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Title: My Book of Favorite Fairy Tales
Author: Vredenburg, Edric
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "My Book of Favorite Fairy Tales" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.





[Illustration: From "THE GOOSE GIRL"]

[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_









_Publishers in Their Majesties the King & Queen_






[Illustration: From "THE SLEEPING BEAUTY"]


















[Illustration: From "THE WHITE FAWN"]


    THE GOOSE GIRL _Frontispiece_












[Illustration: From "PRINCESS GOLDENHAIR"]

[Illustration: From "CINDERELLA"]


Here they are again, the old, old stories, the very best; dear
Cinderella, wicked old Bluebeard, tiny Thumbling, beautiful Beauty and
the ugly Beast, and a host of others. But the old stories, I may tell
you, are always new, and always must be so, because there are new
children to read them every day, and to these, of course, these old
tales might have been written yesterday.

But the stories in this book are new in another way. Look how they are
clothed, look at their beautiful setting, the wonderful pictures! Have
you ever seen such charming princes and lovely princesses, such dainty
grace and delicate feeling?

What would our grandfathers and grandmothers have said of such a book!
They would have thought there was magic in the brush and pencil.

Surely we are favoured in this generation when we see before us, the
old, old fairy tales, which are ever new, dressed in such a beautiful
and splendid fashion!


[Illustration: From "HANSEL AND GRETHEL"]



An old queen, whose husband had been dead some years, had a beautiful
daughter. When she grew up, she was betrothed to a prince who lived
a great way off; and as the time drew near for her to be married, she
got ready to set off on her journey to his country. Then the queen,
her mother, packed up a great many costly things--jewels, and gold,
and silver; trinkets, fine dresses, and, in short, everything that
became a royal bride; for she loved her child very dearly: and she
gave her a waiting-maid to ride with her, and give her into the
bridegroom's hands; and each had a horse for the journey. Now the
princess's horse was called Falada, and could speak.

When the time came for them to set out, the old queen went into her
bed-chamber, and took a little knife, and cut off a lock of her hair,
and gave it to her daughter, and said, "Take care of it, dear child;
for it is a charm that may be of use to you on the road." Then they
took a sorrowful leave of each other, and the princess put the lock of
her mother's hair into her bosom, got upon her horse, and set off on
her journey to her bridegroom's kingdom. One day, as they were riding
along by the side of a brook, the princess began to feel very thirsty,
and said to her maid, "Pray get down and fetch me some water, in my
golden cup, out of yonder brook, for I want to drink." "Nay," said
the maid, "if you are thirsty, get down yourself, and lie down by the
water and drink; I shall not be your waiting-maid any longer." Then
the princess was so thirsty that she got down, and knelt over the
brook and drank, for she was frightened, and dared not bring out her
golden cup; and then she wept, and said "Alas! what will become of
me?" And the lock of hair answered her, and said--

      "Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
      Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."

But the princess was very humble and meek, so she said nothing to her
maid's ill behaviour, but got upon her horse again.

Then all rode further on their journey, till the day grew so warm, and
the sun so scorching, that the bride began to feel very thirsty again;
and at last, when they came to a river, she forgot her maid's rude
speech, and said, "Pray get down and fetch me some water to drink
in my golden cup." But the maid answered her, and even spoke more
haughtily than before, "Drink, if you will, but I shall not be your
waiting-maid." Then the princess was so thirsty that she got off her
horse and lay down, and held her head over the running stream, and
cried, and said, "What will become of me?" And the lock of hair
answered her again--

      "Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
      Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."

And as she leaned down to drink, the lock of hair fell from her bosom
and floated away with the water, without her seeing it, she was so
frightened. But her maid saw it, and was very glad, for she knew the
charm, and saw that the poor bride would be in her power now that she
had lost the hair. So when the bride had drunk, and would have got
upon Falada again, the maid said, "I shall ride upon Falada and you
may have my horse instead;" so she was forced to give up her horse,
and soon afterwards to take off her royal clothes, and put on her
maid's shabby ones.

At last, as they drew near the end of the journey, this treacherous
servant threatened to kill her mistress if she ever told anyone what
had happened. But Falada saw it all, and marked it well. Then the
waiting-maid got upon Falada, and the real bride was set upon the
other horse, and they went on in this way till at last they came
to the royal court. There was great joy at their coming, the prince
hurried to meet them, and lifted the maid from her horse, thinking she
was the one who was to be his wife; and she was led upstairs to the
royal chamber, but the true princess was told to stay in the court


But the old king happened to be looking out of the window, and saw her
in the yard below; and as she looked very pretty, and too delicate for
a waiting-maid, he went into the royal chamber to ask the bride who it
was she had brought with her, that was thus left standing in the
court below. "I brought her with me for the sake of her company on the
road," said she. "Pray give the girl some work to do, that she may not
be idle." The old king could not for some time think of any work for
her to do, but at last he said, "I have a lad who takes care of my
geese; she may go and help him." Now the name of this lad, that the
real bride was to help in watching the king's geese, was Curdken.

Soon after, the false bride said to the prince, "Dear husband pray do
me one piece of kindness." "That I will," said the prince. "Then tell
one of your slaughterers to cut off the head of the horse I rode upon,
for it was very unruly, and plagued me sadly on the road." But the
truth was, she was very much afraid lest Falada should speak, and
tell all she had done to the princess. She carried her point, and the
faithful Falada was killed; but when the true princess heard of it she
wept, and begged the man to nail up Falada's head against a large
dark gate in the city through which she had to pass every morning
and evening, that there she might still see him sometimes. Then the
slaughterer said he would do as she wished; cut off the head, and
nailed it fast under the dark gate.

Early the next morning, as she and Curdken went out through the gate,
she said sorrowfully--

      "Falada, Falada, there thou art hanging!"

and the head answered--

      "Bride, bride, there thou art ganging!
      Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
      Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."

Then they went out of the city, and drove the geese in. And when she
came to the meadow, she sat down upon a bank here, and let down her
waving locks of hair, which were all of pure gold; and when Curdken
saw it glitter in the sun, he ran up, and would have pulled some of
the locks out; but she cried--

      "Blow, breezes, blow!
      Let Curdken's hat go!
      Blow, breezes, blow!
      Let him after it go!
      O'er hills, dales, and rocks.
      Away be it whirl'd,
      Till the golden locks
      Are all comb'd and curl'd!"


Then there came a wind, so strong that it blew off Curdken's hat, and
away it flew over the hills, and he after it; till, by the time he
came back, she had done combing and curling her hair, and put it up
again safe. Then he was very angry and sulky, and would not speak
to her at all; but they watched the geese until it grew dark in the
evening, and then drove them homewards.

The next morning, as they were going through the dark gate, the poor
girl looked up at Falada's head, and cried--

      "Falada, Falada, there thou art hanging!"

and it answered--

      "Bride, bride, there thou art ganging!
      Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
      Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."

Then she drove on the geese and sat down again in the meadow, and
began to comb out her hair as before, and Curdken ran up to her, and
wanted to take hold of it; but she cried out quickly--

      "Blow, breezes, blow!
      Let Curdken's hat go,
      Blow, breezes, blow!
      Let him after it go!
      O'er hills, dales, and rocks,
      Away be it whirl'd,
      Till the golden locks
      Are all comb'd and curl'd!"

Then the wind came and blew his hat, and off it flew a great way, over
the hills and far away, so that he had to run after it; and when he
came back, she had done up her hair again, and all was safe. So they
watched the geese till it grew dark.

In the evening, after they came home, Curdken went to the old king,
and said, "I cannot have that strange girl to help me to keep the
geese any longer."

"Why?" said the king.

"Because she does nothing but tease me all day long."

Then the king made him tell all that had passed.

And Curdken said, "When we go in the morning through the dark gate
with our flock of geese, she weeps, and talks with the head of a horse
that hangs upon the wall, and says--

      "'Falada, Falada, there thou art hanging!'"

and the head answers--

      "'Bride, bride, there thou art ganging!
      Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
      Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it.'"

And Curdken went on telling the king what had happened upon the meadow
where the geese fed; and how his hat was blown away, and he was forced
to run after it, and leave his flock. But the old king told him to
go out again as usual the next day, and when morning came, the king
placed himself behind the gate, and heard how she spoke to Falada, and
how Falada answered; and then he went into the field and hid himself
in a bush by the meadow's side, and soon saw with his own eyes how
they drove the flock of geese, and how, after a little time, she let
down her hair that glittered in the sun; and then he heard her say--

      "Blow, breezes, blow!
      Let Curdken's hat go!
      Blow, breezes, blow!
      Let him after it go!
      O'er hills, dales, and rocks,
      Away be it whirl'd,
      Till the golden locks,
      Are all comb'd and curl'd!"


And soon came a gale of wind, and carried away Curdken's hat, while
the girl went on combing and curling her hair.

All this the old king saw: so he went home without being seen; and
when the little goose girl came back in the evening, he called her
aside, and asked her why she did so: but she burst into tears, and
said, "That I must not tell you or any man, or I shall lose my life."

But the old king begged so hard that she had no peace till she had
told him all, word for word: and it was very lucky for her that she
did so, for the king ordered royal clothes to be put upon her, and
gazed on her with wonder, she was so beautiful.

Then he called his son, and told him that he had only the false bride,
for that she was merely a waiting-maid, while the true one stood by.

And the young king rejoiced when he saw her beauty, and heard how meek
and patient she had been; and without saying anything, ordered a great
feast to be got ready for all his court.

The bridegroom sat at the top, with the false princess on one side,
and the true one on the other; but nobody knew her, for she was quite
dazzling to their eyes, and was not at all like the little goose-girl,
now that she had her brilliant dress.

When they had eaten and drunk, and were very merry, the old king told
all the story, as one that he had once heard of, and asked the true
waiting-maid what she thought ought to be done to anyone who would
behave thus.

"Nothing better," said this false bride, "than that she should be
thrown into a cask stuck round with sharp nails, and that two white
horses should be put to it, and should drag it from street to street
till she is dead."

"Thou art she!" said the old king; "and since thou hast judged
thyself, it shall be so done to thee."

And the young king was married to his true wife, and they reigned over
the kingdom in peace and happiness all their lives.



It was in the middle of winter, when the broad flakes of snow were
falling around, that a certain queen sat working at the window, the
frame of which was made of fine black ebony; and as she was looking
out upon the snow, she pricked her finger, and three drops of blood
fell upon it. Then she gazed thoughtfully upon the red drops which
sprinkled the white snow, and said, "Would that my little daughter
may be as white as that snow, as red as the blood, and as black as the
ebony window-frame!" And so the little girl grew up: her skin was as
white as snow, her cheeks as rosy as blood, and her hair as black as
ebony; and she was called Snow-White.

But this queen died; and the king soon married another wife, who was
very beautiful, but so proud that she could not bear to think that any
one could surpass her. She had a magical looking-glass, to which she
used to go and gaze upon herself in it, and say,

      "Tell me, glass, tell me true!
      Of all the ladies in the land.
      Who is fairest? Tell me who?"

And the glass answered, "Thou, Queen, art fairest in the land."

But Snow-White grew more and more beautiful; and when she was seven
years old, she was as bright as the day, and fairer than the queen
herself. Then the glass one day answered the queen, when she went to
consult it as usual:

      "Thou, Queen, may'st fair and beauteous be,
      But Snow-White is lovelier far than thee!"

When she heard this she turned pale with rage and envy; and calling
to one of her servants said, "Take Snow-White away into the wide wood,
that I may never see her more." Then the servant led her away; but his
heart melted when she begged him to spare her life, and he said, "I
will not hurt thee, thou pretty child." So he left her by herself, and
though he thought it most likely that the wild beasts would tear her
to pieces, he felt as if a great weight were taken off his heart when
he had made up his mind not to kill her, but leave her to her fate.


Then poor Snow-White wandered along through the wood in great fear;
and the wild beasts roared about her, but none did her any harm. In
the evening she came to a little cottage, and went in there to rest
herself, for her weary feet would carry her no further. Everything was
spruce and neat in the cottage: on the table was spread a white cloth,
and there were seven little plates with seven little loaves and seven
little glasses with wine in them; and knives and forks laid in order,
and by the wall stood seven little beds. Then, as she was very hungry,
she picked a little piece off each loaf, and drank a very little wine
out of each glass; and after that she thought she would lie down and
rest. So she tried all the little beds; and one was too long, and
another was too short, till at last the seventh suited her; and there
she laid herself down and went to sleep. Presently in came the masters
of the cottage, who were seven little dwarfs that lived among the
mountains, and dug and searched about for gold. They lighted up their
seven lamps, and saw directly that all was not right. The first said,
"Who has been sitting on my stool?" The second, "Who has been eating
off my plate?" The third, "Who has been picking at my bread?" the
fourth, "Who has been meddling with my spoon?" The fifth, "Who has
been handling my fork?" The sixth, "Who has been cutting with my
knife?" The seventh, "Who has been drinking my wine?" Then the first
looked round and said. "Who has been lying on my bed?" And the rest
came running to him, and every one cried out that somebody had been
upon his bed. But the seventh saw Snow-White, and called upon his
brethren to come and see her; and they cried out with wonder and
astonishment, and brought their lamps to look at her, and said, "Good
heavens! What a lovely child she is!" and they were delighted to see
her, and took care not to waken her; and the seventh dwarf slept an
hour with each of the other dwarfs in turn, till the night was gone.


In the morning Snow-White told them all her story; and they pitied
her, and said if she would keep all things in order, and cook and
wash, and knit and spin for them, she might stay where she was, and
they would take good care of her. Then they went out all day long
to their work, seeking for gold and silver in the mountains; and
Snow-White remained at home: and they warned her, and said, "The queen
will soon find out where you are, so take care and let no one in." But
the queen, now that she thought Snow-White was dead, believed that
she was certainly the handsomest lady in the land; and she went to her
glass, and the glass answered,

      "Thou, Queen, thou art fairest in all this land;
      But over the hills, in the greenwood shade.
      Where the seven dwarfs their dwelling have made.
      There Snow-White is hiding her head; and she
      Is lovelier far, O Queen, than thee."

Then the queen was very much alarmed; for she knew that the glass
always spoke the truth, and was sure that the servant had betrayed
her. And she could not bear to think that anyone lived who was more
beautiful than she was; so she disguised herself as a pedlar and went
her way over the hills to the place where the dwarfs dwelt. Then
she knocked at the door, and cried, "Fine wares to sell!" Snow-White
looked out of the window, and cried, "Good-day, good woman; what have
you to sell?" "Good wares, fine wares," said she; "laces and bobbins
of all colours." "I will let the old lady in; she seems to be a
very good sort of a body," thought Snow-White; so she ran down, and
unbolted the door. "Bless me!" said the woman, "how badly your
stays are laced. Let me lace them up with one of my nice new laces."
Snow-White did not dream of any mischief; so she stood up before
the old woman; but she set to work so nimbly, and pulled the lace so
tight, that Snow-White lost her breath, and fell down as if she were
dead. "There's an end of all thy beauty," said the spiteful queen, and
went away home.


