The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bo-Peep Story Books, by Anonymous

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Title: Bo-Peep Story Books

Author: Anonymous

Editor: Clara de Chatelain

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   BO-PEEP

   STORY BOOKS.

   [Illustration]

   CINDERELLA,
   THE PRINCESS ROSETTA,
   FAIR ONE AND GOLDEN LOCKS,
   BEAUTY AND THE BEAST,
   LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD,
   THE SLEEPING BEAUTY,

   NEW YORK:
   LEAVITT & ALLEN BROS.,
   No. 8 HOWARD STREET.


       *       *       *       *       *


THE STORY

OF

=Cinderella; or the Glass Slipper=.

[Illustration]

=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=




=Cinderella; or, the Glass Slipper.=


There once lived a gentleman, who, on becoming a widower, married a most
haughty woman for his second wife. The lady had two daughters by a
former marriage, equally proud and disagreeable as herself, while the
husband had one daughter, of the sweetest temper and most angelic
disposition, who was the complete counterpart of her late mother. No
sooner was the wedding over, than the stepmother began to show her bad
temper. She could not bear her stepdaughter's good qualities, that only
showed up her daughters' unamiable ones still more obviously, and she
accordingly compelled the poor girl to do all the drudgery of the
household. It was she who washed the dishes, and scrubbed down the
stairs, and polished the floors in my lady's chamber, and in those of
the two pert misses, her daughters; and while the latter slept on good
featherbeds in elegant rooms, furnished with full-length
looking-glasses, their sister lay in a wretched garret on an old straw
mattress. Yet the poor thing bore this ill treatment very meekly, and
did not dare complain to her father, who was so besotted to his wife
that he would only have scolded her.

When her work was done, she used to sit in the chimney corner amongst
the cinders, which had caused the nickname of _Cinderella_ to be given
her by the family; yet, for all her shabby clothes, Cinderella was a
hundred times prettier than her sisters, let them be drest ever so
magnificently.

It happened that the king's son gave a ball, to which he invited all the
nobility; and, as our two young ladies made a great figure in the world,
they were included in the list of invitations. So they began to be very
busy choosing what head-dress and which gown would be the most becoming.
Here was fresh work for poor Cinderella; for it was she, forsooth, who
was to starch and get up their ruffles, and iron all their fine linen;
and nothing but dress was talked about for days together. "I," said the
eldest, "shall put on my red velvet dress, with my point-lace
trimmings." "And I," said the younger sister, "shall wear my usual
petticoat, but shall set it off with my gold brocaded train and my
circlet of diamonds." They sent for a clever tire-woman to prepare the
double rows of quilling for their caps, and they purchased a quantity of
fashionably cut patches. They called in Cinderella to take her advice,
as she had such good taste, and Cinderella not only advised them well,
but offered to dress their hair, which they were pleased to accept.
While she was thus busied, the sisters said to her, "And pray,
Cinderella, would you like to go to the ball!" "Nay, you are mocking
me," replied the poor girl; "it is not for such as I to go to balls."
"True enough," rejoined they; "folks would laugh to see a Cinderella at
a court ball."

[Illustration]

Any other but Cinderella would have drest their hair awry to punish them
for their impertinence, but she was so good natured that she dressed
them most becomingly. The two sisters were so delighted, that they
scarcely ate a morsel for a couple of days. They spent their whole time
before a looking-glass, and they would be laced so tight, to make their
waists as slender as possible, that more than a dozen stay-laces were
broken in the attempt.

[Illustration]

The long-wished-for evening came at last, and off they set. Cinderella's
eyes followed them as long as she could, and then she was fain to weep.
Her godmother now appeared, and seeing her in tears inquired what was
the matter. "I wish---I wish," began the poor girl, but tears choked her
utterance. "You wish that you could go to the ball," interrupted her
godmother, who was a fairy. "Indeed I do!" said Cinderella, with a sigh.
"Well, then, if you will be a good girl, you shall go," said her
godmother. "Now fetch me a pumpkin from the garden," added she.
Cinderella flew to gather the finest pumpkin she could find, though she
could not understand how it was to help her to go to the ball. But, her
godmother having scooped it quite hollow, touched it with her wand, when
it was immediately changed into a gilt coach. She then went to the
mousetrap, where she found six live mice, and bidding Cinderella let
them out one by one, she changed each mouse into a fine dapple-grey
horse by a stroke of her wand. She next considered what she should do
for a coachman, when Cinderella proposed to look for a rat in the
rat-trap. "That's a good thought," quoth her godmother, "so go and see."
Sure enough, Cinderella returned with the rat-trap, in which were three
large rats. The fairy chose one who had a tremendous pair of whiskers,
and forthwith changed him into a coachman with the finest moustachios
ever seen. She then said: "Now go into the garden, and bring me six
lizards, which you will find behind the watering-pot." These were no
sooner brought, than they were turned into six footmen, with laced
liveries, who got up behind the coach just as naturally as if they had
done nothing else all their lives. The fairy then said to Cinderella:
"Now here are all the means for going to the ball; are you not pleased?"
"But must I go in these dirty clothes?" said Cinderella, timidly. Her
godmother merely touched her with her wand, and her shabby clothes were
changed to a dress of gold and silver tissue, all ornamented with
precious stones. She next gave her the prettiest pair of glass slippers
ever seen. She now got into the carriage, after having been warned by
her godmother upon no account to prolong her stay beyond midnight, as,
should she remain a moment longer at the ball, her coach would again
become a pumpkin, her horses mice, her footmen lizards, while her
clothes would return to their former shabby condition. Cinderella
promised she would not fail to leave the ball before midnight, and set
off in an ecstacy of delight. The king's son, on being informed that
some great princess, unknown at court, had just arrived, went to hand
her out of her carriage, and brought her into the hall where the company
was assembled. The moment she appeared, all conversation was hushed,
the violins ceased playing, and the dancing stopped short, so great was
the sensation produced by the stranger's beauty. A confused murmur of
admiration fluttered through the crowd, and each was fain to exclaim
"How surpassingly lovely she is!" Even the king, old as he was, could
not forbear admiring her like the rest, and whispered to the queen, that
she was certainly the fairest and comeliest woman he had seen for many a
long day. The ladies were all busy examining her head-dress and her
clothes, in order to get similar ones the very next day, if, indeed,
they could meet with stuffs of such rich patterns, and find workwomen
clever enough to make them up.

[Illustration]

After leading her to the place to which her rank seemed to entitle her,
the king's son requested her hand for the next dance, when she displayed
so much grace as to increase the admiration her beauty had raised in the
first instance. An elegant supper was next brought in, but the young
prince was so taken up with gazing at the fair stranger, that he did not
partake of a morsel. Cinderella went and sat by her sisters, sharing
with them the oranges and citrons the prince had offered her, much to
their surprise, as they did not recognise her in the least.

When Cinderella heard the clock strike three-quarters past eleven, she
made a low curtsey to the whole assembly, and retired in haste. On
reaching home, she found her godmother, and after thanking her for the
treat she had enjoyed, she ventured to express a wish to return to the
ball on the following evening, as the prince had requested her to do.
She was still relating to her godmother all that had happened at court,
when her two sisters knocked at the door. Cinderella went and let them
in, pretending to yawn and stretch herself, and rub her eyes, and
saying: "How late you are!" just as if she was woke up out of a nap,
though, truth to say, she had never felt less disposed to sleep in her
life. "If you had been to the ball," said one of the sisters, "you would
not have thought it late. There came the most beautiful princess ever
seen, who loaded us with polite attentions, and gave us oranges and
citrons."

Cinderella could scarcely contain her delight, and inquired the name of
the princess. But they replied that nobody knew her name, and that the
king's son was in great trouble about her, and would give the world to
know who she could be. "Is she, then, so very beautiful?" said
Cinderella, smiling. "Lord! how I should like to see her! Oh, do, my
Lady Javotte, lend me the yellow dress you wear every day, that I may go
to the ball and have a peep at this wonderful princess." "A likely
story, indeed!" cried Javotte, tossing her head disdainfully, "that I
should lend my clothes to a dirty Cinderella like you!" Cinderella
expected to be refused, and was not sorry for it, as she would have been
puzzled what to do, had her sister really lent her the dress she begged
to have.

On the following evening, the sisters again went to the court ball, and
so did Cinderella, drest even more magnificently than before. The king's
son never left her side, and kept paying her the most flattering
attentions. The young lady was nothing loth to listen to him; so it came
to pass that she forgot her godmother's injunctions, and, indeed, lost
her reckoning so completely, that, before she deemed it could be eleven
o'clock, she was startled at hearing the first stroke of midnight. She
rose hastily, and flew away like a startled fawn. The prince attempted
to follow her, but she was too swift for him; only, as she flew she
dropped one of her glass slippers, which he picked up very eagerly.
Cinderella reached home quite out of breath, without either coach or
footmen, and with only her shabby clothes on her back; nothing, in
short, remained of her recent magnificence, save a little glass slipper,
the fellow to the one she had lost. The sentinels at the palace gate
were closely questioned as to whether they had not seen a princess
coming out; but they answered they had seen no one except a shabbily
drest girl, who appeared to be a peasant rather than a young lady.

[Illustration]

When the two sisters returned from the ball, Cinderella asked them
whether they had been well entertained; and whether the beautiful lady
was there? They replied, that she was; but that she had run away as soon
as midnight had struck, and so quickly as to drop one of her dainty
glass slippers, which the king's son had picked up, and was looking at
most fondly during the remainder of the ball; indeed, it seemed beyond a
doubt that he was deeply enamoured of the beautiful creature to whom it
belonged.

They spoke truly enough; for, a few days afterwards, the king's son
caused a proclamation to be made, by sound of trumpet, all over the
kingdom, to the effect that he would marry her whose foot should be
found to fit the slipper exactly. So the slipper was first tried on by
all the princesses; then by all the duchesses; and next by all the
persons belonging to the court: but in vain. It was then carried to the
two sisters, who tried with all their might to force their feet into its
delicate proportions, but with no better success. Cinderella, who was
present, and recognised her slipper, now laughed, and said: "Suppose I
were to try?" Her sisters ridiculed such an idea; but the gentleman who
was appointed to try the slipper, having looked attentively at
Cinderella, and perceived how beautiful she was, said that it was but
fair she should do so, as he had orders to try it on every young maiden
in the kingdom. Accordingly, having requested Cinderella to sit down,
she no sooner put her little foot to the slipper, than she drew it on,
and it fitted like wax. The sisters were quite amazed; but their
astonishment increased ten fold, when Cinderella drew the fellow slipper
out of her pocket, and put it on. Her godmother then made her
appearance; and, having touched Cinderella's clothes with her wand, made
them still more magnificent than those she had previously worn.

[Illustration]

Her two sisters now recognised her for the beautiful stranger they had
seen at the ball; and, falling at her feet, implored her forgiveness for
their unworthy treatment, and all the insults they had heaped upon her
head. Cinderella raised them, saying, as she embraced them, that she not
only forgave them with all her heart, but wished for their affection.
She was then taken to the palace of the young prince, in whose eyes she
appeared yet more lovely than before, and who married her shortly after.

Cinderella, who was as good as she was beautiful, allowed her sisters to
lodge in the palace, and gave them in marriage, that same day, to two
lords belonging to the court.




THE STORY

OF

=Beauty and the Beast=.

[Illustration]

=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=




=Beauty and the Beast.=


There was once a wealthy merchant who had three sons and three
daughters. The latter were extremely pretty, especially the youngest,
who, indeed, was called in childhood the little Beauty,--a nickname that
clung to her ever after, much to the jealous annoyance of her sisters.
Nor did she excel them more in beauty than in goodness. The two eldest
sisters were so proud of their father's fortune that they would not
condescend to herd with other merchants' daughters, but were always
dangling after persons of quality, and frequenting balls and plays, and
laughed at their youngest sister for spending her time in reading
instructive books. As they were known to be rich, many wealthy merchants
offered to marry them; but the two eldest replied, that they could not
think of anybody below a Duke, or at least an Earl, while Beauty
answered, that she thanked them for their good opinion, but that, being
still very young, she wished to remain a few years longer with her
father.

