Chapter III (1)

At luncheon one day many months after the dismissal of the discontented suitors, the prime minister entered the dining-room and announced to the king that a man had been found within the palace gates without a royal permit, and had been immediately put in the dungeon. He was a handsome fellow, the prime minister said, but very poorly clad. He made no resistance when he was taken prisoner, but earnestly requested that his trial might come off as soon as possible, as he rather wanted to make a sketch of the palace and gardens, and he couldn't see very well from the slit in the top of the dungeon; but he begged them not to put themselves nor the king to any inconvenience, as he could just as well remain where he was and write poems.

"In sooth, your Majesty," said the prime minister, in conclusion, "from all we have heard and seen, it seemeth that at last we have found a contented man."

As soon as the king finished his royal repast he disguised himself in the long cloak and hat of a soldier and went with the prime minister and the turnkey to catch a glimpse of the prisoner. As they approached the dungeon they heard a rich bass voice singing:

"Let the world slide, let the world go!
A fig for care, and a fig for woe.
If I must stay, why, I can't go,
And love makes equal the high and low."

The king drew nearer, stooped, and peeped through the keyhole. Just opposite the door, on a three-legged stool, sat the prisoner. His head was thrown back and he was looking at the sky through the bars in the top of his cell. The song had ceased and he was talking softly to himself. The king, in a whisper, told the prime minister to bring the princess and have her remain hidden just outside the door. Then he motioned to the turnkey to throw back the bolts, and he entered the dungeon alone.

"Why are you talking to yourself, man?" he asked. The man answered:

"Because, soldier, I like to talk to a sensible man, and I like to hear a sensible man talk."

"Ha, ha!" laughed the king. "Pretty good, pret-ty good! They tell me that all things please you. Is it true?"

"I think I can safely say yes, soldier."

"But why are you so poorly clad?"

"The care of fine clothes is too much of a burden--I have long ago refused to be fashion's slave."

"But where are your friends?"

"Of those that I have had, the good are dead, and happier so than here; the evil ones have left me and are befriending some one else, for which I say, 'Joy go with them.'"

"And is there nothing that you want?" As the king asked this question he looked at the man in a peculiarly eager way, nor did the answer disappoint him.

"I have all of the necessities of life and many of the luxuries. I am perfectly content. I know I have neither land nor money, but is not the whole world mine? Can even the king himself take from me my delight in the green trees and the greener fields, in that dainty little cloud flecking heaven's blue up yonder like a bit of foam on a sunlit sea? Oh, no! I am rich enough, for all nature is mine--"

"And _I_ am yours," said a sweet young voice. The man looked up in surprise, and there before him, holding out her pretty hands toward him, stood the Princess Madge, who had slipped into the cell unnoticed.

The man sprang to his feet, clasped the little hands in his, and said:

"I know not what you mean, sweet lady, when you say that you are mine; but oh, you are passing beautiful!"

"Papa," called the princess, "this is quite dreadful. Quick, take off that ugly soldier's coat and tell him who we are and all about it!"

The king, starting as if from a dream, threw off the rough coat and hat and stepped forth into the beam of sunlight, resplendent in gold and ermine.

"Thou dost not know me, my man? I am the king. Hast thou not read our last proclamation?"

"No, your Majesty; I never do read proclamations."

"Then thou didst not know that the hand of the princess is offered to the first contented man who enters the palace?"

"No, your Majesty; I knew it not."

"Then know it now, and know, too, that thou art the man. To thee I give my daughter, together with half my kingdom. No, no--not a word. Thou deservest her. May you be happy!"

The prisoner, almost dumb with astonishment, almost dazed with joy, knelt and kissed the princess's white hands, then looked into her eyes and said:

"Ah, well it is for me that I saw you not until now, for I should have been miserably discontented until you were mine!"

THE FLYING SHIP

_A Russian Tale_

Once upon a time there was a Princess who was always wanting something new and strange. She would not look at the princes who came to woo her from the kingdoms round about, because, she said, they all came in the same way, in carriages which had four wheels and were drawn by four horses. "Why could not one come in a carriage with five wheels?" she exclaimed petulantly, one day, "or why come in a carriage at all?" She added: "If one came in a flying ship I would wed him!"

So the King made proclamation that whoever came to the palace in a flying ship should wed the Princess, and succeed to the kingdom. As the Princess was very beautiful and the kingdom very rich, men everywhere began to try to build ships that would fly. But that was not so easy. They could build ships that would sail--but flying was quite another thing!

On the far edge of the kingdom dwelt a widow with three sons. The two elder, hearing the proclamation, said that they wanted to go to the city and build each a flying ship. So the mother, who was very proud of these sons, and quite convinced that should the Princess see one of them it would not be necessary for him to have a flying ship, laid out their best clothes and gave each a satchel containing a lunch of white bread and jam and fruit, and wished them good luck on their journeys.