In the evening the seven dwarfs returned; and I need not say how
grieved they were to see their faithful Snow-White stretched upon the
ground motionless, as if she were quite dead. However, they lifted her
up, and when they found what was the matter, they cut the lace; and in
a little time she began to breathe, and soon came to life again. Then
they said, "The old woman was the queen herself; take care another
time, and let no one in when we are away."

When the queen got home, she went to her glass, and spoke to it, but
to her surprise it said the same words as before.

Then the blood ran cold in her heart with spite and malice to see
that Snow-White still lived; and she dressed herself up again in a
disguise, but very different from the one she wore before, and took
with her a poisoned comb, When she reached the dwarf's cottage, she
knocked at the door, and cried, "Fine wares to sell!" but Snow-White
said, "I dare not let anyone in." Then the queen begged, "Only look at
my beautiful combs;" and gave her the poisoned one. And it looked so
pretty that she took it up and put it into her hair to try it; but the
moment it touched her head the poison was so powerful that she fell
down senseless.

"There you may lie," said the queen, and went her way. But by good
luck the dwarfs returned very early that evening; and when they saw
Snow-White lying on the ground, they thought what had happened,
and soon found the poisoned comb. And when they took it away, she
recovered, and told them all that had passed; and they warned her once
more not to open the door to anyone.


Meantime the queen went home to her glass, and trembled with rage
when she received exactly the same answer as before; and she said
"Snow-White shall die, if it costs me my life." So she went secretly
into a chamber, and prepared a poisoned apple; the outside looked very
rosy and tempting, but whosoever tasted it was sure to die. Then she
dressed herself up as a peasant's wife, and travelled over the hills
to the dwarfs' cottage, and knocked at the door; but Snow-White put
her head out of the window, and said, "I dare not let anyone in, for
the dwarfs have told me not to." "Do as you please," said the old
woman, "but at any rate take this pretty apple; I will make you a
present of it." "No," said Snow-White, "I dare not take it." "You
silly girl!" answered the other, "what are you afraid of? Do you think
it is poisoned? Come! do you eat one part, and I will eat the other."
Now the apple was so prepared that one side was good, though the other
side was poisoned. Then Snow-White was very much tempted to taste, for
the apple looked exceedingly nice; and when she saw the old woman eat,
she could refrain no longer. But she had scarcely put the piece into
her mouth, when she fell down dead upon the ground. "This time nothing
will save thee," said the queen; and she went home to her glass, and
at last it said,

      "Thou, Queen, art the fairest of all the fair."

And then her envious heart was glad, and as happy as such a heart
could be.

When evening came, and the dwarfs returned home, they found Snow-White
lying on the ground; no breath passed her lips, and they were afraid
that she was quite dead. They lifted her up, and combed her hair,
and washed her face with wine and water; but all was in vain, for the
little girl seemed quite dead. So they laid her down upon a bier, and
all seven watched and bewailed her three whole days; and then they
proposed to bury her; but her cheeks were still rosy, and her face
looked just as it did while she was alive; so they said, "We will
never bury her in the cold ground." And they made a coffin of glass
so that they might still look at her, and wrote her name upon it in
golden letters, and that she was a king's daughter. And the coffin
was placed upon the hill, and one of the dwarfs always sat by it and
watched. And the birds of the air came too, and bemoaned Snow-White.
First of all came an owl, and then a raven, but at last came a dove.

And thus Snow-White lay for a long, long time, and still only looked
as though she were asleep; for she was even now as white as snow,
and as red as blood, and as black as ebony. At last a prince came and
called at the dwarfs' house; and he saw Snow-White, and read what
was written in gold letters. Then he offered the dwarfs money, and
earnestly prayed them to let him take her away; but they said, "We
will not part with her for all the gold in the world." At last,
however, they had pity on him, and gave him the coffin; but the moment
he lifted it up to carry it home with him, the piece of apple fell
from between her lips, and Snow-White awoke, and said, "Where am I?"
And the prince answered, "Thou art safe with me." Then he told her all
that had happened, and said, "I love you better than all the world;
come with me to my father's palace, and you shall be my wife." And
Snow-White consented, and went home with the prince; and everything
was prepared with great pomp and splendour for their wedding.

To the feast was invited, among the rest, Snow-White's old enemy,
the queen; and as she was dressing herself in fine, rich clothes, she
looked, in the glass, and the glass answered,

      "Thou, lady, art the loveliest _here_, I ween;
      But lovelier far is the new-made queen."

When she heard this, she started with rage; but her envy and curiosity
were so great, that she could not help setting out to see the bride.
And when she arrived, and saw that it was none other than Snow-White,
who she thought had been dead a long while, she choked with passion,
and fell ill and died; but Snow-White and the prince lived and reigned
happily over that land many, many years.




The wife of a rich man fell sick: and when she felt that her end drew
nigh, she called her only daughter to her bedside, and said, "Always
be a good girl, and I will look down from heaven and watch over you."
Soon afterwards she shut her eyes and died, and was buried in the
garden; and the little girl went every day to her grave and wept,
and was always good and kind to all about her. And the snow spread a
beautiful white covering over the grave: but by the time the sun had
melted it away again, her father had married another wife. This new
wife had two daughters of her own, that she brought home with her:
they were fair in face but foul at heart, and it was now a sorry time
for the poor little girl. "What does the good-for-nothing thing want
in the parlour?" said they; "they who would eat bread should first
earn it; away with the kitchen maid!" Then they took away her fine
clothes, and gave her an old frock to put on, and laughed at her and
turned her into the kitchen.

Then she was forced to do hard work; to rise early, before daylight,
to bring the water, to make the fire, to cook and to wash. Besides
that, the sisters plagued her in all sorts of ways and laughed at her.
In the evening, when she was tired, she had no bed to lie down on, but
was made to sleep by the hearth among the ashes; and then, as she was
of course always dusty and dirty, they called her Cinderella.

It happened once that the father was going to the fair, and asked his
wife's daughters what he should bring them. "Fine clothes," said the
first: "Pearls and diamonds," said the second. "Now, child," said he
to his own daughter, "what will you have?" "The first sprig, dear
father, that rubs against your hat on your way home," said she. Then
he bought for the two first the fine clothes and pearls and diamonds
they had asked for: and on his way home as he rode through a green
copse, a sprig of hazel brushed against him, and almost pushed off his
hat; so he broke it off and brought it away; and when he got home he
gave it to his daughter. Then she took it and went to her mother's
grave and planted it there, and cried so much that it was watered with
her tears; and there it grew and became a fine tree. Three times every
day she went to it and wept; and soon a little bird came and built
its nest upon the tree, and talked with her and watched over her, and
brought her whatever she wished for.

Now it happened that the king of the land held a feast which was to
last three days, and out of those who came to it his son was to choose
a bride for himself; and Cinderella's two sisters were asked to come.
So they called her up and said, "Now, comb our hair, brush our shoes,
and tie our sashes for us, for we are going to dance at the king's
feast." Then she did as she was told, but when all was done she could
not help crying, for she thought to herself, she would have liked to
go to the dance too; and at last she begged her mother very hard to
let her go. "You! Cinderella?" said she; "you who have nothing to
wear, no clothes at all, and who cannot even dance--you want to go to
the ball?" And when she kept on begging--to get rid of her, she said
at last, "I will throw this basinful of peas into the ash heap, and
if you have picked them all out in two hours' time you shall go to
the feast too." Then she threw the peas into the ashes; but the little
maiden ran out at the back door into the garden, and cried out--

      "Hither, hither, through the sky.
      Turtle-doves and linnets, fly!
      Blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch gay,
      Hither, hither, haste away!
      One and all, come help me quick,
      Haste ye, haste ye--pick, pick, pick!"


Then first came two white doves flying in at the kitchen window; and
next came two turtle-doves; and after them all the little birds under
heaven came chirping and fluttering in, and flew down into the ashes;
and the little doves stooped their heads down and set to work, pick,
pick, pick; and then the others began to pick, pick, pick; and picked
out all the good grain and put it in a dish, and left the ashes. At
the end of one hour the work was done, and all flew out again at the
windows. Then Cinderella brought the dish to her mother, overjoyed at
the thought that now she should go to the feast. But she said, "No,
no! Girl, you have no clothes and cannot dance, you shall not go." And
when Cinderella begged very hard to go, she said, "If you can in one
hour's time pick two of these dishes of peas out of the ashes, you
shall go too." And thus she thought she should at last get rid of her.
So she shook two dishes of peas into the ashes; but the little maiden
went out into the garden at the back of the house, and cried as

      "Hither, hither, through the sky.
      Turtle-doves and linnets, fly!
      Blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch gay,
      Hither, hither, haste away!
      One and all, come help me quick,
      Haste ye, haste ye--pick, pick, pick!"

Then first came two white doves in at the kitchen window; and next
came the turtle-doves; and after them all the little birds under
heaven came chirping and hopping about, and flew down about the ashes;
and the little doves put their heads down and set to work, pick, pick,
pick; and then the others began to pick, pick, pick; and they put
all the good grain into the dishes, and left all the ashes, Before
half-an-hour's time all was done, and out they flew again. And then
Cinderella took the dishes to her mother, rejoicing to think that she
should now go to the ball. But her mother said, "It is all of no use,
you cannot go, you have no clothes, and cannot dance, and you would
only put us to shame:" and off she went with her two daughters to the

Now when all were gone, and nobody left at home, Cinderella went
sorrowfully and sat down under the hazel-tree, and cried out--

      "Shake, shake, hazel tree,
      Gold and silver over me!"

Then her friend the bird flew out of the tree and brought a gold and
silver dress for her, and slippers of spangled silk; and she put them
on, and followed her sisters to the feast. But they did not know her,
and thought it must be some strange princess, she looked so fine
and beautiful in her rich clothes; and they never once thought of
Cinderella, but took for granted that she was safe at home in the

[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_


The king's son soon came up to her, and took her by the hand and
danced with her and no one else; and he never left her hand; but when
any one else came to ask her to dance, he said, "This lady is dancing
with me." Thus they danced till a late hour of the night, and then she
wanted to go home: and the king's son said, "I shall go and take care
of you to your home;" for he wanted to see where the beautiful maid
lived. But she slipped away from him unawares, and ran off towards
home, and the prince followed her; but she jumped up into the
pigeon-house and shut the door. Then he waited till her father came
home, and told him that the unknown maiden who had been at the feast
had hidden herself in the pigeon-house. But when they had broken open
the door they found no one within; and as they came back into the
house, Cinderella lay as she always did, in her dirty frock by the
ashes, and her dim little lamp burnt in the chimney; for she had
run as quickly as she could through the pigeon-house and on to the
hazel-tree, and had there taken off her beautiful clothes, and laid
them beneath the tree, that the bird might carry them away, and had
seated herself amid the ashes again in her little old frock.

The next day, when the feast was again held, and her father, mother,
and sisters were gone, Cinderella went to the hazel tree, and said--

      "Shake, shake, hazel tree,
      Gold and silver over me!"

And the bird came and brought a still finer dress than the one she had
worn the day before. And when she came in it to the ball, every one
wondered at her beauty; but the king's son, who was waiting for her,
took her by the hand, and danced with her; and when any one asked
her to dance, he said as before, "This lady is dancing with me." When
night came she wanted to go home; and the king's son followed her as
before, that he might see into what house she went; but she sprang
away from him, all at once, into the garden behind her father's house.
In this garden stood a fine large pear tree full of ripe fruit; and
Cinderella, not knowing where to hide herself, jumped up into it
without being seen. Then the king's son could not find out where she
was gone, but waited till her father came home, and said to him, "The
unknown lady who danced with me has slipped away, and I think she must
have sprung into the pear tree." The father thought to himself, "Can
it be Cinderella?" So he ordered an axe to be brought; and they cut
down the tree, but found no one upon it. And when they came back into
the kitchen, there lay Cinderella in the ashes as usual; for she had
slipped down on the other side of the tree, and carried her beautiful
clothes back to the bird at the hazel tree, and then put on her little
old frock.

The third day, when her father and mother and sisters were gone she
went again into the garden, and said---

      "Shake, shake, hazel tree,
      Gold and silver over me!"

Then her kind friend the bird brought a dress still finer than the
former ones, and slippers which were all of gold; so that when she
came to the feast no one knew what to say for wonder at her beauty;
and the king's son danced with her alone; and when any one else asked
her to dance he said, "This lady is my partner." Now when night came
she wanted to go home; and the king's son would go with her, and said
to himself, "I will not lose her this time;" but, however, she managed
to slip away from him, though in such a hurry that she dropped her
left golden slipper upon the stairs.


So the prince took the shoe, and went the next day to the king his
father, and said, "I will take for my wife the lady that this golden
shoe fits." Then both the sisters were overjoyed to hear this; for
they had beautiful feet, and had no doubt that they could wear the
golden slipper. The eldest went first into the room where the slipper
was, and wanted to try it on, and the mother stood by. But her great
toe could not go into it, and the shoe was altogether much too small
for her. Then the mother gave her a knife, and said, "Never mind, cut
it off; when you are queen you will not care about toes, you will
not want to go on foot." So the silly girl cut her great toe off, and
squeezed the shoe on, and went to the king's son. Then he took her for
his bride, and set her beside him on his horse and rode away with
her. But on their way home they had to pass by the hazel tree that
Cinderella had planted and there sat a little dove on the branch

      "Back again! back again! look to the shoe!
      The shoe is too small, and not made for you!
      Prince! prince! look again for thy bride,
      For she's not the true one that sits by thy side."

Then the prince got down and looked at her foot, and saw by the blood
that streamed from it what a trick she had played him. So he turned
his horse round and brought the false bride back to her home, and
said, "This is not the right bride; let the other sister try and put
on the slipper." Then she went into the room and got her foot into the
shoe, all but the heel, which was too large. But her mother squeezed
it in till the blood came, and took her to the king's son; and he set
her as his bride beside him on his horse, and rode away with her. But
when they came to the hazel tree the little dove sat there still, and

      "Back again! back again! look to the shoe!
      The shoe is too small, and not made for you!
      Prince! prince! look again for thy bride,
      For she's not the true one that sits by thy side."