[Illustration]

It happened that the merchant was suddenly ruined, and nothing was left
of all his vast property but a small house in the country, whither, he
informed his children, they must now remove. The two eldest replied,
that for their parts they need not leave town, as they had plenty of
lovers who would be too happy to marry them even without a fortune. But
here they were strangely mistaken. Their lovers would not even look upon
them now; and, as they had made themselves odious by their pride, nobody
pitied them for their fall, though every one felt sorry for Beauty.
Indeed, several gentlemen offered to marry her, portionless as she was;
but she told them she could not resolve to abandon her father in his
misfortunes. The family now removed into the country, where the father
and his sons tilled the ground, while Beauty rose daily at four o'clock,
and did all the work in the house. At first this drudgery seemed very
hard, but after a time she grew stronger, and her health improved. When
her work was over she read, played on the harpsichord, or sang as she
sat at her spinning-wheel. As to her two sisters, they were perfectly
helpless, and a burden to themselves. They would rise at ten, and spend
the live-long day fretting for the loss of their fine clothes and gay
parties, and sneer at their sister for her low-born tastes, because she
put up with their unfortunate position so cheerfully.

The family had spent about a year in their retreat, when the merchant
received a letter, informing him that a ship freighted with goods
belonging to him, that was thought to be lost, had just come into port.
At this unexpected news the two eldest sisters were half wild for joy,
as they now hoped they would soon leave the cottage; and when their
father was about to go and settle his business, they begged him to bring
them back all sorts of dresses and trinkets. When the father perceived
that Beauty did not ask for anything, he inquired what he should bring
her. "Why, since you ask me, dear father," said she, "I should like you
to bring me a rose, as none grow in these parts." Now, it was not that
Beauty particularly cared about his bringing a rose, only she would not
appear to blame her sisters, or to seem superior to them, by saying she
did not wish for anything. The good man set off, but when he reached the
port, he was obliged to go to law about the cargo, and it ended in his
returning as poor as he came. He was within thirty miles of home, when,
on passing by night through a large forest, he was overtaken by a heavy
fall of snow, and, having completely lost his way, he began to be afraid
he should die of hunger and cold, when of a sudden he perceived a light
at the end of a long long avenue of trees, and, on making for that
direction, he reached a splendid palace, where, to his surprise, not a
human being was stirring in any of the court-yards. His horse followed
him, and, seeing a stable-door open, walked in, and here the poor jaded
beast fed heartily on the hay and oats that filled the crib. The
merchant then entered the house, where he still saw nobody, but found a
good fire, and a table ready laid for one person, with the choicest
viands. Being completely drenched, he drew near the fire to dry his
clothes, saying to himself, "I hope the master of the house or his
servants will excuse the liberty I am taking, for no doubt it will not
be long before they make their appearance." He then waited a
considerable while, still no one came, and by the time the clock struck
eleven, he was so exhausted with hunger that he took up a chicken, which
he devoured in two mouthfuls, and in a perfect tremor. He next drank
several glasses of wine, when, taking courage, he left the hall, and
crossed several suites of rooms most magnificently furnished. At last he
found a very nice chamber, and, as it was now past midnight, and he was
excessively tired, he closed the door and went to bed.

[Illustration]

The merchant did not wake till ten o'clock on the following morning,
when he was surprised to find a new suit of clothes instead of his own,
which were spoiled. He now concluded the palace belonged to some
beneficent fairy; a notion which was completely confirmed on his looking
out of window, and seeing that the snow had given place to flowery
arbours and the most enchanting gardens. Having returned to the great
hall, where he had supped on the previous night, he saw a small table,
on which stood some chocolate ready for his breakfast. When his meal
was finished, he went to look after his horse, and, as he happened to
pass under a bower of roses, he bethought him of Beauty's request, and
plucked a bunch to take home. No sooner had he done so than he heard a
frightful roar, and saw such a horrible beast stalking up to him that he
was ready to faint with alarm. "You are most ungrateful," cried the
Beast, in a terrific voice. "I saved your life by admitting you into my
palace, and you reward me by stealing my roses, which I love beyond
everything else! You shall pay the forfeit with your life's blood." The
poor merchant threw himself on his knees before the Beast, saying:
"Forgive me, my Lord, I did not know I should offend you by plucking a
rose for one of my daughters, in compliance with her wishes." "I am not
a lord, but a beast," answered the monster; "I hate flattery, and you
will not come over me with any fine speeches; but, as you say you have
daughters, I will forgive you, provided one of them comes willingly to
die in your stead, but swear that, should they refuse, you will return
in three months." The merchant had not the most distant intention of
sacrificing one of his daughters, but wishing to see his children once
more before he died, he swore to return, and the Beast dismissed him,
telling him he need not go empty-handed, but that, if he returned to his
bed-chamber, he would find a large trunk, which he was at liberty to
fill with anything he fancied in the palace, and that it would be sent
after him. Somewhat comforted at the idea of leaving his children
provided for, the merchant returned to his room, where he found a
quantity of gold pieces; and having filled the trunk, he left the palace
in a far sadder mood than he had entered it. On reaching home, he gave
the roses to his daughter, saying: "Take them, Beauty: you little think
how dear they have cost your poor father." And thereupon, he related all
that had befallen him. The two eldest sisters then began to rend the
air with their lamentations, and to upbraid Beauty for being the cause
of their father's death, because, forsooth, she didn't ask for dresses,
as they did, in order to seem wiser than they; and now she had not even
a tear for the mischief she had done. But Beauty replied, it were of
little use to weep, for that she was quite resolved to go, and die in
her father's stead. "No," cried the three brothers, "we will go and seek
this monster, and either he or we shall perish." But the merchant
assured them it was vain to attempt resisting the Beast's all-powerful
will, and that it was their duty to live to protect their sisters, as it
was his to sacrifice the few remaining years he could expect to enjoy.
Meanwhile, the merchant, having forgotten all about the trunk, was much
surprised to find it on retiring to his chamber; but he said nothing
about it for the present to his eldest daughters, as he knew they would
pester him to return to town.

[Illustration]

When the day came that Beauty was to set out with her father, the two
heartless sisters rubbed their eyes with an onion to appear as if they
had cried a great deal, while her brothers shed real tears, as well as
the father himself. The horse took the right road of his own accord,
and, on reaching the palace, which was illuminated as before, he went at
once into the stable, while the father and daughter entered the great
hall, where two covers were laid on a table loaded with the most dainty
fare. After supper they heard a tremendous noise. Beauty shuddered on
seeing the Beast enter, and when he inquired whether she had come
willingly, she could not help trembling as she faltered out "Yes." "Then
I am obliged for your kindness," growled the Beast; and, turning to the
father, he added: "As for you--get you gone to-morrow, and never let me
see you here again. Good night, Beauty." "Good night, Beast," answered
she, and then the monster retired. The merchant again fell to entreating
his daughter to leave him, but the next morning she prevailed on him to
set out; which he, perhaps, would not have done, had he not felt a faint
hope that the Beast might, after all, relent. When he was gone, Beauty
could not help shedding some tears; after which she proceeded to examine
the various rooms of the palace, when she was surprised to find written
upon one of the doors, "Beauty's Apartment." She opened it in haste, and
found a magnificently furnished room, and was much struck on seeing an
extensive library, a harpsichord, and music books; for she concluded
that, if she had only a day to live, such amusements would not have been
provided for her. Her surprise increased, on opening one of the books,
and seeing written in golden letters, "_Your wishes and commands shall
be obeyed: you are here the queen over everything_." "Alas!" thought
she, "my wish would be to see what my poor father is now about." No
sooner had she expressed this desire in her own mind, than she saw
depicted in a large looking-glass her father's arrival at home. Her
sisters came out to meet him, and, in spite of their affected sorrow,
it was plain enough that they rejoiced in their hearts at his returning
alone. This vision disappeared a moment afterwards, and Beauty felt
grateful to the Beast for complying with her wishes. At noon she found
dinner ready for her; and she was treated all the while to an excellent
concert, though she saw nobody. At night the Beast came, and asked leave
to sup with her, which of course she could not refuse, though she
trembled from head to foot. Presently he inquired whether she did not
think him very ugly. "Yes," said Beauty, "for I cannot tell a lie; but I
think you very good." The supper passed off pleasantly enough, and
Beauty had half recovered from her alarm, when he suddenly asked her
whether she would marry him. Though afraid of irritating him, she
faltered out: "No, Beast," when he sighed so as to shake the whole
house, and saying: "Good night, Beauty," in a sorrowful tone, left the
room, much to her relief, though she could not help pitying him from her
soul.

Beauty lived in this manner for three months. The Beast came to supper
every night; and, by degrees, as she grew accustomed to his ugliness,
she esteemed him for his many amiable qualities. The only thing that
pained her was, that he never failed to ask her whether she would marry
him; and when, at last, she told him that she had the greatest
friendship though no love for him, he begged her at least to promise
never to leave him. Now Beauty had seen in her glass, that very morning,
that her father lay sick with grief at her supposed death; and, as her
sisters were married, and her brothers gone for soldiers, she had so
great a wish to go and see him, that she told the Beast she should die
if he refused her leave. "No," said the Beast, "I would much rather your
poor Beast should die of grief for your absence. So you may go." But
Beauty promised to return in a week; and the Beast having informed her
that she need only lay her ring on her toilet table before she went to
bed, when she meant to return, he wished her good night, and retired.

[Illustration]

On awaking next morning, Beauty found herself in her father's cottage,
and his delight on seeing her alive soon restored his health. He sent
for her sisters, who presently came accompanied by their husbands, with
whom they lived very unhappily, as one was so vain of his person that he
thought nothing of his wife, and the other so sarcastic that he was
playing off his wit all day long on everybody around him, and most of
all on his lady. The sisters were so jealous on finding Beauty
magnificently dressed, and hearing how kind the Beast was to her, that
they laid a plan for detaining her beyond the time allowed her to stay,
in hopes he would be so angry as to devour her. Accordingly, when the
week was over, they affected such grief at her departure, that Beauty
agreed to a stay another week, though she could not help reproaching
herself for so doing. But on the night of the tenth day, she dreamt she
saw the Beast lying half dead on the grass in the palace garden, and
waking all in tears, she got out of bed, laid her ring on the table,
and then went to bed again, where she soon fell asleep. She was quite
relieved, on waking, to find herself back in the palace, and waited
impatiently till supper time, but nine o'clock struck, and no Beast
appeared. Beauty then seriously feared she had caused his death, and
running into the garden towards the spot she had dreamt of, she saw the
poor Beast lying senseless on the grass. She threw herself upon his body
in despair, when feeling that his heart still beat, she ran to fetch
some water from a neighbouring stream, and threw it into his face. The
Beast opened his eyes saying in a faint voice: "You forgot your
promise, and I determined to starve myself to death; but since you are
come, I shall, at least, die happy." "No! you shall not die, dear
Beast," cried Beauty, "you shall live to be my husband, for I now feel I
really love you." No sooner had she spoken these words, than the palace
was brilliantly illuminated, fireworks were displayed, and a band of
music struck up. The Beast had disappeared, and in his place, a very
handsome prince was at her feet, thanking her for having broken his
enchantment. "But where is my poor Beast?" said Beauty anxiously. "He is
now before you," said the prince. "A wicked fairy condemned me to retain
that uncouth form till some beautiful maid had sufficient goodness to
love me in spite of my ugliness." Beauty, most agreeably surprised, now
helped the prince to rise, and they returned to the palace, where she
found her father. The young pair were then married, and the prince and
his beautiful bride were heartily welcomed by his subjects, who had
mourned his absence, and over whom they reigned happily for many, many
long years.

[Illustration]




THE STORY

OF

=Princess Rosetta=.

[Illustration]

=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=




=Princess Rosetta.=


There once lived a king and a queen who had two very fine boys. The
queen always invited the fairies, on the birth of her children, to
foretel their fortunes; so when, some years after, a daughter was born,
she again applied to her old friends. The little girl was so beautiful
that the fairies were struck with admiration; but when questioned by the
mother as to the future fate of Princess Rosetta (for such was her
name), they one and all pretended to have left their conjuring-book at
home, and said they would come another time. "Alas!" cried the queen,
"this bodes no good. Yet I do entreat you to tell me the worst." The
more unwilling the fairies seemed to speak, the greater desire the queen
felt to know what was the matter; so at length the principal fairy said:
"We are afraid, Madam, that Rosetta will prove unlucky to her brothers,
and that they will die in some adventure on her account. That is all
that we are able to foresee about your pretty little girl." They then
departed, and left the queen very sad.