Now the third son was called Simple, because he did not do as his brothers did, and cared nothing for fine clothes and fine airs, but liked to wander off in the woods by himself. When Simple saw his brothers starting off all so grandly he said: "Give me a lunch, and I will go and build a flying ship."

The truth was that the idea of a flying ship very much appealed to Simple, though he did not give much thought to the Princess.

But his mother said: "Go back into the woods, Simple, that is the place for you."

But Simple persisted, and at last she gave him a satchel containing a lunch of black bread without any jam, and a flask of water.

As Simple neared the woods he met a Manikin who asked him for something to eat. Simple was ashamed to open his satchel with the black bread and water in it. "But," he reflected, "if one is hungry black bread is better than no bread." The Manikin certainly looked hungry, so Simple put his hand into the satchel and took out the roll of bread--and lo--it was not black at all, but white, made of the finest flour, and spread with rich, golden butter. The flask, too, when he took it out, was not as it had been when his mother put it in, but was filled with red wine.

So Simple and the Manikin sat down by the roadside and ate together. Then the Manikin asked Simple where he was going, and Simple told him that he was going to build a flying ship. He almost forgot about the Princess, but remembered, as an afterthought, and he told the Manikin that when the ship was done he would fly in it to the palace and marry the Princess.

"Well," said the Manikin, "if you want to do that take this ax with you and the first tree that you come to strike it three times with the ax, then bow before it three times, and then kneel down with your face hidden until you are told to get up. There will be a flying ship before you. Climb into it and fly to the palace of the Princess, and if you meet anybody along the way take them along."

So Simple took the ax and went into the wood, and the first tree that he came to he struck three times with the ax, then bowed three times before it, then knelt down and hid his face. By-and-by he felt someone touch his shoulder and he looked up, and there was a ship with wings outspread, all ready to fly. So he climbed into it and bade it fly away to the city of the Princess.

As he flew over a clearing in the woods Simple saw a man with his ear to the ground, listening.

"Ho!" he cried, "you below! What are you doing?"

"I am listening to the sounds of the world," said the man.

"Well," said Simple, "come up into the ship. Maybe you can hear more up here."

So the man climbed up into the ship, and they flew on. As they passed over a field they saw a man hopping on one leg, with the other strapped up behind his ear.

"Ho!" cried Simple, "You below! Why do you hop on one leg, with the other bound up?"

"Because," said the man, "if I were to unbind the other I would step so far that I would be at the end of the world in a minute."

"Well," said Simple, "come up into the ship, that will be less tiresome than hopping so far."

So the man came up into the ship and they flew on. As they passed a clear lake of cold water they saw a man standing beside it looking so disconsolately at the water that Simple called out, "Ho, you below! Why do you look at the water so sadly?"

"Because," said the man, "I am very thirsty."

"Well," called Simple, "why don't you take a drink? There is water enough!"

"No," said the man, "it is not right that I should drink here, for I am so thirsty that I would drink all of this at one gulp, and there would be no lake, and I would still be thirsty."

"Well," said Simple, "come up into the ship. Maybe we can find water enough for you somewhere."

So the man climbed up into the ship and they flew on. As they passed over a village they met a man carrying a great basket of bread. "Ho!" cried Simple, "you below! Where are you going?"

"I am going to the baker's at the other end of the village to buy some bread for my breakfast," replied the man.

"But you have a big basketful of bread now," said Simple.

"Oh," said the man, "that is not enough for the first morsel. I shall eat that up in one bite. There are not bakers enough in this village to keep me supplied, and I am always hungry."

"Well," said Simple, "come up into the ship. Maybe we shall find some bread in the city."

So the man climbed up into the ship and they flew on. As they passed over a meadow they saw a man carefully carrying a bundle of straw.

"Ho!" cried Simple, "you below! Why do you carry that straw so carefully, when there is straw all about you in the meadow?"

"But this is no ordinary straw," said the man. "It has a magic power, and when it is scattered about it will make the hottest place as cold as ice."

"Well," said Simple, "bring it along and come up into the ship. It may be hot in the city."

So the man climbed up into the ship and they flew on. As they passed over a wooded park they saw a man carrying a bundle of sticks.

"Ho!" cried Simple, "you below! Why do you carry those sticks so carefully when all the woods about you are full of sticks?"

"But these are not ordinary sticks," said the man. "If I were to throw them on the ground they would become soldiers, armed and ready for a battle."

"Well," said Simple, "they are wonderful sticks indeed! Bring them up into the ship. There may be a need for soldiers in the city."

So the man climbed up into the ship and they flew on. Soon they came to the city, where the word soon went about that a ship was flying over, and men and women came out into the streets and on to the roofs of the houses to see what it might be like. And the King came out on his balcony and saw Simple and his strange crew flying straight toward the palace.

"Now, now," said the King, "what sort of a fellow is this? I cannot have him marry my daughter. He has not a knight in his train--and as for him--!" the King had no words in which to express his thought.

