Chapter I: Part 1

The
Reign of
KING
OBERON

_Edited by_
Walter Jerrold
_Illustrated by_
Charles Robinson

_London & Toronto
J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd.
New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. Inc._
]

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

Preface

+MY DEAR YOUNG FOLKS+,

Here are some more stories from the wonderful Annals of Fairyland. How they were first told at the Court of King Oberon, and how they came to be recorded you will learn at the beginning, and much as you love the little people you will, I think, like them even better when you have learned all that this volume has to tell. Mr William Canton has told you the stories properly belonging to “The Reign of King Herla,” Mr J. M. Gibbon showed you how a famous merry old soul and his court found entertainment in story-telling in “The Reign of King Cole,” and now it is my pleasant privilege to put before you, from the inexhaustible Annals, those tales which properly belong to “The Reign of King Oberon.”

Of course you may have already met some of these stories before, for most of our best writers have been made free of Fairyland and have written of the wonderful things they learned there; Hans Christian Andersen and the Brothers Grimm have long since been famous for all that they have told of their visits to the marvellous land, and some of the stories which they brought back will be found to belong to the reign of Oberon and Titania, while others have been told by Ben Jonson, by Thomas Hood, by Charles Perrault, by Thomas Crofton Croker, by Douglas Jerrold, by Benjamin Thorpe and by Sir George Dasent--but old or new all have the perennial youthfulness of the fairies themselves, and as long as we can truly enjoy them we shall not grow old.

+THE EDITOR.+

_To My Children_.]

_One time I chanced upon a fairy ring
Wherein Titania’s lieges held their court,
And watched the fairies merrily disport,
While sweetly the near nightingale did fling
His magic music over everything,
Till all in me was to that wonder wrought
Where feeling reaches heights unknown to thought,
Where spirit unto spirit seems to sing._

_My heart ached when too soon one fairy went
To rest ’mid flow’rs, and yet it came to pass
In that green world there seemed no room for fears,--
By dancing joys fresh joy to me was sent,
Though ever more that vacant place there was,
When dews befell, and in my eyes were tears._

_W. J._

Contents

PAGE

_The Reign of King Oberon_ 1

_The Gifts of the Dwarfs_ 12

_Thumbeline_ 22

_The Young Piper_ 37

_Rumpel-Stilts-Ken_ 48

_Karl Katz_ 55

_The Wild Swans_ 65

_The Herd-Boy_ 84

_The Nose-Tree_ 99

_The Pranks of Robin Goodfellow_ 109

_The Golden Lantern, the Golden Goat, and the Golden Cloak_ 117

_Hansel and Grethel_ 129

_The Magic Bottles_ 144

_Princess Rosette_ 157

_The Bear and Skrattel_ 179

_The Goose-Girl_ 193

_The Water of Life_ 203

_The Troll’s Hammer_ 215

_The Three Little Crones, each with Something big_ 223

_The Queen’s Song_ 232

_The Three Sneezes_ 234

_The Elf-Hill_ 243

_Riquet with the Tuft_ 254

_The Benevolent Frog_ 265

_Allwise the Dwarf_ 298

_The Fairy at the Well_ 305

_Dolly, draw the Cake_ 313

_The Little Glass Shoe_ 315

_East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon_ 322

_Queen Mab_ 336

List of Illustrations

PAGE

_King Oberon_ Coloured frontispiece

_Queen Titania_ 1

_A small Indian prince had been stolen_ 2

_And a fairy baby left in its place_ 3

“_I do but beg a little changeling boy_” 4

“_The Fairyland buys not the child of men_” 5

_At once all the little people were hurrying to obey the monarch’s
behest_ 8-9

_The Scandinavian dwarf_ 11

_His long red beard waved in the sky as he drove in his goat-drawn
chariot_ 12

_Loki descending into the cave of the dwarfs_ 17

_Loki’s punishment_ 20

_The fairy prince_ 21

_Right in the middle of the flower sat a little tiny girl_ 22

_The old toad made a deep curtsey in the water before her_ 24

_Every snowflake which fell upon her was like a shovelful on one
of us_ 27

_It was not dead but lay in a swoon_ 30

_Fiddle-de-dee said the field mouse_ 32

_What was her astonishment to find a little man in the middle of
the flower_ 35

_The Irish fairy_ 36

_A big laughing potato in their hands_ 37

_Sitting cross-legged on the top of a wave_ 44

_Jumped clean off the cart over the bridge down into the water_ 45

_The gnome_ 47

_The miller’s daughter_ 48

_The king came in the morning_ 51

_Dashed his right foot so deep into the floor that he was forced
to lay hold of it with both hands to pull it out_ 53

_The gnome_ 54

_On he went scrambling_ 55

_Twelve strange old figures amusing themselves very sedately with
a game of nine-pins_ 59

_The strange-looking man with the long grey beard_ 63

_Fairy Peaseblossom_ 64

_He laid his head against her bosom_ 65

_The Saviour looked down and little angels’ heads peeped out above
His head and under His arms_ 69