[Illustration]

Some time after, the queen was told that there was an old hermit, who
lived in the trunk of a tree, in a neighbouring wood, and whom everybody
went to consult. So she went and consulted the hermit, and he answered,
that the best thing would be to shut the princess up in a tower, and
never allow her to go abroad. The queen thanked him, and having made him
a handsome present, came back and told the king what he had said. The
king immediately ordered a high tower to be built, and when it was
finished, he shut the princess up in it, though he went daily to see his
daughter, accompanied by the queen and the two princes, who were
devotedly attached to their sister. By the time the princess was fifteen
years of age the king and queen fell ill and died the same day, to the
great grief of Rosetta and her brothers. The eldest son was now raised
to the throne, when he said to his brother: "It is time we should let
our sister out of the tower in which she has been so long shut up."
Accordingly they crossed the garden, and having entered the tower,
Rosetta came to meet them, and said: "I hope, Sire, now that you are
king, you will let me out of this tower, where I am so tired of being
shut up." And so saying she burst into tears. But the king told her not
to cry, and that she should not only leave the tower, but soon be
married. When Rosetta came down into the garden, she was delighted with
all she saw, and ran about like a child to gather flowers and fruit,
followed by her little dog Fretillon, who was as green as a parrot, and
had long ears, but who danced most admirably. But when the princess
caught sight of a peacock, she thought it the most beautiful creature in
the world, and asked her brothers what it was. On being told that it was
a bird that was occasionally eaten, she replied that it was a sin and a
shame to eat such a beautiful bird, and added, that she would never
marry any one but the king of the peacocks, and then such a sacrilege
should be forbidden. "But, sister," said the king, greatly astonished,
"where on earth can we find the king of the peacocks?" "That is your
look-out," said the young princess; "all I can say is, that no one else
shall become my husband."

[Illustration]

The two brothers then led her to the palace, whither she insisted on
having the peacock removed, and put into her chamber. All the ladies of
the court, who had not seen Rosetta, then came to pay their respects to
her, and brought her a variety of presents, which she received with such
infantine grace and pretty gratitude, as to delight everybody. The king
and his brother were thinking, meanwhile, how they should contrive to
find the king of the peacocks. At length they had Rosetta's picture
taken, and a speaking likeness it was, and with this they set off on
their difficult errand, leaving the princess to govern the kingdom
during their absence.

They at last reached the kingdom of the Cockchafers, and such a buzzing
there was in it, that the king thought he should go deaf or mad. At
length he asked the one who appeared the most rational of the set, where
he could find the king of the peacocks. "Please your majesty," replied
the cockchafer, "his kingdom is thirty thousand miles from hence, and
you have taken the longest road to reach it." "And pray, how can you
know that?" said the king. "Because," rejoined the cockchafer, "you and
we are old acquaintances, for we spend two or three months in your
gardens every year." The king and his brother embraced the cockchafer
for joy, and then they dined together; and after admiring all the
curiosities of the kingdom, where every leaf was worth a guinea, they
continued their journey, till they reached a country where they saw all
the trees were filled with peacocks, who made such a screeching that
they were to be heard at least two leagues off. The king now said to his
brother: "Should the king of the peacocks be himself a peacock, he will
be an odd husband for our sister. What a pity it is she ever imagined
that there existed such a king!" On reaching the capital, however, they
found it inhabited by men and women, who wore dresses made of peacocks'
feathers; and presently they saw the king coming out of his palace, in a
beautiful little golden carriage studded with diamonds, and drawn by
twelve peacocks. He was extremely handsome, and wore his fine, long,
curly flaxen hair flowing on his shoulders, surmounted by a crown of
peacocks' feathers. On perceiving the two strangers he stopped the
carriage, and inquired what had brought them to his kingdom. The king
and prince then said they came from afar to shew him a beautiful
portrait, and accordingly drew forth Rosetta's likeness. The king of the
peacocks after having attentively examined it, declared he could not
believe there really existed so beautiful a maiden in the world. Upon
which the prince informed him that his brother was a king, and that the
original of the portrait was their sister, the princess Rosetta, who was
a hundred times more beautiful than here represented, and that they came
to offer her to him in marriage, with a bushel of golden crowns for her
portion. "I should willingly marry her," replied the king of the
peacocks, "but I must insist upon her being quite as beautiful as the
picture; and, should I find her inferior in the slightest respect, I
will put you both to death." "Agreed!" cried the brothers. "Well, then,"
said the king, "you must go to prison till the princess arrives." This
they willingly did, and then wrote off to their sister to come
immediately to marry the king of the peacocks, who was dying of love for
her; but they said nothing about their being shut up, for fear of
alarming her.

The princess was half wild with joy when she heard the king of the
peacocks was really found, and she lost no time in setting off with her
nurse, her foster-sister, and her little green dog Fretillon, who were
the only companions she chose to take with her. They put to sea in a
vessel loaded with a bushel of golden crowns, and with clothes enough
for ten years, supposing the princess put on two new dresses every day.

[Illustration]

During the passage, the nurse kept asking the pilot how near they were
to the kingdom of peacocks; and when at last he told her they would soon
reach its shores, the wicked creature said, that if he would help her to
throw the princess into the sea, as soon as she should be asleep that
night, she could then dress up her daughter in her fine clothes, and
present her to the king of the peacocks for his bride, and that she
would give him gold and diamonds so as to make his fortune. The pilot
thought it a pity to drown such a fair princess; but the nurse having
plied him with wine until he was quite tipsy, he gave his consent, and
when night came, he helped her and her daughter to take up Rosetta, when
she was fast asleep, mattress, feather-bed and all, and flung her into
the sea. Fortunately the bed was stuffed with phoenix's feathers, which
possess the virtue of not sinking, so that it kept floating like a
barge. Still, the waves wetted it by degrees, and Rosetta, feeling
uncomfortable, kept turning about in her sleep, till she woke her little
dog, who lay at the foot of her bed. Fretillon had a very fine scent,
and, as he smelt the soles and the cod, he barked aloud, which in turn
woke the fish, who began to swim about and run foul of the princess's
light craft, that kept twisting about like a whirlpool.

Meanwhile the wicked nurse had reached the shore, where she and her
daughter found a hundred carriages waiting for them, drawn by a variety
of animals, such as lions, stags, bears, wolves, horses, oxen, eagles,
and peacocks. The coach intended for Princess Rosetta was drawn by six
blue monkeys, caparisoned with crimson velvet. The nurse had drest up
her daughter in the finest gown she could find, and loaded her head with
diamonds; in spite of which, she appeared so frightful, with her
squinting eyes, oily black hair, crooked legs, and humped shoulder, that
the persons sent by the king of the peacocks to receive her, were
struck with amazement at the sight of her. Being as cross as she was
ill-favoured, she asked them tartly whether they were all asleep, and
why they did not bring her something to eat; and then, distributing her
blows pretty freely, she threatened to have them all hung if they did
not shew a little more alacrity in doing her bidding. As she passed
along in state, the peacocks perched on the trees cried out, "Fie! what
an ugly creature!" which enraged her so that she ordered her guards to
go and kill all the peacocks; but they flew away and only laughed at her
the more. When the pilot heard and saw all this, he whispered to the
nurse: "We are in the wrong box, mistress;" but she bid him hold his
peace.

[Illustration]

When the king came forth to meet her, accompanied by all his nobles, his
peacocks, and the foreign ambassadors staying at his court, preceded by
Rosetta's portrait at the end of a long pole, he was ready to die with
rage and vexation on seeing such a fright; and, without more ado, he
ordered her to be shut up, together with the nurse and the pilot, in the
tower prison. His rage next fell upon the two princes, whom he accused
of making game of him; and they were much surprised when, instead of
being released on their sister's arrival, they were transferred to a
horrible dungeon, where they remained up to their necks in water for
three days. At the end of that time, the king of the peacocks came and
insulted them through a loop-hole, and told them they were a couple of
adventurers, whom he would have hung; upon which, the elder prisoner
replied indignantly, that he was as good a king as himself, and that he
might some day repent his insolent behaviour. Seeing him so firm, the
king of the peacocks had almost a mind to release them at once, and send
them away with their sister, but one of his courtiers persuaded him that
his dignity required he should punish the strangers; so he had them
tried, and they were condemned to be executed for having told a
falsehood, and promising the king a beautiful bride, who had turned out
a horrible fright. When they heard this sentence, they protested so
vehemently that there must be some misunderstanding, which time would
clear up, that they obtained a week's respite. Meanwhile, the poor
princess, who was greatly surprised on waking to find herself in the
middle of the sea, began to weep bitterly, and fancied she had been cast
into the waves by order of the king of the peacocks. After being tossed
about for a couple of days, during which she would have died of hunger
had she not chanced to pass near a bed of oysters, Fretillon's incessant
barking attracted the notice of a good old man, who lived in a solitary
hut on the shore. Thinking some travellers had lost their way, he came
out to help them, when he was much surprised on beholding the princess
in her water bed, calling out to him to save her life. The old man ran
back to fetch a grapple, and towed the bed ashore with some difficulty,
and the princess having wrapt herself in the counterpane, followed him
to his cottage, where he lit a fire, and gave her some clothes that once
belonged to his late wife. Seeing that she must be a lady of high
degree, by the richness of the bed-clothes, which were of satin,
embroidered with gold and silver, the old man questioned her, and having
learnt her story, he offered to go and inform the king of her arrival,
reminding her that she would not have proper fare in his poor house.
But Rosetta would not hear of such a thing, and preferred borrowing a
basket, which she fastened to Fretillon's neck, saying, "Go and fetch me
pot-luck from the best kitchen in the town." Fretillon set off; and, as
there was no better than the king's, he stole all that was in the pot,
and came back to his mistress. She then sent him back to the pantry to
fetch bread, wine, and fruit. Now, when the king of the peacocks wanted
to dine, there was nothing left, either in the pot or the pantry, so he
was in a great rage, and he ordered some joints to be roasted, that he
might, at least, make a good supper. But when evening came, the princess
sent Fretillon to fetch some joints from the best kitchen, and the
little dog again went to the palace, and, whipping the joints off the
spit while the cook's back was turned, he filled his basket and returned
home. The king having missed his dinner, wished to sup earlier than
usual, when again nothing was to be had, and he went to bed in a perfect
fury. The same thing happened the next day, both at dinner and at
supper, so that for three days the king never tasted a morsel; and this
might have gone on much longer had not a courtier concealed himself in
the kitchen, and discovered the four-footed thief, and followed him to
the cottage. The king immediately ordered the inmates of the cottage and
the dog to be taken into custody, and determined they should be put to
death with the two strangers, whose respite was to expire on the morrow.
He then entered the hall of justice to judge the culprits. The old man
knelt before him, and told him Rosetta's whole story; and when the king
cast his eyes upon her, and saw how beautiful she was, he jumped for
joy, and untied the cords that bound her. Meantime the two princes were
sent for, together with the nurse and her daughter; and when they had
all met, Rosetta fell on her brothers' necks, while the guilty nurse and
her daughter, and the pilot, knelt down to implore forgiveness. The king
was so delighted that he pardoned them, and rewarded the old man
handsomely, and insisted on his remaining in his palace. The king of the
peacocks next did all he could to make up for the ill-usage the king and
the prince had suffered. The nurse returned the bushel of golden crowns
and Rosetta's fine clothes; and the wedding rejoicings lasted a whole
fortnight. So everybody was satisfied, not forgetting Fretillon, who was
fed with all sorts of dainties for the rest of his life.

[Illustration]




THE STORY

OF

=Little Red Riding Hood=.

[Illustration]

=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=




=Little Red Riding Hood.=


In a retired and pleasant village there once lived a little girl, who
was one of the prettiest children ever seen. Her mother loved her to
excess, and as to her grandmother, she was doatingly fond of her, and
looked upon her as the delight of her eyes, and the comfort of her
declining years. The good old dame had a little hood of scarlet velvet
made for her darling, which became her so daintily, that for miles round
she had been nicknamed Little Red Riding Hood.