The Princess, too, looking out and seeing the flying ship with Simple in the bow and the other strange folk behind him, repented of her rash word, and said: "You must give this fellow some impossible task to do, so that he will fail, for it is certain that I cannot wed him."

So the King sent for his courtiers, and bade them wait upon the man in the flying ship and say to him that before his daughter could be given in marriage a flask of water must be brought this day from a spring at the end of the world.

The man with the wonderful hearing had his ear to the deck of the ship, and he heard this order, and reported it to Simple, who lamented, and said: "How can I bring a flask of water from the end of the world? It may take me a year to go there and back--perhaps even the rest of my life."

But the man with the bound leg said: "You forget that I am here. When the summons comes I will take the flask and go for the water."

So when the messenger came Simple answered quietly that the order would be obeyed at once.

The man with the bound leg unfastened his leg from behind his ear and started off to the end of the world, and when he came there he filled the flask and came back with it, and Simple went with it to the palace, arriving just as the King and the Princess were finishing their dinner.

"That is all very well," said the King, "but we cannot have this fellow wed the Princess. We will prepare a feast, and tell him that it must be eaten at once. Let forty oxen be killed, and five hundred loaves be prepared and five hundred cakes be baked, and all of these must this fellow and his followers eat."

The man with the wonderful hearing having his ear to the deck of the ship reported this conversation to Simple, who lamented and said: "How can we eat forty oxen, and five hundred loaves and five hundred cakes! It will take us a year to eat so much, or maybe all of the rest of our lives."

"Oh," said the hungry man, who had long since eaten the few loaves from his basket, "you forget that I am here. Perhaps now for the first time in my life I shall have enough to eat."

So when the feast was served they all sat down to it, and ate as they wished; then the hungry man ate the remainder of the forty oxen and the five hundred loaves and the five hundred cakes and there was not a crumb left. When he had quite finished he said that he could have eaten at least two more oxen and another hundred cakes, but that he was not quite so hungry as he had been.

When the King's messengers told him that the feast was all eaten that same night he said: "That is all very well, but we cannot have this fellow wed the Princess. We will prepare a drinking, and serve five hundred flagons of wine, and tell him that it must all be drunken that same night, or he cannot wed the Princess. Let the flagons of wine be prepared and served to him, and all of them must this fellow and his followers drink."

The man with the wonderful hearing having his ear to the deck of the ship reported this to Simple, who lamented and said: "How can we drink five hundred flagons of wine? It will take us a year to do so, or maybe all of the rest of our lives."

But the thirsty man said, "You forget that I am here. Perhaps now for the first time in my life I shall have enough to drink."

So when the wine was served they all gathered around the table and drank as much as they wanted of it; then the thirsty man picked up flagon after flagon and drank them off until all were empty. And at the end he said that he could have drunken at least fifty flagons more, but that he was not so thirsty as he had been.

When the messengers of the King reported that the wine was all drunken, the King said: "Now are we put to it, for we cannot have this fellow wed the Princess." So he sent his messengers to the ship bidding Simple come to the palace and make ready for the wedding, and prepared a bath for him. And when Simple entered the room for the bath he found that it was heated so hot that the walls burned his hands when he touched them, and the floors were like red-hot iron. But the man with the straw had come in behind him, warned by the man with the wonderful hearing, and seeing what was afoot, scattered his straw all about the bathroom, and at once it became as cold as one could wish, and, the door having been locked, Simple climbed up on the stove and went to sleep, and there they found him in the morning, wrapped in a blanket.

When this was reported to the King he was very angry, and he said, "This fellow is evidently very smart, but for all of that we cannot have him wed the Princess. I will give him an impossible task. Go you to him," he said to the messenger, "and tell him that he must come to me at to-morrow's sunrise with an army fitting the rank of one who would wed the Princess."

When the man with the wonderful hearing reported this to Simple he was in despair, and lamented and said: "Now at last am I beaten, though, after all, I have a flying ship, even if I do not wed the Princess. It will take me a year to raise an army, perhaps it would take all the rest of my life."

But the man with the sticks said: "You forget that I am here. Now all of these others have proven that they could help you to win the Princess, let me at least do my share."

So at dawn they flew out over the parade ground, and the man with the sticks threw them down upon the ground, and immediately there sprung up soldiers, in platoons and regiments, with armor, and captains and colonels and generals to command them. And the King and his courtiers had never seen such an army, and the Princess, standing on the balcony beside her father, as they rode by the palace, seeing Simple riding at the head of the band, with the generals paying him homage, said: "This man must be a very great prince indeed, and, now that I look at him he is not so uncomely, after all."

And Simple, riding at the head of his army, looking up at the balcony and seeing the Princess there said to himself: "A flying ship is all very well, but the Princess is very beautiful, and to wed her will be the most wonderful thing in the world."