_Even on her way to her death she could not abandon her unfinished
work_ 81

_Moth_ 83

_He found it was a pair of very small shoes_ 84

_The young herdsman advanced boldly_ 93

_Tailpiece_ 97

_Puck_ 98

_Three poor soldiers set out on their road home_ 99

_Still it grew and grew_ 103

“_We will follow it and find its owner_” 105

_As for the doctor, he put on the cloak, and was soon with his two
brothers_ 108

_Robin Goodfellow_ 108

_The pranks of Robin Goodfellow_ 109

“_What revel rout_” 110

“_There’s not a hag or ghost shall wag_” 111

“_And call them on with me to roam thro’ lakes, thro’ bogs_” 112

“_The maids I kiss_” 113

“_I them affright with pinchings, dreams, and ho, ho, ho!_” 114

“_And elf in bed, we leave instead_” 115

“_So vale, vale, ho, ho, ho!_” 116

_The Swedish Troll_ 116

_There appeared a strong light as of fire_ 117

_Pinkel seized her by the feet and cast her headlong into the
water_ 121

_They went again before the king_ 125

_His brothers continued to be helpers in the stable as long as
they lived_ 128

_The German Fairy_ 128

_On one of the branches sat a little child_ 129

_Lingering behind to drop one pebble after another along the
road_ 131

_I will eat off the roof for my share_ 135

_Fastened him up in a coop_ 137

_Tailpiece_ 142

_Robin Starveling_ 143

_Mick found that he hadn’t enough half to pay the rent_ 144

“_Here take the bottle_” 148

_Mick went home muttering prayers and holding fast the bottle_ 149

_In a moment the landlord was tumbled on the floor, and all were
roaring and sprawling and shrieking_ 153

_In jumped the men into the new bottle_ 156

_The French Fay_ 156

“_Welcome! what would you ask of me?_” 157

_Fretillon started barking at them_ 168

_Fretillon_ 177

_The Norwegian Dwarf_ 178

_Away they went_ 179

_He lets them loose_ 182

_The bear would throw him in the air_ 187

_The elf was one moment on the bear’s back_ 191

_The second German Fairy_ 192

_She set off on her journey_ 193

_Falada, Falada, there thou hangest_ 197

_Tailpiece_ 201

_The fairy sat down again_ 202

_He was found to abide spellbound_ 203

_He came to a room where a beautiful lady sat upon a couch_ 208-9

_The friendly dwarf with the sugarloaf hat_ 214

_The dwarf from Sweden_ 214

_Niels wandered forth_ 215

_See here is a hammer_ 217

_The blade struck him in the face_ 222

_The Norwegian Fairy_ 222

_The three little crones_ 223

_Mother Bigfoot_ 228

_The Queen was so enraged that her eyes flashed fury_ 229

_Nymphidia_ 231

_Round about, round about, in a fine ring-a_ 232

_Bottom_ 233

_He took the glass and drained it_ 234

_Billy found himself sitting on horseback the wrong way_ 237

_Billy danced the Rinka_ 241

_The Danish Elf_ 242

_Some lizards were running in and out of the clefts in an old
tree_ 243

_Preserve us how nimble they were on their legs_ 249

_“I like the boys better,” said the earthworm_ 252

_The French Fay_ 253

_It was doubted whether his form were really human_ 254

_There came forth a band of cooks_ 259

_Tailpiece_ 263

_The French Fay_ 264

_The cap of roses_ 265

_Placing the queen on her back she carried her to her cave_ 268

_A little princess had been born to her_ 275

_The audience_ 280-1

_A dragon half a league long coming through the air_ 293

_Tailpiece_ 296

_The Scandinavian Dwarf_ 297

_Thou art pale about the nose_ 298

_Allwise the dwarf and Thor_ 301

_The dwarf was suddenly turned into a figure of stone_ 304

_Quick_ 304

_She held it up to the woman_ 305

_How is this my daughter_ 307

_Tailpiece_ 309

_Pink_ 310

_They put the cake into the oven_ 312

_St Dolly slept on a flour sack_ 313

_Tailpiece_ 313

_Seated himself firmly on the stool_ 314

_He ran away with it_ 315

_Tailpiece_ 318

_John understood too well the nature of his crop_ 319

_The dwarf from the North_ 321

_What should he see but a big white bear_ 322

_He was so worn out he had to rest many days before he could get
home again_ 331

_Queen Titania_ 335

_But when a bad child goes to bed_ 336

_And from the moon she flutters down_ 337

_Tailpiece_ 338

_Tailpiece_ 339

THE REIGN OF KING OBERON]

The Reign of King Oberon

In all the annals of Fairyland nothing is more wonderful--and the annals are found in many hundreds of volumes--than that chapter which tells of the reign of the true fairy King Oberon and his beautiful wife Titania, who is sometimes called Queen Mab. Marvellous are the doings of Oberon’s little subjects in every land--good fairies and bad fairies, dwarfs, elves and sprites, brownies, pixies and gnomes, pucks, trolls and kobolds and Robin Goodfellow--and marvellous are the tales which have been told of them by travellers in the fairy realms.