Then he looked down and saw that the blood streamed so from the shoe
that her white stockings were quite red. So he turned his horse and
brought her back again also. "This is not the true bride," said he to
the father; "have you no other daughters?" "No," said he; "there is
only a little dirty Cinderella here, the child of my first wife; I am
sure she cannot be the bride." However, the prince told him to send
her. But the mother said, "No, no, she is much too dirty, she will not
dare to show herself;" still the prince would have her come. And she
first washed her face and hands, and then went in and curtsied to him,
and he handed to her the golden slipper.

Then she took her clumsy shoe off her left foot and put on the golden
slipper; and it fitted her as if it had been made for her. And when
the Prince drew near and looked at her face he knew her, and said,
"This is the right bride."

But the mother and both the sisters were frightened and turned pale
with anger as he took Cinderella on his horse, and rode away with her.
And when they came to the hazel tree, the white dove sang--

      "Home! home! look at the shoe!
      Princess! the shoe was made for you!
      Prince! prince! take home thy bride.
      For she is the true one that sits by thy side!"

And when the dove had done its song, it came flying and perched upon
her shoulder, and so went home with her.


There was once a King's daughter who was the most beautiful thing in
the world, and as her hair was fair and reached to her feet she was
called the Princess Goldenhair.

A handsome young King in the neighbourhood, although he had never seen
this Princess, fell so deeply in love with her from what he had heard,
that he could neither eat nor sleep.

So an ambassador was sent with a magnificent chariot, more than a
hundred horses, and fifty pages, to bring the Princess to the King,
and great preparations were made for her reception.


But whether the Princess Goldenhair was in an ill humour when the
ambassador arrived at her Court, or whatever was the reason, certain
it is that she sent a message to the young King thanking him but
saying that she did not wish to marry.

When the King heard of her refusal he wept like a child.

Now at his Court there was a young man called Avenant. He was as
beautiful as the sun, and a more finely made fellow than any in the
kingdom; everybody loved him except a few envious people, who were
angry because the King favoured and confided in him, and in the
presence of these, one day, Avenant incautiously remarked,

"If the King had sent me to fetch the Princess Goldenhair, I am
certain she would have come," and these words were repeated to the
King in such a manner that they made him very angry, and he ordered
Avenant to be shut up in a high tower, to die of hunger.

In this sad plight, Avenant exclaimed one day, "How have I offended
his Majesty? He has no more faithful subject than I."

The King who happened to be passing by the tower, heard this; he
called for Avenant to be brought forth who, throwing himself on his
knees, begged to know in what way he had offended his royal master.

"You mocked me," said the King, "you said that you would have
succeeded with the Princess Goldenhair where I have failed."

"It is true, sir," replied Avenant, "I did say so, for I would have
represented your noble qualities in such a way, that she could not
help being persuaded."

The King was convinced of the young man's sincerity, and with a letter
of introduction, Avenant set out for the Court of the goldenhaired
beauty, riding alone, according to his wish, and thinking as he went
how he best could woo the Princess for his beloved master.

One day, alighting from his horse to write down some suitable words
that had come into his mind, he saw a golden carp who, leaping from
the water to catch flies, had thrown herself upon the river bank, and
was now nearly dead.

Avenant pitied the poor thing, and put her carefully back into
the water. Recovering directly, the carp dived to the bottom, but
returning to the edge of the river, said,

"Avenant, I thank you; you have saved my life, I will repay you;" then
she swam off leaving the young man in great astonishment.

Another day as Avenant journeyed he noticed a raven who was pursued by
an eagle. "What right has that eagle to persecute the raven? thought
Avenant, and he drew his bow and shot the fierce bird. The raven
perched on a bough and cried.

"Avenant you have saved my life, I will not be ungrateful, I will
repay you."


Not long after this, Avenant found an owl caught in a snare, he cut
the strings, and freed the trembling captive. "Avenant," said the owl,
"you have saved my life, I will repay you."

These three adventures were the most important that befell Avenant,
and he went on his way, shortly before he arrived at his destination
purchasing a beautiful little dog named Cabriole.

When Avenant reached the Palace of the Princess Goldenhair, and saw
the Princess seated upon her throne, she looked so lovely that at
first all his fine speeches forsook him, and he could not utter a
word; however, taking courage, he addressed her in exquisitely chosen
language, begging her to become the King's bride.

To this the Princess replied most graciously, saying that his petition
moved her more than any other could do, "but know," she added, "as I
was walking by the river a month ago, as I took off my glove, a ring,
that I greatly value, fell into the water, and I have vowed that I
will not heed any proposal of marriage, except from the ambassador who
brings me back my ring."

Sad at heart Avenant left the Palace, but his little dog, Cabriole,
said, "My dear master, do not despair, you are too good to be unhappy.
Early to-morrow morning let us go to the river-side." Avenant patted
him, but did not answer, and, still sad, fell asleep.

As soon as it was day, Cabriole awoke him saying, "Dress yourself, my
master, and come out."

They wandered down to the river, and there Avenant heard a voice
calling him, and what should he see but the golden carp, with the
Princess's ring in her mouth. "Take it, dear Avenant," said she, "I
promised to repay you for saving my life, and now I can fulfil my

Thanking her a thousand times, Avenant, going at once to the Palace,
said, "Princess, your command is fulfilled; may it please you to
receive the King, my master, as your husband."

The Princess thought she must be dreaming when she saw the ring, but
she set Avenant another task.

"Not far from here there is a prince named Galifron," said she; "he
wishes to marry me, and threatens to ravish my kingdom if I refuse;
but how can I accept him? He is a giant, taller than my highest tower,
he eats a man as a monkey would eat a chestnut, and when he speaks,
his voice is so loud that it deafens those who hear him. He will not
take my refusal, but kills my subjects. You must fight and bring me
his head."


"Well, madam," replied Avenant, "I will fight Galifron; I expect I
shall be killed, but I shall die a brave man." And, taking Cabriole,
Avenant set out for Galifron's country, asking news of the giant as he
went along, and the more he heard the more he feared him, but Cabriole
reassured him. "My dear master," said the little dog, "while you are
fighting him I will bite his legs, then he will stoop to chase me, and
you will kill him." Avenant admired the bravery of the little dog, but
he knew his help would not be sufficient.

Presently they perceived how the roads were covered with the bones of
the men that Galifron had eaten, and soon they saw the giant coming
towards them through a wood. His head was higher than the highest
trees, and he sang in a terrific voice:

      "Where are the children small, so small,
      With my teeth I will crush them all,
      On so many would I feed, feed, feed.
      The whole world can't supply my need."

Using the same tune, Avenant began to sing:

      "Look down, here is Avenant beneath, beneath
      He will draw from your head, the teeth, the teeth
      Although he is not very big, 'tis true,
      He is able to fight with such as you."

The giant put himself into a terrible passion, and would have killed
Avenant with one blow, only a raven from above flew at his head, and
pecked him straight in the eyes, so violently that he was blinded. He
began striking out on all sides, but Avenant avoided his blows, and
with his sword pierced him so many times that at last he fell to the
ground. Then Avenant cut off his head, and the raven, who had perched
on a tree, said,

"I have not forgotten how you rescued me from the eagle; I promised to
repay you, I think I have done so to-day."

"I owe everything to you, Mr. Raven," responded Avenant, as, holding
Galifron's head, he rode off.

When he entered the town, crowds followed him crying, "Here is the
brave Avenant who has slain the monster."

Avenant advanced to the Princess, and said, "Madam, your enemy is
dead. I hope you will no more refuse the King, my master."

"Although it is so," answered the Princess, "I shall refuse him unless
you will bring me some water from the Grotto of Darkness. At the
entrance there are two dragons, with fire in their eyes and mouths;
inside the grotto there is a deep pit into which you must descend, it
is full of toads, scorpions, and serpents. At the bottom of this pit
there is a little cave where flows the fountain of beauty and health.
Positively I must possess the water; all who wash in it, if they are
beautiful, continue so always, if they are ugly they become beautiful;
if they are young they remain young, if they are old they regain their
youth. You cannot wonder, Avenant, that I will not leave my kingdom
without taking it with me."

So once more Avenant and Cabriole set out; they journeyed on until
they came to a rock, black as ink, from which smoke was issuing, and
a moment later there appeared one of the dragons belching forth fire
from his eyes and mouth. He was a frightful looking creature with a
green and yellow body, and his tail was so long that it went into a
hundred curves. Avenant saw all this, but resolved to die, he drew his
sword, and, carrying the flask the Princess had given to him to hold
the water, he said to Cabriole:

"My days are ended, I can never obtain that water the dragons are
guarding; when I am dead, fill this flask with my blood and carry it
to the Princess, that she may know what it has cost me, then go to the
King, my master, and tell him of my misfortune."

As he was speaking, a voice called, "Avenant, Avenant," and looking
around he saw an owl. "You saved my life from the fowlers," said the
owl. "I promised to repay you, the time has now come. Give me your
flask. I will bring you the water of beauty."

And carrying the flask, the owl entered the grotto, unhindered,
returning in less than a quarter of an hour with it full to the brim.
Avenant thanked the owl heartily, and joyously started for the town,
where he presented the flask to the Princess, who immediately gave
orders to prepare for her departure.

But as she considered Avenant altogether charming, before she set out,
she several times said to him: "If you wish, we need not go, for I
will make you king of my country." But Avenant made reply:

"I would not displease my master for all the kingdoms of earth,
although your beauty I consider greater than that of the sun."

Thus they arrived at the King's capital, and the wedding took place
amidst great rejoicings; but Princess Goldenhair, who loved Avenant
from the depths of her heart, was not happy unless she could see him,
and was for ever singing his praises. "I should not have come, had it
not been for Avenant," she told the King, "you ought to be very much
obliged to him." Then the envious courtiers counselled the King, and
Avenant was cast once more into the tower, chained hand and foot. When
Princess Goldenhair heard of this imprisonment, she fell on her knees
before the King, and begged for Avenant's release; but he would not
heed her, so that she became saddened and would speak no more.

Then the King thought: "Maybe I am not handsome enough to please her!"
so he determined to wash his face in the water of beauty.

Now it had happened that a chamber-maid had broken the flask
containing this wonderful water, so that it was all spilled; then,
without saying anything to anyone, she had replaced it by a similar
flask taken from the King's apartment, but the liquid in this flask
was really that which was used when the princes or great lords were
condemned to death, for, instead of being beheaded, their faces were
washed with this water and they fell asleep and did not wake again.
And so the King using this water one evening, thinking it to be the
beauty water, and hoping and expecting to be made more handsome, went
to sleep and awoke no more. Upon hearing what had occurred, Cabriole
at once went and told Avenant, who asked him to go to the Princess
Goldenhair and beseech her to remember the poor prisoner. When the
Princess received this message, she went straight to the tower, and,
with her own hands, struck off the chains that bound Avenant, and
placing a crown of gold upon his head, and a royal mantle upon his
shoulders, said: "Come, dear Avenant, I will make you King, and take
you for my husband." Then there was a grand wedding, and Princess
Goldenhair and Avenant, with Cabriole, lived long, all of them happy
and contented.




Many years ago there lived a dear little girl, who was beloved by
everyone who knew her; but her grandmother was so very fond of her
that she never felt that she could think and do enough for her.

On her grand-daughter's birthday she presented her with a red silk
hood; and as it suited her very well, she would never wear anything
else; and so she was called Little Red Riding Hood. One day her mother
said to her, "Come, Red Riding Hood, here is a nice piece of meat,
and a bottle of wine: take these to your grandmother; she is weak and
ailing, and they will do her good. Be there before she gets up; go
quietly and carefully; and do not run, or you may fall and break the
bottle, and then your grandmother will have nothing. When you go into
her room, do not forget to say 'Good-morning'; and do not pry into all
the corners." "I will do just as you say," answered Red Riding Hood,
bidding good-bye to her mother.

[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_

The grandmother lived far away in the wood, a long walk from the
village, and as Little Red Riding Hood came among the trees she met a
wolf; but she did not know what a wicked animal it was, and so she
was not at all frightened. "Good-morning, Little Red Riding Hood," he

"Thank you, Mr. Wolf," she said.

"Where are you going so early, Little Red Riding Hood?"

"To my grandmother's," she answered.

"And what are you carrying under your apron?"

"Some wine and meat," she replied. "We baked the meat yesterday, so
that grandmother, who is very weak, might have a nice strengthening

"And where does your grandmother live?" asked the Wolf.

"Oh, quite twenty minutes' walk further in the forest. The cottage
stands under three great oak trees; and close by are some nut bushes,
by which you will at once know it."

The wolf was thinking to himself, "She is a nice tender thing, and
will taste better than the old woman; I must act cleverly, that I may
make a meal of both."


Presently he came up again to Little Red Riding Hood and said. "Just
look at the beautiful flowers which grow near you; why do you not look
about you? I believe you don't hear how sweetly the birds are singing.
You walk as if you were going to school; see how cheerful everything
is around you in the forest."

And Little Red Riding Hood opened her eyes; and when she saw how the
sunbeams glanced and danced through the trees, and what bright flowers
were blooming in her path, she thought, "If I take my grandmother a
fresh nosegay she will be much pleased; and it is so very early that
I can, even then, get there in good time:" and running into the forest
she looked about for flowers. But when she had once begun she did
not know how to leave off, and kept going deeper and deeper among the
trees looking for some still more beautiful flower. The Wolf, however,
ran straight to the house of the old grandmother, and knocked at the

"Who's that?" asked the old lady.

"Only little Red Riding Hood, bringing you some meat and wine; please
open the door," answered the Wolf.

"Lift up the latch," cried the grandmother; "I am much too ill to get
up myself."

So the Wolf lifted the latch, and the door flew open; and without a
word he jumped on to the bed and gobbled up the poor old lady. Then he
put on her clothes, and tied her night-cap over his head; got into the
bed, and drew the blankets over him.

All this time Red Riding Hood was gathering flowers; and when she had
picked as many as she could carry, she thought of her grandmother, and
hurried to the cottage. She wondered very much to find the door
open; and when she got into the room, she began to feel very ill, and
exclaimed, "How sad I feel! I wish I had not come to-day." Then she
said, "Good morning," but received no reply; so she went up to the
bed, and drew back the curtains, and there lay her grandmother as
she imagined, with the cap drawn half over her eyes and looking very

"Oh, grandmother, what great ears you have!"

"All the better to hear you with," was the reply.

"And what great eyes you have!"

"All the better to see you with."

"And what great hands you have!"

"All the better to touch you with."

"But, grandmother, what very great teeth you have!"

