe Land.”
Stretching far, far away—to the very edge of the world, it seemed—lay
a country which in this clear pale light looked dark and dull and ugly.
There were mountains there, but in the distance they seemed to be
nothing but a lot of stupid little bumps.
“That is your own country,—what some people call the Real World,” said
Bizzybuzz. “Now look beneath you!”
Beneath them were clouds of pink and gold and sky-blue and violet and
pale green. Here and there a tall tower shot up, shining through the
rainbow colours. In other places there was the gleam of silver water.
“That is part of Make Believe Land,” said Bizzybuzz, “and a very
important part, too: the City of Dreams. Some day you shall go there,
if you like, and see the Garden of Good Dreams and the Forest of
Nightmares. That city is on the dividing line between the Real World
and Make Believe Land. See where the coloured clouds begin! First they
are gray and dull,—that is because they are still on the side of the
Real World; then they grow bright and lovely, for they are floating, as
we are, over the City of Dreams.”
The owl flew on faster and faster. All sorts of wonderful things
glimmered past beneath: forests of silver trees with fruit of gold,
meadows with jewels for flowers, green woodland places from which the
softest magical music rose forever, dreamy gardens, and marvellous
rivers; and still on and on they went.
“Ah!” exclaimed Bizzybuzz, and his voice sounded quite frightened.
“Look well now, for this is a place which you will hear of very soon
again: this is the Sea of Glass!”
The Sea of Glass was broad and gleaming. There was something very queer
about its motionless, shiny surface. It was still a little distance
away, but just under them was a city built entirely of some bright red
stuff. It glittered scarlet in the soft light.
“What is this place under us?” asked Dick.
“That,” said Bizzybuzz, in a shuddering whisper, “is the terrible Red
City,—the City of the Wicked King!”
They wanted to ask more about it, but there were too many things at
which to look. I could not even try to describe to you that wonderful
flight over Make Believe Land. The children never forgot it, and
among their many strange adventures it really made the greatest
impression,—perhaps because it was the first.
At last they found themselves flying over a wooded country, where there
were quaint little houses and funny animals,—and even groups of people,
all in Kate Greenaway costumes. It seemed homelike and commonplace, and
really comforting after all the mists and towers and rivers and seas
they had seen, and they asked eagerly, “What is this place?”
“This,” answered their guide, “is Mother Goose’s own country, and you
are at your journey’s end.”
[Illustration]
IV
_Mother Goose’s Cottage_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER IV
_Mother Goose’s Cottage_
The owl dropped to the earth like a piece of lead, and the three
children, clambering off, found themselves in a little forest glade in
front of a cottage,—a cottage that was small and quaint and pretty,
with old-fashioned latticed windows, and a trim gay garden in front.
Bizzybuzz went to the door, and rapped upon it with his queer wee
hand, crying, “Open, Mother, open! I have brought you the three mortal
children whom you sent me to get!”
“You have been a long time on your journey,” said a voice within.
“Enter, all!” and the door opened.
There stood a very, very old woman, tall but bent, leaning on a stick,
and dressed as the old picture-books always show Mother Goose. She wore
a flowered gown, and a ruffled cap under a tall, black sugar-loaf hat,
a white kerchief, and mits. Her shoes had big buckles and high heels,
and she wore a pretty apron with pockets in it. Her hair was very
white, and her face was the sweetest that the children had ever seen,
but just now she looked rather stern. At her side stood an enormous,
snow-white goose.
“Enter,” she said again; and they all went into the cottage,—except the
owl, who had gone to sleep outside.
Inside everything was so clean and bright that it looked as though it
must be a brand-new doll-house. Mother Goose was evidently a very neat,
even a fussy old lady; for each little thing was in place, and scoured,
and polished, and rubbed, and scrubbed, and brushed, and cleaned,
and dusted, and washed, and generally taken care of, until it shone.
Mother Goose’s feather duster hung on the wall, her gleaming kettle was
boiling busily, and her big china teapot and funny old-fashioned cups
were so clean that they caught the light and glittered like something
much finer than mere china. In the smoky little fireplace was a crane,
with a pot hanging on it; a pair of quaint old bellows were fastened to
a peg near by. In the little latticed windows were fresh white muslin
curtains and some pots of flowers. Overhead a little bird sang gaily in
a cage.
“Stand in a row,” commanded Mother Goose. They all obeyed, feeling a
tiny bit afraid. She sat down with her foot on a footstool, put on her
spectacles and gazed at them.
“And now,” she said, very solemnly and reproachfully, “what have you
to say for yourselves,—three little mortal children who have never
believed in ME?”
For a moment they were silent, not knowing what to say; then Dick
exclaimed: “Gracious! Are you really real, after all?”
“I am one of the queens of Make Believe Land,” answered Mother Goose,
looking at him very steadily out of her bright dark eyes, “and my
kingdom stretches far, far into the Real World. All the children of
the world are my rightful subjects and entitled to my protection. But
you—you are outlaws! You have committed the crime of Unbelief and you
must suffer! That is why you have been brought to Make Believe Land.”
The three children were more frightened than ever. What would their
punishment be? Then Bab looked up into Mother Goose’s face, and saw the
really kind look that was shining in her eyes, back of the sternness.
Suddenly Bab felt that she loved her, and she cried out impulsively,
“Oh, I’m glad you’re real, after all!”
Mother Goose smiled the loveliest sort of a smile.
“You are a dear little girl,” she said, “and you shall play with my
goose if you want to!” Then she looked stern again. “Just the same,”
she added, “you as well as the others must learn your lesson and be
punished. All this time you have not believed in me, nor loved me, nor
been _my_ little girl, so you must be punished as severely as the rest.”
“What are you going to do to us?” demanded Meg, defiantly.
“A little while ago,” said Mother Goose, “you—little girl with the fair
hair—said unkind things about the Fairy Queen. You will have to travel
all by yourself to Fairyland, and serve the Queen faithfully for a year
or a day, or until you do her so great a service that she sets you free
of her own accord.”
Meg stamped her foot.
“I won’t go,” she declared. “Fairies are silly, and there aren’t any,
anyway!”
Bizzybuzz fell on his face, trembling.
“Treason!” he squeaked. “Heresy! Oh, Lady Queen, dear Mother Goose! Do
not kill her for saying such a terrible thing in Make Believe Land!”
“No,” said Mother Goose, gravely, “I will not kill her, but her journey
must be just ten times harder for every word of that sort that she has
ever said.”
Then she turned to Bab.
“You called Santa Claus a Bore!” she said. “_Santa Claus!_ Well, little
lady, you will have to journey to his dwelling-place, and whatever may
happen to you, you will not be bored! And there you must stay until he
sets you free, which he can only do after you have been of some great
service to him.”
Bab hung her head and looked almost ready to cry.
“And you,” said Mother Goose, still more sternly, turning to
Dick,—“_you_ laughed at ME!”
“Yes, I did!” said little Dick, stoutly. “But I don’t see why that was
so very dreadful. I’d never seen you then, you see, and how could I
know that you were real? I shouldn’t laugh at you now, of course,” he
added politely.
“Wouldn’t you? That is very nice of you!” said Mother Goose; and
her eyes twinkled. “Well, Master Dick, at least you are honest and
straightforward, and I think that some day we may be friends,—even
though I _am_ ‘a regular old goose, and no mistake!’”
Dick reddened, but grinned at the same time.
“That’s what I said,” he admitted. “But I’m sure I beg your pardon!”
“Now pay close attention,” said Mother Goose, growing very serious
indeed. “I am in great trouble, and your task, because you laughed at
me, is to serve me, and help me out of all my worries. My dear son,
Humpty Dumpty, has been a prisoner in the city of the Wicked King for
three hundred and three years. They have turned him into an egg, and
they keep him sitting up on the city wall from one century’s end to
another.”
“Why do they do that?” asked Dick.
“It’s a long, sad story,” answered Mother Goose, with a sigh. “All you
need know now is that he was angry with my poor Humpty Dumpty, and
turned him into an egg. And my son has to spend all his time balancing
himself on that wall, and if he should ever fall he would be broken!
You don’t know how afraid I am that some day he will fall and be
broken!” And a tear ran down Mother Goose’s nose.
“Worst of all,” she said with a choke, “the people come out and laugh
at him!”
“Well, that’s a shame,” said Dick, sympathetically. “It must be pretty
unpleasant to balance yourself on a wall for three hundred and three
years, especially if you are an egg!”
“You,” continued Mother Goose, “must rescue him!”
“I! Rescue him!” exclaimed Dick. “But how?”
“You’re a boy,” said Mother Goose, “and I’ve heard you are supposed to
be bright. You ought to be able to think of a way. And anyway, it’s
just possible”—she paused and looked from one to the other—“it’s just
possible that your sisters will be able to help you later. They have
their own work to do first, but perhaps when that is done they will
find time to help you. In any case, what you must remember is that the
rescue of Humpty Dumpty is the thing which I wish more than anything
else. Now go, all of you, and let me see how well you can obey orders
and do your duty. Remember, you must not forget what each of you has
been sent for, you must hurry as fast as you can, and you must not stop
on the way. Good-bye, mortal children; I shall be as glad as you when
you are all safe back again!”
She waved her stick, and they all hurried out of the cottage. While
Bizzybuzz woke up the owl, they looked back into the room they had just
left. Mother Goose was standing there with her big white goose. As they
looked, she smiled,—such a beautiful, sweet, kindly smile! And somehow
they knew then that nothing very terrible was going to happen to
them in Make Believe Land. Then the cottage door closed, and Bizzybuzz
told them to climb on the owl again.
[Illustration: THE OWL-INNKEEPER’S STORY]
“Oh, dear!” sighed Bab. “And now where to?”
“We are going to lunch with Moon-Eyes first,” said Bizzybuzz. “Then I
shall lead you to the Wonderful Wood, and see you all three off on your
journeys.”
Another second and they were once more speeding through the air. This
time the flight was a short one, for they only crossed the little
glade, and went about a hundred feet down a sort of avenue that the
forest trees had made, to a huge oak-tree. It was the biggest tree
that they had ever seen, and Bizzybuzz explained that the wild things
that lived in it—Moon-Eyes among others—were very proud of its size
and beauty. Into its topmost branches flew the great owl, and alighted
on a small bough just under a big hole in the trunk. And there at the
entrance of the hole was sitting a very pretty silver-gray owl, much
smaller than the carriers. She moved her wings softly up and down, and
said, “How do you do?” most politely.
Bizzybuzz cried, “Let me present you to the Lady Gray-Wing!” and bowed
low to their hostess,—for evidently this was Moon-Eyes’ wife.
Lady Gray-Wing invited them to enter, and they all went into the hole
in the oak-tree, and sat down around the lunch that the pretty gray owl
had prepared for them.
They had acorns, and nuts, and blackberries, and queer, good herbs,
and raw mushrooms, and sorrel, and rain-water served in big, silvery
plantain leaves. Really everything tasted better than the meals that
they had been used to eating at home. These funny woodsy things seemed
much nicer than their regular suppers of eggs and jam and bread and
milk, and they ate as much as they dared without being rude or greedy.
Gray-Wing explained rather timidly that she had not given them mice for
lunch, because she understood that mortals did not care for them much.
There was only one other guest,—a very merry and frisky red squirrel,
who chattered away all the time they were eating, and begged them to
come and lunch with him if they should ever be in that neighbourhood
again.
And then Moon-Eyes carried them away, and took them a long, long
distance, over a high rocky hill, and toward another wood, much deeper
and darker and bigger than the one they had left. There, at the edge of
this forest, their owl friend set them down, and bade them good-bye by
nodding at them solemnly.
“You are now,” said Bizzybuzz, “at the edge of the Wonderful Wood. Each
of your three ways lies through it.” “Are we all going together?” cried
Meg, eagerly.
“No,” said Bizzybuzz, “you will not even meet.”
“But there is only one path!” exclaimed Bab.
“In Make Believe Land one path may lead to a great many places.”
“But if we all go the same way—” began Dick.
“You all go by the same path,” said Bizzybuzz. “But it is not only in
Make Believe Land that many people travel the same path and all travel
alone.”
A pathway lay before them leading into the Wonderful Wood. The three
children stood for a moment looking down it, and wondering what
adventures they were to have there; then they waved good-bye to
Bizzybuzz, and ran into the wood.
No sooner were they on the path, in the shadows of the trees, than a
strange thing happened. Each seemed to be quite alone! Where were the
other two? They called to each other, but not even an echo answered.
Only, far behind and dying away, each could hear the anxious voice of
Bizzybuzz:
“Remember! Be very careful! Be patient, and never forget your errands.
You must not forget what each of you has been sent for; you must hurry
as fast as you can; you must—not—stop—by the way—”
Then—silence. And each was left alone in the Wonderful Wood!
[Illustration]
V
_Through the Wonderful Wood_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER V
_Through the Wonderful Wood_
The moment Bab stepped inside the outer fringe of trees she seemed
to be in the densest sort of a forest. As she looked about her,
bewildered, she could not even see where she had entered it. The trees
and bushes seemed to have closed in tightly behind her, and vines and
creepers covered with queer sweet flowers crossed and recrossed the
path, and appeared to be growing denser every second. Then, as she
glanced ahead, she saw that there was no path at all. She was in the
very heart of the wildest of woodland tangles. How should she find her
way out? And who would point out to her the road to Santa Claus’s house?
“I wish Wiggles were here!” sighed Bab. “I’m sure there are bears and
wolves in this big dark forest, and Wiggles could have frightened them
away!”
Then she thought of what Bizzybuzz had said in the nursery when he was
trying to teach them how to make believe.
“Wouldn’t it be funny if Wiggles really _were_ with me all the time?”
she thought; and aloud she said, “Here, Wiggles, Wiggles, Wiggles!”
But there was no response, and, feeling a little disappointed, she
walked on through the Wonderful Wood alone.
It was very still. Not a twig snapped; not a bird sang in the Wonderful
Wood. Everything seemed to be asleep. She pushed forward through the
thickets, saying to herself: “I must find Santa Claus! I must not
forget what Mother Goose said! I must not forget my errand!”
It was hard work, this struggling through the heavy underbrush, and
once or twice Bab was obliged to rest. But still she murmured to
herself: “I must hurry! I must find Santa Claus!”
Suddenly the way became easier and smoother. In a moment she came out
into a little green dell which was filled with music. Looking about
her, she saw two little goblins, like Bizzybuzz himself, playing on
tiny green instruments that looked like lutes, and singing.
She could not make out all the words of their song, but the general
burden seemed to be something like this:
“Our wings, how sure and fleet!
Our voices, oh, how sweet!
How kind our hearts and wise!
How green our goggle-eyes!
“We are the elves of mirth,
Most wondrous of the earth!
Oh, world! pay homage meet
At Klang’s and Tinkle’s feet!”
When they saw Bab, they began to make a series of very low bows, crying
in sing-song tones, “Come and tell us how charming we are, and we will
love you!”
“But I don’t think you are at all charming!” said Bab, truthfully. “I
think you are vain and silly, and very ugly indeed!”
“But hear us sing!” cried the creatures. “Listen to our sweet,
melodious, marvellous, exquisite, and never-again-to-be-equalled
voices!”
And once more they began to sing. This time their song was pretty, and
sounded like a tinkling brook mixed with a summer breeze:
“Silver streams,
Silver dreams,
Little shafts of silver beams;
Music floats
From our throats
In a shower of silver notes,
Like a fleet of silver boats!”
“We can sing
Of everything,—
Petal, feather, scale and wing;
Tinkle, Klang,
While we sang,
Fairy music round you rang,
Klang and Tinkle! Tinkle, Klang!”
Bab thought the music lovely. She forgot where she was, and begged
them to sing another song. Then suddenly her heart bounded hard. She
remembered her errand!
“Thank you, thank you!” she cried. “But I must go; I am late!”
And she turned and ran away as fast as she could, leaving the goblins
still singing.
Soon she found herself in a cool, shadowy garden, where a fountain
played softly, reflecting the big, heavy-headed roses that climbed
up the edge of the marble basin to peep into the water. It was very
restful and delicious there, and Bab was hot and tired. She wanted to
sit down on the grass and rest, but she thought of Mother Goose, and
prepared to plod on. Then she saw coming toward her a very beautiful
lady, with a delightful, smiling face, and a little crown on her yellow
hair. She wore a green dress, and her feet were bare, but Bab knew at
once that she was a princess.
“How do you do?” said the Princess, smiling. “You are Bab, the little
mortal girl, aren’t you? Will you rest in my garden for a little while?”
“I—I can’t,” said Bab, shyly. “I have to go on. I’m looking for Santa
Claus.”
The Princess laughed merrily.
“Oh, he lives ever so far away!” she said, with a wave of her hand.
“You’d much better stay with me!”
“Who are you, please?” asked Bab.
“They call me the Idle Princess,” the lady answered. “I have a great
many names, but no one has ever discovered my real one.”
“What is it?” asked Bab.
“That’s a secret,” she said, smiling mysteriously.
“Shall I ever know it?”
“Never! And you’ll call me different names every day of your life.”
“Shall I know you all my life?” cried Bab, “even in the Real World?”
The Idle Princess smiled at her gently.
“Even there!” she said. “Now let us sit down on the grass and make
daisy chains.”
So they did; and the fountain played softly, and Bab fancied she could
hear Klang and Tinkle singing in the wood on the other side of the
garden wall:
“Silver streams,
Silver dreams,
Little shafts of silver beams!...”
Suddenly Bab sprang to her feet, frightened.
“Oh, Princess!” she cried, “it must be late; and I had forgotten my
errand!”
She began to run across the grass as fast as she could; then she
remembered that she had not thanked her hostess, and stopped. The Idle
Princess was at her side.
“Must you really go?” she asked regretfully.
“Oh, yes!” sighed Bab. “And oh, Princess! could you tell me the way to
Santa Claus’s house?”
They had reached the garden wall, and the Princess lifted Bab to the
top.
“Just jump down on the other side and go straight ahead,” she told her.
“I am sorry I cannot go with you to show you the way, but I have to
spin six dreams before supper. Good-bye! I’ll see you again some day.
Kiss me!”
Bab stooped from the top of the wall, and kissed her.
“Good-bye, dear Princess, and thank you!” she cried. But the Idle
Princess had gone!
Bab hurried on through the Wonderful Wood, determined not to let
anything else tempt her to stop again. The way seemed clear and open
now. The trees grew wider apart, and from somewhere a soft sunset light
was stealing through them.
Suddenly Bab heard a great voice yawning, and through the bushes
stalked a tall, gray man, with a long beard, and big solemn eyes. He
stared at Bab, and Bab stared at him.
“Who are you?” asked Bab. Somehow his gaze made her feel sleepy.
The stranger yawned again before replying.
“The Sand Man,” he said, in a heavy, drowsy voice.
Bab found herself yawning in sympathy. Then she started and stared.
“Why, I didn’t know—” she began.
“What?” asked the Sand Man, dreamily.
“That you—that you—well, that you _were_, you know!” she stammered.
Truly this Make Believe Land was a queer place! She would expect to
meet the Man in the Moon next, or the Old Woman who Sweeps the Cobwebs
off the Sky!
“You may meet them both, if you like,” said her new acquaintance,
though she had not spoken.
Bab jumped.
“I didn’t say a word!” she exclaimed.