Now, once upon a time there was sadness throughout the whole kingdom of Oberon--and his kingdom has no boundaries--because of a quarrel which had arisen between the king and the queen. It was a very small matter to begin with, but the king was a king and did not think it consorted with his dignity as such that his will should not be law, while the lovely Queen Titania thought that even the powerful king of the fairies should give way to her wishes. A small Indian prince, a dusky child, son of a mighty monarch of the East, had been stolen and a fairy baby left in its place and King Oberon wanted the changeling to be one of the knights of his train, while Queen Titania insisted on keeping him as one of her pages. Long and bitter was the quarrel but neither king nor queen would give way, and at length they parted and half the fairies marched off under the banner of the king and half under the banner of the queen.

Now you know of course that it was the fairies that looked after all things, the flowers and the trees, the streams and lakes, the little birds and beasts, and even--though they might not be aware of it--after the doings of many men and women; thus when it befel that their king and queen quarrelled and all the fairies rallied to their separate courts everything was neglected: the corn died unripened, the grass withered in the fields, so that the flocks and herds starved, the summers were cold and wet, the winters were sickly and mild, and many good men, women and children lost their tempers and became troublesome and unhappy they knew not why, and certainly never imagined that it was all because of a quarrel between the rulers of the world-wide kingdom of Fairy.

For a long time it seemed as though the king and queen would not be reconciled. When they met Oberon would say, “I do but beg a little changeling boy to be my henchman”; and Titania would reply, “Set your heart at rest, the Fairyland buys not the child of me.” And again the king would say, “Give me the boy and I will go with thee”; and the queen would answer, “Not for thy fairy kingdom.” Luckily Oberon by means of his fairy-arts was finally able to win his way and gain the little changeling for his retinue, the king and queen were reconciled and all the fairies returned to their happy work: the crops and grass revived, flowers bloomed everywhere, the birds sang, summer was once more warm and sunny, and winter once more white and frosty, while men, women and children suddenly regained their good tempers, knowing as little why they did so as why they had lost them. All the world was indeed once again bright and happy as it should be. Great was the rejoicing throughout the realm of Fairyland, and greater still it became when King Oberon summoned to his court all his subjects from all parts of the world to celebrate the reconciliation. Quick as thought his wish was made known by Ariel and Puck his ready messengers, and at once all the little people were hurrying to obey the monarch’s behest, and within the forty minutes which Puck takes to put a girdle round about the earth all had assembled. Then there was such a sight of wonderful splendour as would have astonished human eyes: there in beautiful colours were fairies from the flowers and the rainbows, from streams and woodland, elves, dwarfs and gnomes from caves under the earth where gold is hammered and precious stones are made; there were pixies and brownies and quaint little sprites innumerable; there was Cinderella’s fairy godmother, and there was Allwise the dwarf who wanted to marry Thor’s daughter; there was Robin Goodfellow, and there was Ariel; there were Titania’s attendant fairies Peaseblossom and Cobweb, Moth and Mustardseed; there was Thumbeline and the fairy Prince her husband, and Hop-o-my-Thumb, and Thumbling; there were the King’s courtiers--Perriwiggin, Perriwincle, Puck, Hob-Goblin, Tomalin and Tom-Thumb; there were the Queen’s maids of honour--Hop, Mop, Drop, Pip, Drip, Skip, Tub, Tib, Tick, Pink, Pin, Quick, Gill, Un, Tit, Wap, Win, Wit with Nymphidia the mother of the maids--but if I were to give you a list of all the different fairies who gathered about Oberon’s court I should fill up this book and leave no room for any stories or for Mr Robinson’s illustrations.

There were, to put it shortly, all the fairies that ever lived, all the fairies that you ever knew, told of in tales or dreamed of in dreams, and a marvellous sight it would have been if we could have seen them gathered about the fairy palace of King Oberon. Everyone knew everyone else, and many were the stories told of elfish mischief and of benefits done to good people by their attendant fairies. Oberon and Titania passing along, talking to their happy subjects and attended by the changeling boy who had caused so much trouble, overheard one of these stories, and turning to his queen, the king said: “My Titania, shall we not hear some of these stories which our people can tell of their doings with men, women and children in the world of big folk?” Titania readily agreed that it would be delightful; and elfin trumpeters passed amid the multitude and blew their horns, and said that all were to arrange themselves in the great Fairy Ring and were to be prepared to tell stories until the dawn. Then there was a pretty hustling and bustling of merry crowds jostling and soon all were arranged in circles about the great Fairy Ring, and Oberon and Titania ascended a throne which was beautifully formed of sweet-scented flowers that never faded. At the foot of the throne a stool was placed, and on it the story-tellers were to sit while amusing the Court; such was the magic of the circle that though the fairy speaking only addressed himself to the king and queen, his voice was heard even by the fairies furthest away, on the very outermost part of the ring. Happily for us the changeling boy was there sitting on the steps of the throne, and when, years afterwards, he found his way back to his father’s kingdom, he wrote down all the wonderful stories he had heard at the Court of King Oberon, and they have since been translated into many tongues by many writers, so that some of them will no doubt be familiar to you. Here, however, we have the stories just as Oberon’s changeling wrote them down, and the first story was repeated by a Scandinavian dwarf out of the cold north, who told how it was that the great hero Thor got

