Chapter V: Part 5

“After many bands had gone by, many soldiers, and many sailors, a wagon drawn by four big horses came along, and upon the wagon was an enormous cage. In this cage were homing pigeons.

“On the side of the wagon was written a little story about the pigeons, telling how they had taken messages through all sorts of dangers, how brave they had been, how clever, and how they had thought of their duty and not of themselves.

“And when that wagon passed along carrying the homing pigeons every one clapped, for here were little dumb creatures who had shown a wonderful understanding and had done all they could for the country, and the little pigeons were so modest that they actually wondered what all this excitement was about!”

APRIL 10: The Alphabet Letters

“My story is a very sad and sorrowful one. If I tell it to you it will make you cry,” said the letter Z.

“Alphabet letters don’t cry,” said the letter S. “Tears are shed over us, but we don’t cry ourselves. So tell us your sad and sorrowful story, Mr. Z.”

“Tell us the sad and sorrowful story,” repeated the other alphabet letters.

“It shows I have a good disposition,” said the letter Z. “I’m neither angry nor cross.”

“There, there,” said the letter S. “You used me twice in that last word, which was all very well, but you need not have brought in that word angry, for angry and cross mean the same.”

“All right,” said the letter Z. “I do so little work these days that I really feel as if I didn’t know anything.”

“Poor letter Z,” the other letters all said.

“Tell us your story,” said the letter S.

“I will,” agreed the letter Z.

“Pray do,” the others urged.

“It’s the letter S which has caused the trouble,” said the letter Z.

The letter S wiggled and wriggled and twisted and turned and said:

“I beg you pardon, letter Z. I am sure I have meant no harm.”

“None at all,” said the letter Z. “I know you have meant no harm. And you needn’t beg my pardon, for it isn’t your fault. You can’t rule teachers and parents and writers and students. You do what you can for them, that is all.

“But think about it, letters, and you will understand. Just think of the number of words which used to need my letter in them and now they have put the letter S in instead.”

“Yes,” said the letter M, “that is true, and we can think about these things now, for it is recess time.”

“Think of all the words which end with the letters ‘ise.’ They used to end with the letters ‘ize.’”

“True,” said the alphabet letters; “perfectly true.”

“You’re sure you are not angry with me?” asked the letter S, wriggling nervously.

“Quite true,” said the letter Z. “As I said before, it is not your fault. But isn’t my tale a sad and sorrowful one?”

“It is,” said the other letters.

But just then up spoke the letter S and the letter I and the letter E.

“Letter Z,” they said, “come and join us or we won’t be a word. We need you, letter Z; we must have you.”

So the letter Z joined these three letters and they all jumped around as the word SIZE appeared, as you have doubtless already guessed.

“You’re all very good to me,” said the letter Z as it played around with the letters S and I and E. Each one kept its own place in the word, but sometimes they made themselves look very big and sometimes they made themselves look very small and sometimes they made themselves look just about medium size. For, as they made up the word size, and as size can be small—small size, you know—or big, they did everything they could and played all the games they could.

Then other letters formed other words and they played around, just as they should have played to show folks what they meant. You can imagine what a wonderful time the letters F and U and N had.

“Hurry, hurry,” said the letter S. “All the big S letters and all the little S letters. Hurry now to the class rooms.”

“I don’t have to hurry much,” said the letter Z, “but I will either live to a very old age from being lazy and doing nothing to tire myself, or else I’ll be forgotten entirely.”

“Oh, no, you won’t be forgotten,” said the other alphabet letters.

“We’ll see to that,” said the letters A and B and C. “We have a great deal to do with schools and lessons, you know, and we will keep you with us, never fear.”

“Thank you, thank you,” said the letter Z, as it twisted itself slowly back into the school rooms.

And the letter S said: “Thank you for not being angry with me. You’re a good sport, letter Z.”

APRIL 11: The Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher

“The Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher,” said daddy, “is known by such a name because he has a very long tail which is very much the shape of a pair of scissors. In fact, his tail is like two tails which open and shut as one would open and close a pair of scissors.

“He opens and closes his scissor-like tail when he does his marketing just as ladies would open and close their purses after they had bought something.

“His home is a very large nest, and it is made of anything at all—grass and bits of cloth and strings and bits of twigs. In fact, he is very good natured.

“Mrs. Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher has a happy time with such a pleasant mate and she is pleasant herself which makes them both happy.

“The event of her life is hatching time. When she is sitting on four whitish-brown eggs which will soon be little scissor-tailed flycatchers she is as happy as a bird can be, and that is pretty happy, as you can imagine.

“I am going to tell you now about Mr. Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher and his talk to an insect.

“‘Little insect,’ said Mr. Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher, ‘I am very well named. I am called a flycatcher and I catch flies. But I don’t only catch flies. I catch other insects as well.’

“But the insect heard no more for he had scampered away from the Flycatcher.”

APRIL 12: The Woodpecker Band

“Come on, come on, join the band! Rehearsals to begin this morning! Get in practise! Lose no time! We’re ready, and we hope you’ll be ready too. First practise to start in half an hour.”