"All the better to eat you with;" and hardly were the words spoken
when the Wolf made a jump out of bed and swallowed down poor Little
Red Riding Hood also.

As soon as he had thus satisfied his hunger, he laid himself down
again on the bed, and went to sleep and snored very loudly. A huntsman
passing by overheard him, and said, "How loudly that old woman snores!
I must see if anything is the matter."

So he went into the cottage; and when he came to the bed, he saw the
Wolf sleeping in it.

"What! are you here, you old rascal? I have been looking for you,"
exclaimed he; and taking up his gun, he shot the old Wolf through the

But it is also said that the story ends in a different manner; for
that one day, when Red Riding Hood was taking some presents to her
grandmother, a Wolf met her, and wanted to mislead her; but she went
straight on, and told her grandmother that she had met a Wolf, who
said good-day; but he looked so hungrily out of his great eyes, as if
he would have eaten her up had she not been on the high road.

So her grandmother said, "We will shut the door, and then he cannot
get in."

Soon after, up came the Wolf, who tapped, and exclaimed, "I am Little
Red Riding Hood, grandmother; I have some roast meat for you." But
they kept quite quiet, and did not open the door; so the Wolf, after
looking several times round the house, at last jumped on to the roof,
thinking to wait till Red Riding Hood went home in the evening, and
then to creep after her and eat her in the darkness.

The old woman, however, saw what the villain intended. There stood
before the door a large stone trough, and she said to Little Red
Riding Hood, "Take this bucket, dear: yesterday I boiled some meat in
this water, now pour it into the stone trough." Then the Wolf sniffed
the smell of the meat, and his mouth watered, and he wished very much
to taste.

At last he stretched his neck too far over, so that he lost his
balance, and fell down from the roof, right into the great trough
below, and there he was drowned.




There was once upon a time a King and Queen who were perfectly happy,
with one exception, and that was that they had no child.

One day when the Queen was staying in a watering-place, some distance
from home, she was sitting by a fountain alone, sadly thinking of the
daughter she longed to have, when she perceived a crab coming in her
direction, who, to the Queen's surprise, addressed her thus:

"Great Queen, if you will condescend to be conducted by a humble
crab, I will lead you to a Fairies' palace and your wish shall be

"I would certainly come with you," replied the Queen, "but I am afraid
that I cannot walk backwards."

The crab smiled, and transforming herself into a beautiful little old
woman, said:

"Now, madam, it is not necessary to go backwards. Come with me, and
I beg of you to look upon me as your friend." She then escorted the
Queen to the most magnificent palace that could possibly be imagined,
it was built entirely of diamonds.

In this superb place dwelt six Fairies who received the Queen with
the greatest respect, and each one presented her with a flower made of
precious stones--a rose, tulip, an anemone, a columbine, a violet, and
a carnation.

"Madam," they said, "we have pleasure in telling you that soon you
will have a daughter whom you will name Desirée. Directly she arrives,
do not fail to call upon us, for we will bestow all sorts of good
gifts upon her. You have only to hold this bouquet, and mention each
flower, thinking of us, and be assured that we shall at once appear in
your chamber."

The Queen, transported with joy, and overcome with gratitude, threw
herself upon their necks, and warmly embraced them; she then spent
several hours admiring the wonders of the palace and its gardens, and
it was not until evening that she returned to her attendants, who were
in a serious state of anxiety at the prolonged absence of Her Majesty.


Not very long afterwards, when the Queen was once more at home in her
Royal Palace, a baby Princess was born, whom she named Desirée. Then
taking the bouquet into her hand, the Queen, one by one, pronounced
the names of the flowers, when there immediately appeared, flying
through the air in elegant chariots drawn by different kinds of birds,
the six Fairies who entered the apartment, bearing beautiful presents
for the little baby. Marvellously fine linen, but so strong that it
could be worn a hundred years without going into holes, lace of the
finest, with the history of the world worked into its pattern, toys
of all descriptions that a child would love to play with, and a cradle
ornamented with rubies and diamonds, and supported by four Cupids
ready to rock it should the baby cry. But, best of all, the Fairies
endowed the little Princess with beauty, and virtue, and health, and
every good thing that could be desired.

The Queen was thanking the Fairies a thousand times for all their
favours, when the door opened, and a crab appeared.

"Ungrateful Queen," said the crab, "you have not deigned to remember
me, the Fairy of the Fountain; and to punish your ingratitude, if the
Princess sees daylight before she is fifteen years old, she will have
cause to repent it, and it may cost her her life. It was well I took
the form of a crab, for your friendship instead of advancing has gone
backwards." Then in spite of all the Queen and the Fairies could say,
the crab went backwards out of the door, leaving them in the saddest
consternation, and it was long before they could decide what was best
to be done.

Then, with three waves of a wand, the Fairies caused a high tower to
spring up; it had neither door nor window, an underground passage was
made, through which everything necessary could be carried, and in
this tower the little Princess was shut up and there she lived by
candlelight, where never a glimpse of the sun could come.

When the Princess Desirée was fourteen years old, the Queen had her
portrait painted, and copies of it were carried to all the Courts
in the world. All the Princes admired it greatly, but there was one
Prince, named Guerrier, who loved it above everything; he used to
stand before the picture and avow his passion, just as if it heard
what he said, and at last he told the King, his father.

"You have resolved that I shall marry the Princess Noire, but this I
can never do, so great is my love for the Princess Desirée."

"But where have you seen her?" enquired the King.

The Prince hastened to fetch her portrait, and the King was so greatly
struck by Desirée's beauty that he agreed to follow his son's wishes
and break off his engagement with the Princess Noire, that he might
wed the Princess Desirée. So the King despatched as ambassador a rich
young lord named Bécafigue.

Bécafigue was devoted to Prince Guerrier, and he fitted out a most
splendid retinue to visit the Princess Desirée's Court. Besides
numerous magnificent presents, Bécafigue took with him the Prince's
portrait, which had been painted by such a clever artist that it would
speak; it could not exactly answer questions, but could make certain
remarks. It was truly a speaking likeness of the young Prince.
Desirée's father and mother were delighted when they heard that the
Prince Guerrier was seeking their daughter's hand in marriage, for
they knew him to be a brave and noble young man. But as it still
wanted three months to the Princess's fifteenth year, warned by
the Fairy Tulip, who had taken Desirée under her special care, they
refused to let him see their daughter or to let her yet marry the
Prince Guerrier, but they showed her the Prince's portrait, with
which she was greatly pleased, and particularly when it said, "Lovely
Desirée, you cannot imagine how ardently I am waiting for you; come
soon into our Court to make it beautiful by your presence."


When Prince Guerrier saw the ambassador return without Desirée, he
was so terribly disappointed that he could neither eat nor sleep, and
before long fell dangerously ill.

Meanwhile Desirée had no less pleasure in looking at the Prince's
portrait than he had had admiring hers, and this was soon discovered
by those around her, and among others Giroflée and Longue Epine, her
maids of honour. Giroflée loved her passionately and faithfully, but
Longue Epine was full of envy of the Princess who was so good and
beautiful, and, besides Longue Epine, Desirée had another enemy,
and that was the Princess Noire, to whom Prince Guerrier had been
betrothed. This Princess Noire now went to the Fairy of the Fountain,
who was her best friend, and begged her to take revenge upon Princess
Desirée, and this the Fairy promised to do. Meanwhile once more
Bécafigue came to the capital where Desirée's father lived, and
throwing himself at the King's feet, besought him in most touching
words to let his daughter go with him at once to the Prince, who would
surely die if he could not behold her.

When Princess Desirée heard of the Prince's illness, she suggested
that she should set out without delay, but in a dark carriage,
that only at night should be opened to give her food. This plan was
approved of; the ambassador was told, and he departed full of joy. So
in a carriage like a large dark box, shut up with her Lady in Waiting
and her two Maids of Honour, Giroflée and Longue Epine, Princess
Desirée departed for Prince Guerrier's Court.

Perhaps you will remember that Longue Epine did not like Princess
Desirée, but she greatly admired Prince Guerrier, for she had seen his
portrait speaking, and she had told her mother, the Lady in Waiting,
that she should die if he married Desirée.

The King and Queen had begged the Lady in Waiting to take the greatest
of care of their dear daughter, and above all to be heedful that she
did not see the light of day until her fifteenth birthday, saying that
the ambassador had promised that until then she should be placed where
there was no other light than that of candles. But now as they drew
near their destination, while it was broad daylight the wicked woman,
urged by her envious daughter, Longue Epine, all at once took a large
knife which she had brought for the purpose, and with it cut the
covering of the carriage.

Then, for the first time, the Princess Desirée saw the light of day!!!
Hardly had she perceived it when, uttering a deep sigh, she threw
herself from the carriage, and in the form of a white fawn fleetly
fled into a forest near by.

The Fairy of the Fountain, who was the cause of this disaster seeing
that all who were accompanying the Princess were about to hasten to
the town to tell the Prince Guerrier what had happened, called up a
great thunderstorm and scattered them in every direction. Only the
Lady in Waiting, Longue Epine and Giroflée were left, Giroflée, who
ran after her mistress, making the trees and rocks echo with her
mournful calls. Then Longue Epine clothed herself in the rich bridal
robes provided for Desirée. She placed the crown upon her head, the
sceptre and orb she carried in her hands, so that all should take her
for the Princess. With her mother bearing her train she gravely walked
in the direction of the town.


They had not gone far when a brilliant procession came towards them,
amongst whom was the sick Prince in a litter, and to those in advance
Longue Epine announced that she was the Princess Desirée, with her
Lady in Waiting, but that a jealous Fairy had sent a thunderstorm
which had destroyed her carriage and scattered her other attendants.
When the Prince was told of this, he could not refrain from saying
to the messengers: "Now acknowledge, is she not truly a miracle of
beauty, a Princess beyond compare?"

No one replied at first, and then one of the boldest said,

"Sir, you will see; apparently the fatigue of the journey has somewhat
changed her." The Prince was surprised, but when he saw Longue Epine
words fail to express what he felt.

She was so tall that it was alarming, and the garments of the Princess
hardly came to her knees. She was frightfully thin, and her nose,
which was more hooked than a parrot's beak, shone like a danger
signal. Then her teeth were black and uneven, and, in fact, she was as
ugly as Desirée was beautiful.

At first the Prince could not speak a word, he simply gazed at her
in amazement. Then he said, turning to his father, "We have been
deceived, that portrait was painted to mislead us. It will be the
death of me."

"What do I hear, they have deceived you," fiercely exclaimed Longue

"It is not to be wondered at," remarked the King, "that your father
kept such a treasure shut up for fifteen years."

Then he and the Prince turned towards the town, and the false Princess
and the Lady in Waiting, without any ceremony, were mounted each
behind a soldier and taken to be shut up in a castle.

[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_

Soon after his terrible disappointment, Prince Guerrier, unable to
bear any longer the life at court, secretly departed from the palace
with his faithful friend Bécafigue, leaving a letter for his father
saying he would return to him as soon as his mind was in a happier
state, and begging him meanwhile to keep the ugly Princess prisoner,
and think of some revenge upon the deceitful king, her father.

After three or four days' journeying, the wanderers found themselves
in a thick forest. Quite wearied out, the Prince threw himself
upon the ground, while Bécafigue went on further in search of fruit
wherewith to refresh his royal master.

It is a long time since we left the White Fawn, that is to say the
charming Princess.

Very desolately she wept when in a stream she saw her figure
reflected, and when night came she was in great fear, for she heard
wild beasts about her, and sometimes forgetting she was a fawn she
would try to climb a tree. But with morning dawn she felt a little
safer, and the sun appeared a marvellous sight to her from which she
could hardly turn her eyes. But now the Fairy Tulip, who had always
loved the Princess guided Giroflée's feet in her direction, and
when the White Fawn saw her faithful Maid of Honour her delight was

It did not take Giroflée long to discover that this was her
dearly-loved mistress, and she promised the White Fawn never to
forsake her, for she found she could hear all that was said although
she could not speak. Towards night the fear of having no shelter made
the two friends so dreadfully dismayed that the Fairy Tulip suddenly
appeared before them.


"I am not going to scold you," she said, "although it is through not
following my advice that you are in this misfortune, for it goes to
my heart to see you thus. I cannot release you altogether from this
enchantment, but I have power to shorten the time, and also to say
that during the night you may regain your rightful form, but by day
again must you run through the forest as a Fawn." The fairy also told
them where they could find a little hut in which to pass the nights.
Then she disappeared. Giroflée and the Fawn walked in the direction
the Fairy had pointed out, and arrived at a neat little cottage where
an old woman showed them a room which they could occupy.

As soon as it was night Desirée came to her rightful form, but when
day appeared she was once more a Fawn and, escaping into the thicket,
commenced to run about in the ordinary way.

You have heard how Prince Guerrier rested in the forest while
Bécafigue searched for fruit; quite late in the evening Bécafigue
arrived at the cottage of the good woman who had given shelter to
Giroflée and the White Fawn. He addressed her politely and asked for
the things he required for his master. She hastened to fill a basket,
and gave it to him, saying, "I fear that if you pass a night without
shelter some harm may come to you. I can offer you a poor one, but at
any rate it is secure from the lions."

Bécafigue went back to the Prince and together they returned to the
cottage, where they were led into the room next to that occupied by
the Princess.

Next morning the Prince arose early and went out; he had not long been
in the forest when he saw a beautiful little Fawn. Hunting had ever
been his favourite pastime, and now he pursued the little creature.
All day long hither and thither he chased, but did not succeed in
capturing her, and as evening fell the Fawn slipped away and gained
the little hut where Giroflée anxiously awaited her, and on hearing
her adventure the Maid of Honour told her she must never again venture
out, but the Princess replied:

"It is no use talking thus, when I am a Fawn this room is stifling to
me and I must depart from it."

The next day the young Prince sought in vain for the White Fawn, and
finally tired out threw himself upon the grass and fell asleep.

While he lay there the little Fawn drew near and looking at him
quietly, to her astonishment she recognised his features as those of
the Prince Guerrier. Coming nearer and nearer she presently touched
him and he awoke.

His surprise was great at seeing close by the shy little Fawn, who
stayed not an instant longer but fled away, the Prince following.

"Stay, dear little Fawn," he cried, "I would not hurt you for the
world." But the wind carried off the words before they reached her
ears. Long he chased the poor creature, till at last worn out the Fawn
sank down on the ground and the Prince came up to her.

"Beautiful Fawn," said he, "do not fear me, I shall lead you with
me everywhere." Then he covered her with roses and fed her with the
choicest leaves and grasses.