The Gifts of the Dwarfs

Thor was, as you know, the strongest and noblest of the great giants of the north. He was tall in stature and had fiery brown eyes, from which the light flashed like lightning, while his long red beard waved through the sky as he drove in his goat-drawn chariot. Brilliant sparks flew from the hoofs and teeth of the two goats, while a crown of bright stars shone above Thor’s head. When he was angered the wheels of his chariot rumbled and crashed their passage through the air, until men trembled and hid, telling each other that Thor had gone to battle with the Rime-giants or other of his enemies. Now Thor’s wife was named Sib, and she was most beautiful to look upon. Her soft, browny-gold hair was so long and thick that it would cover her from the crown of her head to her little feet, and her deep brown eyes looked into the faces of her friends as those of a mother look into the face of her child. Loki, the mischief-maker among the giants, often looked at Sib and longed to do her some evil, for he was jealous, thinking that it was not right that she should be praised and loved by everyone; go where he would he could find no one who did not speak well of her.

It happened one day when the summer was nearly gone that Loki found Sib alone and sleeping on a bank near the river, so he drew his knife, and creeping softly nearer and nearer, cut off her beautiful flowing hair quite close to her head. Then he joyfully rushed away and strewed it far and wide over the whole earth, so that it became no longer living and golden but faded and turned a dull colour as the winds blew it about and the rains beat upon it, and crushed it in between the rocks and stones. When Sib awoke and was about to push the hair from her face, she felt that something was wrong. Wonderingly she ran to the water and looking at her reflection in the clear depths, saw that nothing but a short stubble stood up all over her head. All her lovely hair was gone! Only one would have dared to treat her so badly, and in her grief and anger she called upon Thor to come to her aid.

Loki had of course fled and was hiding far away in another country among the rocks when he heard the distant rumblings of thunder, and tried to shrink deeper into the crevices between the great stones, but the awful sound grew louder, and at last the angry flash from Thor’s eyes darted to the very spot where the mischievous one lay. Then Thor pulled him out and shook him from side to side in his enormous hands, and would have crushed his bones upon the hard rocks had not Loki in great terror asked what good his death would do, for it certainly would not bring Sib’s hair back. Then Thor set the mischief-maker on his feet, though still keeping a tight hold on him, and asked what he would do to repair the evil which he had done. Loki promptly answered that he would go down into the mountains to the dwarfs, and get Iwald’s sons to make some golden hair for Sib, as good as that which he had destroyed. Now Iwald had had seven sons, and these all lived deep below the earth in the great caverns which lie below the mountains, and these sons were small and dark; they did not like the daylight for they were little dwarfs who could see best without the sun to dazzle their eyes; they knew where gold and silver grew, and they could tell where to find beautiful shining stones, which were red, and white, and yellow, and green; they knew the way all over the world by running through caverns and passages under the mountains, and wherever they could find precious stones or metals they built a furnace, and made an anvil, and hammer and bellows, and everything that was wanted in a smithy; for they knew how to fashion the most wonderful things from gold and iron and stone, and they had knowledge which made them more powerful than the people who lived above the ground.

Thor let the mischief-maker go to get the help of the dwarfs to repair the wrong which he had done, and Loki sought about the mountain-side until he found a hole which would lead him into Iwald’s cave, and then he promptly dropped into it. There in a dark cave gleaming with many sparkling lights he went to the two cleverest dwarfs who were named Sindri and Brok, and told them what it was he wanted, adding that he would be in sore trouble with Thor if they could not help him. Now Sindri and Brok knew all about Loki perfectly well; they knew all about his mischievous ways and the evil he so often wrought, but as they liked Thor and Sib they were willing to give the help which was asked of them. Thus without more ado, for these dwarfs never wasted their words, Sindri and Brok began their work.

Huge blocks of earth-brown stone were cast into the furnace until they were in a white heat, when drop by drop red gold trickled from them into the ashes. This was all gathered together, and the glistening heap taken to the dwarf women, who, crushing it in their hands before it had hardened, drew it out upon their wheels, and spun it into fine soft hair. While they were doing this Brok sought amongst his treasures until he found the blue of the ocean and the tough inner pith of an underground tree; these, with other things, were cast into the furnace, and afterwards beaten with his hammer. As the rhythmic strokes fell, the women sang a song which was like the voice of a strong, steady wind. Then when this work was finished, the smith drew forth a little ship, which was carefully placed on one side. The third time the dwarf went to a dark corner, and brought out an ugly bent bar of iron, and this, with two feathers from the wings of the wind, was heated to melting whiteness, and wrought with great cunning and extreme care, for it was to be a spear for Odin himself, the greatest of all the Heroes.

Then Brok and Sindri called Loki to them and giving him these three things bade him hasten back to the Heroes at Asgard and appease their wrath. Loki, however, was already beginning to feel sorry that he had been so successful; he liked teasing folk but he did not like having to atone for his mischief afterwards. He turned the marvellous gifts over scornfully in his hands, and said that he did not see anything very wonderful in _them_; then, looking at Sindri he added, “However, Brok has hammered them very skilfully, and I will wager my head that you could not make anything better.”