Now the woodpeckers were the ones who had been talking. They were already starting to practise by drumming on the bark of the trees. The trees are the drums and the woodpeckers all beat the drums. Of course a great deal of the time they work hard at the trees, burrowing for insects, and they help to destroy many bad ones.

But some time before Mr. Hairy Woodpecker had suggested they should start a band. The drums were played by Mr. Hairy Woodpecker, Mr. Red-Headed Woodpecker, Mr. Downy Woodpecker, Mr. Sapsucker, Mr. Crested Woodpecker and Mr. Flicker Woodpecker.

Those who sang and helped along the chorus and played little mouth-organs and various instruments made out of twigs were the warblers, the vireos, goldfinches, mocking-birds, bobolinks, chickadees, pewees, phoebes, orioles, thrushes, song-sparrows and whippoorwills. And of course, almost the most important of all were the robins!

Mr. Robin Redbreast was the leader of the band. He waved a little stick in front of the band-stand, which was up in a tree.

How they all did play and sing. Now in a great many bands, in fact in most bands, they do not have singing, but in the woodpecker’s band it is entirely different.

What would a band be like in birdland without singing? They would miss all the beautiful songsters who would add so much music, and that would be such a pity.

So the woodpeckers were wise indeed when they asked the song birds to join in the band.

They practised all that day for the coming concert. And before they went to bed that night and before they even thought of putting their heads under their wings, they sent around notices to all the birds to be on hand, and this is how the notices read: “First concert of the season to be given by the Woodpeckers’ Band to-morrow at sunrise. Mr. Robin Redbreast will conduct.”

The concert was a huge success and the people said, “It’s really and truly the springtime when we have a concert such as we were given this morning!”

APRIL 13: The Tease

“Grace,” said daddy, “had a brother named Edward, and Edward was a tease; not a nice, good-natured, funny sort of a tease, but he was the kind who hurt people’s feelings. He would see some one who had a suit on which was not new, or which had been patched, and he would try to make the one who was wearing it feel very uncomfortable.

“Edward would also see boys wearing their older brothers’ suits, and he would say with a mean look: ‘Where did you get that suit?’

“And—he also liked to tease Grace by making fun of her doll Gracie and by tossing her up in the air, and playing with her as though she were a ball, and he could bat her in a game of his own mean making.

“Oh, how she would feel when Gracie was lifted up into Edward’s hands, and then he would toss her up and say:

“‘What’s the difference? She’s only made of rags. Why do you care? Gracie doesn’t.’ One day he left the doll high up in a tree out in the yard, and Grace was afraid that more snow would come in the night and that it would spoil her beloved Gracie, for there had been a late snow-storm that day.

“But a boy, a friend of Edward’s, who didn’t think Edward was really much of a boy for teasing Grace in that horrid way, had found Grace crying. He found out what the trouble was, and he got Gracie from the high limb of the tree.

“Edward didn’t know that his friend had brought down the doll, and at night when he slept, lo and behold, Gracie seemed to come and stand at the end of his bed.

“But no longer was Gracie a little rag doll. She had grown, oh, she had grown. And she was wearing instead of a painted wig, great icicles which were so heavy and cold looking.

“Her body seemed very stiff and straight. It seemed very strong, and as if she were made of steel or of iron instead of rags.

“‘Edward,’ she said, and her voice seemed harsh and terrible, ‘Edward,’ she continued, ‘you left me out in the snow to-night, so as to tease your little sister. But now I will show you what it is like to be abused. Even if you don’t actually hurt me, you hurt your sister who loves me. Wait and I will show you.’

“‘Oh, don’t,’ shrieked Edward. He was very cowardly when he was going to be teased, you see. ‘I’ll be good. I promise,’ and his voice sounded thoroughly frightened.

“‘I’ll have to show you first,’ said the doll. She took Edward in her arms, which had grown so big and so hard, and she tossed him up in the air and around and about, so that he was frightened any moment he might land on the ground.

“And Edward thought of the doll outside—he thought she still was there, and oh, he was so sorry, but he never again made Grace miserable by teasing Gracie.”

APRIL 14: The Onion’s Speech

“The vegetables were talking in the cellar,” said daddy, “and I must confess that they were boasting a great deal. But still one can forgive a vegetable for boasting very often, for if we lived so near the ground—or in the ground as they do—we’d probably like to pretend we were higher up! The onion was now talking. ‘I came from the Land of the Pyramids originally. My ancient home was in Egypt, far, far across the water, in a wonderful, ancient part of the world that is full of history and interest and beauty.’

“‘Hear! Hear!’ said all the other vegetables.

“‘I myself have never seen that far land,’ continued the onion, ‘but my family came from there at first, way, way back where the family tree first starts from.’

“‘How can you have a family tree when you’re an onion and not even a branch?’ asked a very plain little potato.

“‘People,’ said the onion haughtily, ‘have family trees, and they aren’t branches, nor are they leaves. Family trees mean ancestors, noble grandfathers and aristocratic grandmothers, high-up great aunts, and snobbish great uncles. A family tree is something every one and everything can’t have. Now you, poor potato, haven’t a family tree at all.’