But as evening drew near the Fawn longed to escape, for what would
happen should she suddenly change into a Princess there in the forest.
Presently the Prince went to fetch some water for her, and while he
was gone she ran homewards. The next day for a long time she hid from
the Prince, but at last he found her, and as she dashed off he shot an
arrow which wounded her in the leg.

Sad that he should have done so cruel a thing, the Prince took herbs
and laid them upon the wound, and at last he went to fetch Bécafigue
to help him carry her to the house. He tied her to a tree.

Alas! Who would have thought that the most beautiful Princess in the
world would be treated thus? While she was straining at the ribbons
trying to break them, Giroflée arrived, and was leading her away when
the Prince met them and claimed the Fawn as his.

"Sir," politely replied Giroflée, "the Fawn was mine before it was
yours," and she spoke to the Fawn, and the Fawn obeyed her in such
a way that the Prince could not doubt that what she said was true.
Giroflée then went on, and, to the surprise of the Prince and
Bécafigue, entered the old woman's house where they themselves lodged.
Then Bécafigue told the Prince that unless he was much mistaken the
owner of the Fawn had lived with the Princess Desirée when he went
there as ambassador.

"I mean to see her again," said Bécafigue, "there is only a partition
between her room and ours." And soon he had made a hole large enough
to peep through, and through it he saw the charming Princess dressed
in a robe of brocaded silver, with flowers embroidered in gold and
emeralds, her hair falling in heavy masses on the most beautiful neck
in the world. Giroflée was on her knees before her, bandaging up
one arm from which the blood was flowing. They both seemed greatly
concerned about the wound: "Let me die," the Princess was saying,
"death would be better than the life which I lead. To be a Fawn all
the day, to hear him speaking, and not to be able to tell him of my
sad fate."

One can guess the astonishment of Bécafigue and of the Prince.
Guerrier would almost have died of pleasure had he not thought that
it must be some enchantment, for did he not know that Desirée and her
Lady in Waiting were shut up in the castle.

He went softly and knocked at the chamber door, which Giroflée opened,
thinking it was the old woman, for she required help for the wounded

The Prince entered, threw himself at Desirée's feet, and found she was
indeed his Princess.

Great was their joy thus at last meeting, and while they were talking
to each other the night passed, and the day dawned, and daylight came,
and the morning sun shone brightly before Desirée had time to notice
that she had not again taken the shape of a Fawn, but was her own
beautiful self.

Then it was found that it was the Fairy Tulip in disguise of the old
woman who had provided that sheltering cottage in the forest.

The joy of the King upon once more seeing his son can well be
imagined, and the marriage of the Prince and Desirée, and Bécafigue
and Giroflée took place on the same day, the Fairies giving their
diamond palace as their wedding present to Princess Desirée, and Fairy
Tulip presenting four gold mines in the Indies to Giroflée.


And, in accordance with the wish of Princess Desirée, Longue Epine and
her mother, the false Lady in Waiting, were set at liberty.



Once upon a time there dwelt near a large wood a poor wood cutter,
with his wife, and two children by his former marriage, a little boy
called Hansel, and a girl named Grethel. He had little enough to break
or bite; and once, when there was a great famine in the land, he could
hardly procure even his daily bread; and as he lay thinking in his bed
one night, he sighed, and said to his wife, "What will become of us?
How can we feed our children, when we have no more than we can eat

"Know then, my husband," answered she, "we will lead them away, quite
early in the morning, into the thickest part of the wood, and there
make them a fire, and give them each a little piece of bread, then we
will go to our work, and leave them alone, so they will not find the
way home again, and we shall be freed from them."

"No, wife," replied he, "that I can never do; how can you bring your
heart to leave my children all alone in the wood; for the wild beasts
will soon come and tear them to pieces?"

"Oh, you simpleton!" said she, "then we must all four die of hunger;
you had better plane the coffins for us." But she left him no peace
till he consented, saying, "Ah, but I shall miss the poor children."

The two children, however, had not gone to sleep, for very hunger, and
so they overheard what the stepmother said to their father. Grethel
wept bitterly, and said to Hansel, "What will become of us?"

"Be quiet, Grethel," said he; "do not cry--I will help you." And as
soon as their parents had gone to sleep, he got up, put on his coat,
and, unbarring the back door, went out. The moon shone brightly, and
the white pebbles which lay before the door seemed like silver pieces,
they glittered so brightly. Hansel stooped down, and put as many into
his pocket as it would hold; and then going back he said to Grethel,
"Be of good cheer, dear sister, and sleep in peace; God will not
forsake us." And so saying, he went to bed again.

The next morning, before the sun arose, the wife went and awoke the
two children. "Get up, you lazy things; we are going into the forest
to chop wood." Then she gave them each a piece of bread, saying,
"There is something for your dinner; do not eat it before the time,
for you will get nothing else." Grethel took the bread in her apron,
for Hansel's pocket was full of pebbles; and so they all set out upon
their way. When they had gone a little distance, Hansel stood still,
and peeped back at the house; and this he repeated several times, till
his father said, "Hansel, what are you looking at, and why do you lag
behind? Take care, and remember your legs."

"Ah, father," said Hansel, "I am looking at my white cat sitting upon
the roof of the house, and trying to say good-bye."

"You simpleton!" said the wife, "that is not a cat; it is only the sun
shining on the white chimney." But in reality Hansel was not looking
at a cat; but every time he stopped, he dropped a pebble out of his
pocket upon the path.

When they came to the middle of the forest, the father told the
children to collect wood, and he would make them a fire, so that they
should not be cold. So Hansel and Grethel gathered together quite a
little mount of twigs. Then they set fire to them; and as the flame
burnt up high, the wife said, "Now, you children, lie down near the
fire, and rest yourselves, whilst we go into the forest and chop more
wood; when we are ready we will come and call you."

Hansel and Grethel sat down by the fire, and when it was noon, each
ate the piece of bread; and because they could hear the blows of an
axe they thought their father was near; but it was not an axe, but a
branch which he had bound to an old tree, so as to be blown to and fro
by the wind. They waited so long, that at last their eyes closed from
weariness, and they fell fast asleep. When they awoke, it was quite
dark, and Grethel began to cry. "How shall we get out of the wood?"
But Hansel tried to comfort her by saying, "Wait a little while till
the moon rises, and then we will quickly find the way." The moon shone
forth, and Hansel, taking his sister's hand, followed the pebbles,
which glittered like new-coined silver pieces, and showed them the
way. All night long they walked on, and as day broke they came to
their father's house. They knocked at the door, and when the wife
opened it, and saw Hansel and Grethel, she exclaimed, "You wicked
children! Why did you sleep so long in the wood? We thought you were
never coming home again." But their father was extremely glad, for it
had grieved his heart to leave them all alone.


Not long afterwards there was again great scarcity in every corner of
the land; and one night the children overheard their mother saying to
their father, "Everything is once more consumed; we have only half a
loaf left, and then the song is ended: the children must be sent away.
We will take them deeper into the wood, so that they may not find the
way out again; it is the only means of escape for us."

But her husband felt heavy at heart, and thought, "It were better
to share the last crust with the children." His wife, however, would
listen to nothing that he said, and scolded and reproached him without

He who says A must say B too; and he who consents the first time must
also the second.

The children, however, had heard the conversation as they lay awake,
and as soon as their parents went to sleep Hansel got up, intending to
pick up some pebbles as before; but the wife had locked the door, so
that he could not get out. Nevertheless he comforted Grethel, saying,
"Do not weep; sleep in quiet; the good God will not forsake us."

Early in the morning the stepmother came and pulled them out of bed,
and gave them each a slice of bread, which was still smaller than the
former piece. On the way Hansel broke his in his pocket, and stopping
every now and then, dropped a crumb upon the path. "Hansel, why do
you stop and look about?" said the father, "keep in the path." "I am
looking at my little dove," answered Hansel, "nodding a good-bye to
me." "Simpleton!" said the wife, "that is no dove, but only the sun
shining on the chimney." But Hansel kept still dropping crumbs as he
went along.

The mother led the children deep into the wood, where they had never
been before, and there making a gigantic fire, she said to them, "Sit
down here and rest, and when you feel tired you can sleep for a little
while. We are going into the forest to hew wood, and in the evening,
when we are ready, we will come and fetch you again."

When noon came, Grethel shared her bread with Hansel, who had strewn
his on the path. They then went to sleep; but the evening arrived and
no one came to visit the poor children, and in the dark night they
awoke, and Hansel comforted his sister by saying, "Only wait, Grethel,
till the moon comes out, then we shall see the crumbs of bread which I
have dropped, and they will show us the way home." The moon shone and
they got up, but they could not see any crumbs, for the thousands of
birds which had been flying about in the woods and fields had picked
them all up. Hansel kept saying to Grethel, "We will soon find the
way;" but they did not, and they walked the whole night long and the
next day, but still they did not come out of the wood; and they got
very hungry, for they had nothing to eat but the berries which they
found upon the bushes. Soon they were so tired that they could not
drag themselves along, then they lay down under a tree and again went
to sleep.

[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_

It was now the third morning since they had left their father's house,
and they still walked on; but they only got deeper, and deeper, and
deeper into the wood, and Hansel felt that if help did not come
very soon they must die of hunger. As soon as it was noon they saw a
beautiful, snow-white bird sitting upon a bough, singing so sweetly
that they stood still and listened to it. It soon ceased, and
spreading its wings flew off; and they followed it until it arrived at
a cottage, upon the roof of which it perched; and when they went close
up to it they saw that the cottage was made of bread and cakes, and
the window-panes were of clear sugar.

"We will go in here," said Hansel, "and have a glorious feast. I will
eat a piece of the roof, and you can eat the window. Will they not be
sweet?" So Hansel reached up and broke a piece off the roof, in order
to see how it tasted; while Grethel stepped up to the window and
began to bite it. Then a sweet voice called out in the room, "Tip-tap,
tip-tap, who knocks at my door?" and the children answered, "The
wind, the wind, the child of heaven;" and they went on eating without
interruption. Hansel thought the roof tasted very nice, and so he tore
off a great piece; while Grethel broke a large round pane out of the
window, and sat down quite contentedly. Just then the door opened, and
a very old woman, walking upon crutches, came out. Hansel and Grethel
were so much frightened that they let fall what they had in their
hands; but the old woman nodding her head, said, "Ah, you dear
children, what has brought you here? Come in and stop with me, and no
harm shall come to you;" and so saying she took them both by the hand,
and led them into her cottage. A good meal of milk and pancakes, with
sugar, apples and nuts, was spread on the table, and in the back
room were two nice little beds, covered with white, where Hansel and
Grethel laid themselves down, and were happy as could be. The old
woman behaved very kindly to them, but in reality she was a wicked
old witch who way-laid children, and built the breadhouse in order to
entice them in; but as soon as they were in her power she killed them,
cooked and ate them, and made a great festival of the day. Witches
have red eyes, and cannot see very far; but they have a fine sense of
smelling, like wild beasts, so that they know when children approach
them. When Hansel and Grethel came near the witch's house she laughed
wickedly, saying, "Here come two who shall not escape me." And early
in the morning, before they awoke, she went up to them, and saw how
lovingly they lay sleeping, with their chubby red cheeks; and she
mumbled to herself, "That will be a good bite." Then she took up
Hansel with her rough hand, and shut him up in a little cage with
a lattice-door; and although he screamed loudly it was of no use.
Grethel came next, and shaking her till she awoke, she said, "Get up,
you lazy brat, and fetch some water to cook something good for your
brother, who must remain in that stall and get fat; and when he is fat
enough I shall eat him." Grethel began to cry, but it was all useless,
for the old witch made her do as she wanted. So a nice meal was cooked
for Hansel, but Grethel got nothing else but a crab's claw.

Every morning the old witch came to the cage and said, "Hansel,
stretch out your finger that I may feel whether you are getting fat."
But Hansel used to stretch out a bone, and the old woman, having very
bad sight, thought it was his finger, and wondered very much why he
did not get fat. When four weeks had passed, and Hansel still kept
quite lean, she lost all her patience, and would not wait any longer.
"Grethel," she cried in a passion, "get some water quickly; be Hansel
fat or lean, this morning I will kill and cook him." Oh, how the poor
little sister grieved, as she was forced to fetch the water, and
fast the tears ran down her cheeks! "Dear good God, help us now!" she
prayed. "Had we only been eaten by the wild beasts in the wood, then
we should have died together." But the old witch called out, "Leave
off that noise; it will not help you a bit."

So early in the morning Grethel was compelled to go out and fill the
kettle, and make a fire. "First, we will bake, however," said the old
woman; "I have already heated the oven and kneaded the dough;" and
so saying, she pushed poor Grethel up to the oven, out of which the
flames were burning fiercely. "Creep in," said the witch, "and see if
it is hot enough, and then we will put in the bread," but she intended
when Grethel got in, to shut up the oven and let her bake, so that she
might eat her as well as Hansel. Grethel perceived her wicked thoughts
and said, "I do not know how to do it; how shall I get in?" "You
stupid goose," said she, "the opening is big enough. See, I could even
get in myself!" and she got up, and put her head into the oven. Then
Grethel gave her a push, so that she fell right in, and shutting the
iron door bolted it. Oh! how horribly the witch howled; but Grethel
ran away, and left her to burn to ashes.


Now she ran to Hansel, and, opening the door, called out, "Hansel we
are saved; the old witch is dead?"

So he sprang out, like a bird from his cage when the door was opened;
and they were so glad that they fell upon each other's neck, and
kissed each other over and over again. And now, as there was nothing
to fear, they went back to the witch's house, where in every corner
were caskets full of pearls and precious stones. "These are better
than pebbles," said Hansel, putting as many into his pocket as it
would hold; while Grethel thought, "I will take some home too," and
filled her apron full.

"We must be off now," said Hansel, "and get out of this enchanted
forest;" but when they had walked for two hours they came to a large
piece of water.

"We cannot get over," said Hansel; "I can see no bridge at all." "And
there is no boat either," said Grethel, "but there swims a white duck,
I will ask her to help us over;" and she sang,

      "Little Duck, good little Duck,
      Grethel and Hansel, together we stand;
      There is neither stile nor bridge,
      Take us on your back to land."

So the Duck came to them, and Hansel sat himself on, and bade his
sister sit beside him. "No," replied Grethel, "that will be too much
for the Duck, she shall take us over one at a time." This the good
little bird did, and when both were happily arrived on the other side,
and had gone a little way, they came to a well-known wood, which they
knew the better every step they went, and at last they perceived their
father's house. Then they began to run, and rushing into the house,
they fell upon their father's neck. He had not had one happy hour
since he had left the children in the forest; and his wife was dead.
Grethel shook her apron, and the pearls and precious stones rolled out
upon the floor, and Hansel threw down one handful after the other
out of his pocket. Then all their sorrows were ended, and they lived
together in great happiness.