Now the brother dwarfs had not by any means expected gratitude, but neither had they expected any such rudeness as this, so Sindri determined to give Loki a lesson. Going to one corner of the smithy he picked up a pig-skin and taking the hammer in his hands, told his brother to blow steadily, neither to falter nor to fail until he passed the word that the work was done. Then with strength and gentleness he wrought with his tools, having cast nothing into the heat but the pig-skin; with mighty blows and delicate touches he brought thickness and substance into it, until a boar looked at him from the flames. Loki, fearing for his head, changed himself into an enormous forest fly, and settling upon Brok’s hand, stung with vicious fury; but the dwarf would not trouble to brush the fly away, and steadily moved the bellows until his brother called to him to stop, when they drew forth a strong flexible boar whose bristles were of the finest gold.

Then without saying anything or paying any attention to the spiteful words which Loki kept uttering, Sindri chose from a heap of gold the most solid lump he could find and flung it into the white flames. Thrice it was heated and cooled, and the dark elf turned it and worked it with wonderful skill, and in the glow Loki saw a broad red ring, which seemed to live and move. Again he tried to spoil the work as a fly, and bit deeply into Brok’s neck, but Brok would not so much as raise his hand to rid him of the pain. When the ring was finally laid to cool, so marvellously had it been wrought that from it each ninth night would fall eight rings as beautiful as itself.

Now came the last test of Sindri’s cunning. He cast into the furnace a piece of fine iron, and told Brok his hand must neither tremble nor stay, or the whole of their work would be useless. Then with wild songs of strength upon his lips he hammered and tapped, until those who were in the cave felt that they were out among the roaring waves; they could hear the ice mountains grind and crash to pieces, and the thunder of Thor’s chariot wheels rushing through the heavens. A frenzied horror seized upon Loki’s mind. If these wretched dwarfs were going to make anything to add to Thor’s strength he knew that it would be his own ruin. So, changing himself to a hornet, he sprang upon the forehead of Brok, and dug so fiercely into his eyelids that the blood trickled down and blinded him. Then the dwarf let go of the bellows for one moment to clear his eyes, and Sindri cried out that what lay in the furnace came near to being spoiled, and with that he took a red-hot hammer up with his tongs. It was neither pretty, nor particularly large, while the handle was an inch too short because of Loki’s spite.

Then Brok and Loki set out for Asgard, Loki carrying the three wonderful things which had been given to him, while Brok carried the three marvels which Sindri had so cunningly wrought and accompanied the mischief-maker, that the Heroes might judge who had won the wager so rashly offered by Loki. When they reached Asgard the Heroes seated themselves on their high seats agreeing among themselves that Odin, Thor and Frey should be judges in this case.

First, Loki offered to Odin the spear Gungner which was so wonderfully made that it never failed to hit the thing at which it was thrown, and it always sped back to the hand which had thrown it. Later, when Odin carried this spear in battle, if he shook it over his enemies they became so frightened that they all wanted to run away, but if he shook it over his friends they were so filled with courage that they could not be conquered. Then Thor received the hair, and when it was placed upon Sib’s head it grew to her like living tresses, curling and waving in the wind. To Frey the ship was given, and though it was so small that it could be folded and carried in his pocket, when it was placed upon the waves it would grow large enough to hold an army of warriors with all their war gear; besides, as soon as the sails were hoisted, the wind would blow it whithersoever it was desired that the ship should go.

Brok then made his offerings, and to Odin he gave the ring Draupnir which had been made with such magic skill that every ninth night eight other rings dropped off it, though no one could see how they came; this the greatest of the Heroes ever wore upon his arm, until the death of his beautiful son Balder, when, as token of his great love he placed it upon the dead youth’s breast as he lay on his funeral pyre. To Frey was given the golden boar, which would run faster than any horse, over the sea or through the air, and wherever it went, there it would be light, because the bristles shone so brightly. To Thor Brok gave the dull-looking hammer, saying, that whatever he struck with it would be destroyed; that no blow could be hard enough to hurt it; that if he threw it, it would return to him so that he could never lose it; and that as he wished so would its size be--yet there was one fault about it, and that was that the handle was an inch too short.

It was with great joy that Thor took this treasure, knowing that in it he had something to help him in fighting the evil Rime-giants who were always trying to get the whole world for themselves until driven back by him.

Then the Heroes decided that of all the gifts the hammer was the best, and that, therefore, Loki had lost his wager and must lose his head. Loki offered to give all sorts of things to save himself, but the dwarf would not listen to any of them. “Catch me, then!” cried the mischievous one; but when Brok stretched his hand upon him Loki had gone, for he wore shoes which would carry him over the sea or through the air.

“Catch him!” cried the ugly little dwarf piteously to Thor, and in an instant Loki stood before them, trembling in Thor’s strong grasp. Then the clever one argued that it was his head only which had been wagered, and that not one little tiny bit of his neck might be taken, or the dwarf would have more than his bargain. At this Brok cried impatiently that the head of a wicked person was of no use to him, all that he wanted was to stop Loki’s tongue so that he could work less evil, and he took a knife and thread and tried to pierce holes in Loki’s lips, but Loki bewitched the knife so that it would not cut.

“If only I had Sindri’s awl,” sighed the dwarf, and instantly his brother’s awl was in his hand. Swiftly it pierced the lips of the mischief-maker, and swiftly Brok sewed them together and broke off the thread at the end of the sewing.