“But the potato didn’t seem to mind in the least. However, the onion went on talking. ‘Now my young friend, the radishes came first from China—an interesting history has the Radish family. The Horse-Chestnut family came from Asia, and the Mulberry trees from Persia. The Cucumbers came from the East Indies, and the Spinach family came first from Arabia.’

“‘How very fine,’ said the potato in a very sarcastic tone of voice.

“‘You’re right,’ said the onion, not noticing the sarcastic voice; ‘it’s very fine to have a family tree. It’s something, as I said before, that every one can’t have. You never came from afar, Mr. Potato. And neither did the oats, corn, pumpkins and other plain creatures who don’t know what aristocracy and grandeur mean.’

“‘What does it mean?’ asked the potato.

“‘You weren’t paying attention,’ said the onion. ‘It means a family tree and noble grandparents.’

“‘Pooh!’ exclaimed the potato. ‘If a vegetable isn’t good itself it makes no difference where it came from nor what its grandparents were. It’s what a vegetable is itself. Suppose I were a bad potato, which I’m not, I’m thankful to say, would it make any difference because my great-great-grandfather had come from some interesting land across the sea? Not in the least. I’m a good useful vegetable and can be cooked in many ways. That’s what counts in this world. To amount to something yourself. Be a real vegetable! Do what you can to nourish the world! Don’t boast!’

“The onion felt very badly. It had been so proud of its fine history, and often it was unhappy because it was so unkindly talked about.

“‘I try to be good,’ said the onion. ‘I season things and I make many good dishes. I do the best I can.’

“‘Of course you do, little onion,’ said the potato. ‘But next time you make a speech, tell us all to do our best and not boast about what others have done or have been.’

“And the onion always made speeches after that which were not about family trees, and when it was finally cooked every one said: ‘What a nice onion must have been put in this soup.’”

APRIL 15: A Bookworm

“I tried cork biting once,” said one bookworm to another bookworm.

“And yet,” said the other bookworm, “you are known as ‘The Bookworm’ by some people who don’t know much.”

“That is not a great complaint,” said the first bookworm, “to be called ‘The Bookworm’ by people who don’t know much. I love books, but I don’t care for reading. That might sound strange to some folks, but the bookworm families know that being a bookworm doesn’t mean reading words. Once I went through each page of each book along on the shelf in just the very same spot, so that they could have put a ribbon or a string or anything they might have had near at hand through all those many holes and hung the books up instead of standing them on the shelves. I thought they might care to change the books a little, so I did my best to help. That certainly makes me deserve my name!”

APRIL 16: The Wild Black Cherry

“The wild black cherry tree is very handsome,” said daddy.

“Its foliage is something like that of the willow, drooping and looking very dainty and lovely. Its bark is rich and soft, but best of all, is the fruit which is used for making all sorts of delicious goodies, especially wild cherry juice!

“Then medicines and tonics have been made from the fruit and bark and roots of the wild black cherry.

“Cherry-wood is considered by many people to be almost as handsome as rosewood and mahogany, and the old wild black cherry tree is the tree which is used to make beautiful cherry-wood furniture.

“Its cousin, the wild cherry, is greatly enjoyed by birds who simply love to eat the little fruits.

“Another cousin, the choke-cherry, is a tree filled with very bitter fruit but the birds like the choke-cherry trees almost as well as any other and flock about any they may find. The fashionable and rich cousin is the sweet cherry which is cultivated in this country. And these are the cherries which we all like to eat best.”

APRIL 17: Spring Blossoms

“How do you feel?” asked the first apple blossom of a pear blossom on one of the other trees in the orchard.

“Splendidly,” said the pear blossom. “How about yourself?”

“Never better,” said the apple blossom. Now when the other pear blossoms and apple blossoms heard these two talking they all wanted to see what was going on.

And before long they were all out talking and chatting while some of them were having games with the Breeze Brothers who blew them to the ground and made it look as if the snow had come again.

“Did your tree have a secret to whisper to you?” asked the first apple blossom.

“Yes,” answered the first pear blossom. “I was just about to ask you the same question.”

“It’s this way with us,” said the first apple blossom. “You see the farmhouse is very shabby. It has been needing a coat of paint for so many years. And the people who live inside are so poor they can’t afford anything they don’t actually need.

“They feel badly that they cannot afford to have their house painted for it would look so much brighter and prettier.

“Well, it has been this same way for so many, many years, as I said before. And they have had bad luck with the potatoes and the corn every year. Something always happens. Bugs eat up the potatoes and a storm is likely to come and hurt the corn just when it would be growing quite perfect.

“All these things my tree whispered and said, ‘Little blossoms, all of you must be beautiful so for one season in the year the people in the farmhouse will think they have the loveliest of homes. Make their dingy home look like a fairyland.’” And once again the blossoms gave joy to the people in the dingy farmhouse, who every year had the most beautiful place owing to the blossoms.

APRIL 18: The Button Bag

“In a work bag,” said daddy, “there lived a button bag. The button bag was made of blue and white cambric, I believe you call it, and it had a blue silk ribbon around it at the top—I suppose a sort of neck-tie, one might say.

