Chapter IV: Mother Goose’s Cottage

The owl dropped to the earth like a piece of lead, and the three children, clambering off, found themselves in a little forest glade in front of a cottage,—a cottage that was small and quaint and pretty, with old-fashioned latticed windows, and a trim gay garden in front. Bizzybuzz went to the door, and rapped upon it with his queer wee hand, crying, “Open, Mother, open! I have brought you the three mortal children whom you sent me to get!”

“You have been a long time on your journey,” said a voice within. “Enter, all!” and the door opened.

There stood a very, very old woman, tall but bent, leaning on a stick, and dressed as the old picture-books always show Mother Goose. She wore a flowered gown, and a ruffled cap under a tall, black sugar-loaf hat, a white kerchief, and mits. Her shoes had big buckles and high heels, and she wore a pretty apron with pockets in it. Her hair was very white, and her face was the sweetest that the children had ever seen, but just now she looked rather stern. At her side stood an enormous, snow-white goose.

“Enter,” she said again; and they all went into the cottage,—except the owl, who had gone to sleep outside.

Inside everything was so clean and bright that it looked as though it must be a brand-new doll-house. Mother Goose was evidently a very neat, even a fussy old lady; for each little thing was in place, and scoured, and polished, and rubbed, and scrubbed, and brushed, and cleaned, and dusted, and washed, and generally taken care of, until it shone. Mother Goose’s feather duster hung on the wall, her gleaming kettle was boiling busily, and her big china teapot and funny old-fashioned cups were so clean that they caught the light and glittered like something much finer than mere china. In the smoky little fireplace was a crane, with a pot hanging on it; a pair of quaint old bellows were fastened to a peg near by. In the little latticed windows were fresh white muslin curtains and some pots of flowers. Overhead a little bird sang gaily in a cage.

“Stand in a row,” commanded Mother Goose. They all obeyed, feeling a tiny bit afraid. She sat down with her foot on a footstool, put on her spectacles and gazed at them.

“And now,” she said, very solemnly and reproachfully, “what have you to say for yourselves,—three little mortal children who have never believed in ME?”

For a moment they were silent, not knowing what to say; then Dick exclaimed: “Gracious! Are you really real, after all?”

“I am one of the queens of Make Believe Land,” answered Mother Goose, looking at him very steadily out of her bright dark eyes, “and my kingdom stretches far, far into the Real World. All the children of the world are my rightful subjects and entitled to my protection. But you—you are outlaws! You have committed the crime of Unbelief and you must suffer! That is why you have been brought to Make Believe Land.”

The three children were more frightened than ever. What would their punishment be? Then Bab looked up into Mother Goose’s face, and saw the really kind look that was shining in her eyes, back of the sternness. Suddenly Bab felt that she loved her, and she cried out impulsively, “Oh, I’m glad you’re real, after all!”

Mother Goose smiled the loveliest sort of a smile.

“You are a dear little girl,” she said, “and you shall play with my goose if you want to!” Then she looked stern again. “Just the same,” she added, “you as well as the others must learn your lesson and be punished. All this time you have not believed in me, nor loved me, nor been _my_ little girl, so you must be punished as severely as the rest.”

“What are you going to do to us?” demanded Meg, defiantly.

“A little while ago,” said Mother Goose, “you—little girl with the fair hair—said unkind things about the Fairy Queen. You will have to travel all by yourself to Fairyland, and serve the Queen faithfully for a year or a day, or until you do her so great a service that she sets you free of her own accord.”

Meg stamped her foot.

“I won’t go,” she declared. “Fairies are silly, and there aren’t any, anyway!”

Bizzybuzz fell on his face, trembling.

“Treason!” he squeaked. “Heresy! Oh, Lady Queen, dear Mother Goose! Do not kill her for saying such a terrible thing in Make Believe Land!”

“No,” said Mother Goose, gravely, “I will not kill her, but her journey must be just ten times harder for every word of that sort that she has ever said.”

Then she turned to Bab.

“You called Santa Claus a Bore!” she said. “_Santa Claus!_ Well, little lady, you will have to journey to his dwelling-place, and whatever may happen to you, you will not be bored! And there you must stay until he sets you free, which he can only do after you have been of some great service to him.”

Bab hung her head and looked almost ready to cry.

“And you,” said Mother Goose, still more sternly, turning to Dick,—“_you_ laughed at ME!”

“Yes, I did!” said little Dick, stoutly. “But I don’t see why that was so very dreadful. I’d never seen you then, you see, and how could I know that you were real? I shouldn’t laugh at you now, of course,” he added politely.

“Wouldn’t you? That is very nice of you!” said Mother Goose; and her eyes twinkled. “Well, Master Dick, at least you are honest and straightforward, and I think that some day we may be friends,—even though I _am_ ‘a regular old goose, and no mistake!’”

Dick reddened, but grinned at the same time.

“That’s what I said,” he admitted. “But I’m sure I beg your pardon!”

“Now pay close attention,” said Mother Goose, growing very serious indeed. “I am in great trouble, and your task, because you laughed at me, is to serve me, and help me out of all my worries. My dear son, Humpty Dumpty, has been a prisoner in the city of the Wicked King for three hundred and three years. They have turned him into an egg, and they keep him sitting up on the city wall from one century’s end to another.”