[Illustration]

One day, when her mother had baked a batch of cakes, she said to Little
Red Riding Hood: "I hear your poor grandam has been ailing, so, prithee,
go and see if she be any better, and take her this cake and a little pot
of butter." Little Red Riding Hood, who was a willing child, and always
ready to be useful, put the things into a basket, and immediately set
off for the village where her grandmother lived, which lay on the other
side of a thick wood. As she reached the outskirts of the forest, she
met a wolf, who would have liked vastly to have devoured her at once,
had there not been some woodcutters near at hand, whom he feared might
kill him in turn. So he sidled up to the little girl, and said, in as
winning a tone as he could assume: "Good morning, Little Red Riding
Hood." "Good morning, Master Wolf," answered she, who had no idea of
being afraid of so civil spoken an animal. "And pray where may you be
going so early?" quoth the wolf. "I am going to my grandmother's,"
replied Little Red Riding Hood, who thought there could be no harm in
telling him. "And what are you carrying in your basket, my pretty
little maid?" continued the wolf, sniffing its contents. "Why, a cake
and a pot of butter," answered simple Little Red Riding Hood, "because
grandmother has been ill." "And where does poor grandmamma live?"
inquired the wolf, in a tone of great interest. "Down beyond the mill,
on the other side of the wood," said she. "Well," cried the wolf, "I
don't mind if I go and see her too. So I'll take this road, and do you
go through the wood, and we'll see which of us shall be there first."

Now, the wily wolf knew well enough that he would be the winner in such
a race. For, letting alone his four feet against poor Little Red Riding
Hood's two, he could dash through the underwood, and swim across a pond,
that would bring him by a very short cut to the old grandam's cottage,
while he shrewdly guessed that the little girl would stop to gather
strawberries, or to make up a posy, as she loitered along the pleasanter
but more roundabout path through the wood. And sure enough the wolf, who
cared neither for strawberries nor for flowers, made such good speed
that he had presently reached the grandmother's cottage. Thump, thump,
went the wolf against the door. "Who is there?" cried the grandam from
within. "Only your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood," cried the wolf,
imitating the little girl's shrill infantine voice as best he might. "I
have come to bring you a cake and a pot of butter that mother sends
you." The grandmother, being ill, was in bed, so she called out: "Lift
the latch, and the bolt will fall." The wolf did so, and in he went,
and, without saying a word more, he fell upon the poor old creature, and
ate her up in no time, for he had not tasted food for the last three
days. He next shut the door, and, putting on the grandam's nightcap and
nightgown, he got into bed, drew the curtain, and buried his head in the
pillow, and kept laughing in his sleeve at the trick he meant to put
upon poor Little Red Riding Hood, and wondering how long she would be
before she came.

Meanwhile Little Red Riding Hood rambled through the wood with
child-like glee, stopping every now and then to listen to the birds that
were singing so sweetly on the green boughs, and picking strawberries,
which she knew her grandam loved to eat with cream, till she had nearly
filled her basket; nor had she neglected to gather all the pretty
flowers, red, blue, white, or yellow, that hid their sweet little heads
amidst the moss; and of these her apron was at last so full, that she
sat down under a tree to sort them and wind them into a wreath.

[Illustration]

While she was thus occupied, a wasp came buzzing along, and, delighted
at finding so many flowers without the trouble of searching for them, he
began to drink up their honey very voraciously. Little Red Riding Hood
knew well the difference of a wasp and a bee--how lazy the one, and how
industrious the other--yet, as they are all God's creatures, she
wouldn't kill it, and only said: "Take as much honey as you like, poor
wasp, only do not sting me." The wasp buzzed louder, as if to thank her
for her kindness, and, when he had sipped his fill, flew away.
Presently, a little tom-tit, who had been hopping about on a bough
opposite, darted down on the basket, and pecked at one of the
strawberries. "Eat as much as you like, pretty tom-tit," said Little Red
Riding Hood: "there will still be plenty left for grandam and for me."
The tom-tit replied, "Tweat--tweat," in his own eloquent language; and,
after gobbling up at least three strawberries, flew away, and was soon
out of sight. Little Red Riding Hood now bethought her it was time to go
on; so, putting her wreath into her basket, she tripped along demurely
enough till she came to a brook, where she saw an aged crone, almost
bent double, seeking for something along the bank. "What are you looking
for, goody?" said the little girl. "For water-cresses, my pretty maid,"
mumbled the poor old woman; "and a sorry trade it is, that does not
earn me half enough bread to eat." Little Red Riding Hood thought it
very hard the poor old creature should work and be hungry too, so she
drew from her pocket a large piece of bread, which her mother had given
her to eat by the way, and said: "Sit down, goody, and eat this, and I
will gather your water-cresses for you." The old woman willingly
accepted the offer, and sat down on a knoll, while Little Red Riding
Hood set to work in good earnest, and had presently filled her basket
with water-cresses. When her task was finished, the old crone rose up
briskly, and, patting the little maid's head, said, in quite a different
voice "Thank you, my pretty Little Red Riding Hood and now, if you
happen to meet the green huntsman as you go along, pray give him my
respects, and tell him there is game in the wind." Little Red Riding
Hood promised to do so, and walked on; but presently she looked back to
see how the old woman was getting along, but, look as sharp as she
might, she could see no trace of her, nor of her water-cresses. She
seemed to have vanished clean out of sight. "It is very odd," thought
Little Red Riding Hood to herself, "for surely I can walk faster than
she." Then she kept looking about her, and prying into all the bushes,
to see for the green huntsman, whom she had never heard of before, and
wondered why the old woman had given her such a message. At last, just
as she was passing by a pool of stagnant water, so green that you would
have taken it for grass, and have walked into it, as Little Red Riding
Hood, who had never seen it before, though she had gone that same way
often enough, had nearly done, she perceived a huntsman clad in green
from top to toe, standing on the bank, apparently watching the flight of
some birds that were wheeling above his head. "Good morning, Master
Huntsman," said Little Red Riding Hood; "the old water-cress woman sends
her service to you, and says there is game in the wind." The huntsman
nodded assent, and bent his ear to the ground to listen, and then drew
out an arrow tipped with a green feather, and strung his bow, without
taking any further notice of Little Red Riding Flood, who trudged
onwards, wondering what it all meant.

[Illustration]

Presently the little girl reached her grandmother's well-known cottage,
and knocked at the door. "Who is there?" cried the wolf, forgetting to
disguise his voice. Little Red Riding Hood was somewhat startled at
first; then thinking her grandam had a bad cold that made her very
hoarse, she answered, "It is your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood,
who has brought you a cake and a little pot of butter, which mother
sends you." The wolf then softened his voice a little, as he replied:
"Lift the latch, and the bolt will fall." Little Red Riding Hood did as
she was told, and then entered the cottage. The wolf then hid his head
under the bed-clothes, and said: "Put the cake and the pot of butter on
the shelf, my dear, and then come and help me to rise." Little Red
Riding Hood set down her basket, and then went and drew back the
curtain, when she was much surprised to see how oddly her grandmother
looked in her night-clothes. "Dear me! grandmamma," said the little
girl, "what long arms you have got!" "The better to hug you, my child,"
answered the wolf.

[Illustration]

"But, grandmamma, what long ears you have got!" persisted Little Red
Riding Hood.

"The better to listen to you, my child," replied the wolf.

"But, grandmamma, what large eyes you have got!" continued the little
girl.

"The better to see you, my child," said the wolf.

"But, grandmamma, what terrible large teeth you have got!" cried Little
Red Riding Hood, who now began to be frightened.

"The better to eat you up," exclaimed the wolf, who was just about to
make a spring at the poor little girl, when a wasp, who had followed her
into the cottage, stung the wolf in his nostril, and made him sneeze
aloud, which gave the signal to a tom-tit perched on a branch near the
open casement, who called out "Tweat--tweat," which warned the green
huntsman, who accordingly let fly his arrow, that struck the wolf right
through the ear and killed him on the spot.

Little Red Riding Hood was too frightened, even after the wolf had
fallen back dead, that she bounced out of the cottage, and, shutting the
door, darted into the forest like a frightened hare, and ran till she
was out of breath, when she dropped down quite exhausted under a tree.
Here she discovered that she had mistaken the road, when, to her great
relief, she espied her old friend the water-cress woman, at some
distance; and, feeling sure she could soon overtake the aged dame, she
again set off, calling out to her every now and then to stop. The old
crone, however, seemed too deaf to hear; and it was not till they had
reached the skirts of the forest that she turned round, when, to Little
Red Riding Hood's surprise, she perceived a young and beautiful being in
place of the decrepit creature she thought she was following. "Little
Red Riding Hood," said the fairy, for such she was, "your goodness of
heart has saved you from a great danger. Had you not helped the poor old
water-cress woman, she would not have sent word to the green huntsman,
who is generally invisible to mortal eyes, to save you. Had you killed
the wasp, or driven away the tom-tit, the former could not have stung
the wolf's nostril and made him sneeze, nor the latter have given the
huntsman the signal to fly his shaft. In future, no wild beast shall
ever harm you, and the fairy folks will always be your friends." So
saying, the fairy vanished, and Little Red Riding Hood hastened home to
tell her mother all that had befallen her; nor did she forget that night
to thank Heaven fervently for having delivered her from the jaws of the
wolf.

[Illustration]




THE STORY

OF THE

=Sleeping Beauty in the Wood=.

[Illustration]

=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=




=The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood.=


There once lived a king and queen, who had been married many years
without having any children, which was a subject of great sorrow to
them. So when at length it pleased Heaven to send them a daughter, there
was no end to the rejoicings that were made all over the kingdom, nor
was there ever so grand a christening seen before. All the fairies in
the land were invited to stand godmothers to the little princess, in the
hope that each would endow her with some gift, as was customary in those
days; by which means she would be adorned with every perfection and
accomplishment that could be devised.

When the christening was over, the company returned to the king's
palace, where a banquet was prepared for the fairies, seven in number,
who had graced the ceremony with their presence. Before each fairy was
laid a splendid cover, with a case of massive gold containing a knife, a
fork, and a spoon of the purest gold, ornamented with diamonds and
rubies. Just as they were going to sit down, in came an aged fairy who
had not been invited, because, having remained shut up in a tower for
more than fifty years, she was supposed to be either dead or under the
influence of some spell. The king immediately ordered a cover to be laid
for her, but he could not give her a golden case like the others, as
only seven had been made, for the seven fairies. The old crone
consequently thought herself treated with disrespect, and muttered
sundry threats betwixt her teeth, which happened to be overheard by one
of the young fairies, who, fearing she might bestow some fatal gift on
the baby princess, had no sooner risen from table than she went and
concealed herself behind the tapestry-hangings, in order that she might
speak the last, and be able to neutralize, if possible, any mischief the
ill-natured hag might intend doing.

The fairies now began to bestow their gifts. The youngest endowed her
with surpassing beauty; another gave her wit; a third imparted grace; a
fourth promised that she should dance to perfection; a fifth, that she
should sing like a nightingale; and the sixth, that she should play on
all sorts of instruments in the most exquisite manner. It was now the
old fairy's turn to speak; when, coming forward, with her head shaking
from spite still more than from age, she declared the princess would
prick her hand with a spindle, and die of the wound.

[Illustration]

This terrible sentence fell like a damp upon all the company, and there
was no one present but what shed tears. But just then the young fairy
came out from behind the tapestry-hangings, and said aloud: "Be
comforted, O king and queen: your daughter shall not die of the wound.
For although I have not the power to undo completely the mischief worked
by an older fairy, and though I cannot prevent the princess from
pricking her hand with a spindle, yet, instead of dying, she shall only
fall into a sleep, that will last a hundred years, at the end of which a
king's son will come and wake her."

Notwithstanding the fairy's words, the king, in hopes of averting such a
misfortune altogether, published an edict forbidding any person to make
use of spindles, or even to keep them in their house, under pain of
death.

Some fifteen or sixteen years afterwards, it happened that the king and
queen went to visit one of their summer palaces; when the young
princess, running one morning all over the rooms, in the frolicsome
spirits of youth, at length climbed up one of the turrets, and reached a
little garret, where she found an old woman busy spinning with a
distaff. The poor soul had never even heard of the king's edict, and did
not dream that she was committing high treason by using a spindle.