“At any rate, in this bag were loads and loads of buttons. The button bag was a very large button bag, and the work bag was a very large work bag.

“Whenever any one wanted a button, or whenever any one said they had lost a button or that a button was off, the work bag was taken out and then a button was found—always a button for everything that needed a button.

“And when any member of the household wanted to do a little mending, for everything that lacked a button there was always found to be one.

“What did the buttons and the button bag have to say to all this? Were they pleased they were so useful? We shall hear.

“‘When is the party going to be?’ asked the big, white button, with the shining face.

“‘Pretty soon,’ said the little green button, ‘pretty soon.’

“‘I’ve been to lots of parties,’ said a button with a funny little face, a face of some old, old knight or lord or something very noble!

“He had two sisters and a brother and the four of them were all just alike. They had never been used, as nothing had ever come up that needed their time and their presence. They had been in the button bag for years. But, of course, they were kept, for there might be a time, no one knows when or how soon, when the buttons with the faces might be just the ones wanted.

“‘It’s so nice,’ said the one who had just spoken, ‘that we are always sure of a home. It’s so nice. Some would throw us away and would say they had no use for a lot of old buttons taking up room when they were about sure we’d never be used.

“‘But we don’t have to worry, for the mistress of the house who owns the work bag and the button bag and all the buttons, always says that we don’t eat or drink, meaning we don’t cost her any money, and we might be useful some time.

“‘She’s a sensible lady, yes she is. And we’re sure of a home, quite sure of one.

“‘But as I said I have been to a great many parties. Although I have lived in the button bag such a long time, once I lived on a handsome dress, oh, such a handsome dress, and then I went to great balls and parties and all.’

“‘Ah,’ said a big black button, ‘I’ve had a nice life, too. I’ve lived on fur coats. I’ve been on several, and I’ve been out on glorious bracing winter days when the snow came in my face and body all at once!

“‘I’ve been for sleigh-rides where bells jingled and where my button heart leaped for joy!’

“‘And I,’ said a little brown button, ‘have on the other hand been about in the summer. I belonged to a lovely bathing suit which belonged to a little girl, and I used to see the sand made into castles and bridges and rivers, and all sorts of marvelous things, and the lovely ocean would go over me—oh, it was so cool and refreshing!

“‘And all about me were happy, smiling people. Every one was shrieking with delight. If I had known how to shriek I would have called at the top of my voice, if I had a voice:

“‘“Oh, the button is happy, too, the button is so happy!”’

“‘Well,’ said the tan button, ‘we must get ready for the party, as we must frolic all night and then be back in our places by morning, so it won’t confuse or mix any one up who may sew in the morning.’

“‘Right,’ said all the buttons.

“So they all borrowed old pieces of ribbon from the bag and little pieces of thread, and they dressed themselves in fine array, and then they danced and sang in their little button voices, which, of course, aren’t real voices, but only make-believe ones. This was their song:

“‘The buttons are we, happy, gleeful and glad;
We are of all kinds and we never are sad.
We love those who use us and even those who do not;
Ah, yes, indeed, we’re a merry, merry lot!’”

APRIL 19: The Patient Chimpanzee

“Charlie was the name of a chimpanzee in the Zoo,” said daddy, “and he was ill. The keeper went to Charlie with a medicine bottle, carrying a glass and a spoon, too.

“‘I am sorry, Charlie,’ said the keeper, and from the look Charlie gave him he knew he understood.

“‘Good chimpanzee,’ said the keeper. ‘You fine, patient animal. You teach us all a lesson—all of us—for none of us take medicine well, neither children nor even grown-ups.’

“The chimpanzee swallowed the medicine. He tried very hard not to make a face as he did so, but he took it all—every drop—and then he tried to lie quite still. For it was such horrid tasting medicine.

“The keeper still stood by Charlie with the empty glass and bottle in his hand. Then he put them down and took Charlie’s head and stroked it again and again.

“Charlie nudged up against the keeper.

“‘You will make me well, keeper,’ he seemed to say. ‘It is not your fault you had to give me the horrid medicine. Dear keeper, you know that by to-morrow I will be feeling like my old self again.’ For monkeys and chimpanzees are the most patient creatures when they are sick.”

APRIL 20: The Toad

“A toad,” said daddy, “was once sent all the way in a little box from one side of this continent to the other to be the pet of a little sick boy named Paul.

“He was a horned toad, and he was the kind of a toad that needs little else beside air to live on.

“Now, the toad seemed to know he must behave on the journey and he was carried in a little box with air holes punched through it. Of course he needed the air more than anything, and wasn’t he happy when at last he arrived, and could have all the air he wanted. And when Paul saw him he knew from the toad’s honest, ugly face he would be loyal and good, and a real pet.”

APRIL 21: The Pine Needles

“I must thread my needle before I begin my work,” said a little girl as she sat under a big pine tree, with another little girl.

“What’s that I hear?” asked one of the pine needles. “She speaks about threading her needle? Am I her needle, or are you her needle, or who in the world is her needle? And what is thread?”

The poor needles were very nervous. And the other little girl spoke next: “I like to knit better than I do to sew because then I can use four needles.”