“No,” returned the Sand Man, “but you thought.”
“Oh!” she murmured, “I didn’t know—”
“There are many, many, many, many things you do not know,” remarked
the Sand Man, so calmly that she could not call him rude, though she
felt rather uncomfortable. She resolved to make friends with this queer
creature. He was not merry and sweet, like the dear Idle Princess, but
he looked as though he knew a great deal, and she felt quite a respect
for him.
“I wonder,” she said timidly, “if you would tell me why they call you
the Sand Man.”
“Sit down,” he said gravely, “and I will tell you. But you must be very
still while I talk.”
They sat down on a soft bank of moss, and the Sand Man began.
“Where I live,” he said, speaking in a low, slow voice, “there is a
whole world of sand. It doesn’t lie out flat, like the desert, but
in heaps and hills and waves, like the moors or the ocean. And down
in the hollows it is soft and dark and cool, but up on the tops of
the hillocks it is warm and bright. And when you lie on one of these
hillocks, and look up at the blue, hot sky, a little lazy wind comes
stealing along, and shifts the sand ever so slightly, and it begins to
slide—and slide—and slide very softly, and you slide with it until—”
“Oh, dear!” sighed Bab, sleepily. “I’m afraid I’m going to sleep!”
“If you do, it is all the better,” said the Sand Man, calmly. “You will
understand me much more clearly when you are asleep.” And he went on:
“You slide—and slide—and slide, quite gently, down into the cool, dark,
soft hollow, and when you are there the wind blows the sand over you,
until only your face is left outside, and at last you begin to sink,
down—down—down into the sand. And the sand closes over you, and lies
quite coolly and lightly on you everywhere. And you can’t open your
eyes, but you wouldn’t if you could. And you can’t move, but you don’t
want to move. And you can’t breathe, but you don’t have to breathe. And
so you just lie in the heart of World of Sand, and that is—Sleep”...
... Dimly Bab could see the World of Sand, like a great, gray-brown
sea. The wind, stealing over it, stirred little rivers of sand, that
slipped from the tops to the hollows. There was shade and shine there,
and the hollows looked like cool, dark couches sheltered from the
light.... Then she found herself lying in the sand, while the wind
blew it over her. She had forgotten her errand, forgotten Santa Claus,
forgotten Mother Goose, forgotten her brother and sister, forgotten
everything. All she thought of was the sand and the wind, and that
slow, delicious sinking—down—down—down—which was—Sleep....
A sound came to her sharply,—a sound that was very familiar. She could
not rouse herself at once, but it came again and again, and finally
Bab started up blinking. Something was pulling excitedly at her dress,
stopping at intervals to bark wildly. Bab put out her arms with a cry
of joy.
“_Wiggles!_” she gasped. And the little fox-terrier jumped onto her lap.
For a full minute they kissed each other, and Bab talked, and Wiggles
squealed and barked and wriggled, and they had a splendid time. Then
once again Bab remembered.
“It’s dark!” she cried, springing up. “Where is the Sand Man? Why—Oh,
Wiggles, Wiggles! you saved me! I should have gone to sleep in the
World of Sand, and never waked up any more, if you hadn’t happened
along!”
Then she started again. “Happen along!” she said. “No—I really am
beginning to understand things at last. Wiggles has been with me all
the time, just as Bizzybuzz said, only I was too stupid to see him
before! Oh, Wiggles, dear, forgive me! And now we must really, truly
hurry! What shall I say to Mother Goose if she asks me if I have been
faithful and obedient! Oh, dear! I’ve stopped by the way so many times,
I shall never find the way to Santa Claus’s house!” And poor Bab wiped
away a tear, and started off upon her journey once more, followed by
Wiggles. But before she had gone a dozen steps, she stopped short in
surprise. The forest had vanished, and she was at the foot of a steep
hill. It looked bare and stony, but the top was covered with snow. The
sky was full of stars, and the wind was cold and fresh. Here and there
firs and pine-trees swayed slightly. Evidently she was in some far
Northern land. “Oh! oh!” she exclaimed delightedly; “this must be the
country of Santa Claus, after all!”
Losing no more time, she and Wiggles began to climb the long, dark
hill, toward the snow that glistened in the starlight far away at the
top.
[Illustration]
VI
_How Bab Rescued the Wooden Cow_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VI
_How Bab Rescued the Wooden Cow_
After Bab and Wiggles had reached the top of the hill, and floundered
through a space packed with snow, they found themselves in a clump
of fir-trees, with the wind whirling about them, and, not far away,
the yellow twinkle of a light. Of course Bab intended to go straight
on toward the light, but first she paused to take breath. And as she
paused, she heard a little voice, quite close to her, exclaim: “Oh,
dear! Oh, dear! What do you suppose it is?”
“What do I suppose _what_ is?” said Bab, with a start, forgetting to be
polite.
There was a slight scramble, and a patter of very tiny feet; and then
Wiggles began to bark excitedly, with his ears cocked forward, and his
bright eyes fixed on the ground.
“We—we weren’t talking _to_ you,” explained the wee voice, nervously.
“We were talking _about_ you when we said ‘What is it?’”
“Oh,” said Bab, rather crossly. “Well, you’re very rude, anyway.”
“So are you,” said the small voice, coolly.
Bab felt angry and bewildered.
“I think,” she returned, “that I might just as well ask what you are!”
“Certainly!” said the little voice, more cheerfully. “We are the
Mischief Brownies,—servants of the dear Wicked King, of the Red City.
And you, I suppose, are an ogre?”
“Why, no!” said Bab. “I’m a little girl.”
“Nonsense!” said the Mischief Brownie. “We know better! You’re big!
You’re enormous! _We_ know you. You’re an ogre!”
“Well, anyway,” said Bab, “I’m in a hurry; so good-night!”
“Where are you going?” asked the voice, anxiously. “You aren’t a friend
of Santa Claus, are you?”
“N-no,” said Bab, truthfully, “I never saw him in my life.”
“That’s all right, then!” cried the Brownie, gaily. “You can help us in
that case!”
A number of little lights appeared in the darkness near the ground.
They seemed to be tiny lanterns, and by their light Bab could see the
bearers of them. They were wee, wee men, not more than a few inches
high, dressed in brown, with green caps. Their faces were all stamped
with wide grins, and their eyes were not unlike Bizzybuzz’s and the
Musical Goblins’.
“We’ll teach you six new spells or give you a wishing-cap if you’ll
help us,” said the spokesman.
Bab’s heart leaped. A wishing-cap! If she had that, she might go at
once to the City of the Wicked King, and help Dick rescue Humpty Dumpty
for Mother Goose; and then they could all be free!
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“Listen!” said the Head Brownie. “Santa Claus has a Wooden Cow, of
which he is very fond. It was only a little toy to begin with, but he
fed it with all the shavings and saw-dust of magic wood that were left
from his work, and it grew nearly as big as his house! Our master, the
Wicked King, has sent us to chop the Wooden Cow up, and bring him back
as much of the magic wood as we can carry. That magic wood is very
valuable, you see, and very hard to get, and he wants to have some
spells made out of it.”
“I never heard of anything so dreadful!” Bab exclaimed indignantly.
“Poor cow!”
“It won’t hurt it at all,” explained the Mischief Brownie. “The cow is
nothing but wood, you know. Now, what we want you to do is to help us
chop up the cow, for we aren’t big enough to do much by ourselves.”
“Indeed, I’ll not help you,” said Bab, decidedly. “I’ll not chop up
Santa Claus’s cow, and what’s more,” she cried with a sudden thought,
“I’ll save her from you too!”
She began to run as fast as she could, Wiggles scampering ahead, and
the Brownies after her. She could hear their shrill voices telling her
to stop, but she ran on. Soon she saw that they were going faster than
she, and had turned to the right, dashing away through the starlight.
They looked like black specks on the white snow. For they had all left
the darkness of the clump of fir-trees by this time, and the queer
little men were plainly visible.
Faster and faster she went; Wiggles rushing along in front of her,
barking loudly. Soon she saw the barn glimmering dimly against the
sky. Bab dashed toward it. The Brownies had disappeared; they must be
already inside.
“Oh, dear!” cried Bab. “I do so hope I shall get there in time to save
that poor cow.”
She had reached the barn, but the big door was shut and fastened. In
despair Bab hunted for an opening of some sort, and finally found a
low window. She clambered up, very much out of breath, and sat on the
window-sill peering into the darkness of the barn. Everything inside
was as black as ink, and smelled of saw-dust instead of hay. Where were
the Brownies, and _where_ was the Wooden Cow?
A sudden idea came to her. Leaning down, she whispered, “Wiggles,
Wiggles, darling, jump!”
Wiggles tried twice in vain. The third time he was in her lap,
trembling with excitement. She lifted him down inside the barn,
slipping down herself at the same time.
“Now, Wiggles,” she said aloud, “_chase ’em!_”
She clapped her hands as she spoke, and Wiggles’s scurrying, scratching
feet were heard on the floor in the dark. Bab listened with a beating
heart. Wiggles snuffed and snapped and scratched and scampered about,
and finally gave an eager bark. At the same moment the air became
filled with shrill little startled cries.
“Don’t hurt them, Wiggles!” cried Bab. “Just chase them out!”
She found the barn door, groping through the dark, and managed to open
it; and then she watched the whole tribe of Mischief Brownies escaping
frantically, and flying over the snow with Wiggles after them.
“Come back, Wiggles,” she called; and the obedient little dog returned
to her promptly. He felt quite disappointed at having to give up the
chase so soon.
“Now we’ll have to hunt for the Wooden Cow,” said Bab. “I hope they
haven’t done it any harm already.”
“They took off one horn,” said a thick wheezy voice near by; and Bab
jumped.
“Are _you_ the Wooden Cow?” she asked.
“Yes; kindly put out your hand.”
Bab obeyed, and touched a curved piece of wood.
“That’s my horn,” said the same voice, “the one that they didn’t take
off.”
“Where is the other one?” asked Bab. “They didn’t take it with them,
surely?”
“No; I think I see your dog eating it now.”
Wiggles was sitting in the doorway, cheerfully gnawing the missing
horn. Bab rescued it, much to Wiggles’s annoyance, and then exclaimed
to its rightful owner, “You poor thing! Did the Brownies hurt you?”
“Oh, no!” said the Cow, calmly. “You know I’m wooden. Nothing hurts me.
It wouldn’t have hurt me if they had cut me in pieces as they intended
to, and as they would have done if you hadn’t dropped in; but it would
have annoyed me. Because then I wouldn’t have existed any more. And
that _would_ have been disagreeable!”
“I should think so, indeed!” agreed Bab. “Now let me see how I can get
this horn on again! I wish there was a light. Never mind! I’ll hunt
about in the dark.”
As a matter of fact, it did not seem nearly so dark as it had been. Bab
saw that this was because the moon was rising. By its light drifting in
through the big open door, she could see the large, motionless figure
of the Wooden Cow, with its one horn.
“I smell paint somewhere,” said Bab, sniffing, and began to hunt for
it. Sure enough, not far away, she found a can of black paint.
“Santa Claus used that to touch me up with,” explained the Cow, with a
certain mournful pride. “I was a very handsome article when new!”
“Well,” said Bab, cheerfully, “now, _I_’m going to touch you up with
it!”
For she felt very sorry for the poor Wooden Cow, and already had
made up her mind to do all that she could to help it. She scooped up
some saw-dust from the floor, and mixed it with the black paint until
it made a thick, sticky paste. Then she plastered it on the base of
the wooden horn, and then over the place on the Cow’s head from which
it had been broken off. Then she stuck the horn on, and tied it up
securely with a ribbon from her dress. As she did this, a tiny bit of
wood—loosened, perhaps, by whatever weapon or implement the Brownies
had used to cut off the horn—came off in her hand. Hardly thinking what
she was doing, she dropped it into her pocket.
“There!” she cried gaily, jumping down from the window-sill, where,
being quite short, she had had to kneel while she worked,—“There! I
really think that will stay on!” As she spoke, she found the bit of
wood in her pocket. “I wonder why I kept that?” she thought. “Never
mind! I shall want to have something to remember the Wooden Cow by.”
“I am indebted to you,” said the Wooden Cow, with dignity.
“Now,” said Bab, “I shall have to go up to Santa Claus’s house, and
call upon him. I’ll leave Wiggles to take care of you in case those bad
Brownies come back. Wiggles, sit down and keep watch!”
Wiggles did as he was told, rather sadly. He hated to be left alone,
and he did not count the Cow as company. Bab left the barn, and hurried
away toward the lighted cottage, which she felt very sure was Santa
Claus’s house.
When she reached the house, she knocked several times before anyone
answered. At last the door opened, and a kind, merry voice said: “Come
in, come in! Is that Bab? Why, bless my soul! I’ve been expecting you
for a long time!”
It certainly was Santa Claus! How exactly like his pictures he looked!
No, kinder, and dearer, and more lovable in every way. Bab wanted to
get onto his knee at once, and put her head down on his shoulder, just
as though he were her own grandfather at home. And as a matter of fact,
that is just exactly what she did! For as soon as she had gone inside
and the door had been shut, Santa Claus sat down in a big chair and
lifted her onto his lap.
“Bless my soul!” he said again, beaming at her. “So you are the little
girl who didn’t believe in me, and thought I’d be a bore if I _were_
real? Mother Goose—dear lady!—said that you’d be along before very
long.”
Bab dropped her head onto his shoulder, and said, “I—I’m very sorry I
said those things about you!”
“Bless my soul!” exclaimed Santa Claus. “She’s crying! That will
_never_ do!”
“I’m sleepy!” Bab gave a sob. She was only a little girl, you see,
after all; and the way through the Wonderful Wood had been long.
“And—and—” She stopped, trying not to _really_ cry.
“Dear me! And _hungry!_” cried Santa Claus. “I should think so!”
And somehow, before she knew what had happened, she found herself
eating,—bread and butter, and milk, and little hot cakes, and muffins,
and preserves, and sugar-plums! _Such_ a good supper!
“Please,” said Bab, suddenly, “let me take some to Wiggles. He’s
hungry, I know; and he’s in the barn, taking care of the Wooden Cow.”
“What’s that you say?” questioned Santa Claus, looking surprised.
And then Bab told him all about the rescue of the Wooden Cow. And Santa
Claus was much pleased and interested, and seemed very grateful as
well. And he went down to the barn himself, and brought Wiggles back
with him, and gave him a wonderful supper, and said he was a splendid
dog. And Wiggles was simply delighted.
Altogether, everything was going on in the most joyful manner possible,
when Bab suddenly sprang to her feet, distressed and worried.
“What is the matter?” asked Santa Claus, kindly.
“Oh, Santa Claus!” cried poor Bab. “I had forgotten my errand again!
Mother Goose sent me to you to serve you until I had won the right to
go back to the Real World!”
“Dear, dear!” said Santa Claus, with twinkling eyes. “And do you want
to start to-night?”
“No,” said Bab, reproachfully. “No,—indeed! But,” anxiously, “tell me
what I am to do, Santa Claus. You see, now I sha’n’t be doing it _only_
because Mother Goose told me I must, but because you have been so kind
to Wiggles and me!”
Then Santa Claus gazed at her with such wonderful kindness in his smile
that she felt almost bewildered.
“Little Bab,” he said gently, “don’t you see that you have won your
freedom already, if you want it, by what you did for my Wooden Cow?”
“But—but—” stammered Bab, very much surprised, “I didn’t do it for
_that_ reason!”
“I know it. And that is just why it sets you free,” said Santa Claus.
“And now go to sleep. To-morrow you may go back to Mother Goose.”
Bab felt very sleepy. The firelight was flickering drowsily about the
room. She and Wiggles were curled up on a big fur rug that lay beside
the hearth. Santa Claus’s face smiled at her in the dancing, fading red
light.
“Good-night, Bab,” he said.
“Good-night, Santa Cl—”
Then she and Wiggles went fast asleep by the big fire in the house of
Santa Claus.
[Illustration]
VII
_Meg’s Journey to Fairyland_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VII
_Meg’s Journey to Fairyland_
Now we must leave Bab for a little while, and go back to her sister
Meg, whom we left on the edge of the Wonderful Wood.
“It’s all nonsense!” said Meg to herself, as she entered the big
forest. She turned to speak to Bab, but of course found herself quite
alone. She rubbed her eyes and looked about her wonderingly. It was all
nonsense, undoubtedly, but—where were the others? She felt just a wee
bit frightened. It was rather creepy, really,—this being alone in the
Wonderful Wood.
Well, the only thing to do was to hurry and get out of it, as fast as
she possibly could. She wheeled around, but soon saw, as Bab had seen,
that the forest had closed in behind her, and that there was nothing to
do but go on. So on she went.
She found the path fairly smooth and easy, and her spirits rose. She
walked faster and faster, and even sang to herself as she went. She had
forgotten all about her errand, all about the Fairy Queen and Mother
Goose and Humpty Dumpty. She simply danced along the pretty, shady
wood-path, and hummed little songs, and wondered how long it would be
before she was out of the forest. Meg was younger than Bab, you see,
and even more thoughtless, and so she had all the more to learn and all
the farther to go. And it came about that she had walked twice as far
as Bab’s whole journey had been, before anything befell her that was at
all like an adventure. But when it _did_ happen—Well, it was this way:
She was just beginning to feel a little tired, and a little bored also.
There seemed to be no squirrels nor birds to watch, nor any flowers
to pick, and the path was as straight as a string, and just about as
interesting to Meg!
“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed at last, “I thought I should see all sorts
of strange things, and I haven’t seen anything at all yet. I wish
something _would_ happen! I wish I could see something queer and excit—”
“How about me?” demanded a voice at her side. Meg stopped short, and
she and the owner of the voice stood and stared at each other.
He was a small, evil-looking dwarf, dressed in gray, with skin the
colour of his clothes, and a huge hump on his back.
“Who are you?” asked Meg.
“Grump,” said the stranger. “Grump, the Gray Dwarf. And of all the
creatures in the Wonderful Wood, I am the wickedest!”
He seemed remarkably proud of the fact.
Meg felt squirmy and uncomfortable. There was no doubt about it: he did
look very wicked indeed!
“I am not afraid of you!” she said boastfully, though her voice
quavered.
“That’s good!” said Grump, grinning horribly. “For we are to be
comrades for a time!”
Meg felt really frightened now.
“Indeed we are not!” she exclaimed, trying to sound very brave and
careless. “You live in the Wonderful Wood, and I am only passing
through it,—as quickly as possible,” she added with much feeling.
“Yes, yes!” said Grump, still grinning. “As quickly as possible!”
Something in his look made Meg fear that _that_ might not be so very
quickly, after all.
“Come,” continued the Gray Dwarf, holding out a gray hand. “Come with
me!”
And, desperately frightened, but feeling in an odd way that she was
quite weak and helplessly in the power of her new acquaintance, Meg
followed him—where do you think? Into a little black hole in the
ground! As she looked down at it, she did not dream that she could
get into it, but the Gray Dwarf took her hand, and she found herself
slipping in with as much ease as Grump himself.
Down they went through an earthy-smelling passage-way that twisted and
turned through utter darkness. The air was damp and heavy and very cold.
“_Am_ I dreaming, after all?” thought Meg. “I feel like a
mole,—burrowing into the earth like this!”