“Why do they do that?” asked Dick.

“It’s a long, sad story,” answered Mother Goose, with a sigh. “All you need know now is that he was angry with my poor Humpty Dumpty, and turned him into an egg. And my son has to spend all his time balancing himself on that wall, and if he should ever fall he would be broken! You don’t know how afraid I am that some day he will fall and be broken!” And a tear ran down Mother Goose’s nose.

“Worst of all,” she said with a choke, “the people come out and laugh at him!”

“Well, that’s a shame,” said Dick, sympathetically. “It must be pretty unpleasant to balance yourself on a wall for three hundred and three years, especially if you are an egg!”

“You,” continued Mother Goose, “must rescue him!”

“I! Rescue him!” exclaimed Dick. “But how?”

“You’re a boy,” said Mother Goose, “and I’ve heard you are supposed to be bright. You ought to be able to think of a way. And anyway, it’s just possible”—she paused and looked from one to the other—“it’s just possible that your sisters will be able to help you later. They have their own work to do first, but perhaps when that is done they will find time to help you. In any case, what you must remember is that the rescue of Humpty Dumpty is the thing which I wish more than anything else. Now go, all of you, and let me see how well you can obey orders and do your duty. Remember, you must not forget what each of you has been sent for, you must hurry as fast as you can, and you must not stop on the way. Good-bye, mortal children; I shall be as glad as you when you are all safe back again!”

She waved her stick, and they all hurried out of the cottage. While Bizzybuzz woke up the owl, they looked back into the room they had just left. Mother Goose was standing there with her big white goose. As they looked, she smiled,—such a beautiful, sweet, kindly smile! And somehow they knew then that nothing very terrible was going to happen to them in Make Believe Land. Then the cottage door closed, and Bizzybuzz told them to climb on the owl again.

“Oh, dear!” sighed Bab. “And now where to?”

“We are going to lunch with Moon-Eyes first,” said Bizzybuzz. “Then I shall lead you to the Wonderful Wood, and see you all three off on your journeys.”

Another second and they were once more speeding through the air. This time the flight was a short one, for they only crossed the little glade, and went about a hundred feet down a sort of avenue that the forest trees had made, to a huge oak-tree. It was the biggest tree that they had ever seen, and Bizzybuzz explained that the wild things that lived in it—Moon-Eyes among others—were very proud of its size and beauty. Into its topmost branches flew the great owl, and alighted on a small bough just under a big hole in the trunk. And there at the entrance of the hole was sitting a very pretty silver-gray owl, much smaller than the carriers. She moved her wings softly up and down, and said, “How do you do?” most politely.

Bizzybuzz cried, “Let me present you to the Lady Gray-Wing!” and bowed low to their hostess,—for evidently this was Moon-Eyes’ wife.

Lady Gray-Wing invited them to enter, and they all went into the hole in the oak-tree, and sat down around the lunch that the pretty gray owl had prepared for them.

They had acorns, and nuts, and blackberries, and queer, good herbs, and raw mushrooms, and sorrel, and rain-water served in big, silvery plantain leaves. Really everything tasted better than the meals that they had been used to eating at home. These funny woodsy things seemed much nicer than their regular suppers of eggs and jam and bread and milk, and they ate as much as they dared without being rude or greedy. Gray-Wing explained rather timidly that she had not given them mice for lunch, because she understood that mortals did not care for them much.

There was only one other guest,—a very merry and frisky red squirrel, who chattered away all the time they were eating, and begged them to come and lunch with him if they should ever be in that neighbourhood again.

And then Moon-Eyes carried them away, and took them a long, long distance, over a high rocky hill, and toward another wood, much deeper and darker and bigger than the one they had left. There, at the edge of this forest, their owl friend set them down, and bade them good-bye by nodding at them solemnly.

“You are now,” said Bizzybuzz, “at the edge of the Wonderful Wood. Each of your three ways lies through it.” “Are we all going together?” cried Meg, eagerly.

“No,” said Bizzybuzz, “you will not even meet.”

“But there is only one path!” exclaimed Bab.

“In Make Believe Land one path may lead to a great many places.”

“But if we all go the same way—” began Dick.

“You all go by the same path,” said Bizzybuzz. “But it is not only in Make Believe Land that many people travel the same path and all travel alone.”

A pathway lay before them leading into the Wonderful Wood. The three children stood for a moment looking down it, and wondering what adventures they were to have there; then they waved good-bye to Bizzybuzz, and ran into the wood.

No sooner were they on the path, in the shadows of the trees, than a strange thing happened. Each seemed to be quite alone! Where were the other two? They called to each other, but not even an echo answered. Only, far behind and dying away, each could hear the anxious voice of Bizzybuzz:

“Remember! Be very careful! Be patient, and never forget your errands. You must not forget what each of you has been sent for; you must hurry as fast as you can; you must—not—stop—by the way—”

Then—silence. And each was left alone in the Wonderful Wood!

V

_Through the Wonderful Wood_