“Oh, dear, oh dear,” said the pine needles. “There’s a child who needs four needles. Do you suppose she threads us too?”

They watched for a long time, trying to move away from the children so they would not be used. They whispered to the pine tree saying:

“Blow about and move us away,
Sway, swing, swing and sway.
For we’ve just this minute heard it said,
That into needles they will put thread.”

And the pine tree whispered to the breeze:

“Blow, blow, make me sway,
So I can move the needles away.
Please, Mr. Wind, would you mind
Doing this act so very kind?”

So the wind blew the pine tree and the pine tree’s branches swayed and blew about the little pine needles. But no sooner had all this happened than they saw that the children had other things called needles. They hadn’t wanted pine needles at all!

APRIL 22: The Cat’s Mistake

As I don’t think you will be able to guess right away and as I want to tell you what really happened, I will tell you the place Blackie the cat chose for his nap one Sunday.

It was in the church organ! Well, he had a fine sleep. And he was still asleep when the organist came in and began to play.

Then poor Blackie woke up with a start! At first he didn’t know whether he was having a nightmare or a bad dream, or what was happening.

He moved to one side and the organ gave a curious rumble and a very funny sound and the organist looked as if he didn’t know what the trouble could be, and the people stopped singing and then tried to go on singing without any music.

The organist tried to play again and this awfully queer rumble and burr and buzz was heard once more. So the people went on finishing their singing without any organ.

Of course Blackie tried to move when he felt the pedals moving and he jumped over the inside stops and pedals and made these very strange sounds as he did so.

The organist looked inside the organ and saw nothing. Then, suddenly, he saw two big green eyes staring at him.

“It’s a cat in there,” he said to himself.

Poor Blackie was very much frightened. This was altogether too much. He liked adventures and he liked to explore but this was going too far.

“Yes, that is a cat,” said the organist to himself, and Blackie’s green eyes shone back at him when he said this.

“Come, pussy; come, nice pussy,” said the organist in a whisper. Poor Blackie was so frightened he did not know what to do. Still the organist kept on coaxing and begging Blackie to come out. And after a while Blackie felt less frightened and the soft whisper of the organist sounded very kind and Blackie came out from inside of the church organ.

Oh, how happy he was when he was out and the organist got a little boy to lift him quietly and take him out of the church.

And what joy it was for Blackie to be back home again, to rest and have a nice sleep after his adventure, which had turned out to be such a mistake!

APRIL 23: The Butterfly Who Loved the Sun

“I saw a little boy to-day,” said daddy, “named Robert who has a collection of cocoons. He keeps them on little twigs in a great big box punched full of holes.

“Then he waits to see the butterflies come out. After they have come out he never kills them or tries to keep them, for he thinks that is dreadfully cruel. He knows well that they love to see the sun and be out in the fresh air among the flowers, and he wouldn’t deprive them of that pleasure for anything.

“But one day about a week ago out from a cocoon came the most beautiful pale blue butterfly Robert had ever seen.

“He at once took it out of the box, and off it flew into the warm sun’s rays and lighted upon a small bush which was covered with plum-blossoms and the butterfly acted as if it thought, ‘Well, this may be my first party, but it certainly won’t be my last.’”

APRIL 24: The Horse-Chestnut

“I’d like to know,” said Fairy Ybab, of a magnificent tree which was one mass of huge blossoms, “why you are called the Horse-Chestnut tree? You aren’t eaten by horses, are you? You don’t look like a horse.”

The Horse-Chestnut gave a funny low, whispering laugh.

“I will explain,” said the Horse-Chestnut. “You see, there are some creatures who have engagements all the time. They have to meet a friend at such and such a time or they have to be back for dinner at such a time or they must be in bed at such another time.

“Now, the trees are different. We haven’t any engagements like that. We trees don’t have to go anywhere at all. In fact, we can’t go anywhere. We’re perfectly satisfied, too.

“You’ve never heard of a tree pulling itself up by the roots and crying out in a hoarse, leafy way:

“‘Dear me, I do want to go to a birthday party.’

“In the first place of all I am called a Horse-Chestnut tree because I have marks between my leaves and twigs which look like horseshoes with nails in them.

“That is the answer to the first question. And the answer to the second question is this: No, I am not eaten by horses. My nuts are much too bitter. Children like to play with them, for they’re big and handsome, but they’re not good to eat.

“There are your two questions answered.”

APRIL 25: The Loving Mates

“A little bird had lost her mate,” said daddy, “and was very sad. A sudden storm had come up when she was out, but when the storm blew over she found her way back to the dear mate who was looking for her.

“‘T-r-i-l-l, t-r-i-l-l,’ her little mate cried, and trembled with joy.

“‘My little mate, my loving little mate,’ she said in her bird language as she gave him a kiss with her little beak.

“And then such a song! Such a song as has seldom been heard before was sung by that happy bird to his little loving mate.”

APRIL 26: The Dandelion

“Two children were walking,” said daddy. “One of them stopped to pick some dandelions.