It seemed to her that they went a very great distance, stumbling along
through the moist ground, with the close earthy smell all about, and no
light anywhere. At last the passage suddenly widened out, and opened
onto a round space like an underground cave, lighted by a low, green
flame that flickered fitfully in one corner.
The walls were all of earth,—fresh, damp earth; and now and then a
little would slip down, the way it does from a heap of mould when
you’ve been digging in the garden. It fell upon the moist earth-floor
at their feet, but it made no sound. There were no echoes in this
underground room where the Gray Dwarf lived. Everything was still,—much
too still to be pleasant, Meg thought. In the earth-walls were
queer little fibrous threads here and there, and overhead some big,
pale, thin things hung down, like frozen snakes, or dead, curving
tree-branches. At first she could not guess what they all were, but
suddenly she saw that they were roots! The roots of trees and plants
and shrubs, and all sorts of growing things! She was indeed far down in
the earth, since she could look up and see the roots of the Wonderful
Wood.
She stood, blinking at the faint green flame, and watched Grump go
across to it. By blowing upon it he made it flare up more brightly,
and the vivid emerald light made Meg’s heart go faster than ever. What
was going to happen to her? Was she going to be burned up? Grump,
having freshened his ghostly fire, proceeded to place on it a huge iron
caldron,—the kind that you always think of witches bending over. This
horrid-looking thing he brought from a shadowy corner. As soon as the
flames touched it, a thick steam began to rise from the big black pot,
filling the air with a queer, spicy smell, and curling clouds of purple
smoke. Grump gave a long, low cry, and waved his arms over the pot.
“Oh, what is it?” Meg exclaimed, in terror.
Grump grinned and glared at her.
“Magic!” he said. “Watch, and you will see something!”
The steam came and came, until it hid both Grump and the pot. Then on
it Meg saw, as though reflected or sketched very dimly, the figure of a
man with glittering eyes, a crown, and a deep red robe. He was looking
down at Grump, who, Meg now saw, was crouching at his feet.
“You have done my bidding?” said the shadowy crimson man. “You have
stopped the messenger sent from Mother Goose to the Fairy Queen?”
“Yes, O Wicked King!” cried Grump.
“You have brought her to your Earth-Home?”
“Yes, O Wicked King!”
“You have let her live so far?”
“Yes, O Wicked King. What does his most august and nobly evil Majesty
desire done with her?”
“Destroy her!” said the Wicked King. “If she is allowed to go to the
Court of the Fairies, she will be taught the spell that frees Humpty
Dumpty, and I shall lose both my prisoner and the spell. Destroy her, I
say! Put her into the big pot!”
He vanished, and instantly the thick steam cleared away. Meg saw Grump
huddled down beside the big pot.
“What are you going to do with me?” she asked, trembling.
“Put you into the big pot,” said the Gray Dwarf, with a grin of joy.
“You heard the Wicked King’s orders.”
Meg gasped, and looked about her for some way of escape. Then she tried
to think more calmly, and decided that her one chance lay in gaining
time. To do this, she began to talk to the Gray Dwarf as quietly as she
could.
“I really think,” she said, “that if you are going to boil me, you
might tell me what for.”
Grump considered this for a minute. “Well,” he said at last, “I have no
objection to that. You may sit down if you like, and I will explain.”
Meg sat down obediently, though with a quaking heart, and Grump
sat opposite her, still beside the pot. The green flames flickered
uncannily about him as he talked.
“In the first place,” he began, “you must know that I am in the service
of the Wicked King, whom you saw appear just now. He lives in the Great
Red City, beside the Sea of Glass, and he keeps Mother Goose’s son
Humpty Dumpty a prisoner on his city wall. My master is very great and
very cruel, and I obey him in everything. You know, probably, about
the capture of Humpty Dumpty?”
“No, not about the capture,” said Meg. “Only that he _was_ captured.
How did it happen?”
“That is a long story. I will only take time to tell you that I had a
good deal to do with it!” And he grinned again. “Well, there is only
one spell which can set him free, and that spell is in the possession
of one person,—the Queen of the Fairies. It is a very valuable spell,
and she keeps it carefully hidden. A little while ago, Mother Goose
heard of the spell, and she and the Fairy Queen have been sending
messages to each other ever since. The Queen has promised to give it
to the old lady’s messenger, and that is the chief reason why you are
being sent to Fairyland,—to bring back the spell. Now that is _one_
reason why the Wicked King wants to have you killed. Do you see?”
“I suppose so,” said poor Meg, though it did seem rather unfair. “Is
there any other reason?”
“Two,” answered Grump, seeming pleased that she saw the matter so
clearly. “One is that the Wicked King is planning to steal that spell
away from the Queen within another day!”
“But how can he steal a spell?” said Meg, puzzled and interested in
spite of her own danger. “I thought a spell was a—a—well, some words,
you know, or—anyway, I didn’t know that you could really steal it.”
“Oh, yes!” the Gray Dwarf assured her. “This spell is written on a
piece of sky-coloured paper and kept in a crystal box. Well, the Wicked
King is going to have it stolen to-night! Then he can not only keep
Humpty Dumpty forever, but he will own the spell besides. A really good
spell, you know, is always useful for a great many purposes.”
Meg listened with open eyes. And as she heard these things she thought
not only of her own safety, but of poor Humpty Dumpty, who would never
be free, and Mother Goose, who must grieve over her son forever, and
the good Fairy Queen, who would be robbed of her treasure by the Wicked
King. And then she thought of her errand, and Mother Goose’s trust in
her; she had forgotten all about what she had been told to do, and she
felt ashamed of herself. Perhaps, if she had kept her wits about her
as she passed through the Wonderful Wood, and thought steadily of what
she had been sent for, she would have escaped the clutches of the cruel
Gray Dwarf.
Suddenly she felt that she must get away, if only to warn the Fairy
Queen and ask Mother Goose’s pardon. Her determination sharpened her
wits. Once more she tried to gain time. She looked about her to find
the way by which she had come. The hole in the earth wall looked
smaller than ever, and moreover it was some distance away and on the
side nearest Grump. There did not seem to be much hope of escape, but
she did not feel entirely discouraged.
“You said there was another reason,” she reminded her jailer. Grump had
started to blow up the fire again, with glances of wicked glee in her
direction. As she spoke, he stopped and sat down once more.
“Oh, yes!” he said. “Well, the other reason for your death is this:
In that caldron is all the magic power I have. It was that which made
you obliged to follow me when I stopped you in the Wonderful Wood. It
was that which brought me the vision of the Wicked King a few minutes
ago. Without it I should be just an ordinary, commonplace, every-day
gnome. The contents of the caldron is made of souls,—the souls of all
sorts of things,—the soul of a flower, the soul of a tiger, the soul
of a butterfly, a nightingale, a lizard, a sea-gull, a snake, a bat,
a porcupine, a goblin, an ogre, a dove! All kinds and conditions of
souls, you see! But the magic essence will be complete only when the
soul of a mortal is added to it. _Then_ my master the King and I shall
be the lords of all this land! Therefore _you_ must go into the pot!”
Meg’s heart leaped. She had thought of something! It was a tiny chance,
but still a chance.
“Did you say,” she asked, looking at the caldron as though in awe,
“that all your power comes from that?”
Grump laughed.
“Every bit!” he returned. “Why, if that were tipped over—” He stopped
short, and looked at her as though he were afraid he might have told
her too much. Meg’s heart beat faster and faster, but she managed to
speak in a sad, frightened tone:
“Oh, I hate the thought of having my soul used in a magic essence—Oh,
must I really be put into the pot?”
She had risen to her feet, and was moving slowly toward the pot,
looking very much afraid. Grump had risen too, and was blowing the fire
into big, green flames.
“You really must!” he said cheerfully. “It won’t hurt, so you needn’t
mind in the least!”
Meg went nearer and nearer. How big and black the pot looked!
“Now,” said the Gray Dwarf, “shall I put you in, or will you jump?”
“Oh, I’ll jump—if I really do have to get in,” said Meg, seeming to
shrink.
“Well, are you ready?” asked Grump, impatiently.
“Quite ready!” cried Meg, and sprang forward.
But, instead of jumping into the pot, she threw herself against it with
all her weight. It swayed, toppled, and then went over with an awful
hiss of steam and a wild leap of wicked, green fire. Meg heard the Gray
Dwarf scream with fury and cry: “My power is gone! My magic is gone!
What shall I do?”
He was just in front of her, and tried to stop her with a snarl of
rage. But she was bigger than he was, and stronger now, and she pushed
him away, and plunged past him into the dark passage-way once more.
On—on—up—up she struggled, leaving the green light and Grump’s cries
farther and farther behind her. She breathed the damp, earthy air with
joy in spite of its heavy closeness. On—on—up—up!... Suddenly she was
in the outer air again, blinking and gasping and covered with clinging
earth.
At first she was so glad to be safe that she noticed nothing
remarkable; but after a moment she cried out with surprise. The
Wonderful Wood had entirely disappeared, and she was standing in a
great meadow filled with rainbow flowers more lovely than any mortal
ever saw before!
[Illustration]
VIII
_The Court of the Fairy Queen_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VIII
_The Court of the Fairy Queen_
At first Meg thought she was alone, but soon she saw a lady standing
near, picking pale yellow blossoms. She wore a green gown, and her feet
were bare. On her bright hair was a little crown that seemed made of
wee gold stars, and her face was very grave and sweet. Meg went up to
her timidly.
“Please,” she said with a catch in her voice, “will you tell me the way
to Fairyland? I—I’m in a great hurry.”
“What do you want to do in Fairyland?” said the lady, kindly. “Are you
in trouble?”
“N-n-o—that is, a little. I want to tell the Fairy Queen something she
ought to know. And I want to let Mother Goose know how sorry I am that
I was disobedient and naughty, and of course if I could I should like
to help Dick save Humpty Dumpty.”
“You look sad,” said the lady, and put her arm about Meg.
“I want Bab and Dick,—that’s all,” said Meg, simply. “And—and—of course
I’m sorry, and—and _worried_ about things, you know.”
The lady smiled quite merrily. Then she lifted Meg in her arms and
kissed her softly.
“Dear little girl!” she said. “Sweet Meg! you have had a harder journey
than Bab, but you are at the end of it.”
“Who—who are you, please?” whispered Meg, wondering that she knew their
names.
“You may call me the Lady of Dreams-Come-True,” said the green-gowned
stranger. “But that is not my name. Now run along quickly to the Court
of the Fairies.”
“Oh, but I am so dusty and dirty!” exclaimed Meg. “I can’t go to Court
this way!”
“You have your pink silk dress with you,” said the Lady of
Dreams-Come-True, laughing.
Meg looked down in surprise. Over her left arm hung her once-treasured
pink gown! Somehow, among these wonderful flowers and beside this
beautiful lady, it did not look nearly so pretty as it once had. She
let it slip to the ground.
“I must have been very silly,” she said half to herself, “to want to
bring _that_ to Make Believe Land!”
[Illustration: BAB AND THE SAND MAN]
The lady laughed again, in a pleased way.
“Then you must go to Court as you are,” she said; “but _I_ think that
you look very nice!”
Meg looked down again, and saw that her white dress was now as fresh
and clean as though it had just been washed.
“Why—why—” she stammered, “how wonderful! It might almost be Fairyland
already!”
“It _is_ Fairyland already,” said her new friend. “Look!”
Over the flowers Meg could see a thousand faint and shining wings. The
air shimmered and glinted with them; the flowers swayed softly beneath
their fanning. The daintiest, loveliest faces and forms showed dimly
between every glistening, misty pair of these wonderful wings.
Meg gazed, bewildered.
“Oh, how beautiful!” she cried softly.
“Good-bye, Meg,” was all the lady would say. She seemed to be growing
transparent and misty herself.
“Good-bye!” cried Meg. “Oh! shall I see you again?”
“Oh, yes! yes!” she answered, smiling, and seemed to become a little
less distinct. “Some day—some day—” murmured Dreams-Come-True; and
straightway vanished into the soft rainbow-tinted air.
As Meg walked on through the Flower Meadow, the delicate wings and
faces grew more and more distinct, and seemed to crowd ever closer
and closer about her. Everywhere they floated, like faintly coloured
mist-wreaths, like the ghosts of big, beautiful butterflies, like
flowers made alive. Everywhere the light glowed, brilliant and yet
soft, like a huge, liquid opal. Sometimes it seemed to Meg to be shot
with the palest pink, sometimes the purest blue, sometimes the most
exquisite green, the clearest yellow, the faintest lavender. And what
with the flowers, and the wings, and the magical colours in the air,
Meg felt as though she were moving through the heart of a great rainbow.
About her feet and against her dress swayed and bumped the big bright
flowers. Some of them were so tall that they touched her shoulders
with their sweet, nodding heads; sometimes they were so tiny that she
almost stepped on them, though, of course, she tried not to. The sky
was filled with rainbow-coloured clouds; a delicious perfume hung
everywhere. In the distance rose slender turrets—gold and rose-coloured
and snow-white—from the mist of flowers and wings.
And as Meg listened, she could hear any number of voices singing, in
the sweetest chorus imaginable, a little, soft song about roses and
clouds and dew and star-beams.
There was no doubt about it,—no doubt at all: as the Lady of
Dreams-Come-True had said, she really was in Fairyland at last. These
airy beings floating and fluttering, singing and crowding on every
hand, were certainly the Fairies,—the dainty folk whose Queen she was
seeking.
Meg resolved not to loiter any longer in that delicious field, but to
hurry across it as fast as she could and to find the Queen. But when
she tried to move more quickly, she found that the soft transparent
forms were holding her back. She struggled for a minute or two in
vain. She felt hands as light as rain-drops on her wrists, and at last
she heard a high, sweet laugh. Then the clearest of bell-like voices
said:
“Well, Mortal, what are you doing here? And why do you struggle so hard
against the Fairy Folk?”
“Oh, please!” panted Meg. “Take me to the Fairy Queen!”
Again came the light, soft laugh.
“Not so fast, Mortal! That is easy to ask. Do you think our Queen is so
easy to see? You must state your business.”
“I _must_ see the Queen!” cried Meg. “It—it’s very important!
It’s”—speaking with a sort of rush—“it’s about the Wicked King, and the
spell in the crystal box!”
Instantly an angry chorus filled the air, and Meg found herself held
more tightly than before.
“How dare she?” cried the Fairies. “How dare she speak of the Wicked
King and the spell _here_? She must know either the Wicked King or
Grump!”
“Yes!” Meg tried to explain, speaking eagerly. “And Grump told me—”
But at this point the chorus rose to the shrillest rage.
“Grump! Grump! She knows him! She admits it! Away with her! She shall
not live another hour! No—no—turn her into a rat or an oyster! She is a
friend of our dear Lady’s enemy, the Gray Dwarf!”
“Indeed I’m _not_ a friend of Grump’s!” exclaimed Meg, indignantly.
“You just ask _him_ if I am!”
But they would not listen to her, and she felt herself being hurried
away, faster and faster and faster with every second, until she was
sure she should die if they did not let her stop to take breath.
“Please—please—” she panted, as they pulled her along, “I can explain
if you will just wait one moment!” But they were far too busy abusing
her, to hear a word she said.
“Oh, dear, dear, dear!” sighed poor Meg to herself. “Grump _must_ be a
nasty person, if just mentioning his name has this effect!”
As she was dragged along through the Flower Meadow, she kept repeating
over and over: “I _must_ see the Queen! I _must_ tell her! I _must_
warn her!” And suddenly—she never knew how, but she suspected Mother
Goose or Dreams-Come-True of having something to do with it—she really
did break from the grasp of her captors and dash on across the field
alone.
She could hear the sweet, excited voices of the Fairies, and could feel
their wings fan the back of her neck as they followed her. But at that
moment she caught sight of a low, flowery hedge, with a gateway made of
two tall trees wreathed with blossoming vines, and through that gate
she dashed, just as the Fairies behind her cried:
“She has gone into the Palace Garden! She has gone into the Queen’s
presence! How dare she!”
Meg was in the loveliest place she had ever seen, but she was too
frightened to think of its magical beauty just then. By the time the
Fairy Folk came crowding into the Garden after her, she had espied
a lady sitting on a throne, with giant roses all about, and Fairy
Court-ladies standing in rows with folded wings.
“Oh, are you the Queen?” she asked eagerly, running forward.
“Yes,” said the beautiful lady. And all the Fairies stopped and stood
motionless as she spoke. She had great shining wings that moved up
and down, trembling like flower-petals, and her face gleamed with a
wonderfully sunny smile; and sometimes she swayed a little, like a very
tall lily in a high wind. And no one could say what colour her eyes
were, nor what sort of features she had. But one knew at once that she
was surely the Queen of the Fairy Folk.
“Yes,” she said again. “I am the Queen. What is it that you wish of me?”
“Oh, your Majesty!” cried the Fairies who had followed Meg; and they
all bent low, and spread out their wings as she spoke—just the way a
bird sometimes does, close to the ground, when it begins to rain,—“Oh,
your Majesty! Do not listen to her! She is a friend of the Gray Dwarf
and the Wicked King!”
“Is that true?” asked the Queen, bending over Meg, and flashing her
eyes at her until she felt as though she were looking deep into two
huge stars.
“No!” cried Meg, boldly. “It isn’t!”
“Oh!” exclaimed the Fairies, angrily. “How truly wicked she is! And
_how_ she lies! She _told_ us she was a friend of theirs!”
“I said I _knew_ Grump,” said Meg, ready to cry. “I _never_ said he was
my friend. He’s dreadful, and tried to kill me; and as for the Wicked
King, I only saw him in some magic pot-steam!”
“What is all this about?” asked the Queen, frowning slightly. “Come,
little girl, tell your story; we will listen.”
So Meg told her story from the time she met the Gray Dwarf. The Queen
was much interested, and she thanked her for warning her about the
Wicked King’s wish to steal her valuable spell. And the Fairies who had
wanted to turn Meg into a rat or an oyster looked very much ashamed of
themselves, and hung down their wings in a very humble manner.
“But,” said the Queen, “how did it happen that you, a little mortal
girl, were travelling through the Wonderful Wood alone, so very, very
far from your own country?”
Then Meg remembered her real errand, and explained at greater length,
telling all about Mother Goose’s directions, and everything from the
very beginning. At last it was all told, and the Queen sat for a space
in silence, as though considering what she had heard.
At last she sent two of the Fairies for the crystal box containing the
spell. When they returned, bearing it between them, she opened the
little casket, and took out of it a roll of paper as blue as the sky,
covered with writing that glowed like orange fire.
“Listen,” said the Fairy Queen, and then read aloud:
“‘Closed door, closed shell,
Locked box, sealed well,
Shot bolt, shut gate
Yield up your contents straight.
All things that fastened are,
Shake off the spell or bar;
All strange disguises flee,
Everything held,—go free!
Closed door, closed shell,
Yield to the opening spell!’
Now, do you understand that?”
“I—I think so—partly,” said Meg, doubtfully. “But what am I to do with
it, please?”
“Take it to your brother,” said the Queen. “With it he can free Humpty
Dumpty, and fulfil Mother Goose’s command. He has only to read it to
Humpty Dumpty, at the same time striking the great egg-shell with
something hard and sharp, and the young prince will be free, and in his
own shape once more.”