Then the Heroes gave presents for the dwarfs in return for their wonderful things, and Brok returned to his cave. As for Loki, I think that it was not long before he loosed his lips and returned to his mischief-making.

* * * * *

When the Scandinavian dwarf ceased speaking there was murmuring all over the circle at the meannesses of Loki, and everyone felt glad that Thor had been so well served by the dwarfs and hoped that the mischief-maker, though he escaped that time after all, later met with the reward which he deserved. I think that if the Scandinavian dwarf had chosen to do so he might have told a very grim story of how it was that the wicked Loki came to his fate at last, but there were so many fairies, dwarfs, fays, gnomes, trolls, pucks, and other little people who were ready to tell stories that I don’t think that they would have let the Scandinavian dwarf tell another story if he had wanted to. When he went back to his place in the great circle, the little fairy prince of a bright warm country sprang on to the stool in front of Oberon’s throne and said that he would be glad to tell the story of his wife’s life, and how it was that she came to marry him.

“And what is your wife’s name?” said Oberon.

“Her name,” answered the little prince, “is

Thumbeline

There was once a woman who had the greatest longing for a little tiny child, but she had no idea where to get one; so she went to an old witch and said to her, “I do so long to have a little child, will you tell me where I can get one?”

“Oh, we shall be able to manage that,” said the witch. “Here is a barley corn for you; it is not at all the same kind as that which grows in the peasant’s field, or with which chickens are fed; plant it in a flower-pot and you will see what will appear.”

“Thank you, oh, thank you!” said the woman, and she gave the witch twelve pennies, then went home and planted the barley corn, and a large, handsome flower sprang up at once; it looked exactly like a tulip, but the petals were tightly shut up, just as if they were still in bud. “That is a lovely flower,” said the woman, and she kissed the pretty red and yellow petals; as she kissed it the flower burst open with a loud snap. It was a real tulip, you could see that; but right in the middle of the flower on the green stool sat a little tiny girl, most lovely and delicate; she was not more than an inch in height, so she was called Thumbeline.

Her cradle was a smartly varnished walnut shell, with the blue petals of violets for a mattress and a rose-leaf to cover her; she slept in it at night, but during the day she played about on the table where the woman had placed a plate, surrounded by a wreath of flowers on the outer edge with their stalks in water. A large tulip petal floated on the water, and on this little Thumbeline sat and sailed about from one side of the plate to the other; she had two white horse hairs for oars. It was a pretty sight. She could sing, too, with such delicacy and charm as was never heard before.

One night as she lay in her pretty bed, a great ugly toad hopped in at the window, for there was a broken pane. Ugh! how hideous that great wet toad was; it hopped right down on to the table where Thumbeline lay fast asleep, under the red rose-leaf.

“Here is a lovely wife for my son,” said the toad, and then she took up the walnut shell where Thumbeline slept and hopped away with it through the window, down into the garden. A great broad stream ran through it, but just at the edge it was swampy and muddy, and it was here that the toad lived with her son. Ugh! how ugly and hideous he was too, exactly like his mother. “Koax, koax, brekke-ke-kex,” that was all he had to say when he saw the lovely little girl in the walnut shell.

“Do not talk so loud or you will wake her,” said the old toad; “she might escape us yet, for she is as light as thistledown! We will put her on one of the broad water-lily leaves out in the stream; it will be just like an island to her, she is so small and light. She won’t be able to run away from there while we get the state-room ready down under the mud, which you are to inhabit.”

A great many water-lilies grew in the stream, their broad green leaves looked as if they were floating on the surface of the water. The leaf which was furthest from the shore was also the biggest, and to this one the old toad swam out with the walnut shell in which little Thumbeline lay.

The poor, tiny, little creature woke up quite early in the morning, and when she saw where she was she began to cry most bitterly, for there was water on every side of the big green leaf, and she could not reach the land at any point.

The old toad sat in the mud decking out her abode with grasses and the buds of the yellow water-lilies, so as to have it very nice for the new daughter-in-law, and then she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf where Thumbeline stood; they wanted to fetch her pretty bed to place it in the bridal chamber before they took her there. The old toad made a deep curtsey in the water before her, and said, “Here is my son, who is to be your husband, and you are to live together most comfortably down in the mud.”

“Koax, koax, brekke-ke-kex,” that was all the son could say.

Then they took the pretty little bed and swam away with it, but Thumbeline sat quite alone on the green leaf and cried because she did not want to live with the ugly toad, or have her horrid son for a husband. The little fish which swam about in the water had no doubt seen the toad and heard what she said, so they stuck their heads up, wishing, I suppose, to see the little girl. As soon as they saw her, they were delighted with her, and were quite grieved to think that she was to go down to live with the ugly toad. No, that should never happen. They flocked together down in the water round about the green stem which held the leaf she stood upon, and gnawed at it with their teeth till it floated away down the stream carrying Thumbeline away where the toad could not follow her.

Thumbeline sailed past place after place, and the little birds in the bushes saw her and sang, “What a lovely little maid.” The leaf with her on it floated further and further away and in this manner reached foreign lands.

