‘Garden fairy, sweet,Some lettuce I’d eat,’
‘Garden fairy, sweet,Some lettuce I’d eat,’
‘Garden fairy, sweet,Some lettuce I’d eat,’
‘Garden fairy, sweet,
Some lettuce I’d eat,’
And straightway a whole head of lettuce would grow up before him.”
“Oh, my,” cried all the rabbits together, “how I wish that would happen to me!” And story-teller and all turned a somersault at the very thought of it. After this they sat up again to hear the rest of the story.
But their pink eyes almost burst out of their heads and their ears stood straight up toward the sky. There in front of each was a large leaf of lettuce.
“Why, the story’s coming true,” cried the story-teller,and he tasted the lettuce. “Yes,” said he, “this is real lettuce.”
The others were sure of it. They were eating theirs as fast as they could.
Now the dog, who kept the yard, hadn’t turned a somersault, so he knew about it. He saw Fred, hiding behind the fence, throw down the lettuce leaves.
“Ha, ha,” he barked, “the silly things don’t know that to-day is April Fool’s Day. Of course,” said he, thoughtfully, “they have eaten juicy lettuce leaves. That’s not foolish. Fred and I have eaten nothing.”
“That story had a happy ending,” said the rabbits, as they scampered off to play.
Which do you think was April-fooled?
The biggest puppy said one day to the little puppies, “Let us jump up on the table and enjoy ourselves. There are plenty of bread-crumbs on it. Our mistress has gone out to pay some visits.”
The little dogs said, “No, no, no, we will not go. If our mistress should hear of it she would beat us.”
“She will know nothing about it,” said the other; “come on, the crumbs are fresh and sweet.”
“Nay, nay, we must let them alone. We must not go,” said the little pups again.
But the big one gave them no peace until at last they went, and got up on the table, and ate up the bread-crumbs with all their might.
While they were at it a shadow of someone passing the window fell on the table. The big pup knew what it meant. He jumped down and made off. But the little pups were caught. Their mistress seized a stick and whipped them out of the room.
Outside the little pups said to the big pup, “Dost, dost, dost, dost thou see?”
But the mean cur gave them no satisfaction. “Didn’t, didn’t, didn’t you expect it?” said he.
So they had to grin and bear it, and make up their minds to be wiser the next time.
There was once a buttercup shining in the green grass. “You’re a little golden sun that turns everything into gold,” said a child who saw it; “perhaps you can tell a golden story.”
And would you believe it? The buttercup began without waiting a single moment: “A certain old grandmother sits out of doors every afternoon in her chair. The hands resting in her lap are wrinkled and so is her face, and her hair is as white as the driven snow. All of a sudden two smallsmooth hands steal round from the back of her chair and cover her eyes. And grandmother immediately says, ‘It’s my sweet grandchild; I’m sure of it, because she never fails to visit me,’ and she reaches up to touch a golden head.”
“Why, the story’s about me,” cried the little girl; “grandmother’s guess is never wrong.”
But the buttercup went on without pretending to hear. “Then the child runs around in front of the chair and kisses her old grandmother. There is gold in that kiss, I am certain,” said the buttercup, “because it leaves a mark of itself on grandmother’s face; it smoothes out the wrinkles and it makes her eyes shine with joy.
“That’s my golden story,” said the buttercup; “every child may go home and play it.”
And the little child was happy that what she did had been put into a golden story.
—Hans Christian Andersen
Three little clocks sat in a row on the mantelpiece. The servant had put them there to wash their faces, but they made believe they had come to school. The tall grandfather clock from the hall was the teacher. The servant had wheeled him in to sweep behind him, but he too made believe he had come to school.
“Be sure,”said Grandfather Clock to his scholars, “that you tell the right time. Everyone in the house looks to you for the time to get up, the time to eat, the time to work, the time to play, and the time to sleep. Is there any little clock here who cannot tell time? All you have to do is to move your hands around your face. When it is time to strike the hour, be sure your large hand is at twelve, and your small hand at the hour. It is very easy.”
“Is it, indeed!” said the smallest clock; “how about it when people forget to wind us up?”
“Yes, yes,” cried the other two little clocks, “how about that?”
“Silence,” cried Grandfather Clock, sternly; “that is a saucy way for little clocks to talk.”
At this moment the servant began to wheel Grandfather Clock back into the hall.
“School is out,” he said.
So that was the end of it.
Once three small black kittens begged their mother to play with them. Mother Tabby said nothing, but gave her tail a sly wag to one side. The kittens started back and looked at it. Mother Tabby whisked it over to the other side.
“It is alive,” thought the kittens. They arched their backs, and the smallest kitten put out his paw to make it move again. Whack! went Mother Tabby’s tail on his nose. The little kitten scampered off.
But he was back again in a minute, and the fun kept up until Mother Tabby walked off as if to say, “It is time for little kittens to be in bed.”
Last Hallowe’en a saucy red apple played a joke. When little Tom ducked for him he bobbed backward and forward so dizzily that little Tom lost his balance and toppled into the tub. The saucy red apple laughed as loudly as any apple can laugh.
But what was that he heard Tom’s big brother saying? The big brother had pulled Tom out of the water before you could say “Jack Robinson,” and Tom was dripping wet and bawling with fright. What did the saucy red apple hear? It was Tom’s big brother saying, “Here, Tom, is a little red apple for you.” And he handed the saucy red apple to Tom.
The saucy red apple stopped laughing suddenly, for he found himself between little Tom’s sharp teeth.
So Tom had the best of the joke after all, hadn’t he?
“You dirty black thing,” cried the diamond to the coal, “do not come near me.”
“I will not indeed,” said the coal; “you are too beautiful for the likes of me. I might dim your brilliance.”
When she heard this answer, the proud diamond was ashamed of herself. “Press close to me,” she said, “you are my own sister. I am only more highly polished.”
Once a lion roaming through the forest trod on a thorn and it stuck in his foot. In great pain he limped out to a shepherd and looked up at him beseechingly. The shepherd gently drew out the thorn. The lion fawned upon him and licked his hand to thank him.
Not long after the shepherd was blamed for a wrong he had not done. The king said he must die. “Throw him to the lions and let him be torn to pieces,” commanded the king.
The king’s officers seized the poor shepherd and threw him into the arena, before the lion’s cage. Out stalked a lion. It was the very one the shepherd had helped. And lo! instead of tearing theshepherd to pieces the noble beast fawned upon him and licked his hand.
The king was amazed. He ordered the shepherd to tell him what it all meant. When he heard he let the shepherd go back to his sheep and the lion back to the free forest.
One night a gorgeous balloon when his candle was lighted found himself beside a dull brown acorn.
“What a stupid dolt you are to stay here where you cannot be seen!” he cried, as someone sent him up into the air.
Higher and higher he mounted above the roofs of the houses. “Perhaps he will reach the stars,” said the acorn, gazing up after him.
Just then the balloon turned giddy with pride. He reeled, caught fire, and his brief splendor was over.
Years after, in the spot where the acorn had lain that night, a great oak stood up toward heaven and spread his branches wide over the earth.
THE END