“‘I love these yellow flowers,’ said the little girl. ‘No one scolds when you pick them. I’ve never owned a garden. But I always get these flowers every spring. And, oh, how I love them! Dear, soft, yellow posies,’ she said.

“This was many years ago but from that day the dandelion’s family have always come up in the spring.”

APRIL 27: Butterfly’s Growth

“A butterfly lays an egg on a leaf,” said daddy. “In a little while the egg becomes a caterpillar. And what do you suppose the caterpillar has for its very first meal?”

Both the children shook their heads.

“It eats some of the shell from which it came. It’s a little like moving out of a house and before leaving it entirely, eating it up!

“Then the caterpillar becomes a chrysalis and soon a butterfly. It’s a happy day for the caterpillar when it becomes a beautiful butterfly. No longer will people call it a horrid caterpillar. They will say, ‘Look at the beautiful butterfly!’

“And as the butterfly sips from the little flowers and enters right into the hearts of many of them, it whispers:

“‘I’ve been a long time coming to you, flower, but the hard crawling journey had a wonderful ending.’

“And though the flower does not altogether understand, it partly does, for it whispers: ‘Eat all of my honey and sip my sweetness, for you are my beautiful butterfly visitor!’”

APRIL 28: The Tack and the Nail

“I heard something far from pleasant about you, little Tack,” said the big Nail.

There were many other tacks in the box, but there were also many nails. They were all together in one big white box, and whichever size was wanted could be picked from the lot.

But the Nail which was the biggest of all, or about the biggest, was talking to the Tack which was about the smallest of all the tacks in this big box.

“Well, I suppose you want me to ask you what it is,” said the Tack, moving a little in the box.

“You needn’t ask me if you don’t want to,” said the Nail haughtily.

“But of course I want to; that is only natural,” said the Tack.

“I thought you would want to,” said the Nail, in a hard, metallic voice. Now a metallic voice is a voice which sounds as hard and cold as any metal could be. Of course that was the natural sort of voice for a nail to have—still it was not a very cheerful voice to hear.

“The Master said that he had kept forgetting things all day long. And then he said that he had a head like a tack.”

“Well, what of it?” asked the Tack. “Is that all?”

“That’s all, little Tack,” said the Nail. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t think that was so dreadful,” said the Tack.

“Perhaps you don’t understand,” said the Nail.

“Perhaps not,” the Tack agreed.

“I’d better make sure you understand and so I will tell you. The Master meant that his head was so small and stupid that he couldn’t remember anything, and when he said that his family told him he mustn’t talk so about himself. There, little Tack, you see you have a little stupid head. No head at all, and because it’s such a poor head they’ve made that sad saying about it. There was never such a thing said of a Nail.”

“Maybe not,” said the Tack angrily, “but I can hang just as many pictures as you can. Maybe you are used for big pictures but I am used for small ones—nice little favorites, photographs and so forth. I’m just as useful in my way. Just as useful,” the Tack repeated.

“But what is more,” the Tack continued, “I have very little use for you in saying such a thing. You are supposed to be a friend of mine. A nail is a sort of relation of a tack. I don’t blame the people for saying such things. In their opinion my head is very small, and quite rightly too, and I have not the things they call brains—neither have you. So I don’t blame them in the least.

“But I blame you, Nail, for coming and telling me something to make me unhappy. It’s not doing me any good. I can’t change my head. You’re just like a creature who wants to be praised because you didn’t say the mean thing yourself; but you did worse than that—you repeated it. Bah!” The Tack moved away disgusted, and the Nail moved far to one side of the box, feeling much ashamed.

APRIL 29: Moon’s Misunderstanding

“Are you sad, Mr. Moon?” asked the Fairy Queen. “I feel that something is the matter with you. You don’t seem to be yourself to-night. Won’t you tell us the trouble?”

“I heard you say that once in a blue moon, you liked to have a banquet, and I thought perhaps you knew of another moon, and wanted him to shine for you. I’m not blue—that is I’m not really blue, though now I do feel blue, blue and very sad.”

“Oh, Mr. Moon,” said the Fairy Queen, “I am so glad you told me what the trouble was, for if you hadn’t told me we might have had a very sad misunderstanding.

“Of course we didn’t want another moon, and there is no other moon but you, dear Mr. Moon.

“When people say, ‘Once in a blue moon,’ they mean ‘Once in a great while.’ They don’t mean that they want a blue moon, and can only give such a party when there is a blue moon, or whatever they are planning to give or do.

“Now we are going to have a banquet, and I meant that I thought it was nice to have a banquet once in a great while. That was a silly saying I used, that’s all.”

“I’m so relieved,” said Mr. Moon, smiling once more. “I never heard of another moon, but of course how was I to be sure? Such wonderful things happen all the time. People fly up in the air in airships, and behave just like birds. So I wasn’t sure whether there was another moon or not, and thought perhaps this fellow was blue, being blue in color and feeling blue in spirits are different—eh?”

“Quite different,” said the Fairy Queen. “You don’t feel blue now, do you?” And as the moon grinned happily the Fairy Queen knew that everything was all right, and a banquet took place in Fairyland that night.