A pretty little white butterfly fluttered round and round her for some time and at last settled on the leaf, for it had taken quite a fancy to Thumbeline; she was so happy now, because the toad could not reach her and she was sailing through such lovely scenes; the sun shone on the water and it looked like liquid gold. Then she took her sash and tied one end round the butterfly, and the other she made fast to the leaf which went gliding on quicker and quicker, and she with it for she was standing on the leaf.

At this moment a big cockchafer came flying along, he caught sight of her and in an instant he fixed his claw round her slender waist and flew off with her, up into a tree, but the green leaf floated down the stream and the butterfly with it, for he was tied to it and could not get loose.

Heavens! how frightened poor little Thumbeline was when the cockchafer carried her up into the tree, but she was most of all grieved about the pretty white butterfly which she had fastened to the leaf; if he could not succeed in getting loose he would be starved to death.

But the cockchafer cared nothing for that. He settled with her on the largest leaf on the tree, and fed her with honey from the flowers, and he said that she was lovely although she was not a bit like a chafer. Presently all the other chafers which lived in the tree came to visit them; they looked at Thumbeline and the young lady chafers twitched their feelers and said, “She has only got two legs, what a poor effect it has.” “She has no feelers,” said another. “She is so slender in the waist, fie, she looks like a human being.” “How ugly she is,” said all the mother chafers, and yet little Thumbeline was so pretty. That was certainly also the opinion of the cockchafer who had captured her, but when all the others said she was ugly, he at last began to believe it too, and would not have anything more to do with her, she might go wherever she liked! They flew down from the tree with her and placed her on a daisy, where she cried because she was so ugly that the chafers would have nothing to do with her; and after all, she was more beautiful than anything you could imagine, as delicate and transparent as the finest rose-leaf.

Poor little Thumbeline lived all the summer quite alone in the wood. She plaited a bed of grass for herself and hung it up under a big dock-leaf which sheltered her from the rain; she sucked the honey from the flowers for her food, and her drink was the dew which lay on the leaves in the morning. In this way the summer and autumn passed, but then came the winter. All the birds which used to sing so sweetly to her flew away, the great dock-leaf under which she had lived shrivelled up leaving nothing but a dead yellow stalk, and she shivered with the cold, for her clothes were worn out; she was such a tiny creature, poor little Thumbeline, she certainly must be frozen to death. It began to snow and every snowflake which fell upon her was like a whole shovelful upon her, for she was so very, very small. Then she wrapped herself up in a withered leaf, but that did not warm her much, she trembled with the cold.

Close to the wood in which she had been living lay a large cornfield, but the corn had long ago been carried away and nothing remained but the bare, dry, stubble which stood up out of the frozen ground. The stubble was quite a forest for her to walk about in; oh, how she shook with the cold. Then she came to the door of a field-mouse’s home. It was a little hole down under the stubble. The field-mouse lived so cosily and warm there, her whole room was full of corn, and she had a beautiful kitchen and larder besides. Poor Thumbeline stood just inside the door like any other poor beggar child and begged for a little piece of barley corn, for she had had nothing to eat for two whole days.

“You poor little thing,” said the field-mouse, for she was at bottom a good old field-mouse. “Come into my warm room and dine with me.” Then, as she took a fancy to Thumbeline, she said, “You may with pleasure stay with me for the winter, but you must keep my room clean and tidy and tell me stories, for I am very fond of them,” and Thumbeline did what the good old field-mouse desired and was on the whole very comfortable.

“Now we shall soon have a visitor,” said the field-mouse; “my neighbour generally comes to see me every week-day. He is even better housed than I am; his rooms are very large and he wears a most beautiful black velvet coat; if only you could get him for a husband you would indeed be well settled, but he can’t see. You must tell him all the most beautiful stories you know.”

But Thumbeline did not like this, and she would have nothing to say to the neighbour for he was a mole. He came and paid a visit in his black velvet coat. He was very rich and wise, said the field-mouse, and his home was twenty times as large as hers; and he had much learning but he did not like the sun or the beautiful flowers, in fact he spoke slightingly of them for he had never seen them. Thumbeline had to sing to him and she sang both “Fly away cockchafer” and “A monk, he wandered through the meadow,” then the mole fell in love with her because of her sweet voice, but he did not say anything for he was of a discreet turn of mind.

He had just made a long tunnel through the ground from his house to theirs, and he gave the field-mouse and Thumbeline leave to walk in it whenever they liked. He told them not to be afraid of the dead bird which was lying in the passage. It was a whole bird with feathers and beak which had probably died quite recently at the beginning of the winter and was now entombed just where he had made his tunnel.

The mole took a piece of tinder-wood in his mouth, for that shines like fire in the dark, and walked in front of them to light them in the long dark passage; when they came to the place where the dead bird lay, the mole thrust his broad nose up to the roof and pushed the earth up so as to make a big hole through which the daylight shone. In the middle of the floor lay a dead swallow, with its pretty wings closely pressed to its sides, and the legs and head drawn in under the feathers; no doubt the poor bird had died of cold. Thumbeline was so sorry for it; she loved all the little birds, for they had twittered and sung so sweetly to her during the whole summer; but the mole kicked it with his short legs and said, “Now it will pipe no more! It must be a miserable fate to be born a little bird! Thank heaven! no child of mine can be a bird; a bird like that has nothing but its twitter and dies of hunger in the winter.”