“Oh, splendid!” cried Meg joyfully, clapping her hands, and dancing
first on one foot and then on the other.
“The next difficulty,” continued the Queen, “will be for your brother
to escape. Humpty Dumpty can escape from the wall well enough, but your
brother cannot be freed by the spell, for he will be neither bound nor
locked up; in neither shell, prison, nor box; behind no gate, no door,
and no bars. Yet he will be on the top of the city wall, which is near
the ground on the inside, but far, far from it on the outside. For this
he has only to whisper ‘Help me!’ into one of the red flowers on the
vine that grows on the outer side of the wall. Then he can clamber down
by the help of these tiny climbing creepers. They are Fairy Flowers,
and like to give aid. They cannot grow inside the city of the Wicked
King, but they come as near as possible, and are always hoping that
some day they may be able to help someone. Now, little Mortal, take my
spell and hurry back with it!”
“Oh, but—your Majesty!” stammered Meg. “I—I was told to serve you for a
year and a day, or until I had done you some great service!”
The Queen laughed until it sounded like a hundred little gold bells.
“Dear child, you have served me,” she said. “Have you already forgotten
the warning you gave me?”
“Oh!” exclaimed Meg, and was dumb. She had never thought of that!
[Illustration]
IX
_Under the Sea of Glass_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER IX
_Under the Sea of Glass_
Of course, when Dick found himself alone in the Wonderful Wood, he was
as surprised as his two sisters had been, and just a wee bit frightened
too; though, being a boy, he would not admit it, even to himself!
He trotted down the wood-path—which twisted and turned like a long
snake—with his hands in his trousers pockets, and a very determined
heart. He was extremely proud of having been chosen by Mother Goose
for the task of rescuing her son, Humpty Dumpty, and thought that it
showed how really sensible she was, after all. For of course, those
things—rescuing prisoners, and all that—were always done by _men!_
He thought it a pity that neither she nor Bizzybuzz had given him any
clearer directions about getting to the city of the Wicked King, but he
hoped to meet plenty of people from whom he could ask the way. So he
hurried on quite cheerfully, earnest and excited, into the depths of
the Wonderful Wood. And very soon the wood grew lighter and thinner,
and finally came to an end altogether, and lo and behold! there he was,
on the shore of the Sea of Glass!
You see, Dick’s journey through the Wonderful Wood had been short, for
all his adventures were to follow.
The Sea of Glass looked like a big green mirror, polished and clear and
smooth. It did not look like water, nor ice, nor like anything except
just what it was. Through the glass surface Dick could see faintly
moving shadows and ripples. Evidently there was water underneath. As a
matter of fact, it had once been a real, regular sea; only the Wicked
King had put a glass lid over it, and screwed it on for all eternity.
Dick stared at the Sea of Glass for a minute very nervously and
doubtfully; then, thinking of Humpty Dumpty, he stepped manfully out
upon it. It was very slippery, but for a little while he got along
fairly well by holding his hands out to balance himself and keeping his
legs very far apart.
Then suddenly he stumbled a little and swayed, and as he did so,
something slipped from his pocket, and fell with a sharp “cling!” on
the glass. It was his jack-knife! He remembered that he had wanted to
bring it with him, and that Bizzybuzz had promised it to him, and here
it was! He stooped and picked it up, and then stopped a moment to open
it and examine all its blades and corkscrews, and to be quite sure that
it really was his own long-lost jack-knife.
Now, the one thing you must _not_ do on the Sea of Glass is to stand
still. Dick felt his feet slip from under him, and put out his hands
wildly. He lost his balance, fell, and the sharp blade of the open
knife splintered down through the glass, with a sound like the smashing
of three dozen fine wine-glasses.... The next moment, Dick, still
holding the fatal knife, was falling down, down, down, through cold
green water. Strange to say, he did not feel at all like drowning; but
it was very cold and dark and unpleasant, and he heartily wished that
he had never had a jack-knife.
Down—down—down he went, and passed a shoal of big fishes who made
dreadful faces at him as he whizzed by. Suddenly, before he had
entirely grasped what had happened to him, he found himself on solid
ground again, at the bottom of the sea, rather jarred but otherwise
unhurt, and was staring at the oddest sort of creature that he had ever
seen.
This Creature was sitting just in front of him, in a sort of cave,
lined with sea-shells and pink and white coral. On every side was
growing sea-grass of scarlet and purple and green, and there were
also sea-flowers and waving weeds of all kinds and colours. Quivering
jelly-fish of pink and orange floated through the dim water, and
star-fish lay about upon the pale, deep-sea sand. Sword-fish,
porpoises, and other ocean things peered in upon the scene, with their
queer, fixed goggle eyes. The light seemed to be filtered through a
deep green shade.
The Creature himself was shaped like a man, but he was covered
completely with silver-green scales, and had hair like long, lank
sea-weed. His eyes were as cold and pale and glassy as those of the
fishes, and his expression, slight as it was, was entirely disagreeable.
“This is most annoying,” he remarked, surveying Dick. “What are you?”
“Do you mean ‘Who are you?’” asked Dick.
“No,” said the Creature. “_What!_”
“Oh!” said Dick. “I am a little boy.”
“I never heard of it,” said the Creature. “I don’t think I like you.
You may go!”
“Certainly!” replied Dick, meekly. “Do—do you mind telling me how?”
“I don’t care,” said the Creature. After that, conversation stopped for
a while, and they merely stared at each other in silence. At last the
Scaled One spoke again, this time very crossly:
“Why don’t you go?”
“I’d be _very_ glad to!” said poor Dick. “But you see, I don’t know how
to go. Would it be too much trouble for you to tell me how to get to
the City of the Wicked King?”
“_What!_” roared the Creature, so suddenly and violently that Dick
jumped. “_I_ tell anyone anything about the Wicked King? Don’t you know
that he is the deadliest enemy that I have?”
“Why, no!” answered Dick, a little disturbed by this outburst. “Won’t
you tell me about it, please?”
His new acquaintance looked fiercely at him for a moment, and then
became suddenly plunged in utter melancholy.
“Ah!” he sighed, while a tear oozed out of his eye and made a bubble in
the green water, “’tis a sad tale! Listen, and hear the sorrowful story
of the Sea Kobold!”
“Is that you?” asked Dick.
“Who else?” said the Scaly Creature. Then in mournful tones he began:
“I am the Sea Kobold. I own this sea, and everything in it. Once I
owned the surface of the sea too, but that was long ago. I owned
the pretty green waves with silver crests, that break in the bright
daytime, and the big black ones that come at night in the dark of the
moon. And I owned too the little pink ones that you see at sunset, when
the West is burning up all the horrid things that have happened during
the day.
“I took a fatherly interest in the little boats that floated there,
and in the pretty, long-haired mermaids who swam up into the moonlight
to sing love-songs to the sailors. The fishes that leaped and circled
and shone in the purple light of dusk were all my friends, and the big
and small winds knew me for their master. And I had a little son,—a
beautiful, scaly son, born in the sea, and fated to inherit my power
and my great sea-kingdom. But all that was very, very long ago!”
He wept.
“That was surely very nice,” said Dick, to encourage him.
“Nice! It was—” The Sea Kobold sought for a word.
“Bully?” suggested Dick.
“I never heard the adjective,” said the Sea Kobold, primly. “But I will
accept it for the moment. It was bully!—What was I saying? Ah, yes! It
is a _very_ sad story. The Wicked King lives, as you must know, on the
further shore of this sea. He has a very pretty daughter, with whom
Prince Humpty Dumpty used to be in love.”
“Humpty Dumpty!” exclaimed Dick, now all ears.
“Yes.—Don’t interrupt, please! It distracts my mind.—Well, the Wicked
King wanted her to marry someone else,—a gentleman named Grump, I
believe,—and forbade her to even see Humpty Dumpty. But of course the
lovers would not obey him. He was so cruel and unkind always that his
daughter did not think it wrong to do as he had told her not to; and,
for my part, I did not, either.
“Humpty Dumpty came every night and sang love-songs to her, and one
night he came in a beautiful little boat, made out of a big shell, with
a sail spun entirely out of rose-leaves of different colours. And down
by the shore he sang the very prettiest song that he had ever sung—or
that any one else had ever sung, for that matter—and that I know, for I
was listening. A _very_ pretty song it was, to be sure!
“We were great friends, he and I, and I held his boat between two quiet
waves when he went on shore to meet the Princess. And down she came
from the City Wall Gate, holding up her skirts daintily and looking as
sweet as possible. And they got into the sea-shell boat, and I puffed
a breeze to fill the rose-leaf sail, and off they sailed.
“But just then who should appear upon the shore but the Wicked King
himself, and Grump with him! Grump—who was half a wizard and a _very_
disagreeable person, besides being very much in love with the little
Princess—jumped into the sea and swam after the boat. The Wicked King
stood on the shore and raved and threatened and swore.
“I tried my best to drown Grump, but he wouldn’t sink any more than a
piece of cork, and in spite of all my efforts he overtook the boat and
pulled it slowly back to the shore. Grump made some magic passes over
the prow of the little sea-shell skiff, and—oh, ’tis too sad!—when
the boat reached the shore, there was nothing in it but the Princess,
crying like a baby, and beside her a big egg.
“They put poor Humpty Dumpty, in his new shape, on the City Wall, and
shut the pretty little Princess up in a high tower. And then they took
my little boy Mudge, and made him a prisoner too, just to punish me
for having helped the young Prince. And last of all”—the Sea Kobold
choked—“they put a glass lid over my sea, and screwed it down tight.
And now I can never, never go up to the surface any more. And there are
no more waves, and no more boats, and no more mermaids singing in the
moonlight to the sailors, and—no—more—” The Sea Kobold dissolved into
tears.
“Oh, cheer up!” said Dick, absent-mindedly. He was too much interested
in the Sea Kobold’s story to pay much attention to his grief. “Do you
happen to know just where the Princess is now?” he asked.
The Sea Kobold shook his head.
“No,” he answered. “I know that she is in the highest tower in the Red
City.”
“The _highest tower_; that’s something to know, anyway,” said Dick,
thoughtfully. He was glad to know that in the Red City he would have
one person ready to help him if it were possible.
“And now,” he added, “would you—_would_ you be so kind, please, as to
tell me how to get to the Red City?”
“I’m sure _I_ don’t know any way,” said the Sea Kobold, mournfully.
“Since that glass cover was screwed on—By the bye, how did you get
here?” he asked suddenly.
“I fell, and my knife broke a hole in the glass,” explained Dick. He
showed the offending blade, and then shut and dropped it into his
pocket.
“Well, go back through it, then,” said the Sea Kobold. “While we are on
the subject, I may tell you that I am glad you have made a hole. I can
go up now and then to look out, though, of course, I shall never dare
to stay very long, for fear the Wicked King or Grump might see me and
plan some fresh trouble for me. Now good-bye; I can’t be bothered with
you any more.”
And he closed his fishy eyes and appeared to sleep.
Since there seemed nothing more to be gained by staying where he was,
Dick turned his back on the Sea Kobold and his cave, and walked off
among the rocks and the big ocean-trees that were scattered along the
bottom of the sea.
He felt rather discouraged and lonely, for he could not imagine how
he should ever get up again to the hole he had made in the glass. It
occurred to him that he might climb one of the queer, tall, lanky
sea-trees; but when he stopped to look, he could see that the top did
not nearly reach to the surface. What was going to happen to him next?
he wondered.
He soon found out.
[Illustration]
X
_A Fish Tea-Party_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER X
_A Fish Tea-Party_
As Dick walked along on the dim brown-gray sand on the bottom of the
sea, he began to notice, as his eyes grew more and more accustomed
to the faint greenish light, the many marvels which were all around
him. Never, in after years, could he quite recall all the strange and
beautiful things that he saw during that submarine stroll, but what
he did remember made him long many times to visit the sea-floor once
again, and look at the wonderful sights which were to be seen there.
Besides the masses of many-coloured sea-weed, and the odd, bright-hued
sea-flowers that grew there, there were whole forests of coral,
snow-white, pale yellow, and deep scarlet. There were narrow rock-paths
where gold glittered in the crevices, and great lumps of brown
and yellow agate gleamed dimly through the water. There were heaps
of pearls,—as though some mysterious sea-miser had been collecting
and hoarding them; and garnets that made the water all around look
as though it were dyed crimson. The sea-moss of purple and red and
dull green hung waveringly from the rocks, and lay in patches on the
sand-floor, like strange, gaudy rugs.
The sea-trees moved slowly with the faint motion of the deep-sea
currents, and in the distance looked like dark-green shadows, stirring
across a sheet of glass. Everywhere were shells—large and small, pink,
white, black, and gray, lying at his feet, lodged in niches in the
high, black rocks, floating, caught in tangles of dull sea-weed. And
everywhere, too, were fishes, some of them quite ordinary-looking
creatures, but others different from any that Dick had ever seen even
in picture-books.
Suddenly the rock-walled path which he had been following came to
an end, and he found himself in a huge, green-washed clearing, with
distant walls and a clean-swept, sandy floor. This place was filled
with all sorts of strange sea-creatures,—principally fish, although
there were several queer things that did not look as though they
belonged in the natural history books.
In the very centre of the big crowded circle sat an old woman, in a
dark green cloak and hood, which floated away from her skinny face and
figure whenever she waved her arm—which she did very often. For she
seemed to be the mistress of ceremonies down here, and all the other
creatures listened with respect to what she said. When she saw Dick,
she beckoned to him, and he went up to her feeling even more frightened
than when he had faced Mother Goose or the Sea Kobold.
“I am the Old Witch of the Sea,” she said. “And my husband is the Old
Man of the Sea. Have you ever read ‘Sinbad the Sailor’?”
Dick shook his head.
“In that case,” said the Witch, thoughtfully, “I am not sure whether or
not you would better stay to tea.”
“Oh, is this a party?” asked Dick eagerly, looking around him with new
interest.
“Yes,” said the Witch, proudly. “I give a tea-party every week for
the fish. The Sea Kobold, the real ruler of this sea, has become so
bad-tempered, since they screwed him in here, that he won’t do a
single thing for the amusement of his poor unfortunate subjects; so,
of course, I feel it my duty to do what I can to cheer them up. Do you
know him, by the way?”
“The Sea Kobold?” said Dick, a little bewildered. “Yes, I—I—have met
him. He didn’t seem to like me very much, though.”
“Dear, dear!” said the Witch. “Then I’ll warrant that he never even
offered you a cup of tea!”
“No, indeed!” answered Dick.
“Dear, dear!” exclaimed the Witch again. “Then you must certainly come
to my tea-party, even if you have never heard of my husband, the Old
Man of the Sea.”
She motioned Dick to sit down on the sand, between two horrid-looking
fishes, and began to bustle about hospitably, among a number of
queer-shaped shells which, Dick gathered, took the place of cups at
fish tea-parties.
“With or without salt?” asked the Witch.
Dick started.
“I—I beg your pardon,” he stammered. “What did you say?”
“I _said_, ‘with or without salt’!” snapped the Witch, holding a pink
and orange shell in her hand.
“Without, I think,—thank you,” answered Dick, as politely as he could.
“You’re making a great mistake,” the Witch told him seriously. “Never
take tea in the sea without salt!”
Dick said he would take salt, after all, and the Witch brought him
the pink and orange shell, filled with a pale liquid which tasted as
though it were made of sea-weed. As a matter of fact, it _was_ made of
sea-weed.
“Why doesn’t it spill out?” he asked.
“Why doesn’t _what_ spill out?” said the Witch.
“The—the tea,” said Dick, wondering more and more how you could drink
liquid when you were sitting under the water.
“Because there isn’t anywhere to spill it!” said the Witch. “Stupid!”
Dick drank his salt tea, and found that it tasted better after you had
become a little used to it. The fish seemed to enjoy it immensely.
As they all sipped their tea, Dick had a chance to look at his
fellow-guests more closely. They were a queer collection.
On one side of him sat a big skate-fish, which looked so ridiculous
that Dick was afraid to stare at him long lest he should laugh out
loud. He looked just like a big pie-plate, with an eye set in each
side, and the funniest little wisp of a tail that you ever saw. On the
other was a shark, with a gray back, white waistcoat effect, a square
head, and two enormous sets of saw-like teeth. Next came a mackerel,
all brown and dappled; then a bluefish, almost black in colour; then
a silver salmon; then a huge-mouthed shad; then a haddock, a cod, and
a porpoise which seemed to have some trouble in overcoming its desire
to keep jumping all the time; then a butter-fish,—flat like a small
pancake; then a short, stumpy porgie; then a bull-head, thick and
dull-looking, with two little delicate horns on his ugly forehead; then
a sea-trout, with the prettiest suit of orange-spotted brown and deep
pink; then a swordfish, waving his sword-snout about in what looked
like a very dangerous manner; then a bass, and a sunfish with fins set
above and below, like enormous sun-rays.
On the farther side of the great circle there were a number of even
more extraordinary fish. There was an octopus, or devil-fish,—the
kind that try to pull sailors out of their boats and crush them to
death with their long, strong, innumerable arms; a tarpon, huge and
beautiful; a cuttle-fish, floating in a sort of inky halo; and, far in
the background, a monster whale. He had an appetite in keeping with his
size, and the Old Witch of the Sea had to take him fifty shells of tea
before he was even sufficiently satisfied to blow his thanks in a great
spurt of foaming water.
Dick also noticed a number of green lobsters and crabs of all sizes,
and scattered about on the ground were masses of oysters, clams,
mussels, and scollops,—their small round shells making the prettiest
sort of a pattern in blue, gray, and black. Then, too, there were
countless eels, wriggling their long grayish-green snaky bodies through
the water on all sides.
But after a while all the sea-weed tea was drunk, and even the whale
swam lumberingly away, and all the smaller fishes wriggled their thanks
to the Witch and departed likewise, and Dick was left quite alone with
his hostess.
“And now,” said the Old Witch of the Sea, “what can I do for you,
little mortal boy?”
Dick explained his trouble, and asked her if she could not possibly
help him to reach the surface of the water and continue his journey to
the City of the Wicked King.
“No,” said the Witch, shaking her head thoughtfully. “I am wise and
old,—oh, very, very old, indeed! But I cannot help you in this. But I
can take you to someone who _can_ help you; only you must come with me
obediently, and do everything that I tell you to, and not stop to talk
with the sea-folk on your way.”
“Oh, indeed, indeed I will do just what you tell me to!” cried Dick,
earnestly. “May we not start at once, please? And—and—” he added
hesitatingly, “I am very much obliged for the tea.”
The Old Witch of the Sea bowed with dignity, and said, “You are
entirely welcome, I am sure,” in a very grand way. Then, as they
began to walk on across the sand, she proceeded to talk further about
herself,—her great age and her even greater wisdom.
“You see,” said the Witch, “_I_ am one of the oldest inhabitants of
the ocean. _I_ it was who gave Hans Andersen’s poor Little Mermaid
her pretty feet, that hurt her so terribly until she was turned into
sea-foam. _I_ told Mr. Andersen about the matter myself, by the bye.
And _I_ fitted out Sinbad’s Cave. And _I_ sent word to the three Rhine
maidens to come here and live after they had gotten back their gold.