APRIL 30: Marion’s Fern Garden

Marion had a little shady flower bed. Every spring at just about this time she would go into the woods with a trowel and basket and pick out the loveliest ferns. These she would carry home in her basket. Then in the shady afternoon she would go to her fernery with a watering pot. First she would dig a little hole, then she would put some water in it to see that the roots of the fern got plenty of moisture, for that is what ferns love. Then she would put the root of the fern in the hole and put soft earth firmly around it. After she had planted her ferns she watered them some more, for she was very careful that her ferns should be planted just right, and that is why she had such good luck with them.

Every spring she would add to her fernery, and the ferns that she had planted the year before came up more beautifully than ever.

She would get interesting looking rocks and stones and put them between ferns here and there in the little fernery. It was very delightful to see the plants come up in the spring and then go to the woods and get some more beautiful ones. She was very particular, you may be sure, to get nice young ones, for they are the best to transplant.

MAY 1: The Tree Swallows

“The Mr. Tree Swallows are bluish green above and white underneath. The Mrs. Tree Swallows are gray and white beneath,” said daddy.

“Sometimes they build their nests out of grass with feathers for the lining; in fact, that is the way they usually do, but they sometimes like to find bird homes already made for them.

“They sing or make a little chirping sound as their other swallow cousins do. They usually build their nests in hollow trees and like to sit on old branches, so they have been called the Tree Swallows, for their cousins, the Barn Swallows, build their homes around barns.

“These swallows like to fly high in the air, and they also love to sit on telegraph wires. They say that they wish to be modern and up-to-date, and that as they can’t answer the telephones or call their friends up, they can sit on the telephone wires and feel they are part of a nice world!”

MAY 2: The Pig Who Took a Walk

“There was once a little fairy, who was named Fairy Sunrise, because every morning she got up just at the same time as Mr. Sun did.

“She had a great love for nice little pigs, as she thought they were very cunning, and not at all the horrid little creatures some people think they are.

“But one little pig worried her a great deal. He put on airs and was very proud of himself. The little pig’s name was ‘Gink,’ and he was the pet pig of a little girl who lived on a farm.

“Gink had overheard some city people who had visited the farm talk about their figures. For a long time he couldn’t imagine what they meant. Then, after listening for some time, he heard one of them say that it was quite all right to eat everything any one wanted to, but every one must exercise, walk and play games so as not to grow fat—for it was so ugly to be fat!

“Gink had never thought it was ugly to be fat, but then that was because he had never really thought about it at all. And yet when he did think about it, he decided that he would much rather keep just ‘plump’ as he now was than grow as fat as his mother was. For he said that his mother was a little bit old fashioned, and he wanted to be a very modern pig.

“The next day he went for a walk. He went through the little village, just managing to escape from under horses’ feet, and the little boys’ bicycles. He went as far as the lake, where he saw some boys starting off on a camping trip.

“‘Don’t you want to come with us?’ asked one of the boys.

“The little pig was just about to start off, thinking in his vain way that the trip would do him good, when he heard a second boy say:

“‘Won’t he make wonderful bacon?’

“Then you should have seen little Gink run home to his mistress. And after that awful fright and narrow escape, Gink stayed on the farm outside the village, and decided fashions were very silly, and apt to be dangerous. He also lost his love of walking!

“And little Fairy Sunrise who had been around just in time to whisper to the little boy (though of course he didn’t see her) the word ‘bacon’ which had frightened Gink so much, was delighted that all her schemes had worked out so well, and that she had cured the vain Gink.”

MAY 3: The Fairy and the Kangaroo

“I must tell you a story to-night,” commenced daddy, “of the sick kangaroo in the Zoo.

“To tell the truth the kangaroo wasn’t sick at all. He simply thought he was but he succeeded in making the keeper think so too. This pleased the kangaroo as all he really wanted was to have a fuss made over him.

“The strange thing about his illness was that the keeper couldn’t imagine what was the matter with the kangaroo. He had a perfectly good appetite for he couldn’t give up eating just to pretend he was sick, for really and truly he knew he was just ‘pretending.’

“Now, this puzzled the keeper, but he thought there must be some kangaroo sickness where the animal could still eat, and yet be far from well.

“The keeper became so worried over the kangaroo’s strange sickness that at night he would get up to see if the kangaroo was asleep. Every time he went to look, the kangaroo was sound, sound asleep, breathing very quietly. The keeper thought to himself that this must be a good sign, for if he happened to be suffering from indigestion he would certainly be moaning and having bad dreams. Finally the keeper decided the kangaroo must have heart failure.

“The next day the keeper sent for the doctor and the doctor examined the kangaroo’s heart. He said that it was one of the strongest hearts that he had ever examined. And the keeper was still more puzzled.

“The kangaroo used to sit for hours and hours just playing with his tail. Sometimes he would think it was time to show how badly he felt by crying. So he would first look as if he just were able to keep back the tears, and then he would act as if he could keep it up no longer and would shake with sobs.

“Now this kangaroo had always been spoilt by his mother. When he was very, very young he could always have everything he wanted, so nothing was ever really a big treat.