“Yes, as a sensible man, you may well say that,” said the field-mouse. “What _has_ a bird for all its twittering when the cold weather comes? It has to hunger and freeze, but then it must cut a dash.”

Thumbeline did not say anything, but when the others turned their backs to the bird, she stooped down and stroked aside the feathers which lay over its head, and kissed its closed eyes. “Perhaps it was this very bird which sang so sweetly to me in the summer,” she thought; “what pleasure it gave me, the dear pretty bird.”

The mole now closed up the hole which let in the daylight and conducted the ladies to their home. Thumbeline could not sleep at all in the night, so she got up out of her bed and plaited a large handsome mat of hay and then she carried it down and spread it all over the dead bird, and laid some soft cotton wool which she had found in the field-mouse’s room close round its sides, so that it might have a warm bed on the cold ground.

“Good-bye, you sweet little bird,” said she, “good-bye, and thank you for your sweet song through the summer when all the trees were green and the sun shone warmly upon us.” Then she laid her head close up to the bird’s breast, but was quite startled at a sound, as if something was thumping inside it. It was the bird’s heart. It was not dead but lay in a swoon, and now that it had been warmed it began to revive.

In the autumn all the swallows fly away to warm countries, but if one happens to be belated, it feels the cold so much that it falls down like a dead thing, and remains lying where it falls till the snow covers it up. Thumbeline quite shook with fright for the bird was very, very big beside her, but she gathered up her courage, packed the wool closer round the poor bird, and fetched a leaf of mint which she had herself for a coverlet and laid it over the bird’s head. The next night she stole down again to it and found it alive but so feeble that it could only just open its eyes for a moment to look at Thumbeline who stood with a bit of tinder-wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern.

“Many, many thanks, you sweet child,” said the sick swallow to her; “you have warmed me beautifully. I shall soon have strength to fly out into the warm sun again.”

“Oh!” said she, “it is so cold outside, it snows and freezes, stay in your warm bed, I will tend you.” Then she brought water to the swallow in a leaf, and when it had drunk some, it told her how it had torn its wing on a blackthorn bush, and therefore could not fly as fast as the other swallows which were taking flight then for the distant warm lands. At last it fell down on the ground, but after that it remembered nothing and did not in the least know how it had got into the tunnel.

It stayed there all the winter, and Thumbeline was good to it and grew very fond of it. She did not tell either the mole or the field-mouse anything about it, for they did not like the poor unfortunate swallow.

As soon as the spring came and the warmth of the sun penetrated the ground, the swallow said good-bye to Thumbeline, who opened the hole which the mole had made above. The sun streamed in deliciously upon them, and the swallow asked if she would not go with him, she could sit upon his back and they would fly far away into the green wood. But Thumbeline knew that it would grieve the old field-mouse if she left her like that.

“No, I can’t,” said Thumbeline.

“Good-bye, good-bye, then, you kind pretty girl,” said the swallow, and flew out into the sunshine. Thumbeline looked after him and her eyes filled with tears, for she was very fond of the poor swallow.

“Tweet, tweet,” sang the bird, and flew into the green wood.

Thumbeline was very sad. She was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine at all; the corn which was sown in the field near the field-mouse’s house grew quite long, it was a thick forest for the poor little girl who was so very, very small.

“You must work at your trousseau this summer,” said the mouse to her, for their neighbour the tiresome mole in his black velvet coat had asked her to marry him. “You shall have both woollen and linen, you shall have wherewith to clothe and cover yourself when you become the mole’s wife.” Thumbeline had to turn the distaff and the field-mouse hired four spiders to spin and weave day and night. The mole paid a visit every evening and he was always saying that when the summer came to an end, the sun would not shine nearly so warmly; now it burnt the ground as hard as a stone. Yes, when the summer was over he would celebrate his marriage; but Thumbeline was not at all pleased, for she did not care a bit for the tiresome mole. Every morning at sunrise and every evening at sunset she used to steal out to the door, and when the wind blew aside the tops of the cornstalks so that she could see the blue sky, she thought how bright and lovely it was out there, and wished so much to see the dear swallow again; but it never came back; no doubt it was a long way off, flying about in the beautiful green woods.

When the autumn came all Thumbeline’s outfit was ready.

“In four weeks you must be married,” said the field-mouse to her. But Thumbeline cried and said that she would not have the tiresome mole for a husband.

“Fiddle-dee-dee,” said the field-mouse; “don’t be obstinate or I shall bite you with my white tooth. You are going to have a splendid husband; the queen herself hasn’t the equal of his black velvet coat; both his kitchen and his cellar are full. You should thank heaven for such a husband!”

So they were to be married; the mole had come to fetch Thumbeline; she was to live deep down under the ground with him, and never to go out into the warm sunshine, for he could not bear it. The poor child was very sad at the thought of bidding good-bye to the beautiful sun; while she had been with the field-mouse she had at least been allowed to look at it from the door.

“Good-bye, you bright sun,” she said as she stretched out her arms towards it and went a little way outside the field-mouse’s house, for now the harvest was over and only the stubble remained. “Good-bye, good-bye!” she said, and threw her tiny arms round a little red flower growing there. “Give my love to the dear swallow if you happen to see him.”