I explained that though Alberich and the gods and all those other
horrid interfering creatures were very properly dead and gone, they
never could tell what might happen in that Rhine neighbourhood,—horrid,
scandalous place, I call it,—so they came here to live. Would you like
to call on them? They live just around the corner.”
And without waiting for Dick to answer, she whisked him around a big
black rock, and into the presence of three very pretty young women,
who were swimming about and singing a soft, rippling song. In a cleft
on the rock glowed something bright and yellow. Dick did not know then
that it was the famous Rhine gold.
“I want to present to you—” began the Witch; but the three young women
only cried, “We are busy guarding our gold,—don’t interrupt us!” And
they began to sing and swim faster than ever.
“Mannerless creatures!” grumbled the Witch, as they went on their way
once more. “Almost as bad as that Lorelei girl. She lives farther down
the rock-street, so we won’t call on her. She’s just as ungrateful as
the rest, though I got _her_ here too.”
At that moment a crowd of children came romping by. They were
queer-looking little things, half of their bodies made up of scales and
fins and fish-tails, and the other half of rosy pink and white flesh
and blood. With them came a number of strange fishy animals that barked.
“What are they?” asked Dick.
“Mer-children with their pets, the sea-dogs,” responded the Witch.
“Come and play with us,” cried the Mer-children when they saw Dick.
“Come and play with the starfish, and have a ride on one of our
sea-horses.”
But the Witch would not let him join them, even for a moment.
“The Mer-people are dangerous folk,” she told him. “These children are
not like the Water Babies of whom you may have heard. If you played
with _these_ too long, you would lose your own human soul, and become a
Make Believe person, like the rest of us.”
They went on in silence for a minute or two.
“Oh, how pretty!” cried Dick, suddenly.
He pointed to a group of lovely maidens and handsome young men (all
with bodies that ended in shining fish-tails) who were swimming
gracefully through the water, while two sad-faced men, with wreaths of
pale blue flowers in their hair, played a soft, slow melody upon harps.
“The Mermen and Mermaids are having a ball,” said the Witch. “And they
have induced two of the Necker-folk to play for them. The Necker are
the saddest race of elves in the water, for they are always longing for
souls to be given them. Even while they play for the gay Mer-people to
dance, they are thinking of the souls they have not yet won.”
They passed all sorts of queer beasts as they journeyed on. There were
not only sea-horses and sea-dogs, but sea-serpents that seemed to have
been painted all the colours of the rainbow, and shiny, emerald-green
sea-dragons, and one terrible great thing, which seemed to be half
asleep, and about which the Witch said that a gentleman called Tennyson
had once written a poem. She said that the name of the Thing was the
Kraken.
So on and on they went, until Dick’s mind had become a sort of vague
jumble of queer fishy sights, and it seemed as though he had lived
forever at the bottom of the sea.
And suddenly he discovered that he was alone! The Old Witch of the Sea
had left him, and he was all by himself in the awful dark green depths
of the ocean that lay under the Sea of Glass!
What had become of his guide? Had she left him on purpose, or had she
been called away, in some queer fairy way which he did not understand?
Or was it possible that she had indeed brought him to the place where
he was to be given the help he had asked?
He looked about him on every side, and even up into the green water
over his head, but he could not see even a fish! He was utterly alone,
this time! Now, at last, everything was quite hopeless.
“Dear, dear, dear!” cried a sweet, half-mocking voice beside him. “What
is the matter? Why do you look so sad, little mortal boy?”
[Illustration]
XI
_Into the City of the Wicked King_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XI
_Into the City of the Wicked King_
Dick turned, and saw a very pretty lady, in a green gown that floated
about her in the water, and bare feet that lightly pressed the sand.
“I want to get to the Red City,” he explained simply.
“Well, come along!” said the pretty lady, with a musical little laugh.
And she picked him up in her arms and held him close. “Now shut your
eyes!”
He did as she told him to; and she kissed him lightly. Her lips felt
warm, even through the cold water. “Now open your eyes!” she commanded.
Dick stared about him. He was no longer at the bottom of the sea, but
on solid dry land again, just in front of a big iron gate, with a gray
stone wall stretching on either side, and the tops of a number of
crimson houses and turrets showing beyond the wall.
The pretty lady put Dick down, and laughed again.
“Here you are!” she said, “at the very gate of the Red City.”
“But—but—” gasped Dick. “What became of the Old Witch of the Sea?”
The lady laughed even more merrily than before.
“I am the Old Witch of the Sea,” she said. “Oh, I am ever so many
persons! It is my pet game, playing at being all sorts of different
people! Good-bye, little mortal boy. I have an idea that we shall
be very good friends one of these days, and I’m glad that we met!
Good-bye,—and don’t forget that you have been kissed by the Fairy of
Fancy.”
“Is that your name?” asked Dick, looking at her gravely.
“It’s one of my names. Your sister Bab calls me the Idle Princess, and
if you asked Meg, she would say that I was the Lady Dreams-Come-True.
You’ll know me by a hundred other names by and by!... Good luck, and
good-bye!” And she danced away from him laughing, her golden hair
tossing in the wind. In a moment she had disappeared.
“And now,” thought Dick, “to get into that Red City!”
While he was thinking this problem over, he heard a voice cry:
“Good-fortune, Dick! I’m off to see how Bab and Meg are getting on. You
have done well to get here so soon! Good luck! Good luck!”
[Illustration: “SHE WAS SURELY THE QUEEN OF THE FAIRY FOLK”]
It was Bizzybuzz! Before Dick could even answer him, he was off,
a mere glimmering green speck in the distant light. Dick felt more
cheerful after seeing him, but he wished that he might have stopped
long enough to advise him as to the best way of entering the city.
For lack of fuller directions, he started to follow the wall for a
time, to see if there might not be an opening. And as he walked, he
suddenly heard a voice just over his head, whispering in saddest
accents, “Oh, shall I never be free?” Dick looked up, startled. There,
at the top of the wall, was Humpty Dumpty himself, at last!
As we have heard before, Humpty Dumpty was an Egg,—a huge white, smooth
egg. The only thing about him that was different from other eggs was
that he had features; that is, he had features of a sort, and also
limbs, though very queer ones. On the pallid white surface of the
egg-shell was sketched a large mournful face which looked as though it
had been drawn in lead-pencil; and two little thin arms and two little
thin legs stood out from the shell like spider-limbs. He was sighing
and moaning in a very pathetic way, and Dick felt extremely sorry for
him.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” groaned poor Humpty Dumpty, addressing the air
and the sky. “Will no one ever come to rescue me?”
“Yes, indeed!” cried Dick, eagerly. “I have come to rescue you!”
“What!” exclaimed Humpty Dumpty, “a Rescuer at last? Let me look! Oh,
let me look!”
He gazed down at Dick, and then his expression became even sadder than
before.
“What could _you_ do?” he asked in deep depression. “You—a little
mortal boy!”
“I know I’m little,” said Dick, feeling rather hurt. “But your mother
thinks that I can help you get away, anyway!”
“Did my mother send you?” questioned Humpty Dumpty, in surprise.
“Yes, indeed!” said Dick. “And, oh, dear Prince Humpty Dumpty, won’t
you please let me try to help you?”
“Oh, you’re welcome to _try_!” said Prince Humpty Dumpty, gloomily.
“There’s not the slightest objection to your doing _that!_ Only I feel
it my duty to warn you that you won’t like it in this place. It isn’t
at all a pleasant city to live in, and the King is a most annoying
person!”
“Well,” said Dick, “I don’t expect to have much fun, you know; not what
you’d _really_ call fun, that is! But I want to get into that city most
awfully. Can you think of a way? The wall is pretty high to climb.”
“Oh, it is very easy to get _in_!” declared the Egg, with dark meaning.
“_Your_ trouble will be in getting out!”
“I—I suppose so,” said Dick, and for a moment felt just a wee bit
queer. Suppose that the Wicked King or this charming person called
Grump should take it into his head to turn him into an egg,—or
something even worse? But that cowardly thought only lasted for
a moment, for Dick was a brave little boy, and aloud he cried
cheerfully, “Well, tell me how to get _in_, anyway!”
“Climb up the flowering vine,” said Humpty Dumpty; “repeat in each
blossom, as you pass, the words, ‘Help me! Help me!’ That’s all.”
Dick noticed that the outside of the wall was covered with pretty
climbing flowers of a bright red colour. It looked like a morning-glory
vine, only the blooms were scarlet. He put his foot into the tangle
of green at the bottom, and cried boldly, “Help me! Help me!” into
the first red cup that he saw. In a moment more he was climbing up
as easily and merrily as though the delicate tendrils were a strong
ladder. Once at the top he thanked the flowers politely, and shook
Humpty Dumpty’s thin spidery hand.
“Why can’t you get down that same way?” he inquired.
“Looking like this?” said the unfortunate Egg. “Go home to my mother
in an egg-shell? Never! Besides, I’ll never go until I can take
the Princess with me. And besides all _that_, you just try to move
me—that’s all!”
Dick tried his best, and soon found that the great Egg was quite
stationary.
“Without the help of some sort of a spell I can’t move nor be moved,”
said Humpty Dumpty, with sad calm. “You see why _I_ haven’t escaped,
don’t you?”
Dick felt more determined than ever to find the Princess and join
forces with her. Surely, since she was in love with Humpty Dumpty, she
must be able to suggest some way of setting him free.
He jumped down into the Red City, and, waving a farewell to Humpty
Dumpty, he ran away in search of the Princess.
“The tallest tower in the city,” he repeated to himself, remembering
the Sea Kobold. “That ought to be easy to find.”
He looked about him anxiously. The Red City of the Wicked King was a
place of many and narrow streets, that turned, every other moment, in
the queerest, crookedest ways imaginable, and sometimes brought up in
short dark alleys that frightened Dick. He wandered about for some
time between the silent dark-red buildings,—everything was crimson in
this horrid city,—and for a long time he did not meet a living soul.
He wondered what had become of the people who must live in these funny
red houses. They surely couldn’t all be dead, or sick, or asleep, or
in prison, or away visiting in the country. There must be some few who
were shopping, or paying calls, or attending to their business, or
looking out of their front doors, or taking a walk. Yet there seemed to
be no one at all.
There was something really rather horrid and frightening in these
little silent red streets, with so many corners and turnings and so
many blind alleys (they are little short streets only open at one end)
and shut-up-looking houses. Dick found himself hurrying faster than
before, and looking around every now and then, as though something
unpleasant and big were behind him.
Where did the Wicked King live? he wondered; and where, oh, where was
the highest tower in the city?
At last, as he was hastening along, he happened to peer into a window
that was nearly on a level with his own head. Of course it is always
rude to look into people’s windows, and Dick knew it; but things were
so very dreadful, and he was so anxious to find some human being, that
he thought that this once he might do it.
And there, gazing out of the window, was a little boy of about his own
age.
Dick stopped at once, and said “Hollo!” and the other little boy said
the same; and then the two little boys stood and stared at each other.
“My name’s Dick,” said one.
“Mine’s Mudge,” said the other.
“What!” cried Dick. “Not the Sea Kobold’s son?”
“Yes, indeed!” sighed the little boy. “And I’m kept a prisoner here in
the Red City, because my father made the Wicked King angry. I am very
tired of being a prisoner; I want to go back and live in the sea. They
took all my lovely scales away, too; and I do so want them back!”
Dick was very sorry for poor Mudge, but he was glad they had met, and
he asked him to tell him the way to the highest tower in the city.
“You go on to the right, always to the right,” said Mudge, “until you
come to the Palace; and then you walk around the Palace three times,
moving to the left; and then you stop under a tree with green flowers
on it; and then you look up, and you will see the Princess in her
tower.”
“Oh, dear!” said Dick. “I’ll never remember all that! Could you not
come with me and show me? Oh, I forgot; you’re a prisoner!”
“Oh,” said Mudge, “I’m not a prisoner in that way. I can get out of
this house whenever I want to. It is the city that I can’t leave. I’ll
come with you if you like. I often go to see the Princess and tell her
how Humpty Dumpty is looking.”
He climbed out of the window as he spoke.
“But doesn’t he always look pretty much the same?” asked Dick.
“Oh, yes!” said Mudge, as they set out. “But, even so, she likes to
hear about him. I just say, ‘He’s as well as usual, your Highness!’ and
that satisfies her.”
“Is she a nice Princess?” asked Dick.
“Oh, yes; she’s rather small, and pretty, and kind; and her father’s
horrid to her. She wears lovely things, and sits and cries in the tower
all day.”
Dick felt ready to cry himself, when he thought of the poor, pretty,
small, kind Princess who was in so much trouble. Perhaps he could
rescue _her_ as well as Humpty Dumpty! He became quite excited at the
thought. And Mudge—_he_ must be rescued, of course! It was really
wonderful, the number of people in the Red City who needed a champion
like himself!
“Why are there no people about?” he asked Mudge.
“Because,” Mudge answered, “everyone is too much afraid of the Wicked
King. When he is in a bad temper, he has people’s heads chopped
off without a moment’s notice, and the citizens think it wiser and
healthier to keep indoors as much as possible.”
In time they reached the Palace,—a huge, splendid building which seemed
to be made chiefly of rubies,—and, after walking around it three times,
always to the left, they looked up at last through the branches of the
green-blossomed tree.
And there, sure enough, was the highest tower in the city,—a tall, tall
tower, with one little window about half-way up.
“Here is where the Princess lives,” explained Mudge. And then he called
softly, “Princess Star! Princess Star!”
[Illustration]
XII
_Princess Star_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XII
_Princess Star_
Dick could not imagine how the Princess could hear, ’way up in the air
so high; but in a minute a pretty, frowning face appeared, leaning out
over the window-sill. A sweet, rather cross, little voice—you could
hear every word quite clearly—said, “You bad Mudge! why did you not
come sooner?”
Then she caught sight of Dick, and gave a little scream. “Who’s that
with you?”
“Someone sent by Mother Goose to help Prince Humpty Dumpty,” said Mudge.
“Mother Goose, my future mother-in-law!” exclaimed the Princess, and
sighed. “I should like to see him closer,” she added, and was silent
for a moment, as though thinking. But in that moment something happened.
A sound of voices and tramping feet echoed around a corner of the
Palace, and the Princess suddenly pulled in her head, while Mudge
as promptly took to his heels. So Dick was left alone, for he was
too bewildered to run at first; and by the time that he had made
up his mind to try to escape, he was entirely surrounded by some
fierce-looking men-at-arms, all dressed in bright red.
“What are you doing here?” demanded the leader, ferociously.
“Stealing flowers from our tree?” suggested one of the others.
Dick did not know what to say. He hated to lie, but there was the
Princess to be thought of, and Humpty Dumpty, and Mother Goose, and
Meg, and Bab, and dozens of other considerations. So he decided not to
tell _quite_ all the truth.
“I—they are very pretty,” he admitted, hanging his head and feeling
very much ashamed; for his many faults had never included lying before.
“It is against the law, and you must go to prison,” declared the
soldier. “Probably the Wicked King, our master, will have you beheaded
without delay; and, for my part, I think that even that will be better
than you deserve!”
Dick felt so sad and angry at the thought of failure—to say nothing of
the danger that he was in—that he could have cried; only, being a boy,
of course he didn’t!
But he wished _hard_ for some idea to come to him that would show him
a way out of his trouble. And suddenly a big Dragon-Fly whizzed up to
him, apparently on its way to the green flowers on the tree overhead.
With a sudden impulse Dick whispered “Help me, dear, good, kind
Dragon-Fly!” as he had to the flowers.
The Dragon-Fly wheeled in its whirring flight, and flew close to his
lips.
“Tell Bizzybuzz, the Goblin,” murmured Dick; and the insect darted
swiftly away. Dick could not tell whether or no it had heard him or
would repeat his message, but he felt a trifle happier.
“Come on, Thief!” said the man-at-arms, pulling Dick along by the arm.
At this point the Princess stuck her head out of the turret window once
more.
“What have you there?” she asked very sweetly.
The men answered her most respectfully; for though she was a prisoner
in a turret of her father’s castle, they all looked up to her with
something approaching adoration,—something which, with all their fear,
they never gave her cruel father.
“This is a thief, your Highness,” said the head man in red, bowing very
low. “He was about to steal some of the flowers from the beautiful
tree that grows under your Highness’s window!”
“Why, the horrid little wretch!” exclaimed the Princess, pretending to
be extremely angry. “Just you bring him up to me! I should like to look
at any little boy who could be so terribly wicked!”
“We must take him to prison at once, your Highness,” protested the man.
But she persisted.
“I want to see him!” she said. “I’d like to box his wicked ears myself!
That lovely tree! Why, looking at it and counting its blooms every
morning is one of the few pleasures I have!” And she pretended to sob
bitterly. “Bring him up!” she cried again. “Bring him up, I say!”
“Oh, well!” said the man-at-arms, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Of
course, if your august Highness insists—” And Dick was taken into
the Palace by a side door, and marched up ever so many stairs to the
Princess’s room.
There they found, keeping guard, several men, who let them pass,
looking quite amazed. And so they came at last into the Princess Star’s
tower-prison.
The Princess Star was really a very pretty little princess, though she
did not look particularly cheerful nor even remarkably good-tempered;
and her room itself was a marvel of gorgeous disorder. Flowers and
jewels and splendid stuffs were flung about as though the Princess
had been venting her temper upon them. There was a parrot on a perch,
a yellow cat on a cushion, a big green lizard on the end of a gold
chain, a little silver cage of queer birds, and a big crystal basin
full of beautiful fishes of all sorts swimming about in rose-coloured
water.
In the centre of everything sat the Princess on a little gold stool
with three legs (for all the world like a milking-stool!), dressed in
some very magnificent robes and gems and with her crown somewhat awry.
When she saw Dick, she pretended to fly into a rage and to try to box
his ears; but finally she very cleverly pretended to calm down, and
declared that he wasn’t a bad-looking little boy—for a thief! And then
she said that she needed a page to look after her pets, and announced
that she would keep him. The head man-at-arms objected, of course,
saying that he must take the thief to prison to await the pleasure of
the Wicked King. But at that the Princess flew into another rage,—real,
this time,—and threw things at him—beginning with a jewelled hour-glass
and ending with a mandolin—until he was very glad to leave the royal
young lady’s apartments on any terms.
So they all backed away as fast as they possibly could, and shut the
door very tight behind them. And Dick was left alone with pretty,
bad-tempered, disorderly Princess Star.
“There!” she exclaimed, flinging herself into a sort of throne-like
chair that was made of silver and inlaid with gold. “Now we can talk
sense at last! Tell me at once who you are and why you are here!”
So Dick told her obediently, and she listened with the deepest
attention.
“You’re a dear little boy,” she said at last, “and you may sit on my
lap if you want to.”
Dick did not want to, for he thought it babyish; but he hated to seem
rude. So he accepted her invitation, and found that a Princess’s lap
was very much like other people’s; it reminded him a little too much of
his mother’s, and made him homesick. So he got down just as soon as he
could politely.
“And now,” said the Princess, “what are we to do next? I wish we knew
where the spell can be found that can move my poor Humpty Dumpty from
his dreadful place on the top of the city wall.”
“So do I—” Dick was beginning, when there was a sudden sound outside,
the door flew open, and they saw—
[Illustration]
XIII
“_Harness the Reindeer!_”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XIII
“_Harness the Reindeer!_”
But to know what they saw, we must first go back to Santa Claus’s
house, where we left Bab sleeping in front of the big fire. She was
dreaming of the Sand Man and the owls and the Wooden Cow and the Idle
Princess all at once, when she was awakened by hearing her name called.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes, and Wiggles barked.