So Simple and the Princess were married, and the crew of the flying ship were at the wedding, and all of the captains and the colonels and the generals of his army, and never had there been such a wedding in the kingdom. And by and by the King died, and Simple became the King, and the Princess became the Queen, and they lived happily ever after.

ROBIN OF THE LOVING HEART

BY EMMA ENDICOTT MAREAN

"_Please, Mother, tell us a story. Have him a wood-chopper boy this time. Please, Mother, quick, for Elizabeth is sleepy already. Oh, Mother, hurry!_"

_So here is the story._

* * *

Once upon a time there was a little boy who lived all alone with his parents in the heart of a deep wood. His father was a wood-chopper who worked hard in the forest all day, while the mother kept everything tidy at home and took care of Robin. Robin was an obliging, sunny-hearted little fellow who chopped the kindling as sturdily as his father chopped the dead trees and broken branches, and then he brought the water and turned the spit for his mother.

As there were no other children in the great forest, he made friends with the animals and learned to understand their talk. In the spring the mother robin, for whom he thought he was named, called him to see the blue eggs in her nest, and in the autumn the squirrels chattered with him and brought him nuts. But his four dearest friends were the Owl, who came to his window evenings and gave him wise counsel; the Hare, who played hide-and-seek with him around the bushes; the Eagle, who brought him strange pebbles and shells from the distant seashore; and the Lion, who, for friendship's sake, had quite reformed his habits and his appetite, so that he lapped milk from Robin's bowl and simply adored breakfast foods.

Suddenly all the happiness in the little cottage was turned to mourning, when the good wood-chopper was taken ill, and the mother was at her wits' end to take care of him and to provide bread and milk. Robin's heart burned within him to do something to help, but he could not swing an ax with his little hands.

"Ah," he said that night to his friend the Owl, "if I were a great knight, perhaps I could ride to the city and win the Prize for Good Luck."

"And what is the Prize for Good Luck?" asked the Owl, who knew everything in the world except that.

Then Robin explained that the lovely princess, whose hair was like spun gold and whose eyes were like the blue forget-me-nots by the brook, had lost her precious amulet, given to her by her godmother, which kept her, as long as it lay on her neck, healthy and beautiful and happy. One day, when she was playing in the flower-garden, the little gold chain snapped and the amulet rolled away. Everybody in the palace had searched, the soldiers had been called out to help, and all the small boys had been organized into an amulet brigade, for what they cannot see is usually not worth seeing at all. But no one could find it, and in the meantime the princess grew pale, and, truth to tell, rather cross. Her hair dulled a little, and her eyes looked like forget-me-nots drowned in the brook. When the court philosopher reasoned the matter out and discovered that the amulet had been carried far away, perhaps outside the kingdom, the king offered the Prize for Good Luck for its return.

"Now, if I could win the Prize for Good Luck," said Robin, "we should have bread and milk all the time, and Mother need not work so hard."

Then the Owl in her wisdom called a council of Robin's best friends, and asked them what they were going to do about it. They waited respectfully for her advice; and this was her wonderful plan:

"Robin could win the Prize for Good Luck," declared the Owl, "if only he were wise and swift and clear-sighted and strong enough. Now I will lend him my wisdom, the Hare shall lend his swiftness, the Eagle shall lend his eyesight, and the Lion shall lend his strength." And thus it was agreed.

Then the Owl went back to little Robin's window and explained the plan.

"You must remember," she said warningly, "time is precious. It is almost morning now. I cannot long spare my wisdom, for who would guide the feathered folk? If the Hare cannot run, how can he escape the fox? If the Eagle cannot see, he will dash himself into the cliff if he flies, and he will starve to death if he sits still. If the Lion's strength is gone, the wolves will be the first to know it. Return, then, without delay. At the stroke of nine o'clock to-morrow night, we shall await you here. Now go quickly, for rather would I die than live like the feather-brained blue jay."

Immediately Robin felt himself so strong and so brave that he hesitated not a minute. Swift as a hare he hastened to the palace, and at daybreak he blew the mighty horn that announced the coming of one who would seek for the amulet. The king groaned when he saw him, sure that it would be a vain quest for such a little fellow. The truth was that the court philosopher feared the amulet had been stolen by the Ogre of Ogre Castle, but no one dared to mention the fact, much less to ask the Ogre to return it. The princess, however, immediately sat up and took notice, charmed by the brave light in Robin's eyes and his merry smile.

Robin asked to be taken up into the highest tower of the palace, and there, looking leagues and leagues away to Ogre Castle, he saw with his Eagle sight the amulet, glowing like sunlight imprisoned in a ruby.

The Ogre was turning it over and over in his hand, muttering to himself, in the stupid way ogres always have: "It must be a nut, for I can see something good inside." Robin could not hear him, but he was sure, by the help of the Owl's wisdom, that it was the amulet.

In a thrice--that means while you count three--Robin was speeding away with the Hare's swiftness toward Ogre Castle, and in a few minutes he was demanding the amulet from the Ogre.