"What are you doing, goody?" cried the princess. "I am spinning, my
pretty dear," replied the old woman, little thinking she was speaking to
a princess. "Oh! how amusing it must be," cried the princess, "I should
so like to try! Pray show me how to set about it." But no sooner had she
taken hold of the spindle, than, being somewhat hasty and careless, and
likewise because the fairies had ordered it to come to pass, she pricked
her hand, and fell down in a dead faint.

[Illustration]

The good old woman becoming alarmed, called aloud for help, and a
number of attendants flocked round the princess, bathed her temples with
water, unlaced her stays, and rubbed the palms of her hands, but all to
no purpose. The king, who had come up stairs on hearing the noise they
made, now recollected what the fairies had foretold, and seeing there
was no help for it, ordered the princess to be laid on a bed,
embroidered in gold and silver, in the most magnificent room in the
palace. She looked as lovely as an angel, while thus lying in state,
though not dead, for the roses of her complexion and the coral of her
lips were unimpaired; and though her eyes remained closed, her gentle
breathing showed she was only slumbering. The king ordered her to be
left quite quiet, until the time should come when she was to awake. The
good fairy who had saved her life, by condemning her to sleep for a
hundred years, was in the kingdom of Mataquin, some twelve thousand
miles off, when the accident occurred; but, having quickly heard the
news through a little dwarf, who possessed a pair of seven-league boots,
she lost no time in coming to see her royal friends, and presently
arrived at the palace in a fiery chariot drawn by dragons. The king went
to hand her out of the carriage. She approved of all he had done; but,
being extremely prudent, she foresaw that when the princess would come
to wake she would be puzzled what to do on finding herself all alone in
a large palace, and therefore adopted the following expedient. She
touched with her wand all the ladies in waiting, maids of honour,
ladies' maids, gentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, scullions, running
footmen, guards, porters, pages, valets, in short, every human being in
the palace, except their two majesties; she next went into the stables,
and touched all the horses, with their grooms, the large dogs in the
court-yard, and, lastly, the princess's little lapdog, that lay beside
her on the bed. No sooner had she done so, than one and all fell into a
sound sleep that was to last till their mistress should wake, in order
to be ready to attend her the moment she would require their services.
Even the spits before the fire, that were roasting some savoury
partridges and pheasants, seemed in a manner to fall asleep, as well as
the fire itself. And all this was but the work of a moment, fairies
being never very long doing their spiriting.

[Illustration]

The king and queen, after having kissed their beloved child, without
waking her, left the palace, and published a decree forbidding any one
to approach the spot. But this proved quite a needless precaution, for
in a quarter of an hour's time there sprung up all around the park such
a quantity of trees, both great and small, and so thick a tangle of
briars and brambles, that neither man nor beast could have found means
to pass through them; in short, nothing but the topmost turrets of the
castle could be seen, and these were only discernible at a distance. So
that it seemed the fairy was determined the princess's slumber should
not be disturbed by idle curiosity.

At the end of one hundred years, the son of the king who then reigned
over the land, and who did not belong to the same family as the sleeping
princess, happened to go a hunting one day in that neighbourhood, and,
catching a glimpse of the turrets peeping above a thick wood, inquired
what building it was that he saw. Every one answered according to what
they had heard. Some said it was an old castle, that was haunted;
others, that it was a place of meeting for all the witches in the land;
while the most prevailing opinion was, that it belonged to an ogre, who
was in the habit of stealing little children, and carrying them home to
eat them unmolested, and nobody could follow him, since he alone had the
power of penetrating through the thicket. The prince did not know what
to make of all these different accounts, when an old peasant said to
him: "Please your royal highness, it is now above fifty years since I
heard my father tell that the most beautiful princess ever seen was
concealed in this palace, where she was condemned to sleep for a hundred
years, at the end of which she was to be awakened by a king's son, whose
bride she was destined to become."

On hearing this, the young prince's fancy was so inflamed with the hope
of being himself the hero destined to end the enchantment, that he
immediately determined to ascertain how far the legend might prove true.
No sooner did he reach the wood, than the large trees, as well as the
briars and brambles, opened a passage for him of their own accord. He
now advanced towards the castle, which he could perceive at the end of a
long avenue, but, to his surprise, he found that none of his attendants
had been able to follow him, the trees having closed upon them the
moment he had passed through. Nevertheless, he proceeded on his way
without the least concern, for a young prince who begins to feel himself
in love must needs be brave. So he entered the outer court-yard, where
he witnessed a sight that might have appalled one less resolute than
himself. The image of death was everywhere present. The bodies of men
and animals lay strewn about, apparently lifeless, and the silence was
truly awful. Still, he soon perceived, by the rubicund noses and jolly
faces of the porters, that they were only asleep; while their goblets,
still retaining a few drops of wine, proved beyond a doubt that sleep
had surprised them in the midst of a drunken bout. He then passed
through a large court, paved with marble, and entered the guard-room,
where he found a double row of soldiers shouldering their carbines, and
snoring loudly. He next crossed through several rooms, full of ladies
and gentlemen in waiting, some standing and some sitting, but all fast
asleep; and at length entered a gilt chamber, where, upon a magnificent
bed, the curtains of which were drawn back, he saw reclining a princess,
apparently about sixteen, and of the most resplendent beauty that had
ever met his sight. He felt impressed with such admiration for her
loveliness that he could not refrain from bending his knee before her.

[Illustration]

Just at that moment the period of the enchantment came to a close, the
princess awoke, and, looking at him with more fondness than a first
interview would seem to warrant, she exclaimed: "Is it you, dear prince?
How long I've been waiting for you!" The prince was so charmed by these
words, and the manner in which they were uttered, that, feeling quite at
a loss how to express his gratitude and delight, he could only assure
the fair sleeper that he loved her far better than he did himself. But
though he did not make any set speeches, his conversation was only the
more acceptable to the princess, who, on her part, was much less timid
and awkward than her lover, which is not to be wondered at, as we may
fairly conclude that she had had ample time--namely, a century--to
consider what she should say to him, for it is not to be supposed but
what the good fairy gave her agreeable dreams during her long slumber.
However that may be, they now talked for about four hours, without
having said half of what they had to say to each other.

All the inmates of the palace having awoke at the same time as the
princess, each began to discharge the duties of his or her office; and,
as they were not all in love, like their mistress, they felt very
hungry. The lady in waiting, out of all patience, at length told the
princess that supper was ready. The prince then gave her his hand to
help her to rise, for she was ready dressed in the most magnificent
clothes, though he took care not to observe that they were cut on the
pattern of those of his grandmother, and that she wore a ruff, which was
not now in fashion, but she looked quite as beautiful as if her dress
had been more modern.

They then went into the hall of looking-glasses, where they supped to
the sound of music, which was well executed by an orchestra of violins
and hautboys although the tunes they played were at least a century out
of date. After supper, the chaplain united the happy pair, and the next
day they left the old castle and returned to court, where the king was
delighted to welcome back the prince and his lovely bride, who was
thenceforward nicknamed, both by her contemporaries and by the
chroniclers who handed down the legend, the Sleeping Beauty in the Wood.

[Illustration]




THE STORY

OF THE

=Fair One with Golden Locks=.

[Illustration]

=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=




=The Fair One With Golden Locks.=


There was once a princess who had such a beautiful head of hair,
streaming down in curls to her feet, and brilliant as a sunbeam, that
she was universally called the Fair One with Golden Locks. A
neighbouring king, having heard a great deal of her beauty, fell in love
with her upon hearsay, and sent an ambassador with a magnificent suite
to ask her in marriage, bidding him be sure and not fail to bring the
princess home with him. The ambassador did his best to fulfil the king's
commands, and made as fair a speech as he could to persuade the lady;
but, either she was not in a good temper that day, or his eloquence
failed to move her, for she answered, that she thanked the king, but had
no mind to marry. So the ambassador returned home with all the presents
he had brought, as the princess would not accept anything of a suitor
whom she refused, much to the grief of the king, who had made the most
splendid preparations to receive her, never doubting but what she would
come.

[Illustration]

Now there happened to be at court a very handsome young man, named
Avenant, who observed, that had he been sent to the Fair One with Golden
Locks, he would certainly have persuaded her to come; whereupon some
ill-natured persons, who were jealous of the favour he enjoyed, repeated
his words to the king, as though he had meant to boast that, being
handsomer than his majesty, the princess would certainly have followed
him. This threw the king into such a rage, that he ordered poor Avenant
to be thrown into a dungeon, where he had nothing but straw to lie upon,
and where he would have died of exhaustion had it not been for a little
spring that welled forth at the foot of the tower in which he was
confined. One day, when he felt as if he were near his end, he could not
help exclaiming: "What have I done? and what can have hardened the
king's heart against the most faithful of all his subjects?" It chanced
that the king passed by just as he uttered these words, and, being
melted by his former favourite's grief, he ordered the prison door to be
opened, and bid him come forth. Avenant fell at his feet, entreating to
know the cause of his disgrace. "Did you not make game both of myself
and my ambassador?" said the king; "and did you not boast, that had I
sent you to the Fair One with Golden Locks, you would have prevailed on
her to return with you?" "True, Sire," replied Avenant; "for I should
have set forth all your great qualities so irresistibly, that I am
certain she could not have said nay. Methinks there is no treason in
that." The king was so convinced of his innocence, that he straightway
released Avenant from prison and brought him back to the palace. After
having given him a good supper, the king took him into his cabinet, and
confessed to him that he was still so in love with the Fair One with
Golden Locks, that he had a great mind to send him to obtain her hand,
and meant to prepare a splendid equipage befitting the ambassador of a
great nation. But Avenant said: "That is not necessary. Only give me a
good horse and the necessary credentials, and I will set off to-morrow."

On the following morning Avenant left the court, and set out alone on
his journey, thinking as he went of all the fine things he should say to
the princess, and stopping ever and anon, when any pretty conceit came
into his head, to jot it down on his tablets. One day as he halted for
this purpose in a lovely meadow by the side of a rivulet, he perceived a
large golden carp that lay gasping upon the grass, having jumped so high
to snap at the flies, that she had overreached herself, and was unable
to get back into the water. Avenant took pity on her, and, gently
lifting her up, restored her to her native element. The carp took a
plunge to refresh herself, then reappearing on the surface she said:
"Thanks, Avenant, for having saved my life. I will do you a good turn if
ever I can." So saying she dived back into the water, leaving Avenant
greatly surprised at her civility.

Another time, he saw a crow closely pursued by a large eagle, when,
thinking it would be a shame not to defend the weak against the strong,
he let fly an arrow that brought the cruel bird of prey to the ground,
while the crow perched upon a tree in great delight, crying: "It was
very generous of you, Avenant, to help a poor crow like me. But I will
prove grateful, and do you a good turn whenever I can."

[Illustration]

Avenant was pleased with the crow's good feelings and continued his
journey; when, some days after, as he crossed a thick wood, he heard an
owl hooting, as if in great distress. After looking about him on all
sides, Avenant found the poor owl had got entangled in a net. He soon
cut the meshes, and set him free. The owl soared aloft, then, wheeling
back, cried, "Avenant, I was caught, and should have been killed without
your help. But I am grateful, and will do you a good turn when I can."

Such were the principal adventures that befel Avenant on his journey.
When, at last, he reached the capital, where resided the Fair One with
Golden Locks, it appeared so magnificent that he thought he should be
lucky indeed if he could persuade her to leave such wonders, to come and
marry the king, his master. He, however, determined to do his best; so,
having put on a brocaded dress, with a richly-embroidered scarf, and
hung round his neck a small basket, containing a beautiful little dog he
had bought on the road, he asked for admittance at the palace gate with
such graceful dignity that the guards all bowed respectfully, and the
attendants ran to announce the arrival of another ambassador, named
Avenant, from the king, her neighbour.