Santa Claus was standing near them talking to a new-comer, and who
should that new-comer be but Bizzybuzz!
“Mother Goose thought it was about time for me to look you up,” he
explained, after Bab had greeted him enthusiastically. “Santa Claus
tells me that you have been doing very well.—Aha!” he added, seeming
pleased. “So you have the dog at last? What did I tell you? But let me
hear more about this rescue of the Wooden Cow. What did you say the
Brownies wanted to do with the pieces?”
“They wanted—” began Bab; but Santa Claus interrupted her.
“My dear child,” he said, “though they were indeed sent by the Wicked
King as they told you, they were sent chiefly for the purpose of trying
to stop _you_ in your journey and preventing you from reaching _me!_
They tried their best to get you to help them chop up my cow; and if
you had, you would have been in the power of the Wicked King forever
and ever! The reason that they wanted a horn of the magic cow was that
with one of them or even a piece of one you can turn people into wood
at a moment’s notice! And the Wicked King and Grump are always on the
lookout for spells,—particularly those which can be put to a bad use in
bad hands.”
Bab was much shocked by all this; but Bizzybuzz nodded his head, and
said: “Of course; that’s simple enough. Everyone knows _their_ methods.
It’s lucky for you, Bab, that you did not listen to their coaxing!”
Bab thought so, too, and she felt more ashamed than ever when she
remembered that she had even hesitated for a moment.
“Well,” said Santa Claus, “now that the little girl has done her duty
so well and served me so usefully, how is she to get home?”
“Do you want to go directly back to Mother Goose?” asked Bizzybuzz,
turning to her. She hesitated.
“I—I’d like to help Dick first,” she answered. “He has the hardest task
of us all; and then, you see, I should most awfully love to help set
poor Mother Goose’s son free!”
“Good!” cried Santa Claus, heartily. “Well thought of! You shall go to
your brother this very night, and”—he paused and smiled slyly—“I know
how you will go!”
“How?” asked Bab.
“Never you mind!” chuckled the old gentleman, mysteriously. “You’ll
like it, I promise you!”
“But what help can she be to her brother?” asked Bizzybuzz. “Nothing
but the very strongest magic could be of any use to him in the Red
City.”
“Well,” said Santa Claus, “why shouldn’t she have a bit of magic about
her, just in case she needed it? And as a matter of fact,” he added,
“it’s odd, you know, that she didn’t collect any magic coming through
the Wonderful Wood.”
“Perhaps she did,” suggested Bizzybuzz. “Did you drink from any spring,
Bab?”
“Or pick a flower or a leaf?” asked Santa Claus.
She shook her head.
“I sat down on a bank,” she said. “And—and yes! I picked daisies in the
Idle Princess’s garden.”
“But you didn’t keep them?”
“Oh, no! I didn’t keep anything. Oh, wait! Yes! I have some sand!” And
she laughed.
“Sand!” repeated Santa Claus.
“Yes,” declared Bab, putting her hand in her pocket and drawing it out.
“Look! Sand from the Sand Man’s country,—the World of Sand!”
“Just the thing!” cried Santa Claus and Bizzybuzz together.
“Take care of that sand, Bab,” said the former. “With even a grain of
that you could send anyone fast asleep if you just threw the grain at
him.”
“Lovely!” Bab clapped her hands after carefully returning the sand to
her pocket. “Perhaps—who knows?—I can send the Wicked King to sleep for
a hundred years.”
“Or Grump,” said Santa Claus. “It really _would_ be nice if Grump could
be sent to sleep for a hundred years!”
“Now, do you know,” said Bizzybuzz, thoughtfully, “_I_ think that sleep
would be far too good for Grump.”
“Let’s hurry!” begged Bab, who was anxious to be on the road that led
to the Red City.
“Slowly, slowly!” said Santa Claus. “First, my dear, would you not like
to see my house?”
“Ye-es,” said Bab, doubtfully. “Only—please excuse me, dear Santa
Claus, but—”
“My workshop,” went on Santa Claus, “my Fairy Kitchen, my toy henyard,
my reindeer—”
“Oh, have you any _real_ reindeer?” asked Bab, forgetting Dick for
a moment. “I’ve heard of them, you know, but I never knew that you
_really truly_ had them. What are they like?”
“What! Did you never read the stories of my friend Hans Christian
Andersen?” asked Santa Claus.
“No,” said Bab, shamefacedly. “We had them for a Christmas present one
year, but we never read them. We—we thought make-believe things were
silly _then_!”
“Ah! very sad indeed!” declared Santa Claus, shaking his head. “But, my
dear child, reindeer are not make-believe things; though, to be sure,
_mine_ are not _quite_ like ordinary animals. I’m surprised, by the
bye, that you did not see them when you were in the barn.”
“Were they there?” cried Bab, excitedly. “No, I did not see them. It
was very dark, and you see I was _so_ much interested in the Wooden
Cow.”
“I’ll take you down to the barn again,” said Santa Claus, “and show
them to you.”
Bab felt as though she could not bear to delay another moment, kind as
Santa Claus had been to her, and delightful as it was in his little
house. But she stifled her impatience, and said “Thank you” as politely
as she knew how.
But just at that moment there was a slight sound at the window,—the
lightest tap-tapping, such as you hear when a June-bug bumps and buzzes
against the pane in mid-summer.
Santa Claus opened the window, and in flew a big green Dragon-Fly.
“Is Bizzybuzz here?” he asked in a high humming voice.
“Here I am,” said Bizzybuzz. “How are you, Green-Wings?”
“Oh, it’s you!” said the Dragon-Fly. Evidently they were old friends.
“Well, I’ve hunted you through the Wind Channels, and the Storm Road of
Clouds, and the Tree-Top Pathway, and every other route I could think
of. I happened to meet Klang and Tinkle just now on their way to the
Fairy Court. They told me they had seen you come in this direction.”
“Well, hurry up!” said Bizzybuzz, impatiently. “What do you want me
for?”
“There’s a mortal boy in the Red City who asked my help.”
“What!” cried the three listeners, all together.
“A small boy, as boys go,” pursued Green-Wings, “He told me to bring
you word concerning him.”
“Well, well,” said Bizzybuzz, “go on!”
“He’s been caught by the men-at-arms of the Wicked King,” said the
Dragon-Fly. “Things looked rather badly for him when I left.”
“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Bab, and began to cry. “Poor, poor Dicky!”
“I must not lose a minute!” cried Bizzybuzz. “I’ll go to him at once;
and—wait! Perhaps Meg has done her task by this time. If so, she has
the spell Dick needs. I’ll stop at the Fairy Court on my way. Thanks,
Green-Wings, thanks! Good-bye, good-bye!” And he darted, still buzzing
busily, out of the window.
“Oh, Bizzybuzz! Dear Bizzybuzz!” called Bab. “Please take me with you!”
“You—can—follow—me—if—you—like—” His voice floated back to her. “Santa
Claus will show you the way—” And he was quite gone forthwith.
The Dragon-Fly polished off his wings in front of the fire, much to the
excitement of Wiggles. Then he flew away, his gauzy person flashing
through the open window like that of a sprite.
“Oh, how can I follow Bizzybuzz?” sobbed Bab. “And I did so want to
help Dicky! That dreadful king will surely behead him!”
“Now listen to me!” said Santa Claus. “I have a plan which I think
you’ll like. Why should not you go straight to the Red City yourself
and help your brother in your own way, without paying any further
attention to Bizzybuzz? He’s only a Goblin Messenger, after all. You
have the Sleep-Sand, and I am going to give you the means of making an
escape at any time! What do you say?”
“Oh, it would be lovely!” cried Bab. “May I start at once, please?”
“Of course. Come with me, and I will show you the way you are to go.”
They hurried out, followed by Wiggles; and Santa Claus led the way to
the barn.
In all her excitement Bab could not help stopping to speak to her
friend the Wooden Cow, and the beast seemed pleased to see her.
“I’m so glad I have something to remember her by!” said Bab, showing
Santa Claus the scrap of wood which she still carried in her pocket.
Santa Claus started, and then laughed.
“Do you remember what I told you about her horns?” he said. “Well,
never mind! Of course you don’t! But that bit of wood is a very
powerful weapon, Miss Bab! And don’t you throw it at anyone unless you
are in the greatest possible danger! Don’t forget!”
And Bab did not forget.
“Good-bye, Wooden Cow!” she said, and turned away. “Oh, Santa Claus!
Santa Claus! what is the way I am to go?”
“This way!” said Santa Claus.
He rolled back another door inside the barn. By the light of the
lantern he carried, Bab could see some beautiful animals standing in
stalls such as horses have. But these were not horses. They had great,
spreading antlers, delicate hoofs, and noble heads; and they looked at
Santa Claus, and stamped as though in the highest excitement.
“They are anxious to be off!” he said, looking at them proudly. “There,
my beauties! Only a moment more! Ah! they miss the Christmas season,
poor beasts!”
“But—what—why—” stammered Bab, bewildered.
“Come, come!” said Santa Claus. “Help me!”
[Illustration: “‘I DON’T THINK I LIKE YOU,’ SAID THE SEA KOBOLD, ‘YOU
MAY GO’”]
“But,” said Bab, “to do what?”
Santa Claus looked at her and laughed aloud.
“To harness the reindeer!” he cried.
* * * * *
At the Court of the Fairies Meg was standing before the Queen, saying
good-bye.
“How am I to send the spell back to you after we have freed Humpty
Dumpty?” she said.
“Bizzybuzz will bring it. He is an old friend of mine, and always
welcome at court.”
Suddenly two musical voices were heard singing.
“Hush, Klang and Tinkle!” said the Queen. “I wish to bid the little
mortal girl good-bye in peace!”
“But,” said the two Goblins, “we want to tell her that we met her
sister a short time ago, and that she seemed in excellent health and
admired our music greatly.”
“How nice!” cried Meg. “I’m so glad you met Bab!”
But the Queen interrupted.
“You must not talk to these two idle-headed Goblins,” she said
severely. “Think of poor Humpty Dumpty, and hurry! If Klang and Tinkle
_did_ meet your sister, I am certain that they delayed her all they
could!”
The two hung their heads, but suddenly raised them again.
“_But_,” they explained, “we want to make up for all that by suggesting
that it is not safe for the mortal girl to travel back alone with the
spell through the Wonderful Wood.”
“I suppose that you both want to go with her?” said the Queen.
“Surely, your Majesty!” said the two, cheerfully.
“So that you may have some one to admire you and listen to your
singing!” said the Queen, scornfully. “No, indeed, you shall not go
with her; but I agree with you about the dangers of her going alone.
Let me think—”
Just at that moment a soft, whirring noise was heard overhead.
“What is that?” exclaimed the Fairy Queen.
Meg clapped her hands joyfully.
“It’s Bizzybuzz!” she cried. “Perhaps he has brought some news!”
Bizzybuzz alighted in front of the Queen, and bowed low.
“Your Majesty’s humble servant!” he said.
“What news, what news, Bizzybuzz?” cried Meg. “I must know first of all
if you have any news!”
With an excited flutter of his gauzy wings he answered: “News indeed!
Bab has finished her task!”
“And I mine!” said Meg, proudly.
“Really? Now, that is better still!” said good little Bizzybuzz, with
the greatest possible satisfaction. “Well, then, we are all ready to go
to Dick’s assistance; and he needs us! I have Moon-Eyes waiting in the
wood for you, and Bab will follow to the Red City, under the directions
of Santa Claus, who has taken a great fancy to her!”
Meg said good-bye to the Fairy Queen in a flutter of excitement, and,
clasping her precious blue scroll very tightly, she hurried away after
Bizzybuzz; and the Fairies called, “Good-fortune!” after them as they
went.
In the woods they found Moon-Eyes waiting with owl-like patience. As
Meg mounted, with a caress for the wise and silent bird, she felt a
thrill of excitement, a joy in adventure which she had never felt
before.
“Now, then,” cried Bizzybuzz, “to rescue Dick and Humpty Dumpty from
the clutches of the Wicked King!”
[Illustration]
XIV
_Danger!_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XIV
_Danger!_
When the door of the Princess’s room opened, and both she and Dick
turned toward it, what do you suppose they saw?
They saw a little girl in a brown dress with black spots on it,—a
little girl who had dark eyes and hair, and was followed by a small,
excited fox-terrier. For they saw none other than Bab herself!
She ran into the room, and hugged her brother, crying, “Oh, Dicky,
Dicky, dear! How glad I am to see you again!”
Wiggles jumped about and yelped with joy, and altogether you might
have supposed that they had all been separated for years, instead of
only—But dear me, I forgot! We don’t know how long it had been, after
all! For, of course, in Make Believe Land they count very differently
from the way we do.
Naturally, both Dick and Bab forgot all about the Princess, until she
said quite crossly, “Well, I do think you might introduce her to me!”
Dick jumped.
“Oh, dear! I forgot!” he exclaimed. “Princess, this is my sister Bab.”
“Bab!” repeated the Princess. “What a funny name!”
“It’s really Barbara,” explained Bab. “But I think that’s really worse,
isn’t it? And, anyway, Bab’s shorter.”
“Oh, yes, certainly. And it’s a _very_ nice name,” said the Princess,
politely. “A _very_ nice name, I’m sure! Well, little Bab, or Barbara,
or whatever your name is, what are _you_ doing here?”
“If you please, Princess,” said Bab, timidly. “I am here to help Dicky
save Humpty Dumpty.”
“And himself!” added the Princess, mischievously. “You know he needs
saving too, just now.”
“_And_ the Princess,” put in Dick.
“And poor dear Mudge,” finished the Princess.
“Dear me!” exclaimed Bab. “Have you _all_ got to be rescued?”
“Every single one!” declared the Princess. “Your brother—what did he
say his name was?—Duck?—oh, no—Dick!—Dick and I were just talking the
matter over when you came in. We aren’t very certain how to go about
it.”
“Oh, but _I_ am!” said Bab, confidently.
“Indeed!” exclaimed the Princess, in surprise.
“Yes!” said Bab, importantly. “How do you suppose I got in here?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” answered the Princess, sincerely. “It’s
_almost_ as hard to get in here as to get out,—not quite, though!” she
added, thoughtfully.
“Well, first,” said Bab, “I’ll tell you about my journey to Santa
Claus. That will explain a little.” And she told them all about her
trip through the Wonderful Wood, and about the Sand Man, and the
Brownies, and the Wooden Cow, and the arrival of the Dragon-Fly.
“But,” cried Dick, at this point, “I—I only sent the message a minute
ago!”
Then he paused a minute, bewildered. _Was_ it only a minute ago, after
all? He did not seem to be able to count the time.
“My dear children,” said the Princess, “you must never try to count
time in Make Believe Land. Time either does not exist here, or else
there is so much of it that you simply can’t measure it. I don’t know
which it is, but anyway it is silly to try to guess how long anything
takes here.”
“Well,” said Bab, who didn’t care anything about time herself, “I got
into Santa Claus’s sleigh, and the reindeer brought me safely to the
Red City. I left them in the wood, and came here as fast as I could go.
A little boy showed me the way.”
“Mudge!” said Dick. “But how did you get into the tower?”
Bab chuckled.
“I threw some sand at the men who tried to stop me,” she said, “and
they—every—single—one—went—fast—asleep!”
The Princess opened her eyes and mouth in amazement.
“The guards outside this room, too?” she asked with a gasp.
Bab nodded triumphantly. “I had just enough Sleep-Sand left for them!”
she said.
“Oh!” cried the Princess, with another little gasp. “Then I’m free!”
And she jumped up, and ran to the door, stumbling over her flowing,
gold-embroidered robes as she ran, and over-turning a box of jewels in
her haste. She opened the door, and there, sure enough, were all the
guards sound asleep on the floor outside.
“Oh, oh, oh!” cried the Princess, and hugged Bab in her excitement.
“You blessed little thing! You darling! You—you’ve set me free!”
And then she hugged Dick too, and then all three of them laughed and
talked all at once, and Wiggles rushed around them in a circle and
howled his sympathy.
“Now,” said the Princess, picking up her skirts, “let’s run!”
And they all scurried away out of the Palace as fast as mice. They
passed the men-at-arms that Bab had met below, who were all as sound
asleep as possible, just where they had happened to be when Bab threw
the sand at them,—all, that is, except one man. He was only half
asleep, and was yawning and stretching and trying hard to wake up.
“I’m afraid he did not get a whole grain!” said Bab, looking at him
anxiously. “Well, never mind. I guess he won’t wake _quite_ up until we
are safe away, anyway. Come, come! Hurry up!”
And they ran on again. But the drowsy man-at-arms did wake quite up
just at that very moment. And, yawning and shivering with sleep, he
stumbled into the throne-room of the Palace, calling out, “Thief!
Thief! A thief has stolen away the Princess! Help! Help!”
Now the Palace of the Wicked King was simply full of people of all
sorts. There were plenty of men-at-arms, and retainers, and cooks, and
gentlemen-in-waiting, and courtiers, and scullions, and pages, and
maids, and court-ladies, and when the sleepy soldier cried “Thief!” and
“Help!” they all came running out of their rooms all over the Palace
and hurried down stairs. And there was the wildest excitement possible
in the throne-room of the Wicked King.
And then the door of the royal apartments opened, and the Wicked King
himself appeared. And he said, in a deep angry voice, “Why is there so
much noise?”
And everyone trembled and bowed low before him. For of course they were
all dreadfully afraid of him!
For a minute or two no one dared to speak, and the King stood there in
his crimson robes, with his gold crown on his wicked head, and glared
at everybody.
“_Well?_” he thundered suddenly. And the sleepy soldier ventured to
speak at last.
“Lord—Master—” he quavered, “two strangers have carried off the
Princess!”
“_What!_” roared the Wicked King. “And what were you doing, all of you,
while they were carrying her off?”
“Your Majesty,” said the poor man-at-arms, “we—we were asleep!”
And then he took to his heels and ran away as hard and fast and far as
he could.
The Wicked King was so disturbed by the fact of Star’s disappearance
that he did not take the time and trouble to have the man caught and
beheaded, as he certainly would have done at any other time.
“Where is Grump?” he demanded, looking quite pale with rage and fear.
“He has not yet appeared,” said one of the courtiers. “He has not been
here to-day at all, O most augustly Wicked King!”
“Strange!” muttered the Wicked King. “Surely nothing can have gone
wrong? He was to have brought me the spell from the Fairy Queen before
this. It should certainly be in the city by now.”
And as a matter of fact, it was in the city then, but it had not been
brought by Grump! For, as we know, Grump had been robbed of all his
wicked power by Meg in his underground cave, and instead of being able
to fly on a cloud to his master with his woes he had to travel slowly
and painfully through the wood, and over the Sea of Glass like any
other every-day sort of person.
At this moment who should come swarming in but the Mischief
Brownies,—the very same bad little sprites whom Bab had outwitted in
Santa Claus’s barn. They hurried into the Wicked King’s Palace, and
wailed out their story,—how they had stopped the mortal girl, as had
been commanded, and how she had followed them and chased them out of
the barn with a frightful, roaring monster, just as they had cut off
one of the Wooden Cow’s magic horns.