A poor widow once lived in a little cottage. In front of the cottage
was a garden, in which were growing two rose trees; one of these bore
white roses, and the other red.

She had two children, who resembled the rose trees. One was called
Snow-White, and the other Rose-Red; and they were as religious and
loving, busy and untiring, as any two children ever were.

Snow-White was more gentle, and quieter than her sister, who liked
better skipping about the fields, seeking flowers, and catching summer
birds; while Snow-White stayed at home with her mother, either helping
her in her work, or, when that was done, reading aloud.

The two children had the greatest affection the one for the other.
They were always seen hand in hand; and should Snow-White say to her
sister, "We will never separate," the other would reply, "Not while
we live," the mother adding, "That which one has, let her always share
with the other."

They constantly ran together in the woods, collecting ripe berries;
but not a single animal would have injured them; quite the reverse,
they all felt the greatest esteem for the young creatures. The hare
came to eat parsley from their hands, the deer grazed by their side,
the stag bounded past them unheeding; the birds, likewise, did not
stir from the bough, but sang in entire security. No mischance befell
them; if benighted in the wood, they lay down on the moss to repose
and sleep till the morning; and their mother was satisfied as to their
safety, and felt no fear about them.

Once, when they had spent the night in the wood, and the bright
sunrise awoke them, they saw a beautiful child, in a snow-white
robe, shining like diamonds, sitting close to the spot where they had
reposed. She arose when they opened their eyes, and looked kindly at
them; but said no word, and passed from their sight into the wood.
When the children looked around they saw they had been sleeping on
the edge of a precipice, and would surely have fallen over if they had
gone forward two steps further in the darkness. Their mother said
the beautiful child must have been the angel who watches over good

Snow-White and Rose-Red kept their mother's cottage so clean that it
gave pleasure only to look in. In summer-time Rose-Red attended to the
house, and every morning, before her mother awoke, placed by her bed
a bouquet which had in it a rose from each of the rose-trees. In
winter-time Snow-White set light to the fire, and put on the kettle,
after polishing it until it was like gold for brightness. In the
evening, when snow was falling, her mother would bid her bolt the
door, and then, sitting by the hearth, the good widow would read aloud
to them from a big book while the little girls were spinning. Close
by them lay a lamb, and a white pigeon, with its head tucked under its
wing, was on a perch behind.


One evening, as they were all sitting cosily together like this, there
was a knock at the door, as if someone wished to come in.

"Make haste, Rose-Red!" said her mother; "open the door; it is surely
some traveller seeking shelter." Rose-Red accordingly pulled back the
bolt, expecting to see some poor man. But it was nothing of the kind;
it was a bear, that thrust his big head in at the open door. Rose-Red
cried out and sprang back, the lamb bleated, the dove fluttered her
wings and Snow-White hid herself behind her mother's bed. The bear
began speaking, and said, "Do not be afraid: I will not do you any
harm; I am half-frozen, and would like to warm myself a little at your

"Poor bear!" the mother replied; "come in and lie by the fire; only be
careful that your hair is not burnt." Then she called Snow-White and
Rose-Red, telling them that the bear was kind, and would not harm
them. They came, as she bade them, and presently the lamb and the dove
drew near also without fear.

"Children," begged the bear; "knock some of the snow off my coat." So
they brought the broom and brushed the bear's coat quite clean.

After that he stretched himself out in front of the fire, and pleased
himself by growling a little, only to show that he was happy and
comfortable. Before long they were all quite good friends, and the
children began to play with their unlooked for visitor, pulling his
thick fur, or placing their feet on his back, or rolling him over and
over. Then they took a slender hazel twig, using it upon his thick
coat, and they laughed when he growled. The bear permitted them to
amuse themselves in this way, only occasionally calling out, when it
went a little too far, "Children, spare me an inch of life!"


When it was night, and all were making ready to go to bed, the widow
told the bear, "You may stay here and lie by the hearth, if you like,
so that you will be sheltered from the cold and from the bad weather."

The offer was accepted, but when morning came, as the day broke in
the east, the two children let him out, and over the snow he went back
into the wood.

After this, every evening at the same time the bear came, lay by the
fire, and allowed the children to play with him; so they became quite
fond of their curious playmate, and the door was not ever bolted in
the evening until he had appeared.

When springtime came, and all around began to look green and bright,
one morning the bear said to Snow-White, "Now I must leave you, and
all the summer long I shall not be able to come back."

"Where, then, are you going, dear bear?" asked Snow-White. "I have to
go to the woods to protect my treasure from the bad dwarfs. In winter
time when the earth is frozen hard, they must remain underground, and
cannot make their way through; but now that the sunshine has thawed
the earth they can come to the surface, and whatever gets into their
hands, or is brought to their caves, seldom, if ever, again sees

Snow-White was very sad when she said good-bye to the good-natured
beast, and unfastened the door, that he might go; but in going out he
was caught by a hook in the lintel, and a scrap of his fur being torn,
Snow-White thought there was something shining like gold through the
rent; but he went out so quickly that she could not feel certain what
it was, and soon he was hidden among the trees.

One day the mother sent her children into the wood to pick up sticks.
They found a big tree lying on the ground. It had been felled, and
towards the roots they noticed something skipping and springing, which
they could not make out, as it was sometimes hidden in the grasses. As
they came nearer they could see it was a dwarf, with a shrivelled up
face and a snow-white beard an ell long. The beard was fixed in a gash
in the tree trunk, and the tiny fellow was hopping to and fro, like a
dog at the end of a string, but he could not manage to free himself.
He stared at the children, with his red, fiery eyes, and called out,
"Why are you standing there? Can't you come and try to help me?"

"What were you doing, little fellow?" enquired Rose-Red.

"Stupid, inquisitive goose!" replied the dwarf; "I meant to split the
trunk, so that I could chop it up for kitchen sticks; big logs would
burn up the small quantity of food we cook, for people like us do
not consume great heaps of food, as you heavy, greedy folk do.
The bill-hook I had driven in, and soon I should have done what
I required; but the tool suddenly sprang from the cleft, which so
quickly shut up again that it caught my handsome white beard; and
here I must stop, for I cannot set myself free. You stupid, pale-faced
creatures! You laugh, do you?"

In spite of the dwarf's bad temper, the girls took all possible pains
to release the little man, but without avail; the beard could not be
moved, it was wedged too tightly.

"I will run and get someone else," said Rose-Red.

"Idiot!" cried the dwarf. "Who would go and get more people? Already
there are two too many. Can't you think of something better?"

"Don't be so impatient," said Snow-White. "I will try to think." She
clapped her hands as if she had discovered a remedy, took out her
scissors, and in a moment set the dwarf free by cutting off the end of
his beard.

Immediately the dwarf felt that he was free he seized a sackful
of gold that was hidden among the tree roots, and, lifting it up,
grumbled out, "Clumsy creatures, to cut off a bit of my beautiful
beard, of which I am so proud! I leave the cuckoos to pay you for what
you did." Saying this, he swung the sack across his shoulder and went
off without even casting a glance at the children.

Not long afterwards the two sisters went to angle in the brook,
meaning to catch fish for dinner. As they were drawing near the water
they perceived something, looking like a large grasshopper, springing
towards the stream, as if it were going in. They hurried up to see
what it might be, and found that it was the dwarf. "Where are you
going?" said Rose-Red. "Surely you will not jump into the water?"

"I'm not such a simpleton as that!" yelled the little man. "Don't you
see that a wretch of a fish is pulling me in?"

The dwarf had been sitting angling from the side of the stream when,
by ill-luck, the wind had entangled his beard in his line, and just
afterwards a big fish taking the bait, the unamiable little fellow had
not sufficient strength to pull it out; so the fish had the advantage,
and was dragging the dwarf after it. Certainly he caught at every
stalk and spray near him, but that did not assist him greatly; he was
forced to follow all the twistings of the fish, and was perpetually in
danger of being drawn into the brook.

The girls arrived just in time. They caught hold of him firmly, and
endeavoured to untwist his beard from the line, but in vain; it was
too tightly entangled. There was nothing left but again to make use of
the scissors; so they were taken out, and the tangled portion was cut

When the dwarf noticed what they were about, he exclaimed, in a great
rage, "Is this how you damage my beard? Not content with making it
shorter before, you are now making it still smaller, and completely
spoiling it. I shall not ever dare to show my face to my friends.
I wish you had missed your way before you took this road." Then he
fetched a sack of pearls that lay among the rushes, and saying not
another word, hobbled off and disappeared behind a large stone.

Soon after this it chanced that the poor widow sent her children to
the town to purchase cotton, needles, ribbon and tape. The way to the
town ran over a common on which in every direction large masses
of rocks were scattered about. The children's attention was soon
attracted to a big bird that hovered in the air. They remarked that
after circling slowly for a time, and gradually getting nearer to
the ground, it all of a sudden pounced down amongst a mass of rock.
Instantly a heart-rending cry reached their ears, and, running quickly
to the place, they saw, with horror, that the eagle had seized their
former acquaintance, the dwarf, and was just about to carry him off.
The kind children did not hesitate for an instant. They took a firm
hold of the little man, they strove so stoutly with the eagle for
possession of his contemplated prey, that, after much rough treatment
on both sides, the dwarf was left in the hands of his brave little
friends, and the eagle took to flight.

As soon as the little man had in some measure recovered from his
alarm, his small, squeaky, cracked voice was heard saying, "Couldn't
you have held me more gently? See my little coat; you have rent and
damaged it in a fine manner, you clumsy, officious things!" Then he
picked up a sack of jewels, and slipped out of sight behind a piece of

The maidens by this time were quite used to his ungrateful, ungracious
ways; so they took no notice of it, but went on their way, made their
purchases, and then were ready to return to their happy home.

[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_

On their way back, suddenly, once more they ran across their dwarf

Upon a clear space he had turned out his sack of jewels, so that he
could count and admire them, for he had not imagined that anybody
would at so late an hour be coming across the common. The setting sun
was shining upon the brilliant stones, and their changing hues and
sparkling rays caused the children to pause to admire them also.

"What are you gazing at?" cried the dwarf, at the same time becoming
red with rage; "and what are you standing there for, making ugly

It is probable that he might have proceeded in the same complimentary
manner, but suddenly a great growl was heard near by them, and a big
bear joined the party. Up jumped the dwarf in extremest terror, but
could not get to his hiding-place, the bear was too close to him; so
he cried out in very evident anguish--

"Dear Mr. Bear, forgive me, I pray! I will render to you all my
treasure. Just see those precious stones lying there! Grant me my
life! What would you do with such an insignificant little fellow?
You would not notice me between your teeth. See, though, those
two children, they would be delicate morsels, and are as plump as
partridges; I beg of you to take them, good Mr. Bear, and let me go."

But the bear would not be moved by his speeches. He gave the
ill-disposed creature a blow with his paw, and he lay lifeless on the
ground. Meanwhile, the maidens were running away, making off for home
as well as they could; but all of a sudden they were stopped by a
well-known voice that called out, "Snow-White, Rose-Red, stay! Do not
fear. I will accompany you."

The bear quickly came towards them, but as he reached their side,
suddenly the bear-skin slipped to the ground, and there before them
was standing a handsome man, completely garmented in gold, who said,
"I am a king's son, who was enchanted by the wicked dwarf lying
over there. He stole my treasure, and compelled me to roam the woods
transformed into a big bear until his death should set me free.
Therefore he has only received a well-deserved punishment."


Then Rose-Red and Snow-White and the Prince all went back to the
cottage, and some time afterwards Snow-White married the Prince, and
Rose-Red, his brother, who shared between them the enormous treasure
which the dwarf had collected in his cave.

The old mother spent many happy years with her children. The two
rose-trees she took with her when she left the cottage, and they grew
in front of her window, where they continued to bear each year the
most beautiful roses, red and white.




Once upon a time there lived a king and queen who had no children; and
this they lamented very much. But one day, as the queen was walking by
the side of the river, a little fish lifted its head out of the water,
and said, "Your wish shall be fulfilled, and you shall soon have a

What the little fish had foretold soon came to pass; and the Queen had
a little girl who was so very beautiful that the king could not cease
looking on her for joy, and determined to hold a great feast. So he
invited not only his relations, friends, and neighbours, but also all
the fairies, that they might be kind and good to his little daughter.
Now there were thirteen fairies in his kingdom, and he had only twelve
golden dishes for them to eat out of, so that he was obliged to leave
one of the fairies without an invitation. The rest came, and after the
feast was over they gave all their best gifts to the little princess;
one gave her virtue, another beauty, another riches, and so on till
she had all that was excellent in the world. When eleven had done
blessing her, the thirteenth, who had not been invited, and was very
angry on that account, came in, and determined to take her revenge.
So she cried out, "The King's daughter shall in her fifteenth year be
wounded by a spindle, and fall down dead." Then the twelfth, who had
not yet given her gift, came forward and said that the bad wish
must be fulfilled, but that she could soften it, and that the king's
daughter should not die, but fall asleep for a hundred years.


But the king hoped to save his dear child from the threatened evil,
and ordered that all the spindles in the kingdom should be bought up
and destroyed. All the fairies' gifts were in the meantime fulfilled;
for the princess was so beautiful, and well-behaved, and amiable, and
wise, that everyone who knew her loved her. Now it happened that on
the very day she was fifteen years old the king and queen were not
at home, and she was left alone in the palace. So she roved about by
herself, and poked at all the rooms and chambers, till at last she
came to an old tower, to which there was a narrow staircase ending
with a little door. In the door there was a golden key, and when she
turned it the door sprang open, and there sat an old lady spinning
away very busily.

"Why, how now, good mother," said the princess, "what are you doing

"Spinning," said the old lady, and nodded her head.

"How prettily that little thing turns round!" said the princess, and
took the spindle and began to spin. But scarcely had she touched it
before the prophecy was fulfilled, and she fell down, as if lifeless,
on the ground.

However, she was not dead, but had only fallen into a deep sleep; and
the king and queen, who just then came home, and all their court, fell
asleep too, and the horses slept in the stables, and the dogs in the
court, the pigeons on the house-top, and the flies on the walls. Even
the fire on the hearth left off blazing, and went to sleep; and the
meat that was roasting stood still; and the cook, who was at that
moment pulling the kitchen-boy by the hair to give him a box on the
ear for something he had done amiss, let him go, and both fell asleep;
and so everything stood still, and slept soundly.