“He always got sick at parties because he ate too much, and his mother would never stop him, and on holidays he always was allowed to turn things topsy-turvy. But one day when the animals were all to be given a special treat, little Fairy Silver Wings, who had heard of the kangaroo’s sickness, whispered to the other animals to leave him behind to twist his tail and moan while they had their game of ball.

“Then the kangaroo set up a howling such as never had been heard in animal land, for he didn’t want to miss a party—just as Fairy Silver Wings had said; so when they all thought he had learned a good lesson they went back for him. How ashamed he was when the animals at first snubbed him, but he never made a fuss again, for he had had a great fright that he was going to miss a party through his foolishness.”

MAY 4: The Maple Tree Talks

“I’ve heard people talking about their family trees,” said the first maple tree. “And I simply don’t understand it. They’ve said that so and so came from that branch of the family and I’ve never seen a few aunts who made up a branch or a few uncles who made up a branch or who looked anything like a branch. I never have.”

“I can explain that,” said the second maple tree. “When people speak of their family tree they mean their family and their family’s ancestors or grandmothers and grandfathers. You see a family is like a big tree. There is the root of it all—the first family from which all the different relatives or branches sprung which are related to the family just as branches are all related to and connected with the tree.”

“Oh, now I see, thank you,” said the first maple tree.

MAY 5: The Daisies’ Name

“We know what our name means,” said the Daisies. “We come from the old family of Day’s eye—the eyes of the day—because we’re so bright and wide-awake and strong.”

MAY 6: The Two Rabbits

“There were two rabbits,” said daddy, “which I want to tell you about. Their names were Clover and Pinky. Clover loved to hear her name. She loved to be called by it very often and she liked it best of all when her name was made very real by getting a lot of clover to eat.

“The other rabbit’s name was Pinky. Pinky was so named because of his very bright pink eyes. They were really beautiful pink eyes. Clover had pink eyes, too, but they were not so bright; they were a little bit paler in shade than Pinky’s eyes.

“Pinky thought they were very fairly named, for, of course, Clover should have the better name of the two, because Clover was Mrs. Rabbit and it was polite and nice to give the lady the nicer name.

“Both the rabbits were white without a touch of black. They were very fond of each other, they were very tame and fond of children and they were extremely fond of all the nice green things they were given to eat.

“Now the children who owned these rabbits didn’t know that daddy rabbits were all right when their children were big but that when their children were small they weren’t so nice because they were apt to kill them.

“The daddies didn’t care for their babies when they were only little bits of fluff. They didn’t see that they would grow up into nice rabbits later on.

“So these two rabbits, Pinky and Clover, were not separated, and Clover, somehow, wasn’t as afraid of Pinky as sometimes a mother rabbit is.

“That is, a mother rabbit is never afraid of a daddy rabbit for herself, for she knows he will never hurt her, but she is afraid for her little ones.

“So when she knows that the little ones are soon to come she hides away from the daddy rabbit.

“Clover wasn’t at all nervous. She saw that the children didn’t know that they should be separated. And she somehow thought Pinky would act very nicely about the little ones.

“She made a little hole in the ground and soon there came seven of the sweetest, most cunning little bits of white fluff you ever did see!

“She had quite a hard time naming so many little babies but at last she named them and these were the names she decided upon.

“Her eldest son was named Bun. Her eldest daughter was named Bunny. Her second son was named Pink after his dad, and the second daughter was named Cloverine after herself. The third son was named Spot, because of a little black spot which he had on his nose, and the third daughter was named Rabbity, while the fourth son was named Baby Bun.

“And do you know that Pinky never touched one of those children so as to hurt them? He didn’t kill them, he didn’t bite them.

“But instead he watched Mother Rabbit taking care of them, he saw her giving them their meals. He watched her as she taught them the lessons all rabbits must know.

“And he saw the children pick them up and handle them very gently and kiss them and say how precious they were.

“After they grew up into bigger rabbits some of them were given away and became the pets of other children and Clover and Pinky were together again once more without the young ones.

“‘I miss them,’ said Clover, ‘but I know that children will be good to their rabbit pets, for I have always been treated so kindly and nicely by children.’

“‘So have I,’ said Pinky.

“And the rabbits sniffed and their little noses wiggled and trembled as they told each other what a nice world it was with children and clover both in it!”

MAY 7: Evelyn Decides Something

“The other day Mrs. Heron was talking to Mrs. Bird of Paradise,” said daddy.

“‘Ah,’ Mrs. Heron was saying. ‘It does seem too bad that just when our little ones are born, just then, they shoot us, and leave our little ones to starve.

“‘And all for fashions, too, friend! Think of mothers—wearing mothers on their hats whose little ones have been left behind to die. It’s something I cannot, cannot understand.’

“‘All we can hope for,’ said Mrs. Bird of Paradise, ‘is that lots and lots of children will come to the Zoo and that they will hear from the keeper about us and will go home and tell their mothers.’

“‘Yes,’ said Mrs. Heron, ‘for sometimes I do believe people don’t know or understand or they wouldn’t do such cruel things.’

“‘I am sure a great many must be ignorant, for I don’t believe so many would be cruel, especially just for fashion and style,’ said Mrs. Bird of Paradise.