Now usually the Ogre was not at all a disagreeable fellow, and the Owl's wisdom would have easily sufficed to enable Robin to secure the amulet without trouble, but he had just tried to crack the amulet with his teeth. It broke off the very best tooth he had in his head, and his poor jaws ached so that he was in a very bad temper. He turned fiercely, and for a few minutes Robin needed all the strength the Lion had given him.

After all, the Ogre was one of the pneumatic-tire, hot-water-bag kind of giants, who flat out if you stick a pin into them and lie perfectly limp until they are bandaged up and set going once more. That is really a secret, but Robin knew it by the help of the Owl's wisdom, and he was not the least little bit afraid.

So Robin managed to get the amulet away without too much difficulty, and the Hare's swiftness quickly took him back to the palace. When the princess, who was watching from the tower window, saw the rosy light of the amulet in the distance, pinkness came back to her cheeks, and her eyes shone like stars, and she waved her lily hand to Robin in perfect happiness.

Ah, such a merrymaking as they planned for that evening! Robin was to receive the Prize for Good Luck, so much gold coin that it would take three carts and six mules to carry it back to the cottage. The king counted out money all the afternoon, and the queen put up tarts and jars of honey for Robin to take to his mother, and the princess gave him her photograph.

Now comes the sad part. It had taken so much time to reach the palace, to explain to the king, to ascend the tower and find the amulet, to conquer the Ogre of Ogre Castle, and to return to the palace, that it was almost night before Robin realized it. When the money had been counted out and the tarts wrapped in paraffin paper and the pots of honey packed in excelsior, it was seven o'clock.

Now the party was to begin at nine, for the princess had to have her white satin frock sent home from the dressmaker, and her hair had to be curled. The Punch and Judy was to come at ten, and the ice-cream was to be served at eleven, for in palaces people keep terribly late hours, not at all good for them. Just as Robin had dressed himself in a beautiful blue velvet suit, thinking how fine it was that he should open the dance with the princess and how lucky it was that he had the strength of a lion, so that he could dance at all after his busy day, he suddenly remembered his promise to the Owl.

It was such a shock that, in spite of the Lion's strength, he nearly fainted. Then he went quickly to the king and told him that he must go away at once. The king was very angry and bade him have done with such nonsense.

"Faith, you must stay," he said crossly. "There would be no living with the princess if her party is spoiled. Besides, you will lose the Prize for Good Luck, for the people have been promised that they shall see it presented to somebody to-night and we must not disappoint them."

Poor Robin's heart was heavy. How could he lose all that he had gained and go away as poor as when he came? That wasn't all nor half of all. To lose the money would be bad, but he had much more to lose than that. For one day he had enjoyed the fun of being stronger and wiser and swifter and keener-sighted than anybody else. Isn't that better than money and all the prizes for good luck? Yes, indeed, his heart answered over and over again. How could he go back and give up the wisdom and the swiftness and the clear sight and the strength, even if he could give up the money?

"I know now," he thought bitterly, "how the Owl felt when she said she would not be a feather-brain like the blue jay. And it is much more important for a boy to be strong than for a common old lion, who is pretty old anyway. And there are lots of hares in the forest and eagles on the mountain."

Then Robin slowly climbed the stairs to the tower, for he thought he would see what the Owl and the Hare and the Eagle and the Lion were doing in the forest. He looked over to the cottage, leagues and leagues away. There, under a big oak, lay the Owl, her feathers all a-flutter. She had had no more sense than to go out in the brilliant sunshine, and something had gone wrong inside her head. The saucy blue jay stood back and mocked her. Robin's heart gave one little throb of pity, but he was wise enough to see the value of wisdom, and he hardened himself. "I don't believe she has sense enough to know that anything is wrong," he said to himself.

Then he looked for the Hare. "Oh, he's all right," said Robin, gladly. But just then he saw a dark shape, only about a mile away, following the Hare's track.

Robin's heart gave two throbs of pity. "Poor old Hare!" he said. "I have had lots of fun with him."

Then he looked for the Eagle, and his heart beat hard and fast when he saw him sitting alone on the dead branch of a tree, one wing hanging bruised, perhaps broken, and his sightless eyes turned toward the tower, waiting, waiting. Blind!

Robin looked quickly for the Lion. For a time he could not find him, for tears came in his eyes as he thought of the Eagle. Then he saw the poor creature, panting from thirst, trying to drag himself to the river. He was almost there when his last bit of strength seemed to fail, and he lay still, with the water only a few yards away.

Then Robin's heart leaped and bounded with pity, and with pure gladness, too, that he was not yet too late to save his friends from the consequences of their own generosity. The last rays of sunset struck the tower as Robin, forgetting all about his blue velvet clothes and the princess and the Prize for Good Luck, ran and raced, uphill and down, through brambles and briers, over bogs and hummocks, leaving bits of lace caught on the bushes, swifter than ever he hastened to the Ogre of Ogre Castle or to the lovely princess with the amulet.