A large hedge of thorns soon grew around the palace, and every year it
became higher and thicker, till at last the whole place was surrounded
and hidden, so that not even the roof or the chimneys could be seen.
But there went a report, through all the land, of the beautiful
sleeping Briar Rose (for so was the king's daughter called) so that
from time to time several kings' sons came, and tried to break through
the thicket into the palace. This they could never do; for the thorns
and bushes laid hold of them as it were with hands, and there they
stuck fast and died miserably.


After many years came yet another king's son into that land, and
an old man told him the story of the thicket of thorns, and how a
beautiful palace stood behind it, in which was a wondrous princess,
called Briar Rose, asleep with all her court. He told, too, how he had
heard from his grandfather that many, many princes had come, and had
tried to break through the thicket, but had stuck fast and died.

Then the young prince said, "All this shall not frighten me; I will
go and see Briar Rose." The old man tried to dissuade him, but he
persisted in going.

Now that very day were the hundred years completed; and as the prince
came to the thicket he saw nothing but beautiful flowering shrubs,
through which he passed with ease, and they closed after him, as firm
as ever. Then he came at last to the palace, and there in the court
lay the dogs asleep, and the horses in the stables, and on the roof
sat the pigeons fast asleep with their heads under their wings; and
when he came into the palace, the flies slept on the walls, and the
cook in the kitchen was still holding up her hand as if she would beat
the boy, and the maid with her pail in her hand was going a-milking.

Then he went on still further, and all was so quiet that he could hear
every breath he drew; till at last he came to the old tower and opened
the door of the little room in which Briar Rose was, and there she lay
fast asleep, and looked so beautiful that he could not turn his eyes
away, and he stooped down and gave her a kiss. But the moment he
kissed her she opened her eyes and awoke, and smiled upon him. For the
spell was broken.

Then they went out together, and presently the king and queen also
awoke, and all the court, and they gazed on each other with great
wonder. And the horses got up and shook themselves, and the dogs
jumped about and barked; the pigeons took their heads from under their
wings, and looked around and flew into the fields; the flies on the
walls buzzed; the fire in the kitchen blazed up and cooked the dinner,
and the roast meat turned round again; the cook gave the boy the box
on his ear so that he cried out, and the maid went to milk the cows.
And then was the wedding of the prince and Briar Rose celebrated, and
they lived happily together all their lives long.

[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_


      More close and close his footsteps wind:
      The Magic Music in his heart
      Beats quick and quicker, till he find
      The quiet chamber far apart.


There was once a king who was such an honourable man that his subjects
called him "The Good King."

One day while he was out hunting, a little rabbit that his dogs were
about to kill, threw itself into his arms. The King caressed the
little creature, and said:

"As you have put yourself under my protection nobody shall harm you,"
and he carried the rabbit to his palace, and ordered a pretty little
hutch to be made for it.

That night when he was alone in his room, there appeared a lovely
lady. She wore a robe as white as snow, and a wreath of white roses on
her head. She addressed him thus:

"I am the Fairy Candide; I wished to see if you were as good as
everybody declares you are, and for this reason I changed myself into
the little rabbit, and ran to you in my distress, for I know that
those who have pity for dumb creatures have still more pity for
mankind. I have come to thank you for what you did and to say that I
shall always be your friend, and will grant any request you would now
like to make."


"Madam," replied the King, "I have one only son whom I love devotedly;
he is named Prince Chéri; if you have any good will for me, be a
friend to my son."


"Willingly," responded the Fairy, "I will make your son the most
handsome prince in the world, or the richest, or the most powerful;
choose which you will for him."

"I desire none of these things," replied the King, "but I shall be
very much obliged if you will make him the best of all princes, for
what good would it do to him to be handsome, rich, or powerful if he
were wicked? You know he would be unhappy, for it is only goodness
which brings content."

"You are right," answered the Fairy, "but that I cannot do; Prince
Chéri must himself strive to become good. All that I can promise is
that I will give him good advice, and punish him for his faults, if he
will not himself correct them."

And with this the father had to rest content.

Not long afterwards the good King died, and two days later the Fairy
appeared to Prince Chéri.

"I promised your father to be your friend," she told him; "here is a
little gold ring, take care of it, for it is worth more than diamonds.
Every time that you are about to do any wrong action it will prick
you. If, in spite of the pricks, you continue your bad actions, you
will lose my friendship and I shall become your enemy."

Saying this the Fairy vanished, leaving the Prince very much

For some time Chéri behaved so well that the ring did not prick
at all, but one day when he returned from the chase, having caught
nothing, he felt so ill-humoured, that when his dog Bibi came fawning
upon him, he kicked the poor, faithful creature from him. At that
moment the ring pricked like a pin running into his finger.

"What is this?" he exclaimed: "the Fairy must be mocking me, surely
I've done no great harm in kicking an animal that annoyed me. What's
the use of being ruler of a great empire if I may not treat my dog as
I will?"

"I am not mocking you," he heard in reply to his thoughts; "you have
been bad tempered, and you have behaved unkindly to a poor animal who
did not deserve such treatment. I know you are higher than a dog, but
the advantage of being ruler of a great empire is not in doing all the
harm one wishes, but in doing all the good one can."

Chéri promised to be better, but he did not keep his word, and so the
ring often pricked him, sometimes until his finger bled, and at last,
in anger, he threw it away.

Now he thought he would be truly happy, and he gave way to any foolish
fancies and wrong wishes that came into his head, until he really
became very wicked and was disliked by everyone.

One day when he was out walking he saw a girl named Zélie, who was so
beautiful that he resolved to marry her.

But Zélie was as good as she was beautiful, and said to him:

"Sir, I am only a shepherdess and have no fortune, but, in spite of
that, I will never marry you, for although I should be a Queen, and
you are handsome and rich, your evil behaviour would make me hate

Upon this, Chéri flew into a passion, and ordered his officers to
carry Zélie to the Palace, but she was not used unkindly there, for
the Prince loved her.

However, after a while, urged by his foster-brother, a bad man who
encouraged Chéri in his wickedness, the young man rushed in a rage to
the room in which Zélie was confined, determined that, if she still
refused to marry him, the very next day she should be sold as a slave.

Great was his surprise, on entering the apartment, to find the captive
had disappeared, for he carried the key of the door in his pocket.

[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_

Amongst those at the Royal Court was a Councillor named Suliman, a man
of a noble mind, who had often dared to tell the Prince of his faults,
and had at first been thanked for this, but later on Chéri grew angry
that anyone should presume to blame him while all others at the Court
were full of flattery and praise, but in his heart of hearts the
Prince respected this good man, and this the wicked flatterers knew
full well, and therefore feared lest he should come into the Prince's

So now they falsely said, that it was Suliman who had helped Zélie
to escape, and beyond himself with fury, Chéri commanded his
foster-brother to send soldiers to bring Suliman to him in chains,
like a criminal.

After giving these orders Chéri retired to his chamber, but scarcely
had he entered, when the earth trembled, there came a great clap of
thunder, and the Fairy Candide appeared before him.

"I promised your father," said she in a stern voice, "to give you
good advice, and to punish you if you refused to follow it. You
have despised my counsels and your crimes have converted you into a
monster, the horror of heaven and earth. Now it is time to fulfill my
promise of punishment. I condemn you to take the resemblance of the
beasts you are like in disposition--A lion, because of your fury--a
wolf, on account of your greediness--a serpent, for destroying him who
has been your second father--a bull, by reason of your brutality."


Hardly had the Fairy pronounced these words, when Chéri perceived with
horror that his body had been transformed.

He had a lion's head, a bull's horns, the feet of a wolf, and the
tail of a viper. At the same moment he found himself in a forest, and
there, after roaming about miserably for some time, he fell into a
pit dug by hunters. He was captured and led into the capital of his

On the way thither instead of acknowledging that he had brought this
evil plight upon himself, he bit at his chains, and cursed the Fairy.
As he was nearing the city great rejoicings were seen on every side,
and, on the hunters enquiring the reason, they were told that Prince
Chéri, whose only pleasure it was to torment his people, had been
crushed to death in his chamber by a thunder-bolt, a just punishment
for his offences. Four of his wicked companions had tried to partition
the Kingdom between them, but the people would have none such to rule,
and they had offered the crown to the good and wise Suliman. Chéri
panted with rage on hearing this, and in the Palace Square he saw
Suliman on a superb throne, and all the people who shouted with joy,
and wished him a long life to repair the evil brought about by their
former sovereign. "I accept the throne," said Suliman, "but it is to
preserve it for Prince Chéri. A fairy has revealed to me that he
is not dead, and possibly will return to you as virtuous as in his
earliest years. Alas!" cried Suliman, bursting into tears, "his
flatterers have ruined him, I know that at heart he is good." These
words moved Chéri to sorrow for his crimes, and he felt that he had
not been punished as severely as he deserved, and he now resolved to
amend his faults.


Therefore he obeyed the man who had charge over him, and who
constantly cruelly beat him, and one day when this keeper lay asleep,
and a tiger who had broken loose was about to devour him, Chéri fought
the fierce beast, and saved the man's life.

Then a voice was heard saying, "a good action shall be rewarded!" and,
to Chéri's joy he was instantaneously transformed into a pretty little
dog which the keeper carried to the Queen.

The Queen was delighted with him, but, for fear he should grow bigger,
she gave him only small pieces of bread to eat, so that poor Chéri
nearly died of hunger.

One day he carried his little piece of bread into the garden to eat it
there, but wandering with it in his mouth, still further on, he saw a
young girl pale and thin, and almost fainting for want of food.

"I am hungry," thought Chéri, "but if I give my breakfast to this
poor thing, perhaps I shall save her life." He placed his bread in the
girl's hand, and she ate it hungrily. Just then he heard loud cries,
and saw that it was the beautiful Zélie struggling to free herself
from four men who were carrying her into a house near by.

Chéri, longing to help her, followed them barking, and although the
men kicked him savagely, he would not leave the place. Presently from
a window was thrown a plateful of tempting-looking food. Chéri was
just about to devour it, when the girl to whom he had given the bread,
rushed forward and throwing her arms around him cried,


"Poor little dog, do not touch that food, it is poisoned." Just then
a voice was heard saying, "You see that a good action meets with
reward," and at the same time Chéri was changed into a pretty white
pigeon. For several days he flew around hoping to catch sight of
Zélie, and at last, seated by a hermit, outside a cave, he found
her. Fluttering down he alighted upon her shoulder. Zélie stroked his
feathers whispering that she now accepted his gift and would love
him always, and at that moment Chéri regained his natural figure,
and Fairy Candide appeared in place of the hermit whose form she had
taken. "Come, my children," said she, "I am going to transport you
to your Palace, that Chéri may receive his crown of which he has now
become worthy," and hardly had she ceased speaking, when they found
themselves in Suliman's presence. The worthy Governor was delighted to
behold his dear master, and gladly resigned the throne to him. Chéri
and Zélie reigned long and happily, and we are told that the ring,
which the Prince now wore again, never once severely pricked him.



There was once a King who had three sons, all handsome and brave, but
it came to his ears that they wished to reign now instead of waiting
until he died, he therefore determined to divert their minds by making
promises the fulfilment of which he would always be able to evade. So
he called them to his room and spoke: "You must agree with me, my
dear children, that at my great age I cannot manage the business of
my kingdom as I used to do, and as I am intending retiring into the
country, it seems to me that a clever, faithful dog would be very good
company, and I promise you that whichever brings me the most beautiful
little dog at once succeeds to the kingdom."

The Princes were much surprised to hear their father's wish for a
little dog, but agreed with pleasure to go in search of one. They said
goodbye to the King, who gave them money and jewels, announcing that
in a year he should expect them to return, all on the same day and at
the same hour, bringing to him their little dogs.


Then the Princes set out, each by a different road, agreeing in a
year's time to meet at a certain place a short distance from their

The two elder met with many adventures, but it is only the youngest
that we shall follow.

This youngest Prince was very courteous, merry, clever and
accomplished, he was tall, handsome, and all that a prince should be.

Very seldom a day passed without his buying dogs, little dogs, big
dogs, sporting dogs, spaniels, hounds, dogs of all sorts. When he
found a beautiful one and then came across a still better, he let the
first one go, for being alone--the Princes had declined to take any
attendants--he could not take charge of thirty or forty thousand dogs.

He travelled on, keeping to one road, until on a certain night, during
a storm of thunder and rain, he lost his way, and after some wandering
arrived at a most superb castle where nobody was to be seen but about
a dozen hands all holding torches. Other hands pushed him forwards,
and guided him through one apartment after another, all so rich in
precious stones and beautiful paintings, that it was like enchantment.

After passing through sixty rooms, the hands stopped him, and here the
wet garments of the Prince were taken away, and he was clad in raiment
of the most exquisite description. The hands then conducted him into
a banqueting hall, where entered a little figure, not two feet high,
covered with a long black crepe veil, followed by a great procession
of cats.

The Prince was too much astonished to move. The little figure
approached him, raising the veil, and he saw the most beautiful White
Cat he had ever beheld.

Addressing the Prince she said:

"King's son! welcome! my Feline Majesty sees you with pleasure!"

"Madame Cat," replied the Prince, "it is very good of you to receive
me thus, but you are not an ordinary cat; being able to speak, and
possessing this superb castle, are proof of that."

After they had conversed a little while, supper was served to them,
during which the Prince entertained the Cat by telling her all sorts
of news, and he discovered that she was well informed as to what was
taking place in the world.

Supper over, various cats came in, dressed in fancy costumes, and
danced a ballet, then the White Cat bid her visitor good-night, and
the hands which had conducted him before, led him to a bed-chamber.

Early the next morning the hands awoke him, and dressing him in a
handsome hunting costume, led him to the courtyard, where he found the
White Cat upon a splendid monkey, with about five hundred other cats
assembled, all ready for the chase; and never had the Prince enjoyed
anything so much, for although mounted only upon a wooden horse, he
rode at a great pace.

Day after day passed in such delights as made the Prince almost forget
his own country.

"Alas!" said he to the White Cat again and again, "how sad I shall be
to leave you! I love you so dearly! Either become a woman, or change
me into a cat!"

A year passes very quickly when one has no care or trouble, and is
enjoying life. But the White Cat knew when the Prince should return
home, and reminded him, saying, "Don't you know you have only three
days to look for the little dog for your father, and that your
brothers will have found the most beautiful?"

Then the Prince came to himself, and cried, "By what charm have you
made me forget what is so important? Where shall I find the dog, and a
horse swift enough for such a journey?" And he was in great distress.