The princess bid her women fetch the blue brocaded satin gown, and
dress her hair with fresh wreaths of flowers; and, when her toilet was
completed, she entered her audience chamber, where Avenant was waiting
for her. Though dazzled at the sight of her rare beauty, he nevertheless
delivered an eloquent harangue, which he wound up by entreating the
princess not to give him the pain of returning without her. "Gentle
Avenant," replied she, "your speech is fair; but you must know, that, a
month ago I let fall into the river a ring that I value above my
kingdom, and I made a vow at the time, that I would never listen to a
marriage proposal from anybody, unless his ambassador recovered my lost
treasure. So you see, were you to talk till doomsday, you could not
shake my determination."

Avenant, though surprised and vexed at such an answer, made a low bow,
and requested the princess's acceptance of the dog, the basket, and the
scarf he wore; but she refused his proffered gifts, and bid him consider
of what she had said.

Avenant went to bed supperless that night; nor could he close his eyes
for a long while, but kept lamenting that the princess required
impossible things to put him off the suit he had undertaken. But his
little dog Cabriole bid him be of good cheer, as fortune would no doubt
favour him; and though Avenant did not much rely on his good luck, he at
length fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

[Illustration]

The next morning Cabriole woke up his master who dressed himself and
went to take a walk. His feet insensibly carried him to the river side,
when he heard a voice calling out: "Avenant! Avenant!" He looked about
him, but seeing no one, was proceeding on his way, when Cabriole, who
was looking at the water, cried: "Why, master, as I'm alive, it is a
golden carp that is hailing you." Upon which the carp approached,
saying: "You saved my life in the meadow, and I promised to be grateful.
So here is the ring you are seeking for, gentle Avenant."

He then hastened to the palace, and, requesting an audience of the
princess, he presented her the ring, and asked whether she had any
objection now to marry his master? On seeing her ring she was greatly
amazed; but, being intent on putting him off once more, she replied:
"Since you are so ready to fulfil my behests, most gracious Avenant, I
pray you do me another service, without which I cannot marry. There
lives not far from hence a giant named Galifron, who has threatened to
ravage my kingdom unless I granted him my hand. But I could not resolve
to marry a monster who is as tall as a tower, who carries cannons in his
pocket to serve for pistols, and whose voice is so loud that people grow
deaf if they approach too near him. He is daily killing and eating my
subjects, and if you want to win my good graces on your master's behalf,
you must bring me the giant's head."

Avenant was taken somewhat aback at this proposal; yet, after a few
moments reflection, he said, "Well, madam, I am ready to fight Galifron;
and, though I may not conquer, I can, at least, die the death of a
hero." The princess, who had never expected Avenant would consent, now
sought to dissuade him from so rash an attempt; but all she could say
proved vain; and, having equipped himself for the fight, he mounted his
horse and departed.

As he approached Galifron's castle, he found the road strewed with the
bones and carcases of those whom he had devoured or torn to pieces; and
presently the giant emerged from a wood, when, seeing Avenant with his
sword drawn, he ran at him with his iron club, and would have killed him
on the spot, had not a crow come and pecked at his eyes, and made the
blood stream down his face; so that, while he aimed his blows at random,
Avenant plunged his sword up to the hilt into his heart. Avenant then
cut off his head, and the crow perched on a tree, saying: "I have not
forgotten how you saved my life by killing the eagle. I promised to do
you a good turn, and I have kept my word." "In truth I am greatly
beholden to you, master crow," quoth Avenant, as he mounted his horse,
and rode off with Galifron's head.

[Illustration]

When he reached the city, the inhabitants gathered round him, and
accompanied him with loud cheers to the palace. The princess, who had
trembled for his safety, was delighted to see him return. "Now madam,"
said Avenant, "I think you have no excuse left for not marrying my liege
lord." "Yes, indeed I have," answered she; "and I shall still refuse him
unless you procure me some water from the fountain of beauty. This water
lies in a grotto, guarded by two dragons. Inside the grotto is a large
hole full of toads and serpents, by which you descend to a small cellar
containing the spring. Whoever washes her face with this water retains
her beauty, if already beautiful, or becomes beautiful, though ever so
ugly. It makes the young remain young, and the old become young again.
So you see, Avenant, I cannot leave my kingdom without carrying some of
this water away with me." "Methinks, madam," observed Avenant, "you are
far too beautiful to need any such water; but, as you seek the death of
your humble servant, I must go and die."

Accordingly, Avenant set out with his faithful little dog, and at last
reached a high mountain, from the top of which he perceived a rock as
black as ink, whence issued clouds of smoke. Presently out came a green
and yellow dragon, whose eyes and nostrils were pouring forth fire, and
whose tail had at least a hundred coils. Avenant drew his sword, and
taking out a phial given him by the Fair One with Golden Locks, said to
Cabriole, "I shall never be able to reach the water; so, when I am
killed, fill this phial with my blood, and take it to the princess, that
she may see what she has cost me, and then go and inform the king, my
master, of the fate that has befallen me." While he was speaking, a
voice called out: "Avenant! Avenant!" and he perceived an owl in the
hollow of a tree, who said: "You freed me from the bird-catcher's net,
and I promised to do you a good turn. So give me your phial, and I will
go and fetch the water of beauty." And away flew the owl, who, knowing
all the turnings and windings of the grotto, soon returned bearing back
his prize. After thanking the owl most heartily, Avenant lost no time in
going back to the palace, where he presented the bottle to the princess,
who now agreed to set out with him for his master's kingdom.

[Illustration]

On reaching the capital, the king came forth to meet the Fair One with
Golden Locks, and made her the most sumptuous presents. They were then
married, amid great festivities and rejoicings; but the queen, who loved
Avenant in her heart, could not forbear incessantly reminding the king,
that had it not been for Avenant she would never have come, and that it
was he alone who had procured her the water of beauty that was to
preserve her ever youthful and beautiful. So it happened that some
meddling bodies went and told the king that she preferred Avenant to
himself, when he became so jealous that he ordered his faithful subject
to be thrown into prison, and fed upon nothing but bread and water. When
the Fair One with Golden Locks heard of his disgrace, she implored the
king to release him, but the more she entreated, the more obstinately
his majesty refused. The king now imagined that his wife perhaps did not
think him handsome enough, so he had a mind to try the effects of
washing his face with the water of beauty. Accordingly, one night he
took the phial from off the mantel-piece in the queen's bed-chamber,
and rubbed his face well before he went to bed. But, unfortunately, a
short time previous the phial had been broken by one of the maids, as
she was dusting, and, to avoid a scolding, she had replaced it by a
phial which she found in the king's cabinet, containing a wash similar
in appearance, but deadly in its effects. The king went to sleep, and
died. Cabriole ran to his master to tell him the news, when Avenant bid
him go and remind the queen of the poor prisoner. So Cabriole slipped in
amongst the crowd of courtiers who had assembled on the king's death,
and whispered to her majesty: "Do not forget poor Avenant." The queen
then called to mind all he had suffered on her account, and hastening to
the tower, she took off his chains with her own white hands, and
throwing the royal mantle over his shoulders, and placing a gold crown
on his head, she said: "I choose you for my husband, Avenant, and you
shall be king." Everybody was delighted at her choice, the wedding was
the grandest ever seen, and the Fair One with Golden Locks, and her
faithful Avenant, lived happily to a good old age.




   BO-PEEP
   STORY BOOKS.

   [Illustration]

   OLD MOTHER HUBBARD,
   LTTTLE BO-PEEP, &C.,
   THE THREE BEARS,
   LITTLE GOODY TWO-SHOES,
   HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT,
   DEATH OF COCK ROBIN.

   NEW YORK:
   LEAVITT & ALLEN BROS.,
   No. 8 HOWARD STREET.




THE STORY

OF

=Old Mother Hubbard=.

[Illustration]

=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=




=Old Mother Hubbard.=


   Old Mother Hubbard
   Went to the cupboard,
     To give her poor dog a bone;
   But when she came there
   The cupboard was bare.
     And so the poor dog had none.

[Illustration]

   She went to the baker's
     To buy him some bread,
   And when she came back
     Poor doggy was dead.

[Illustration]

   She went to the joiner's
     To buy him a coffin,
   And when she came back
     The dog was a-laughing

[Illustration]

   She took a clean dish
     To get him some tripe.
   And when she came back
     He was smoking his pipe.

[Illustration]

   She went to the ale-house
     To get him some beer,
   And when she came back,
     Doggy sat in a chair.

[Illustration]

   She went to the tavern
     For white wine and red,
   And when she came back
     The dog stood on his head.

[Illustration]

   She went to the hatter's
     To buy him a hat,
   And when she came back
     He was feeding the cat.

[Illustration]

   She went to the barber's
     To buy him a wig,
   And when she came back
     He was dancing a jig.

[Illustration]

   She went to the fruiterer's
     To buy him some fruit,
   And when she came back
     He was playing the flute.

[Illustration]

   She went to the tailor's
     To buy him a coat,
   And when she came back
     He was riding a goat.

[Illustration]

   She went to the cobbler's
     To buy him some shoes,
   And when she came back
     He was reading the news.

[Illustration]

   She went to the sempstress
     To buy him some linen,
   And when she came back
     The dog was a-spinning.

[Illustration]

   She went to the hosier's
     To buy him some hose,
   And when she came back
     He was dressed in his clothes.

[Illustration]

   The dame made a curtsey,
     The dog made a bow;
   The dame said, "Your servant,"
     The dog said, "Bow, wow!"




=Little Bo-Peep=;

AND

OTHER TALES.

[Illustration]

=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=




=Little Bo-Peep.=


   Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep,
     And cannot tell where to find 'em;
   Leave them alone, and they'll come home,
     And bring their tails behind 'em.

   Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,
     And dreamt she heard them bleating;
   When she awoke, she found it a joke,
     For still they all were fleeting.

   Then up she took her little crook,
     Determined for to find them;
   She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,
     For they'd left their tails behind them.

   It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray
     Unto a meadow hard by;
   There she espied their tails side by side,
     All hung on a tree to dry.

   She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye,
     And over the hillocks she raced;
   And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should,
     That each tail should be properly placed.

[Illustration]




=The Old Woman and her Eggs.=

[Illustration]


   There was an old woman, as I've heard tell,
   She went to the market her eggs for to sell,
   She went to the market, all on a market day,
   And she fell asleep on the king's highway.

   There came a little pedlar, his name it was Stout,
   He cut off her petticoats all round about;
   He cut off her petticoats up to her knees,
   Until her poor knees began for to freeze.

   When the little old woman began to awake,
   She began to shiver, and she began to shake;
   Her knees began to freeze, and she began to cry,
   "Oh lawk! oh mercy on me! this surely can't be I.

   "If it be not I, as I suppose it be,
   I have a little dog at home, and he knows me;
   If it be I, he will wag his little tail,
   But if it be not I, he'll bark and he'll rail."

   Up jumped the little woman, all in the dark,
   Up jump'd the little dog, and he began to bark;
   The dog began to bark, and she began to cry,
   "O lawk! oh mercy on me! I see it is not I."

[Illustration]




=Old Mother Goose.=

[Illustration]


   Old Mother Goose, when
     She wanted to wander,
   Would ride through the air
     On a very fine gander.

   Mother Goose had a house
     'Twas built in a wood,
   Where an owl at the door
     For sentinel stood.

   This is her son Jack,
     A plain-looking lad,
   He is not very good,
     Nor yet very bad.

   She sent him to market,
     A live goose he bought;
   "Here, mother," says he,
     "It will not go for nought."

   Jack's goose and her gander
     Grew very fond,
   They'd both eat together,
     Or swim in one pond.

   Jack found one morning,
     As I have been told,
   His goose had laid him
     An egg of pure gold.

   Jack rode to his mother,
     The news for to tell;
   She call'd him a good boy,
     And said it was well.

   Jack sold his gold egg
     To a rogue of a Jew,
   Who cheated him out of
     The half of his due.

   Then Jack went a-courting,
     A lady so gay,
   As fair as the lily
     And sweet as the May.

   The Jew and the Squire
     Came close at his back,
   And began to belabour
     The sides of poor Jack.

   They threw the gold egg
     In the midst of the sea;
   But Jack he jump'd in,
     And got it back presently.

   The Jew got the goose,
     Which he vow'd he would kill,
   Resolving at once
     His pockets to fill.

   Jack's mother came in,
     And caught the goose soon,
   And, mounting its back,
     flew up to the moon.




THE STORY

OF

=The Three Bears=.