The Wicked King listened to all that they had to say, in a white rage.
Were all his plans to go wrong? The situation was infuriating! His
servants outwitted by a simple, ordinary, stupid, little mortal girl;
his daughter stolen! With an awful growl of anger he waved his hand.
“Follow the thieves!” he cried. “Men-at-arms! Courtiers! Servants!
Gentlemen-in-waiting! Catch them at once! Half my kingdom for the
man who brings me the heads of the scoundrels and returns to me my
daughter!”
Before a single breath could be drawn, a whole army of his subjects had
rushed away after the escaping three. And then who do you suppose came
stumbling into the throne-room, making a great outcry and waving his
arms wildly? None other than Grump!
“Master!—Your Majesty!” he panted. “She tipped over the pot of magic,
and she escaped! She has gone to Fairyland! What shall we do? What
shall we do?”
The Wicked King was at the end of his patience.
“_I_ have not lost all of _my_ magic yet,” he thundered. “You are a
pretty sort of a servant! You’re an idiot! A useless, slow, dull idiot!
You’re a _snail!_”
Then an idea struck him.
“_Be_ a snail!” he commanded.
And Grump shrivelled up and turned into a snail, and crawled away into
a crack in the Palace wall. And that was the end of _him!_
Then a messenger came flying to the Wicked King, and cried: “Oh,
Master! They have run the thieves into a corner under the city wall,
and soon they will be caught and beheaded!”
“I should like the pleasure of doing it myself!” said the Wicked King,
grimly. “Have them left alive until I get there!”
And he stalked out of the Palace, and followed the messenger through
the streets of the Red City.
Finally he came upon a great crowd of his subjects, and beyond
them, standing against the wall, were Bab and Dick and the Princess,
frightened almost to death!
“Ah!” said the Wicked King, with a cruel smile. “Now I have you, you
impudent creatures! You upstarts from the Real World! Now I will cut
off your heads with my own hands!”
And he drew his sword.
[Illustration]
XV
_By the City Wall_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XV
_By the City Wall_
The three escaping friends did not know what to do. Bab had used up all
her sand, and there seemed no way left to overcome their enemies.
Meanwhile the crowd in front of them were snarling threats and mocking
words.
“I will be the one to kill them!” cried one.
“No,—I!” exclaimed another.
“I—I—I!” shouted everybody at once.
“Hush!” said someone, sharply. “The King himself is coming!”
And everyone became silent. They were all deeply disappointed, for they
knew that now the Wicked King would insist on killing the children
himself, and none of them would stand a chance of getting that promised
half of his kingdom.
Suddenly an idea came to Bab.
“Dick,” she whispered, “we must try to get the Wicked King to put us in
prison or something like that!”
“Why?” asked Dick, gloomily. “I think that it would be much nicer to be
killed at once and get it over!”
“Oh, but, Dick!” Bab breathed eagerly into his ear. “Don’t you remember
the tiny piece of wood that I told you about? The piece of magic wood
from the Wooden Cow’s horn? Well, I have it still! and Santa Claus said
that it was a very powerful weapon to have. And if we can only see the
Wicked King alone I’ll throw it at him, and I’m sure from what Santa
Claus said that it will do something awful to him!”
“Why not throw it at him now?” suggested Dick. “Just to see what it
_will_ do!”
“Because—don’t you see?—then we’d have all these other dreadful people
to fight, and we’ve nothing at all left after this splinter of wood
goes! No, we must try to see the Wicked King all by himself!”
“I see!” exclaimed Dick. And at that moment the Wicked King strode up
to them, with his long, bright, sharp sword drawn, and a fiendish smile
on his wicked old face.
“How nice of you,” said the Wicked King, “to stand against a wall! It
is ever so much easier to kill a person when he stands against a wall!”
“Oh, your Majesty!” cried Dick. “Don’t kill us until you have heard our
story!”
He was talking at random, of course, to gain time, but he succeeded in
making the Wicked King stop short for a moment to listen.
“Oh, well,” said the Wicked King. “I would not mind hearing your story,
as a matter of fact,—if it happens to be an interesting one.”
For this was the one weakness of the Wicked King: he loved
stories,—almost as much, indeed, as did a certain great ruler in the
East, of whom you will read one of these days in one of the most
splendid wonder-books ever written by any man.
“_Is_ it an interesting one?” he demanded.
“Oh, yes!” said Dick, seeing his advantage. “It’s a splendid story!”
“Of course you understand,” said the King, “that you will both be
beheaded just as soon as you are finished? I should not like to
encourage any false hopes.”
“Oh, we quite understand!” said Dick, looking hard at the drawn sword
in the King’s hand. In his own mind he decided firmly that in any case
he would not finish the story for a very long time!
“I should really like to hear,” the Wicked King went on, “how you stole
my daughter and sent my soldiers to sleep, and how you chased my
Brownies away from their work, and did all the other extraordinary and
impertinent things which you have done. You are dangerous creatures,
but you are unusual; and I think you are worth keeping alive for an
hour or so,—as long as I have an army to watch you while you talk!”
Then he sat down on a large rock and folded his arms.
“Begin!” he commanded.
Dick was at his wits’ end. Of course he had expected that the Wicked
King would have them sent to prison; instead he was expected to tell
his tale surrounded by hundreds of people. How in the world was Bab to
make use of her magic splint of wood under such conditions as these?
The Princess, who had been silent all this time, came very unexpectedly
to the rescue.
“Revered parent,” she said,—for that was what the Wicked King liked her
to call him,—“I beg you to first take me back to my tower, from which
these creatures have dragged me against my will!”
The Wicked King looked at her sharply. He was not at all sure that she
had been dragged away! However, she looked as innocent as possible, and
he called two men-at-arms to him.
“Escort the Princess back to her tower!” he commanded. “Now, Creatures,
tell your story!”
But just then, when everything seemed most hopeless, a big bird was
seen flying toward them, quite high up in the air; and the next moment
Bizzybuzz’s head appeared over the wall, and he whispered excitedly:
“Meg is coming with the spell! Hold out a minute longer!”
All this time Humpty Dumpty had not said a word. In fact, he could not
see even what was going on, because his back was turned to the others.
But at the word “spell” he suddenly lifted up his voice, and shouted
wildly: “The spell! The spell! Now I shall be free! Oh, Princess Star,
Princess Star! Do you hear? I shall be free!”
“I hear, I hear, dear Humpty!” cried Princess Star. “And I shall be
free too; for I am sure that a really good spell can rescue us both!”
“Undutiful daughter!” shouted the Wicked King, waving his sword. “How
dare you talk like that with an—an egg?” He spoke with contempt as well
as rage.
“He—is—not—an—egg!” sobbed the Princess, hiding her face in her
satin sleeve and spoiling the embroidery with her tears. “He’s
my—own—poor—angel—Humpty Dumpty! And I’ll talk to—him—just exactly—as
much—as—much—as—I ch-choose!”
The big bird had been drawing nearer and nearer all this time, and
now swooped down to the top of the wall. It alighted close to Humpty
Dumpty. Dick and Bab could see that it was Moon-Eyes, the Owl, and that
he bore upon his back their sister Meg!
As they watched, she waved a bright blue paper, and cried: “Dick! Bab!
I’m here! Are you both quite safe?”
With his sword upraised, the Wicked King rushed forward upon the two
children. Wiggles barked and snapped at his legs, all the men-at-arms
shouted, and the Princess screamed loudly.
“Now!” cried one of the men. “Watch their heads drop off!”
But at that moment Bab threw the scrap of wood that she had straight in
the Wicked King’s face! And he stopped stock-still, his hand still up
in the air. The sword dropped to the earth. Everyone cried out, “What
has happened?”
The Wicked King’s face got queerer and queerer, stiffer and stiffer;
his eyes stared, his wicked smile was frozen on his lips.... The Wicked
King was turned to wood!
“Run, run!” cried Dick, seeing that now they had but one chance.
“Follow Meg with the spell!” he shouted, and he and Bab and the
Princess ran like the wind along the city wall.
Just then Mudge came flying down the city street.
“Oh, please,” he called at the top of his lungs, “don’t forget that you
are going to save me too!”
Meg, riding furiously upon Moon-Eyes, had reached the gate. The
men-at-arms and courtiers and gentlemen-in-waiting, and all the other
citizens of the Red City, had started in pursuit, and were gaining on
them every moment.
“Come with us, Mudge!” shouted Dick; and Mudge brought up the rear of
the flying procession.
Behind them on the wall Humpty Dumpty was shrieking, “You aren’t all
going off without rescuing me, after all!”
“The gate!” cried Bizzybuzz to Dick. “Meg’s spell will open it!”
As they all rushed toward the big iron gate, Meg hastily unrolled the
scroll of sky-blue paper, and read out at the top of her voice, and
so fast that no one could understand a word, the lines of the Fairy
Queen’s spell. And when she came to the words
“Shot bolt, shut gate,
Yield up your contents straight,”
there was a queer, clicking, clattering, creaking sound.
The great gate of the Red City swung slowly open!
The fugitives dashed out, and closed it behind them with a crash, and
stood there on the safe side, panting and gasping, as their pursuers
came shouting up to the gate on the inside. It must have been a very
strong gate, for nearly all the inhabitants of the Red City threw
themselves against it and shook it, but it would not give a hair’s
breadth. They all howled with fury, but the children were safe.
Then suddenly they all turned and dashed back the way they had come.
“Look out for Humpty Dumpty!” shouted Dick “They’ll try to do something
to harm him if we don’t take care!”
“Oh, my poor angel!” wailed the Princess. “What shall we do!”
“Pile onto Moon-Eyes!” cried Dick to Bab and Mudge.
The three children sprang onto the owl, and the Princess and Wiggles
hurried along the ground. Bizzybuzz darted ahead, his wings humming
like little electric fans.
“Here is the spell!” cried Meg, giving Dick the blue paper. “You only
have to read it over him, and you must strike him with something hard
and sharp at the same time!”
Dick seized the paper, and pulled his jack-knife out of his pocket.
Then he stood up on Moon-Eyes’ back, so that he could be ready to jump
the moment they were anywhere near the wall and Humpty Dumpty.
When they reached the poor Egg, he was almost cracked with terror. His
agonized expression had made big creases in the egg-shell, and he was
squeaking, “Help! help! help!” in a high faint voice.
The men were just climbing up the wall on the inside, so really there
was some excuse for his fear.
“Quick!” cried Bab and Meg, speaking both at once.
And Dick took a flying leap from the back of the owl to the top of the
city wall.
“Don’t forget to break the shell!” cried Meg. He held up his knife,
to show her that he was prepared. The head of one of the men-at-arms
appeared over the edge of the wall. His hand was outstretched.
Dick jabbed the huge egg-shell with his jack-knife, and began to read
the spell so rapidly that it was a wonder that it could work at all!
But it did! The egg toppled, cracked, and fell crashing to the earth.
“Hurry down yourself!” cried Bab, in terror. “That man will kill you!”
The man-at-arms had drawn a dagger and was trying to reach Dick.
“Oh, I don’t think he will kill me!” laughed Dick, and slipped over
the edge of the wall into the mass of delicate vine-tendrils where the
Fairy Flowers were blowing.
“Help me!” he cried, and came down so quickly that there could be no
question about its being magic! He reached the earth just in time to
see a slender young man in doublet and hose rise from the heap of
egg-shells, and rush with outstretched hands to meet the Princess!
It was Prince Humpty Dumpty, free at last!
[Illustration]
XVI
_Behind the Reindeer_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XVI
_Behind the Reindeer_
By this time Bab and Meg had sprung to the earth, and they all joined
in a cheer of joy.
“Good-bye to you!” cried Mudge. “I’m going back to my father, the Sea
Kobold. He has been expecting me for hundreds of years, and he will get
me some new scales. Thank you very much for helping me to get away.
Good-bye! Good-bye!” And he was off.
The Sea of Glass was close at hand, and Dick imagined that he could
see the Sea Kobold’s anxious head sticking up through the hole in the
glass, and watching what was happening on shore.
“There’s no time to be lost even now,” declared Bizzybuzz. “Hurry, all
of you!”
Several of the men-at-arms had reached the top of the wall, and the
children could hear one of them calling for the big key that opened
the gate, and horses on which to hunt down the escaping ones.
“Hurry!” said Bizzybuzz, even more anxiously. And they all ran as fast
as they could in the direction of the wood.
Bizzybuzz flew on ahead, calling to them to hurry; next came Humpty
Dumpty and the Princess,—she holding up her long train and not caring
at all that her crown was on the side of her pretty head,—and then Bab,
and Meg, and Dick, and Wiggles!
There, at the edge of the wood, was Santa Claus’s sleigh, with his
splendid reindeer, waiting impatiently to be off.
As they all climbed into the big sleigh, Dick looked back at the Red
City.
“The gate is open!” he exclaimed. “And they have gotten horses too!
They are going to try to catch us!”
“Never mind!” laughed Bizzybuzz, overhead, as the reindeer plunged
forward eagerly, and the sleigh rocked with the mad motion,—“Never
mind! They’ll have a pretty time—horses or no horses—trying to catch up
with Santa Claus’s fastest team!”
And then began the craziest, wildest, swiftest drive that anyone ever
saw or dreamed of. The horses of the people of the Red City were the
fastest in the world, but they were not so fast as the reindeer, and
they never quite overtook them. But sometimes they seemed to be drawing
very close, and then the Princess would scream, and Wiggles would bark,
and the reindeer would toss their antlers and go just a little bit
faster. And the racing horses behind, their heads strained forward and
their hoofs hardly seeming to touch the ground, would drop back a foot
or two. Their riders waved their arms and shouted, and once in a while
the occupants of the sleigh could hear threats as to what would happen
to them all when they were caught.
On they went,—on, and on, and on! And neither the horses nor the
reindeer seemed to be even tired. The reindeer, indeed, seemed to enjoy
the race, and their small hoofs actually danced over the earth.
Suddenly they passed a barefooted girl in a green dress, who laughed
and waved to them.
“The Idle Princess!” cried Bab.
“Dreams-Come-True!” exclaimed Meg.
“My Fairy of Fancy!” shouted Dick.
“Hush!” said Bizzybuzz. “You don’t know who she is,—you foolish little
persons! But whoever she is, she is going to help us now, or I am very
much mistaken.”
They all stood up in the sleigh to look, and saw a very wonderful
and pretty sight. The girl in the green gown was fastening chains of
flowers across the wood-path,—back and forth, back and forth, so that
the whole way was simply barred and blocked with roses, and lilies, and
daisies, and bluebells, and hyacinths, and sweet peas, and every other
delicious blossom that you can think of.
Now along came the people of the Red City, and the girl in the green
dress slipped away into the forest; but she probably peeked a little
from behind some tree, and saw what happened afterward. The horses
plunged at full speed into the maze of flowers that she had prepared
for them, and however they might leap and push and struggle and
trample, they could not get through the flower-chains. You see, making
chains of flowers happened to be the green-gowned girl’s pet hobby, and
no one in the world could ever break the chains she made.
But just two riders did manage to force their horses through, and
Dick, looking back,—of course that check had given them a splendid
advantage,—saw two steeds galloping wildly after them.
“She has kept back all but two!” he said. “Dear Fairy of Fancy!”
“But what are we to do with these?” asked Star, who was always worrying.
“Never fear,” said Bizzybuzz, cheerfully. “These children have too many
friends in the Make Believe Land for there to be any danger. Someone
else will happen along before long, and see that those two Red City
persons have more trouble!”
Now the three children had not realised before that they had made many
friends in Make Believe Land, and the thought surprised and pleased
them more than they would have believed possible. There was a little
warm glow around each of their hearts, and they looked up at little
Bizzybuzz gratefully.
“Thank you for telling us that, Bizzybuzz,” said Bab, shyly.
“Telling you!” laughed Bizzybuzz. “You will not need to be told it
pretty soon!”
Once more the Red City horses seemed to be gaining upon them. Suddenly
two huge owls flew out of the depths of the forest and began to flap
around the heads of the galloping horses.
“Who are they?” cried Meg, excitedly.
“Two of your friends,” returned the Goblin.
“Is one Moon-Eyes?” asked Dick.
Bizzybuzz nodded. “And the other,” he said, “is the Tail-less One, the
Owl Innkeeper!”
“Oh, how nice of them both!” cried Bab. “They won’t hurt the horses,
will they?”
“Oh, dear, no!” said Bizzybuzz. “But they may succeed in driving at
least one of them back.”
And indeed that is just what they did. One of the horses shied, and
reared, and finally wheeled straight about. The man fell off, and,
though he was not at all hurt, was so angry that he almost had a fit.
He stood in the centre of the path and shook his fist at the trees on
each side of him, as though he suspected them of having had something
to do with it.
The horse, with the owls after it, was running home to the Red City as
fast as it could possibly go.
The second rider had not stopped to see whether his comrade had been
killed or not, and was riding after the sleigh faster than ever.
“I wonder what will happen to _him_,” said Meg.
“Ah, little Miss Meg!” said Bizzybuzz. “You are beginning to trust your
friends!”
“Yes,” said Meg, with a sigh. “But really I didn’t think I should ever
trust anyone again, after the horrid time I had with Grump!”
“Hollo!” exclaimed Bizzybuzz. “There’s Green-Wings, the Dragon-Fly!”
The big insect came humming into the sleigh, and perched on the
dash-board.
“How are you all?” he asked.
“All right. Have you any news worth hearing?” said Bizzybuzz.
“Well, I’ve just come from the Palace of the Wicked King. You know I
like to lunch upon the green flowers that grow on that big tree under
the Princess’s window. I was sitting happily on one of the lower
branches, when a snail came crawling along the limb toward me.”
He paused impressively.
“Well, what of that?” said Bizzybuzz, impatiently. “There are many
snails.”
“Not many like this one. The snail seemed lonely, and though I hate all
snails, I could not refuse to talk to it when it sat itself down beside
me. It talked a great deal of nonsense at first,—all about its departed
glory, and how it hated the Wicked King, and stuff of that sort. But
finally it told me who it was, or rather, who it had been before it
became a snail. It was Grump!”
Of course, this does not surprise _you_, for you have known it all
along, but it surprised the children tremendously.
“Poor Grump!” sighed Meg. “He tried to boil me down, and use my soul in
a magic essence, but I really think that I am sorry to think that he
has got to be a snail for the rest of his life.”
“Look!” cried Bizzybuzz.
Out between the trees on their left stalked a strange animal,—strange,
at least, to all of them except Bab and the reindeer.
“Oh, stop the sleigh!” cried Bab. “It’s my dear Wooden Cow!”
“You can’t stop the sleigh,” said Dick. “Look at that man on horseback
who is still following us.”
“I think that she is right,” said Bizzybuzz. “It is safe to stop the
sleigh, for this beast has evidently been sent by Santa Claus to help
us.”
The reindeer seemed to think so too, for they stopped short and even
wheeled around. The Wooden Cow approached them with short, stiff steps.
“I have the honour,” she remarked, “to offer you my services. I have
come all the way from the far north to help you.”
“Well, there’s no time to lose,” said Bizzybuzz, looking at the
quickly nearing figures of the man and the horse. “If you can do
anything, please do it soon.”