He was there--oh, yes, he was there long before nine o'clock. The Owl received back her wisdom, and I can tell you that she soon sent the saucy blue jay packing. The Hare had his swiftness, and the fox was left so far behind that he was soon glad to limp back home and eat the plain supper that Mrs. Fox had prepared for him. The poor blind Eagle opened his eyes, and saw the moon and the stars, and, better than moon and stars, the loving face of his comrade, Robin. The Lion drank his fill, and said that now he would like some breakfast food, please. So the story ended happily after all.

Oh, yes, I forgot about the Prize for Good Luck, didn't I? When the king told the princess that Robin was foolish enough to give back the wisdom and the swiftness and the clear sight and the strength that had won the prize for him, and that without them he was only a very common little boy, not good enough for a princess to dance with, she stamped her foot and called for the godmother who gave her the amulet in the first place.

Then the princess's godmother said that the princess for once was quite, quite right--that Robin must have the three cartloads of gold coin drawn by six mules, and the tarts and honey for his mother, and whenever the princess gave another party she must ask him to open the dance with her, blue velvet suit or no blue velvet suit--"because," said the godmother, "there is one thing better than wisdom or swiftness or clear sight or strength, and that is a loving heart."

* * *

_But Elizabeth had gone to sleep._

IN SPRING

Rippling and gurgling and giggling along,
The brooklets are singing their little spring song;
Laughing and lively and gay as can be,
They are skipping right merrily down to the sea.

A FAMOUS CASE

BY THEODORE C. WILLIAMS

Two honey-bees half came to blows
About the lily and the rose,
Which might the sweeter be;
And as the elephant passed by,
The bees decided to apply
To this wise referee.

The elephant, with serious thought,
Ordered the flowers to be brought,
And smelt and smelt away.
Then, swallowing both, declared his mind:
"No trace of perfume can I find,
But both resemble hay."

MORAL

Dispute is wrong. But foolish bees,
Who will contend for points like these,
Should not suppose good taste in roses
Depends on elephantine noses.

OLD-FASHIONED STORIES

THE TWELVE HUNTSMEN

Hundreds of thousands of years ago a prince met a fair maiden as he traveled through the Enchanted Land. The prince loved the maiden dearly, and she loved him as much as he loved her.

"Will you marry me?" asked the prince one day.

"Indeed I will," said the maiden, "for there is no one in all the world I love so well."

Then all was as merry as merry could be. The maiden danced and sang, and the prince laughed aloud for joy.

But one day, as they were together, a messenger arrived hot and breathless. He came from the prince's father, who was King of a neighboring kingdom.

"His Majesty is dying," said the messenger, "and he would speak with you, my lord."

"Alas," said the prince to the maiden, "I must leave you, and remain with my father until his death. Then I shall be king and I will come for you and you shall be my queen. Till then, good-by. This ring I give you as a keepsake. Once more, farewell."

The maiden drew the ring on her finger, and, with a sad heart, watched the prince ride off.

The King had but a short time to live when his son arrived at the palace. "Ah," said the dying man, "how glad I am that you are come. There is one promise I wish you to make ere I die. Then I shall close my eyes in peace."

"Surely, dear father, I will promise what you ask. There is nothing I would not do to let you rest at ease."

Then said the dying King, "Promise that you will marry the bride whom I have chosen for you," and he named a princess well known to the prince.

Without thinking of anything but to ease his father's mind, the prince said, "I promise." The King smiled gladly as he heard the words, and closed his eyes in peace.

The prince was now proclaimed King, and the time soon came when he must go to the bride his father had chosen for him, and ask, "Will you marry me?" This he did, and the princess answered, "Indeed I will."

Now the maiden who had first promised to marry the prince heard of this, and it nearly broke her heart. Each day she grew paler and thinner, until her father at last said: "Wherefore, my child, do you look so sad? Ask what you will, and I shall do my utmost to give it you."

For a moment his daughter thought. Then she said: "Dear father, find for me eleven maidens exactly like myself. Let them be fair, and tall, and slim, with curly golden hair."

"I shall do my best," said her father; and he had a search made far and wide throughout the Enchanted Land until the eleven maidens were found. Each was fair, and tall, and slim, and there was not one whose golden hair did not curl.

The maiden was pleased indeed, and she next ordered twelve huntsmen's dresses to be made of green cloth, trimmed with beaver fur; also twelve green caps each with a pheasant's feather. Then to each of the maidens she gave a dress and hat, commanding her to wear them, while the twelfth she wore herself.

The twelve huntsmen then set out on horseback to the court of the King, who, when a prince, had promised to marry their leader.

So well was the maiden disguised by the hunting-dress, that the King did not recognize her. She asked if he were in need of huntsmen, and if he would take her and her companions into his service.