[Illustration]

=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=




=The Story of the Three Bears.=


Once upon a time there were Three Bears, who lived together in a house
of their own, in a wood. One of them was a Little, Small, Wee Bear; and
one was a Middle-sized Bear, and the other was a Great, Huge Bear. They
had each a pot for their porridge; a little pot for the Little, Small,
Wee Bear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle Bear; and a great pot
for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a chair to sit in; a little
chair for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized chair for the
Middle Bear; and a great chair for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had
each a bed to sleep in; a little bed for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; a
middle-sized bed for the Middle Bear; and a great bed for the Great,
Huge Bear.

[Illustration]

One day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast, and
poured it into their porridge-pots, they walked out into the wood while
the porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by
beginning too soon to eat it. And while they were walking, a little girl
named Silver-hair came to the house. First she looked in at the window,
and then she peeped in at the keyhole; and seeing nobody in the house,
she lifted the latch. The door was not fastened, because the Bears were
good Bears, who did nobody any harm, and never suspected that anybody
would harm them. So little Silver-hair opened the door, and went in;
and well pleased she was when she saw the porridge on the table. If she
had been a good little girl, she would have waited till the Bears came
home, and then, perhaps, they would have asked her to breakfast; for
they were good Bears,--a little rough or so, as the manner of Bears is,
but for all that very good-natured and hospitable.

So first she tasted the porridge of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was
too hot for her. And then she tasted the porridge of the Middle Bear,
and that was too cold for her. And then she went to the porridge of the
Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that; and that was neither too hot
nor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well, that she ate it
all up.

Then little Silver-hair sate down in the chair of the Great, Huge Bear,
and that was too hard for her. And then she sate down in the chair of
the Middle Bear, and that was too soft for her. And then she sate down
in the chair of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither too
hard nor too soft, but just right. So she seated herself in it, and
there she sate till the bottom of the chair came out, and down came
her's, plump upon the ground.

[Illustration]

Then little Silver-hair went up stairs into the bed-chamber in which the
Three Bears slept. And first she lay down upon the bed of the Great,
Huge Bear; but that was too high at the head for her. And next she lay
down upon the bed of the Middle Bear; and that was too high at the foot
for her. And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little, Small, Wee
Bear; and that was neither too high at the head nor at the foot, but
just right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay there till
she fell fast asleep.

By this time the Three Bears thought their porridge would be cool
enough; so they came home to breakfast. Now little Silver-hair had left
the spoon of the Great, Huge Bear standing in his porridge.

     "Somebody has been at my porridge!"

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice. And when
the Middle Bear looked at his, he saw that the spoon was standing in it
too.

     "Somebody has been at my porridge!"

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

Then the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the spoon
in the porridge-pot, but the porridge was all gone.

     "_Somebody has been at my 'porridge, and has eaten it all up!_"

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small wee voice.

[Illustration]

Upon this the Three Bears, seeing that some one had entered their house,
and eaten up the Little, Small, Wee Bear's breakfast, began to look
about them. Now little Silver-hair had not put the hard cushion
straight when she rose from the chair of the Great, Huge Bear.

     "Somebody has been sitting in my chair!"

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And little Silver-hair had squatted down the soft cushion of the Middle
Bear.

     "Somebody has been sitting in my chair!"

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

And you know what little Silver-hair had done to the third chair.

     "_Somebody has been sitting in my chair, and has sat the bottom of
     it out!_"

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small wee voice.

Then the Three Bears thought it necessary that they should make further
search; so they went up stairs into their bed-chamber. Now little
Silver-hair had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear out of its
place.

     "Somebody has been lying in my bed!"

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And little Silver-hair had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear out of
its place.

     "Somebody has been lying in my bed!"

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there was
the bolster in its place; and the pillow in its place upon the bolster;
and upon the pillow was little Silver-hair's pretty head,--which was not
in its place, for she had no business there.

     "_Somebody has been lying in my bed,--and here she is!_"

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

[Illustration]

Little Silver-hair had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff voice
of the Great, Huge Bear; but she was so fast asleep that it was no more
to her than the roaring of wind, or the rumbling of thunder. And she had
heard the middle voice of the Middle Bear, but it was only as if she had
heard some one speaking in a dream. But when she heard the little,
small, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so sharp, and so
shrill, that it awakened her at once. Up she started; and when she saw
the Three Bears on one side of the bed, she tumbled out at the other,
and ran to the window. Now the window was open, because the Bears, like
good, tidy Bears, as they were, always opened their bed-chamber window
when they got up in the morning. Out little Silver-hair jumped; and away
she ran into the wood, and the Three Bears never saw anything more of
her.

[Illustration]




THE STORY

OF

=Little Goody Two-Shoes=.

[Illustration]

=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=




=Little Goody Two-Shoes.=


All the world must know that Goody Two-Shoes was not a little girl's
real name. No; her father's name was Meanwell, and he was for many years
a large farmer in the parish where Margery was born; but by the
misfortunes he met with in business, and the wickedness of Sir Timothy
Gripe, and a farmer named Graspall, he was quite ruined.

Care and discontent shortened the life of little Margery's father. Her
poor mother survived the loss of her husband but a few days, and died of
a broken heart, leaving Margery and her little brother to the wide
world; but, poor woman! it would have melted your heart to have seen how
frequently she raised her head while she lay speechless, to survey with
pitying looks her little orphans, as much as to say: "Do, Tommy,--do,
Margery, come with me." They cried, poor things, and she sighed away her
soul, and, I hope, is happy.

It would both have excited your pity and have done your heart good, to
have seen how fond these two little ones were of each other, and how,
hand in hand, they trotted about. They were both very ragged, and Tommy
had two shoes, but Margery had but one. They had nothing to support them
but what they picked from the hedges, or got from the poor people, and
they slept every night in a barn. Their relations took no notice of
them: no, they were rich, and ashamed to own such a poor ragged girl as
Margery, and such a dirty curly-pated boy as Tommy.

Mr. Smith was a very worthy clergyman, who lived in the parish where
little Margery and Tommy were born; and having a relation come to see
him, who was a charitable, good man, he sent for these children to him.
The gentleman ordered little Margery a new pair of shoes, gave Mr. Smith
some money to buy her clothes, and said he would take Tommy, and make
him a little sailor; and, accordingly, had a jacket and trowsers made
for him.

After some days, the gentleman intended to go to London, and take little
Tommy with him. The parting between these two little children was very
affecting. They both cried, and they kissed each other a hundred times.
At last Tommy wiped off her tears with the end of his jacket, and bid
her cry no more, for that he would come to her again when he returned
from sea.

Nothing could have supported little Margery under the affliction she was
in for the loss of her brother but the pleasure she took in her two
shoes. She ran to Mrs. Smith as soon as they were put on, and stroking
down her ragged apron, cried out: "Two Shoes, Ma'am! see Two Shoes!" And
so she behaved to all the people she met, and by that means obtained the
name of Little Goody Two-Shoes.

Little Margery saw how good and how wise Mr. Smith was, and concluded
that this was owing to his great learning; therefore she wanted of all
things to learn to read. For this purpose, she used to meet the little
boys and girls as they came from school, borrow their books, and sit
down and read till they returned. By this means she soon got more
learning than any of her playmates, and laid the following plan for
instructing those who were more ignorant than herself. She found that
only twenty-six letters were required to spell all the words; but as
some of these letters are large, and some small, she with her knife cut
out of several pieces of wood ten sets of each. And having got an old
spelling-book, she made her companions set up the words they wanted to
spell.

The usual manner of spelling, or carrying on the game, as they called
it, was this: suppose the word to be spelt was plum-pudding (and who can
suppose a better?), the children were placed in a circle, and the first
brought the letter p, the next l, the next u, the next m, and so on till
the whole was spelt; and if any one brought a wrong letter, he was to
pay a fine or play no more. This was their play; and every morning she
used to go round to teach the children. I once went her rounds with her,
and was highly diverted.

[Illustration]

It was about seven o'clock in the morning, when we set on this
important business, and the first house we came to was Farmer Wilson's.
Here Margery stopped, and ran up to the door,--tap, tap, tap! "Who's
there?" "Only little Goody Two-Shoes," answered Margery, "come to teach
Billy." "Oh, little Goody," says Mrs. Wilson, with pleasure in her face.
"I am glad to see you! Billy waits you sadly, for he has learned his
lesson." Then out came the little boy. "How do, Doody Two-Shoes?" says
he, not able to speak plain. Yet this little boy had learned all his
letters; for she threw down the small alphabet mixed together, and he
picked them up, called them by their right names, and put them all in
order. She then threw down the alphabet of capital letters, and he
picked them all up, and having told their names, placed them rightly.

The next place we came to was Farmer Simpson's. "Bow, wow, wow!" says
the dog at the door. "Sir-rah!" says his Mistress, "why do you bark at
little Two-Shoes? Come in, Madge; here's Sally wants you sadly, she has
learned all her lesson." "Yes, that's what I have," replied the little
one, in the country manner; and immediately taking the letters, she set
up these syllables:--

   ba be bi bo bu

   da de di do du

   ma me mi mo mu

   sa se si so su

and gave them their exact sounds as she composed them; after which she
set up many more, and pronounced them likewise.

[Illustration]

After this, little Two-Shoes taught Sally to spell words of one
syllable, and she soon set up pear, plum, top, ball, pin, puss, dog,
hog, doe, lamb, sheep, rat, cow, bull, cock, hen, and many more.

The next place we came to was Gaffer Cook's cottage. Here a number of
poor children were met to learn, and all came round little Margery at
once; who, having pulled out her letters, asked the little boy next to
her what he had for dinner. He answered "Bread." "Well, then," says she,
"set up the first letter." He put up the B, to which, the next added r,
and the next e, the next a, the next d, and it stood thus, Bread.

"And what had you, Polly Comb, for your dinner?" "Apple-Pie," answered
the little girl. Upon which the next in turn set up a great A, the two
next a p, each, and so on till the two words Apple and Pie were united,
and stood thus, Apple-Pie. The next had potatoes, the next beef and
turnips, which were spelt, with many others, till the game was finished.
She then set them another task, and after the lessons were done we
returned home.

       *       *       *       *       *

Who does not know Lady Ducklington, or who does not know that she was
buried in this parish? Well, I never saw so grand a funeral. All the
country round came to see the burying, and it was late before it was
over; after which, in the night, or rather very early in the morning,
the bells were heard to jingle in the steeple, which frightened the
people prodigiously. They flocked to Will Dobbins, the clerk, and wanted
him to go and see what it was; but William would not open the door. At
length Mr. Long, the rector, hearing such an uproar in the village, went
to the clerk to know why he did not go into the church, and see who was
there. "I go, sir!" says William; "why, I would be frightened out of my
wits." "Give me the key of the church," says Mr. Long. Then he went to
the church, all the people following him. As soon as he had opened the
door, who do you think appeared? Why, little Two-Shoes, who, being
weary, had fallen asleep in one of the pews during the funeral service,
and was shut in all night. She immediately asked Mr. Long's pardon for
the trouble she had given him, and said she should not have rung the
bells, but that she was very cold, and hearing Farmer Boult's man go
whistling by, she was in hopes he would have gone for the key to let her
out.

[Illustration]

The people were ashamed to ask little Madge any questions before Mr.
Long, but as soon as he was gone they all got round her to satisfy their
curiosity, and desired she would give them a particular account of all
that she had heard or seen.

"I went to the church," said Goody Two-Shoes, "as most of you did last
night, to see the funeral, and being very weary, I sat down in Mr.
Jones's pew, and fell fast asleep. At eleven o'clock I awoke; I started
up, and could not at first tell where I was, but after some time I
recollected the funeral, and soon found that I was shut up in the
church. It was dismally dark, and I could see nothing; but while I was
standing in the pew something jumped upon me behind, and laid, as I
thought, its hands over my shoulders. Then I walked down the church
aisle, when I heard something pit pat, pit pat, pit pat, come after me,
and something touched my hand that seemed as cold as a marble monument.
I could not think what it was, yet I knew it could not hurt me, and
therefore I made myself easy; but being very cold, and the church being
paved with stones, which were very damp, I felt my way as well as I
could to the pulpit, in doing which something rushed by me, and almost
threw me down. At last I found out the pulpit, and having shut the door,
I laid down on the mat and cushion to sleep, when something pulled the
door, as I thought, for admittance, which prevented my going to sleep.
At last it cried: 'Bow, wow, wow!' and I knew it must be Mr. Sanderson's
dog, which had followed me from their house to the church; so I opened
the door and called,' Snip! Snip!' and the dog jumped upon me
immediately. After this, Snip and I lay down together, and had a
comfortable nap; for when I awoke it was almost light. I then walked up
and down all the aisles of the church to keep myself warm; and then I
went to Lord Ducklington's tomb, and I stood looking at his cold marble
face and his hands clasped together, till hearing Farmer Boult's man go
by, I went to the bells and rung them."