The Wooden Cow turned away, and walked, with its own wooden dignity,
to meet the rider from the Red City. When it was quite close to him,
it stopped, and stood motionless in the middle of the path, and stared
straight ahead of it at the galloping horseman.
And a queer thing happened.
The horse stopped short. The man on its back became utterly still.
There was a sort of a pause, and then the same dreadful change began to
come over both horse and man which they had seen come over the Wicked
King. They both turned to wood, and the expressions on the two wooden
faces—that of the man and the animal alike—were so wicked and cruel and
horrid that one could not feel at all sorry that they had been turned
to wood.
The Wooden Cow returned with slow and solemn steps to the sleigh. Her
horn was still tied on with Bab’s ribbon, and the top of her head was
smeared in places with the sticky black paint and saw-dust.
“I hope that is satisfactory?” she said.
They all thanked her, and Bab leaned out of the sleigh to hug her hard.
“You dear old thing!” she said. “How sweet of you to turn up just now
to help us!”
“Santa Claus sent you, I suppose?” said Bizzybuzz.
The Wooden Cow looked hurt.
“No one sent me,” she declared. “I heard of the trouble you were in,
and I came to see what I could do. I can usually turn people into wood
when I don’t like them, and I was grateful to the little girl who put
on my horn and chased the Mischief Brownies away. Now that my duty is
done, I will go back to Santa Claus’s barn.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, dear Wooden Cow,” cried Bab. “Give my love
to Santa Claus when you get home!”
The Cow disappeared among the trees, and the reindeer started forward
again.
Finally Bizzybuzz pointed ahead to where a little clearing was shining
in a soft, sunset light. In it was a small, pretty cottage, from the
chimney of which a thin trail of blue smoke floated up into the sky. In
front of it was a gay little garden, and when Humpty Dumpty saw it, he
almost wept.
“At last!” said Bizzybuzz, smiling.
[Illustration]
XVII
_Mother Goose Once More_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XVII
_Mother Goose Once More_
And so Bab, Meg, and Dick came back to Mother Goose’s cottage at last,
and brought with them Prince Humpty Dumpty and the Princess Star.
It seemed to our three children, when they saw the cottage, that a
very, very long time had passed since they left it to start upon their
various adventures.
It all seemed very natural and homelike, somehow, coming back to the
quaint little house, with its bright garden, and its latticed windows,
and the door with its funny string-latch. In spite of their excitement,
and all their narrow escapes, and everything that they all had been
through, a feeling of peace came over them, and they felt happy enough
to cry when the cottage door opened, and Mother Goose herself smiled at
them from the threshold.
Of course there was the greatest sort of rejoicing when she and Humpty
Dumpty met after all the centuries of their separation, and after
they had kissed and hugged and cried over each other, she welcomed
the Princess, and kissed her too very kindly. And finally she turned,
with her very sweetest, gentlest look, to the three children who were
standing together, silently looking on.
“Thank you, dear children,” she said. “You have served me very well,
very bravely and very truly, and I am grateful.”
“Oh, Mother Goose,” broke out Bab, conscientiously, “I’m afraid if you
knew—”
“I _do_ know,” said Mother Goose. “At this moment I am reading your
eyes, and I can see every single thing that has happened to you all
while you have been away,—not only what you have done, but what you
have thought.”
She looked keenly at them and smiled. And they all hung their heads and
blushed a little, for they were remembering the many times that they
had been weak or forgetful or cowardly.
“But,” she went on, “knowing everything, dears, I still thank you, and
praise you, for you have done very well,—much, much better than you
know. And that,” she added, “is something for you to remember; we are
always a little bit better than we think, and so when we are naughty,
the best thing for us to do is to say to ourselves, ‘Dear me, I am not
giving myself a chance! I am really good; why am I trying so hard to be
bad?’”
And the children never forgot what she said. You will do well to
remember it too.
“And now,” went on Mother Goose, with a delightfully mysterious smile,
“I have planned a little surprise for you.”
“A surprise!” they all three repeated, wondering.
“Yes. I am sure that you do not want to go home without seeing again
some of the friends that you have made here; and besides, I should like
you to know some of my own particular friends,—whom you should have met
long before, by the bye.”
“But, Mother Goose, who are they?” asked Bab.
“And how are we to meet them?” queried Meg.
“And where must we go?” sighed Dick, who was quite content to stay
where he was for the present, after all his adventures.
Mother Goose smiled again. She quite beamed upon them through her
gold-rimmed spectacles.
“They are all coming here,” she declared. “I’m giving a party for you,
and every one in this part of the world is coming to it.”
“Oh, what fun!” they exclaimed, clapping their hands. “How dear of you,
Mother Goose!”
“Who will be here?” asked inquisitive Bab.
“Well,” said Mother Goose, “I confess I am disappointed not to have
the Piper family,—Jack and Jill, and Contrary Mary, and the rest. Some
of my best songs have been written about them, and I am devoted to
them all. But they are away just now, on a visit to a very remote part
of the country,—Toyland, in fact,—and I have not been able to send
for them in time to get them back. Then, the Man in the Moon and his
pretty wife have sent regrets; they have some party on the Milky Way
which they simply have to go to, so she says. And Hop O’ My Thumb is
half a world away, and is having one of his seven-league boots mended,
so he is uncertain about getting here in time; but he has promised
to make a great effort to come at any cost. But even without these
especially good friends of mine, there will be quite enough to make
things merry. And I do love a party, even at my age!”
At the same moment Bizzybuzz called from the door that the owls were
coming. Mother Goose went forward to meet them, and the children were
soon greeting all their old friends,—Moon-Eyes and his wife, the Lady
Gray-Wing, and the Owl Innkeeper, and several other owls whom they
recognised as having been at the Owls’ Inn on the night of the storm;
also the big white owl who had carried the little Witch of Silence to
the foot of the Ladder of Light that led to the North Star.
Bab asked him when he expected the Witch home; but he merely blinked at
her without answering, and she remembered that he never spoke.
Moon-Eyes and the Owl Innkeeper gave an exciting account of how they
had chased the horse of the Red City man back to the city gates.
“It’s too bad to frighten the poor horse,” said Meg, “but I suppose
that it had to be done.”
[Illustration: THEY WERE ALL THREE BACK ON THE NURSERY HEARTH RUG]
“Oh, the Red City horses are as bad as the Red City men,” said the
Owl Innkeeper,—“which is saying a great deal more than I like to say
about man or beast.”
“And anyway,” added Moon-Eyes, “we didn’t hurt the horse, of course. We
just talked to him, and persuaded him that he would rather go home than
chase you!”
“Yes!” laughed Dick. “I certainly should think he would rather go home
with you after him as you were!”
Lady Gray-Wing had brought with her the Red Squirrel whom they had met
at luncheon in her nest. He seemed delighted to see them, and begged
them to postpone their departure from Make Believe Land, so that he
could give them a real woodland party. He said that he had some friends
among the Frog family, who were truly charming, and he would be _so_
glad to introduce them.
Next came Klang and Tinkle, the two Musical Goblins, and Green-Wings,
the Dragon-Fly. And there were several Fairies from the magical Flower
Meadow at the edge of Fairyland. The Sand Man, too, was there, and the
Wooden Cow, who explained that all her plans had been changed by the
invitation which had come to her from Mother Goose, and that she had
put off her return to Santa Claus’s country simply to come to the party.
Most unexpected of all was the arrival of the Sea Kobold and Mudge,
both dripping sea-water, but smiling amiably upon everyone. Mudge had
a new set of scales, of which he seemed very proud, and the Sea Kobold
had discovered that with the overthrow of the Wicked King his glass lid
had melted away; so the ocean was as good as ever, and there was no
longer any Sea of Glass.
Soon after this the strangers began to arrive, and such queer,
delightful people as they all were! The children felt terribly ashamed
of themselves not to know more about their histories, for they were
evidently famous people, all of them, and it did seem dreadful to think
that they might know all about them if only they had been willing to
read a few fairy-books now and then!
There was one little old woman, with cloudy gray robes and a huge
broomstick. When they asked, timidly, who she was, she answered with
haughtiness: “I am the Old Woman who Sweeps the Cobwebs from the Sky!
Everyone in the world knows me!”
Then there were two lovely ladies, with marvellous hair, who came
together. One explained that she was the Fair One with Golden Locks;
the other said that she was Rapunzel, on whose yellow hair a fairy
Prince had climbed up to her tower window to rescue her. The Three
Little Bears trotted in together, and Puss in Boots followed soon
after; and the four joked together about bowls of porridge, until the
three mortal children wished they knew what they meant. Wiggles made
friends with them at once!
Snow White and Rose Red strolled in with Jack the Giant-Killer, and
the other Jack who explained that he was famous for house-building. A
drowsy-looking lady, leaning upon the arm of a very splendid Prince,
announced herself as the Sleeping Beauty, and another charming person
declared that her name was Cinderella, but that she was now happily
married, and did not sit by the fire and weep any more!
“No, I’m the one who does that!” cried a voice just behind her. And a
very pretty girl made her appearance. They all laughed, and began to
sing:
“Cross Patch, draw the latch!
Sit by the fire and spin!”
“It’s all Mother’s fault,” declared Cross Patch, going to Mother Goose
and kissing her lovingly. “No one would ever have dreamed of calling me
Cross Patch if she hadn’t made up that silly song just to punish me for
a fit of temper!”
Cross Patch turned out to be Mother Goose’s own daughter, and a very
merry, sweet little person she was. Mother Goose herself laughed as she
greeted her little girl.
“Never mind!” she said. “Her temper is ever so much better since!”
Still a third Jack made his appearance just then, carrying a piece of a
bean-stalk, and he was soon followed by a lovely lady and a Prince who
announced that they were Beauty and the Beast.
“He doesn’t look a bit like a beast,” cried Meg, watching them. Cross
Patch laughed.
“He was only a beast until Beauty kissed him,” she said. “I really must
admit that he was pretty bad up to that time!”
A little girl who wore her hair straight back from her forehead,
carried a looking-glass, and was followed by a pack of live cards, came
next.
“Alice!” exclaimed Mother Goose. “I am glad to see you! I was afraid
you wouldn’t come, since you don’t belong to my kingdom properly. I
have always wished that you were one of my very own girls!”
“Hello!” cried a voice outside. “I’m here, Mother Goose, but I had to
hop all the way on one leg! That shoemaker would not send me back my
left boot in time!”
In came Hop O’ My Thumb himself,—a very tiny person, but wearing one
huge boot. They all laughed at him, but he was evidently very popular,
and the children made up their minds to read all about him just as soon
as they could possibly get home.
More and more Make Believe persons came, until it seemed beyond all
things wonderful that they were all able to get into Mother Goose’s
tiny cottage. But of course in Make Believe Land all things were
possible, and as a matter of fact, in recognising that, our three
children had learned their last and greatest lesson.
When all the guests had arrived, they had a country dance on the grass
outside. The sun was setting, and the light was lovelier than any
evening glow that poet or artist ever saw in the real world. The forest
shadows mingled with the gold and crimson glory streaming in from the
wonderful distant West, and the flowers in Mother Goose’s garden seemed
to glow like little rainbow lamps, to light the feet of the dancers.
And such a funny dance as it was! Klang and Tinkle got out their queer
little lutes, and some sad-eyed Necker appeared, and a host of sprites
and elves of all kinds took their places as the musicians of the
occasion. And when the dance began, there was the oddest assortment in
the way of partners that you could imagine.
Bab danced with her old friend the Sand Man, Meg with Mudge,—dear
little scaly Mudge!—and Dick with Cross Patch. Humpty Dumpty danced
with Princess Star, of course, and Mother Goose with the Sea Kobold.
Bizzybuzz had the Old Woman who Sweeps the Cobwebs from the Sky for
a partner, Puss in Boots had the Sleeping Beauty, and the other
Beauty danced with Hop O’ My Thumb. The Three Little Bears paired
off respectively with Cinderella, Alice in Wonderland, and Lady
Gray-Wing. Moon-Eyes and the Owl Innkeeper were allotted to Snow White
and Rose Red. One of the three Jacks—the one who was accustomed to
giant-killing—danced with the Wooden Cow, and the other two were very
well content with Rapunzel and the Fair One with Golden Locks. The
so-called “Beast” flirted gaily with the fairy with whom he danced, and
the Dragon-Fly hummed cheerfully as he followed the measures of the
dance with another merry elf. The Red Squirrel also danced with a fairy.
At last, as the sunset radiance faded, and the stars peered out far
above, the music waned and died, and the guests, one by one and two by
two, began to slip away, with a word of thanks to Mother Goose, and a
kindly farewell to the three mortal children.
Those who were their own particular friends expressed a hope that they
would all meet again some day; the others merely said that they were
glad that they had met.
Off among the dim woodland spaces drifted the Make Believe folk, and
Mother Goose and the children returned to the little cottage, lighted
warmly yet softly by the flickering blaze from the fireplace.
[Illustration]
XVIII
_At Last_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XVIII
_At Last_
And then Mother Goose called them to the table, where supper was
already waiting, and they began to eat. The children were very hungry,
and it seemed to them that they had never had such good things to eat
in all their lives. But afterward when they tried to remember what they
had had, they found that was a misty blank.
Then after supper they sat around the fire, and Mother Goose got out
her spinning-wheel and sang to them all the dear, wonderful, foolish
songs that every child knows—or ought to know.
And she made a song about the rescue of Humpty Dumpty. You have all
heard it, but don’t you wish you could have heard it when it was first
made up, as Bab and Meg and Dick did, by the cheerful little fire in
Mother Goose’s cottage?
This is the way it went, and she spun as she sang:
“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall;
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall!
Not all the King’s horses, nor all the King’s men
Could ever put Humpty Dumpty together again!
—I’m glad to say,” she added, smiling.
“Mother Goose,” said Dick, rather shyly, “do—do you think that we could
be pardoned now for—for not believing in—in—Make Believe things?”
“I’m sure of it,” answered Mother Goose. “You are no longer stupid
little unbelieving children, with dull eyes and deaf ears,—you have
learned to believe in the most wonderful things in any world—which are
the Make Believe things,—and you will be thankful all your lives. And
do you know whom you have to thank for all this?”
“You,” said Dick.
“Santa Claus!” suggested Bab.
“The Fairy Queen?” questioned Meg.
Mother Goose shook her head.
“In Make Believe Land,” she said, “there are many kingdoms, and we
are all rulers in our own way. But over us all is placed a great and
wonderful Queen. She is the real ruler of Make Believe Land.”
“Oh, who is she?” cried all three children. “Can’t we see her before we
go?”
“You have all seen her,” replied Mother Goose. “Guess, if you can, who
she is!”
They thought hard for a moment.
“The Idle Princess!” exclaimed Bab.
“Dreams-Come-True!” cried Meg.
“The Fairy of Fancy!” guessed Dick.
Mother Goose smiled approvingly at them.
“Well guessed!” she said. “For you are every one of you right!”
“Why—what—how—” gasped the three. “Is she—”
“You must have guessed that she was the lady who appeared to all of
you,” said Mother Goose. “You all saw her when you were in Santa
Claus’s sleigh.”
“We had forgotten!” they declared. “We were so excited! Oh, Mother
Goose, was _she_ the—”
“She takes a great many shapes, this great Queen of ours,” said Mother
Goose. “Indeed, she says that no one knows, nor ever will know, her
real name. Sometimes she wears a ragged dress, and often she forgets
her crown and leaves it at home; but whether she is an Idle Princess,
or a Lady of Dreams-Come-True, or a Fairy of Fancy,—she is always our
beloved lady,—whom I hope you will know and love, too, all your lives
long,—the dear, immortal, young, ancient girl-queen of Make Believe
Land.”
“Shall we see her again?” they asked in low voices.
“That,” said Mother Goose, with a little smile, “depends upon
yourselves. To those who love her she is always ready to come. But from
those who forget her, or slight her, or try to live without her, she
is careful to keep away. When you want her, she will be with you. Your
eyes have been opened by your stay here, so that you will always be
able to recognise her. Many people in the Real World meet her face to
face, but do not know who she is. But in all times of great happiness
or trouble, in all summer nights or snowstorms, and in all your dreams
and hopes, and later in whatever romance life may have thrown your
lots,—you will see her in her green gown smiling at you from under her
little crown of stars.”
“Mother,” interrupted Bizzybuzz, respectfully, “are the mortal children
to go home, now that their work is done?”
“Yes,” said Mother Goose, and looked just a wee bit sad,—“yes, yes! Of
course they must go home! Come, my children, come and kiss me good-bye!”
She drew them all three into her arms, and kissed them, one by one.
Then Humpty Dumpty and the Princess said good-bye, and Star cried a
little.
“Oh, dear!” sighed Bab. “Shall we never come back to Make Believe Land
any more?”
“My dears,” said Mother Goose, “I am going to tell you something which
you may not understand for a great many years. But it is true all the
same. The Real World, as it is called, is nothing at all but a very
small corner of Make Believe Land!”
Then she drew them once more into her arms, and held them close, and
they felt themselves growing sleepier and sleepier, and the warm
comfort of her arms seemed to wrap them round closely and happily. They
felt as though they were in their mother’s arms at home, and they knew
suddenly that they had become nothing but little, little babies, and
that their heads were nodding against Mother Goose’s breast.
And as they lay so in her arms, she began to rock them softly to and
fro, and croon the queerest, quaintest little lullaby to them. They
did not know in the least what it was all about, but it was drowsy
and motherly, and made them think of night-lights, and bath-tubs, and
coverlids pulled up close and warm on winter nights. And then they knew
that, whatever it was, it was what they always seemed to hear when
their mother used to creep into their room during a thunder-storm,
“just to see that they were all right and not frightened!”
Held so in Mother Goose’s arms, they all dreamed—for they were almost
asleep, you know—that they saw a nightgowned figure, stealing close and
closer, lowering the light, and softly mending the fire; and a dear
dream voice whispered: “Hush, darling, hush! It’s only Mamma. Go to
sleep.” And then came a kiss as light as a breath. Their minds seemed
confused; was it their own mother or Mother Goose? They never knew,
for the next moment, and before they had time to decide, they were all
three fast asleep.
* * * * *
When they opened their eyes,—it seemed but one dreamy minute
later,—they were all three back on the nursery hearth-rug. The fire was
almost out, and Nurse was just coming in.
“Bedtime, dearies,” she said. “Have you been asleep already?”
The children looked at each other.
Was it only fancy, or did they hear the faint whirr of Bizzybuzz’s
wings as he flew away?
[Illustration]
Transcribers Notes
Spelling isn’t always consistent. For some words several variants
can be encountered e.g. “sword-fish” and “swordfish”. Principally no
corrections have been made. However, there are some rather obvious
printing errors that have been corrected. These are listed below.
Corrections:
Frontispiece: “Page 26” changed to “Page 34” to correspond with the
list of illustrations
Page 53 “fox terrier” changed to “fox-terrier”
Page 66 Single quote changed to double quote
Page 69 Period inserted between “forest” and “She”
Page 76 “shapened” changed to “sharpened”
Page 142 “really” changed to “real”
Pages 148 and 149 “Moon Eyes” changed to “Moon-Eyes”
Page 169 “Moon-eyes” changed to “Moon-Eyes”
The text contains formatting. The following conventions are used:
_word_ means that “word” is in italics;
+word+ means that “word” is in small caps.
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