Never had a finer troop been seen, and the King said he would gladly engage them. So they entered his service, and lived at the palace, and were treated with all kindness and respect.

Now among the King's favorites at court was a lion. To possess this lion was as good as to have a magician, for he knew all secret things.

One evening the lion said to the King: "You imagine you engaged twelve young huntsmen not long ago, do you not?"

"I did," said the King.

"Pray excuse me, if I contradict you," said the lion, "but I assure you, you are mistaken. They were not huntsmen whom you engaged, but twelve maidens."

"Nonsense," said the King, "absurd, ridiculous!"

"Again I would crave forgiveness if I offend," said the lion, "but those whom you believe to be huntsmen are, in truth, twelve fair maidens."

"Prove what you say, if you would have me believe it," said the King.

"To-morrow, then, summon the twelve to the royal chamber. On the floor let peas be scattered. Then, as the huntsmen advance toward you, you will see them trip and slide as maidens. If they are men they will walk with a firm tread."

"Most wise Lion!" said the King, and he ordered it to be done as the royal beast had said.

But in the palace was a servant who already loved the fair young huntsmen, and when he heard of the trap that was to be laid, he went straight to them and said, "The lion is going to prove to the King that you are maidens." Then he told them how he would seek to do this, and said, "Do your best to walk with a firm tread."

Next morning the King ordered the twelve huntsmen to be called, and as they walked across the royal chamber, it was with so firm a tread that not a single pea moved.

After they had left, the King turned to the lion and said, "You have spoken falsely. They walked as other men."

But the lion said: "They must have been warned, or they would have tripped and slidden as maidens. I will yet prove to you that I speak the truth. To-morrow, summon the twelve to the royal chamber. Let twelve spinning-wheels be placed there. Then, as the huntsmen advance toward you, you will see each cast longing looks at the spinning-wheels, which, if they were men, you must grant they would not do."

The King was pleased that the huntsmen should again be put to the test, for the lion was a wise beast and had never before been proved wrong.

But again the kind servant warned the disguised maidens, and they resolved not even to glance in the direction of the spinning-wheels.

Next morning the King ordered the twelve huntsmen to be called, and as they walked across the royal chamber there was not one of them but looked straight into the eyes of the King. It seemed as though they had not known that the spinning-wheels were there.

After they had gone the King turned to the lion, and again he said, "You have spoken falsely." Then he told the royal beast that the twelve huntsmen had not even glanced in the direction of the spinning-wheels.

"They must have been warned," repeated the lion, but the King believed him no longer.

So the huntsmen stayed with the King and went out a-hunting with him, and the more he saw of them the more he liked them.

One day, while they were in the forest, news was brought that the princess whom the King was to marry was on her way to meet the hunting-party.

When the true bride heard it, she grew white as a lily, and, staggering, fell backward. Fortunately, the trunk of a tree supported her until the King, wondering what had happened to his dear huntsman, ran to the spot and pulled off her glove.

Looking at the white hand, what was his surprise to see upon the middle finger the ring he had given to the maiden he loved. Then he looked into her face and recognized her, and in a flash he understood that she had come to court as a huntsman, only to be near him. The King was so touched that he kissed her white cheeks till they grew rosy, and her blue eyes opened in wonder. "You shall be my queen," he said, "and none in all the wide world shall separate us."

Then he sent a messenger to the princess who was coming to meet him, saying he was sorry he must ask her to return home, as the maiden that he loved and was going to marry was with him in the forest.

And the next day the bells pealed loud and far, and at the royal wedding the lion was an honored guest, because it had at last been proved that he spoke the truth.

THE TWELVE DANCING PRINCESSES

Once upon a time there was a King who had twelve daughters, each more beautiful than the other. The twelve princesses slept in a large hall, each in a little bed of her own. After they were snugly settled for the night, their father, the King, used to bolt the door on the outside. He then felt sure that his daughters would be safe until he withdrew the bolt next morning.

But one day when the King unbolted the hall door, and peeped in as usual, he saw twelve worn-out pairs of little slippers lying about the floor.

"What! shoes wanted again," he exclaimed, and after breakfast a messenger was sent to order a new pair for each of the princesses.

But the next morning the new shoes were worn out, how no one knew.

This went on and on until the King made up his mind to put an end to the mystery. The shoes, he felt sure, were danced to pieces, and he sent a herald to offer a reward to any one who should discover where the princesses held their night-frolic.

"He who succeeds, shall choose one of my daughters to be his wife," said the King, "and he shall reign after my death; but he who fails, after three nights' trial, shall be put to death."

Soon a prince arrived at the palace, and said he was willing to risk his life in the attempt to win one of the beautiful princesses.

When night came, he was given a bedroom next the hall in which the royal sisters slept. His door was left ajar and his bed placed so that from it he could watch the door of the hall. The escape of the princesses he would also watch, and he would follow them in their flight, discover their secret haunt, and marry the fairest.