       *       *       *       *       *

There was in the same parish a Mrs. Williams, who kept a college for
instructing little gentlemen and ladies in the science of A B C, who was
at this time very old and infirm, and wanted to decline this important
trust. This being told to Sir William Dove, he sent for Mrs. Williams,
and desired she would examine little Two-Shoes, and see whether she was
qualified for the office. This was done, and Mrs. Williams made the
following report in her favour: namely, that little Margery was the best
scholar, and had the best head and the best heart of any one she had
examined. All the country had a great opinion of Mrs. Williams, and this
character gave them also a great opinion of Mrs. Margery, for so we must
now call her.

The room in which Mrs. Margery taught her scholars was very large and
spacious, and as she knew that nature intended children should be always
in action she placed her different letters of alphabets all round the
school, so that every one was obliged to get up and fetch a letter, for
to spell a word, when it came to their turn; which not only kept them in
health, but fixed the letters firmly in their minds.

[Illustration]

One day as Mrs. Margery was going through the next village, she met with
some wicked boys who had taken a young raven, which they were going to
throw at. She wanted to get the poor creature out of their cruel hands,
and therefore gave them a penny for him, and brought him home. She
called him by the name of Ralph, and a fine bird he was.

Now this bird she taught to speak, to spell, and to read; and as he was
fond of playing with the large letters, the children used to call them
Ralph's Alphabet.

Some days after she had met with the raven, as she was walking in the
fields, she saw some naughty boys who had taken a pigeon and tied a
string to its legs, in order to let it fly and draw it back again when
they pleased; and by this means they tortured the poor bird with the
hopes of liberty and repeated disappointment. This pigeon she also
bought, and taught him how to spell and read, though not to talk. He was
a very pretty fellow, and she called him Tom. And as the raven Ralph was
fond of the large letters, Tom the pigeon took care of the small ones.

The neighbours knowing that Mrs. Two-Shoes was very good, as, to be
sure, nobody was better, made her a present of a little skylark. She
thought the lark might be of use to her and her pupils, and tell them
when it was time to get up. "For he that is fond of his bed, and lies
till noon, lives but half his days, the rest being lost in sleep, which
is a kind of death."

Some time after this a poor lamb had lost its dam, and the farmer being
about to kill it, she bought it of him, and brought him home with her to
play with the children, and teach them when to go to bed; for it was a
rule with the wise men of that age (and a very good one, let me tell
you) to "Rise with the lark, and lie down with the lamb." This lamb she
called Will, and a pretty fellow he was.

No sooner was Tippy, the lark, and Will, the ba-lamb, brought into the
school, than that sensible rogue Ralph, the raven, composed the
following verse, which every good little boy and girl should get by
heart:--

   "_Early to bed, and early to rise,
   Is the way to be healthy, wealthy, and wise._"

Soon after this, a present was made to Mrs. Margery of a little dog,
whom she called Jumper. He was always in a good humour, and playing and
jumping about, and therefore he was called Jumper. The place assigned
for Jumper was that of keeping the door, so that he might have been
called the porter of a college, for he would let nobody go out nor any
one come in, without leave of his mistress.

Billy, the ba-lamb, was a cheerful fellow, and all the children were
fond of him; wherefore Mrs. Two-Shoes made it a rule that those who
behaved best should have Will home with them at night, to carry their
satchel on his back, and bring it in the morning. Mrs. Margery, as we
have frequently observed, was always doing good, and thought she could
never sufficiently gratify those who had done anything to serve her.
These generous sentiments naturally led her to consult the interest of
her neighbours; and as most of their lands were meadow, and they
depended much on their hay, which had been for many years greatly
damaged by the wet weather, she contrived an instrument to direct them
when to mow their grass with safety, and prevent their hay being
spoiled. They all came to her for advice, and by that means got in their
hay without damage, while most of that in the neighbouring village was
spoiled. This occasioned very great noise in the country, and so greatly
provoked were the people who resided in the other parishes that they
absolutely accused her of being a witch, and sent old Gaffer Goosecap, a
busy fellow in other people's concerns, to find out evidence against
her. The wiseacre happened to come to her school when she was walking
about with the raven on one shoulder, the pigeon on the other, the lark
on her hand, and the lamb and the dog by her side; which indeed made a
droll figure, and so surprised the man, that he cried out: "A witch! a
witch! a witch!"

Upon this, she laughingly answered: "A conjuror! a conjuror!" and so
they parted. But it did not end thus, for a warrant was issued out
against Mrs. Margery, and she was carried to a meeting of the justices,
whither all the neighbours followed her.

At the meeting, one of the justices, who knew little of life and less of
the law, behaved very badly, and though nobody was able to prove
anything against her, asked who she could bring to her character. "Who
can you bring _against_ my character, sir," says she. "There are people
enough who would appear in my defence, were it necessary; but I never
supposed that any one here could be so weak as to believe there was any
such thing as a witch. If I am a witch, this is my charm, and (laying a
barometer upon the table) it is with this," says she, "that I have
taught my neighbours to know the state of the weather."

[Illustration]

All the company laughed; and Sir William Dove, who was on the bench,
asked her accusers how they could be such fools as to think there was
any such thing as a witch. And then he gave such an account of Mrs.
Margery and her virtue, good sense, and prudent behaviour, that the
gentlemen present returned her public thanks for the great service she
had done the country. One gentleman in particular, Sir Charles Jones,
had conceived such a high opinion of her, that he offered her a
considerable sum to take the care of his family, and the education of
his daughter, which, however, she refused but this gentleman sending
for her afterwards, when he had a dangerous fit of illness, she went,
and behaved so prudently in the family and so tenderly to him and his
daughter, that he would not permit her to leave his house, but soon
after made her proposals of marriage. She was truly sensible of the
honour he intended her, but would not consent to be made a lady till he
had provided for his daughter. All things being settled, and the day
fixed, the neighbours came in crowds to see the wedding; for they were
all glad that one who had been such a good little girl, and was become
such a virtuous and good woman, was going to be made a lady. But just as
the clergyman had opened his book, a gentleman richly dressed ran into
the church, and cried: "Stop! stop!" This greatly alarmed the
congregation, and particularly the intended bride and bridegroom, whom
he first accosted, desiring to speak with them apart. After they had
been talking a few moments, the people were greatly surprised to see Sir
Charles stand motionless, and his bride cry and faint away in the
stranger's arms. This seeming grief, however, was only a prelude to a
flood of joy, which immediately succeeded; for you must know that this
gentleman so richly dressed was little Tommy Meanwell, Mrs. Margery's
brother, who was just come from sea, where he had made a large fortune,
and hearing, as soon as he landed, of his sister's intended wedding, had
ridden post to see that a proper settlement was made on her, which he
thought she was now entitled to, as he himself was able to give her an
ample fortune. They soon returned to the communion-table, and were
married in tears, but they were tears of joy.

Sir Charles and Lady Jones lived happily for many years. Her ladyship
continued to visit the school in which she had passed so many happy
days, and always gave the prizes to the best scholars with her own
hands. She also gave to the parish several acres of land to be planted
yearly with potatoes, for all the poor who would come and fetch them for
the use of their families; but if any took them to sell, they were
deprived of that privilege ever after. And these roots were planted and
raised from the rent arising from a farm which she had assigned over for
that purpose. In short, she was a mother to the poor, a physician to the
sick, and a friend to those in distress. Her life was the greatest
blessing, and her death the greatest calamity that ever was felt in the
neighbourhood.




THE STORY

OF

=The House that Jack Built=.

[Illustration: This is the house that Jack built.]

=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=

[Illustration]

   This is the malt,
   That lay in the house that Jack built.

[Illustration]

   This is the rat,
   That ate the malt,
   That lay in the house that Jack built.

[Illustration]

   This is the cat,
   That kill'd the rat,
   That ate the malt,
   That lay in the house that Jack built.

[Illustration]

   This is the dog,
   That worried the cat,
   That kill'd the rat,
   That ate the malt,
   That lay in the house that Jack built.

[Illustration]

   This is the cow with the crumpled horn,
   That toss'd the dog,
   That worried the cat,
   That kill'd the rat,
   That ate the malt,
   That lay in the house that Jack built.

[Illustration]

   This is the maiden all forlorn,
   That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
   That toss'd the dog,
   That worried the cat,
   That kill'd the rat,
   That ate the malt,
   That lay in the house that Jack built.

[Illustration]

   This is the man all tatter'd and torn,
   That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,
   That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
   That toss'd the dog,
   That worried the cat,
   That kill'd the rat,
   That ate the malt,
   That lay in the house that Jack built.

[Illustration]

   This is the priest all shaven and shorn,
   That married the man all tatter'd and torn,
   That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,
   That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
   That toss'd the dog,
   That worried the cat,
   That kill'd the rat,
   That ate the malt,
   That lay in the house that Jack built.

[Illustration]

   This is the cock that crow'd in the morn,
   That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
   That married the man all tatter'd and torn,
   That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,
   That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
   That toss'd the dog,
   That worried the cat,
   That kill'd the rat,
   That ate the malt,
   That lay in the house that Jack built.

[Illustration]

   This is the farmer who sow'd the corn,
   That kept the cock that crow'd in the morn,
   That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
   That married the man all tatter'd and torn,
   That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,
   That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
   That toss'd the dog,
   That worried the cat,
   That kill'd the rat,
   That ate the malt,
   That lay in the house that Jack built.

[Illustration]

   This is the horse, and the hound, and the horn,
   That belong'd to the farmer who sow'd the corn,
   That kept the cock that crow'd in the morn,
   That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
   That married the man all tatter'd and torn,
   That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,
   That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
   That toss'd the dog,
   That worried the cat,
   That kill'd the rat,
   That ate the malt,
   That lay in the house that Jack built.




THE STORY

OF THE

=Death & Burial of Cock Robin=.

[Illustration]

=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=




THE STORY

OF THE

=Death and Burial of Cock Robin=.


   Who kill'd Cock robin?
     I, said the Sparrow,
   With my bow and arrow,
     I kill'd Cock Robin.

[Illustration]

   Who saw him die?
     I, said the Fly,
   With my little eye,
     I saw him die.

[Illustration]

   Who caught his blood?
     I, said the Fish,
   With my little dish,
     I caught his blood.

[Illustration]

   Who'll make his shroud?
     I, said the Beetle,
   With my little needle,
     I'll make his shroud.

[Illustration]

   Who'll dig his grave?
     I, said the Owl,
   With my spade and showl,
     I'll dig his grave.

[Illustration]

   Who'll be the parson?
     I, said the Rook,
   With my little book,
     I'll be the parson.

[Illustration]

   Who'll be the clerk?
     I, said the Lark,
   If it's not in the dark,
     I'll be the clerk.

[Illustration]

   Who'll carry him to the grave?
     I, said the Kite,
   If it's not in the night,
     I'll carry him to the grave.

[Illustration]

   Who'll carry the link?
     I, said the Linnet,
   I'll fetch it in a minute,
     I'll carry the link.

[Illustration]

   Who'll be chief mourner?
     I, said the Dove,
   For I mourn for my love,
     I'll be chief mourner.

[Illustration]

   Who'll sing a psalm?
     I, said the Thrush,
   As I sit in a bush,
     I'll sing a psalm.

[Illustration]

   Who'll toll the bell?
     I, said the Bull,
   Because I can pull,
     So, Cock Robin, farewell.

   _All the birds of the air
     Fell a sighing and sobbing,
   When they heard the bell toll
     For poor Cock Robin._





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