This is what the prince meant to do, but before long he was fast asleep. And while he slept, the princesses danced and danced, for, in the morning, the soles of their slippers were once more riddled with holes.

The next night the prince made up his mind that stay awake he would, but again he must have fallen fast asleep, for in the morning twelve pairs of little worn-out slippers lay scattered about the floor of the hall.

The third night, in fear and trembling, the prince began his night watch. But try as he might, he could not keep his eyes open, and when in the morning the little slippers were as usual found riddled with holes, the King had no mercy on the prince who could not keep awake, and his head was at once cut off.

After his death, many princes came from far and near, each willing to risk everything in the attempt to win the fairest of these fair princesses. But each failed, and each in his turn was beheaded.

Now a poor soldier, who had been wounded in the wars, was on his way home to the town where the twelve princesses lived. One morning he met an old witch.

"You can no longer serve your country," she said. "What will you do?"

"With your help, good mother, I mean to rule it," replied the soldier; for he had heard of the mystery at the palace, and of the reward the King offered to him who should solve it.

"That need not be difficult," said the witch. "Listen to me. Go straightway to the palace. There you will be led before the throne. Tell the King that you would win the fairest of his fair daughters for your wife. His Majesty will welcome you gladly, and when night falls, you will be shown to a little bedroom. From the time you enter it, remember these three things. Firstly, refuse to drink the wine which will be offered you; secondly, pretend to fall fast asleep; thirdly, wear this when you wish to be invisible." So saying, the old dame gave him a cloak and disappeared.

Straightway, the soldier went to the palace, and was led before the throne. "I would win the fairest of your fair daughters for my wife," said he, bowing low before the King.

So anxious was his Majesty to discover the secret haunt of his daughters, that he gladly welcomed the poor soldier, and ordered that he should be dressed in scarlet and gold.

When bedtime came, the soldier was shown his little room, from which he could see the door of the sleeping-hall. No sooner had he been left alone than in glided a fair princess bearing in her hand a silver goblet.

"I bring you sweet wine. Drink," she said. The soldier took the cup and pretended to swallow, but he really let the wine trickle down into a sponge which he had fastened beneath his chin.

The princess then left him, and he went to bed and pretended to fall asleep. So well did he pretend, that before long his snores were heard by the princesses in their sleeping-hall.

"Listen," said the eldest, and they all sat up in bed and laughed and laughed till the room shook.

"If ever we were safe, we are safe to-night," they thought, as they sprang from their little white beds, and ran to and fro, opening cupboards, boxes, and cases, and taking from them dainty dresses, and ribbons, and laces and jewels.

Gaily they decked themselves before the mirror, bubbling over with mischief and merriment at the thought that once more they should enjoy their night-frolic. Only the youngest sister was quiet.

"I don't know why," she said, "but I feel so strange--as if something were going to happen."

"You are a little goose," answered the eldest, "you are always afraid. Why! I need not have put a sleeping powder in the soldier's wine. He would have slept without it. Now, are you all ready?"

The twelve princesses then stood on tiptoe at the hall door, and peered into the little room where the soldier lay, seemingly sound asleep. Yes, they were quite safe once more.

Back they went into the hall. The eldest princess tapped upon her bed. Immediately it sank into the earth, and, through the opening it had made, the princesses went down one by one.

The soldier who, peeping, had seen twelve little heads peer out of the hall door, at once threw his invisible cloak around him, and followed the princesses into the hall, unseen. He was just in time to reach the youngest, as she disappeared through the opening in the floor. Halfway down he trod upon her frock.

"Oh, what was that?" screamed the little princess, terrified. "Some one is tramping on my dress."

"Nonsense, be quiet," said the eldest, "it must have caught on a hook." Then they all went down, down, until they reached a beautiful avenue of silver trees.

Thought the soldier, "I must take away a remembrance of the place to show the King," and he broke off a twig.

"Oh, did you hear that crackling sound?" cried the youngest princess. "I told you something was going to happen."

"Baby!" replied the eldest. "The sound was a salute."

Next they came to an avenue where the trees were golden. Here the soldier again broke off a twig, and again was heard the crackling sound.

"A salute, I told you," said the eldest princess to her terrified little sister.

Further on they reached an avenue of trees that glittered with diamonds. When the soldier once more broke off a twig, the youngest princess screamed with fright, but her sisters only went on faster and faster, and she had to follow in fear and trembling.

At last they came to a great lake. Close to the shore lay twelve little boats, and in each boat stood a handsome prince, one hand upon an oar, the other outstretched to welcome a princess.

Soon the little boats rowed off, a prince and a princess in each, the soldier, still wearing his invisible cloak, sitting by the youngest sister.

"I wonder," said the prince who rowed her, "why the boat is so heavy to-day. I have to pull with all my strength, and yet can hardly get along."

"I am sure I do not know," answered the princess. "I dare say it is the hot weather."