The White Cat comforted him, however, saying that the wooden horse
would take him to his journey's end sufficiently quickly, and that she
would herself also provide the little dog; then she handed to him
a walnut, saying, "Put your ear to this shell and you will hear him

So the Prince met his brothers, and they came into the King's


The two elder sons had brought little dogs so delicate and small that
one hardly dared to touch them, and none could decide which should
have the kingdom. Then the youngest took from his pocket the nut the
Cat had given to him, and there was seen a little dog so tiny that
it could go through a ring without touching it; he was also able to
dance, and play the castanets, while his ears touched the ground.
The King was embarassed, for it was impossible to find a flaw in this
lovely little creature.

However as he did not desire to part with his crown, he declared that
they had succeeded so well in their first quest that now he should
like them to search, by land and sea, for a piece of linen so fine
that it would pass through the eye of a very small needle.

Then the three Princes set out once more, but the youngest mounted his
wooden horse and repaired at once to the White Cat, who was rejoiced
to see him, and the second year passed by as the first had done.

When the day came round appointed by the King for the return of his
sons, the two elder appeared before him, and, without awaiting the
arrival of their brother, displayed their pieces of linen, which were
of a fineness quite astonishing. But although they would pass through
the eye of a large needle, through the small needle the King had
selected they would not go.

There was much murmuring at this, and while the brothers were
disputing the King's decision, a charming sound was heard of trumpets
and other musical instruments.

It was the youngest Prince who arrived in a chariot with out-riders
and numerous attendants, all of which had been provided for him by the
White Cat.

After respectfully greeting his father and embracing his brothers, he
took out of a jewelled box a nut which he broke. On breaking the
nut he found a cherry stone, the stone was broken and there was the
kernel, in the kernel was a grain of corn, in the grain of corn a
millet seed, and within that a piece of linen so fine that it passed
six times through the smallest needle's eye, and moreover on it were
exquisite paintings of people and places without number.

The King heaved a deep sigh, and turning to his children said,

"Nothing pleases me, in my old age, so much as your deference to my
desires, and I wish to prove you once more. Travel for a year, and he
who at the end of the year brings home the most beautiful girl shall
marry her, and be crowned king on his marriage. I promise you that I
will not defer this reward any longer."

Our Prince saw the injustice of all this; his little dog and piece
of linen were worth ten kingdoms, not only one; but he was too well
brought up to go against his father's wishes, and, mounting into his
chariot, with his retinue, he returned to the White Cat's Castle.

"Well! King's son!" said the White Cat, "you have returned once more
without your crown?"

"Madam," answered the Prince, "your gifts should have gained it for
me, but I am convinced that the King would have more pain in giving it
up than I should have pleasure in possessing it!"

"Never mind," she replied, "you shall not neglect anything that may
deserve it; and if you must conduct a beautiful girl to your father's
court, I will look for one so that you may gain the prize. Meanwhile
let us be happy."


If the Cat had not taken pains to remember the time when he must
return to the court, the Prince would surely have forgotten it. On the
evening before, she told him that she would bring him to one of the
most beautiful Princesses in the world, that at last the hour had
arrived to destroy the fatal work of an evil fairy, and to do this he
must make up his mind to cut off her head and tail, which he was at
once to throw into the fire.

"I," cried the Prince, "Blanchette that I love: do you think I should
be cruel enough to kill you? No doubt, you wish to prove my heart
which will certainly never forget what I owe to you for your

"No! King's son," she continued, "I don't think you are ungrateful. Do
this that I beseech you, and then we shall begin to be happy with one
another, by the faith and honour of a cat, believe that I am truly
your friend."

Tears flowed from the Prince's eyes even at the thought, and he said
all that he could to avoid it, but she urged him so vehemently that
at last he took his sword and tremblingly cut off the head and tail of
his dear friend the Cat.

In the same moment took place the most marvellous change imaginable.

The body of the White Cat grew large, and was transformed into that
of a girl; how, one could not say; one only knew it was so. Her figure
was majestic, her manners charming, her whole appearance beautiful
beyond words.

Then there entered an immense number of lords and ladies, who carrying
their cats' skins, or with them thrown across their shoulders, came
and cast themselves at the feet of the Queen, expressing their joy at
seeing her again in her rightful form.

She received them all with a kindness which showed the goodness of her
heart, and then turning to the Prince she told the story of her life,
and how by a wicked enchantment she had been transformed into a White

"But it is you, my Prince, who have freed me," she concluded; "as soon
as I saw you I knew my troubles were at an end."

They set out forthwith in a splendid carriage. As they drew near the
castle, at the place where the three brothers were to meet, the Queen
entered into a little crystal rock ornamented with precious stones,
and this was carried by richly dressed young men.

The Prince who had remained in the carriage, saw his brothers,
approaching with wondrously beautiful ladies.

On being questioned he told them that all he had brought was a little
White Cat.


They began to laugh at him, and drove on followed by the young Prince,
while after him was brought the crystal rock.

Arrived at the Palace the two elder Princes dismounted with their
marvellous Princesses.

The King received them graciously, and did not know to which to award
the prize.

He looked at his youngest son and said, "This time, then, you have
come alone." "Your Majesty will see in this rock a little White
Cat who mews sweetly and has soft little velvet paws," answered the

The King smiled, and himself went to open the rock. But, as he came
near, the Queen, with a touch, made it shatter to pieces, and from out
of it she appeared like the sun that has been hidden by clouds; her
fair hair was spread over her shoulders, and fell in waves to her
feet, and she was robed in a gown of white and rose-colour.

She made a deep curtsey to the King who, struck with admiration, could
not help exclaiming,

"Here is one who is matchless, and she deserves my crown."

"Sire," she answered, "I have not come to take away the throne that
you fill with such dignity; I was born heir to six kingdoms, allow
me to offer you one, and one of them I give to each of your sons. In
return all I ask of you is this young Prince for my husband. We shall
still have three kingdoms."

The King and all the Court uttered loud cries of joy. The marriage was
at once celebrated, also that of the other two Princes; and in such a
manner that the Court spent several months in fêtes of all sorts.

Then each one of them departed to govern his kingdom, the White Cat
making herself ever remembered as much by her kindness and generosity
as by her rare merit and beauty.



In the long ago times, in a splendid house, surrounded by fine
gardens and a park, there lived a man who had riches in abundance, and
everything to make him popular except one, and that was his beard, for
his beard was neither black as a raven's wing, golden as the sunlight,
nor just an ordinary every-day colour, but it was blue, bright blue.

Of course had blue beards come into fashion his would have been
considered beautiful beyond words, but, as far as we know, blue beards
have never as yet been fashionable, nor are they likely to be so.

However, in spite of his blue beard this man had married several
times, though what had become of his wives nobody could say.

Now, not far from Bluebeard's house there dwelt a widow with two very
lovely daughters, and one of these Bluebeard wished to marry, but
which he did not mind, they might settle that between themselves.

Neither of these girls had the least desire to have a husband with a
blue beard, and also, not knowing the fate of the other wives, they
did not like to risk disappearing from the world as those had done,
but being very polite young women they would not refuse Bluebeard's
proposals outright. The younger said, "I would not for a moment take
away Sister Anne's chance of marrying such a wealthy man," while
Sister Anne declared that, although the elder, she would much prefer
to give way to her sister. And so it went on for some time.

Then Bluebeard invited the widow and her daughters to spend a week
with him, and many of their neighbours he also invited.

Most sumptuous was the entertainment provided for them. Hunting and
fishing expeditions, picnics and balls went on from morning till
night, and all the night through, so that there was not time even to
think of sleep, only feasting and pleasure the whole week long.

So well, indeed, did the younger sister enjoy this, that by the end of
the week she had begun to think perhaps after all her host's beard was
not so very blue, and that it would be a fine thing to be the mistress
of such a magnificent mansion, and the wife of such a rich husband.

And so, not long afterwards, there was a grand wedding, and the
widow's younger daughter became Mrs. Bluebeard.

About a month later, Bluebeard told his wife that he must leave her
for several weeks, having to travel on business.

"While I am absent, my dear," said he, "invite your relations and
friends and enjoy yourself just as you please in entertaining them.
See here are my keys, the keys of the rooms and of the chests where I
keep my money, my gold and silver plate, and my jewels. Unlock rooms
and chests and use freely what you will."


"This small key," he added, pointing to quite a little one, "is the
key of the door at the end of the lower landing, you will not need to
use this at all. In fact, should you open that door, or even put this
key into the lock, I should be dreadfully angry, indeed I should make
you suffer for it in a terrible way."

Then Bluebeard bid his wife good-bye, and departed.

As soon as Mrs. Bluebeard's friends and relations knew that her
husband was away, they came flocking to visit her, for they longed to
see all her splendid possessions, but had feared to come before.

They could not enough admire the magnificent apartments, and ran from
one to another praising everything they beheld.

But the young wife heeded nothing they said or did, all she thought
of was that little key which she must not use, wondering more and more
why she ought not to open that one particular door.

At last she could bear it no longer, but slipping away from her
visitors, she ran along the passages and stairs, nearly falling down
them, so great was her haste, until she came to that door at the end
of the corridor.

Not pausing an instant, she thrust the key into the lock, and the door
sprang open.

At first she could distinguish nothing, for the room was dark and
gloomy, but then, all of a sudden, she knew what had become of
Bluebeard's other wives, for there they lay, in a long, straight row,
all dead. She stood horrified for a moment or two, gazing at the
pale faces, and long hair spread out around them, then picking up
the little key which she had taken from the lock but dropped in her
fright, she hastily quitted the room, shut and locked the door, and
ran to her own chamber to calm herself before returning to her guests.
But she was unable to rest for an instant, so dreadful were her
feelings; then with terror she noticed that on the key there was a
stain. She wiped it with her handkerchief, but alas! it was blood that
would not be wiped away. She washed the key and rubbed it, and
scraped it and polished it, but all to no purpose, if she succeeded
in cleansing one side, the mark came out on the other. For the key was

[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_

That same evening Bluebeard returned saying he had met the man whom
he was wanting to see, and so the long journey was unnecessary, and he
was rejoiced to be at home again.

Next morning he called for the keys; his wife brought them to him,
but not the little one; that she left behind. Bluebeard noticed this
directly and sent her to fetch it. Trembling, and white as a sheet,
she was forced to give it into his hand.

"Ha! what is this?" he cried, "what is this stain that I see!"

His poor wife trembled still more, and could not speak.

"Wretched woman!" shouted Bluebeard, "you have used this key, you have
unlocked the door of that room at the end of the passage. You shall

In vain did his wife plead with him to spare her, kneeling before him
with tears streaming from her eyes. "You shall die!" he cried again,
more savagely than before.

"Let me have a few moments alone, to prepare for death,"

"Half a quarter of an hour, but not a moment longer," he replied, and
left her.

The poor young woman hastened to a room at the foot of the turret
stairs where was her Sister Anne, and called to her.

"Sister Anne, Sister Anne, look from the tower window. Can you see no
one coming?" And Sister Anne, looking out, answered:

"Alas! No! Nothing but the green grass, and the sun which shines upon

Bluebeard shouted from below that the time was almost up.

"Sister Anne, Sister Anne, look once again, can you see no one
coming?" whispered the young wife wringing her hands. Her brothers,
she knew, were to visit her that day--if only they would come in time!

"Alas, No!" Sister Anne replied. "I see a cloud of dust, but it is
only a flock of sheep on the road."

But now Bluebeard bawled out so loudly for his wife to come down, that
the whole house shook.

"Sister Anne, Sister Anne, tell me is no one coming?"

"I see two horsemen afar off," cried Sister Anne. "I will beckon to
them to hasten hither."

But Bluebeard would wait not a moment longer, and nearly dead with
terror his wife descended, still entreating him to spare her life.

He would not, however, give heed to her prayers, and was just
brandishing his sword, so that it might come down straight and true
upon her slender neck, when the door burst open and two young army
officers came rushing in, whom Bluebeard recognised as the brothers
of his wife. He swiftly fled, but they speedily followed, and for his
many crimes slew him then and there.

All his wealth now belonged to his widow, and she gratefully rewarded
her brothers by purchasing them commissions in the army; she settled
a large sum of money upon her sister, and after a while she married
again, and with a good husband lived a happy life.




Once upon a time, a long while ago, there was a Beast.

He was a Great Beast, and lived in a Great Castle that stood in the
middle of a Great Park, and everybody in the country held the Beast in
great fear. In fact everything about the Beast was great; his roar was
great and terrific and could be heard for miles around the park, and
when he roared the people trembled.

Nobody ever saw the Beast, which was by no means remarkable, for the
Beast never came out of his Park, and no one, I can assure you, ever
ventured on to his estate.

But matters were not allowed to remain like this for ever, for
something very wonderful happened to the Beast and to somebody else,
and if that something had not happened this story would never have
been written.

About two miles and three quarters from the Castle gates there lived
a rich merchant and his three daughters. The two elder girls were ugly
disagreeable things, and although they had all they could wish for to
make them happy they were always grumbling; but the youngest daughter,
whose name was Beauty, was very pretty, and her nature was happy and
good, her presence was sunshine, and she was the joy of her father's

Well, one day the two elder sisters had something to grumble about
with a vengeance, for a telegram arrived to say that the merchant was
no longer a rich merchant, for he had lost all his money.

So the horses and carriages had to be sold, and everything that was
of value was got rid of, the servants were sent away, and the merchant
and his daughters had to do their own work.

Dear me, it was shocking, the way those two sisters grumbled, but
Beauty, oh dear no, she was all smiles, for her heart was as sunny as
ever, as she rolled up the sleeves of her print frock, and cooked the
dinner, and scrubbed the floors, and made herself useful, here, there,
and everywhere.

Things had been going on like this for about three months, when one
fine morning another telegram boy came with another telegram to say
that somebody who owed the merchant a great deal of money was ready to
pay the debt, and all the merchant had to do was to go to the city and
get it.

Of course, everybody was delighted at this good news, and the merchant
didn't waste any time, but started off to the city at once.

"Mind you bring me something back," said the eldest daughter as he was

"What shall it be?" asked the merchant.

"A white satin dress trimmed with lace and pearls," said his eldest

"And you must bring me something too, please, father," said the second

"And what do you want," asked the merchant.

"A purse full of gold so that I can buy what I want myself," said the
second daughter.

"I will try and do what you both ask," he said, "and what shall I
bring for my Beauty?"

"I will wait a little for my dresses and things," replied the smiling
Beauty, as she helped her father on with his cloak, "but I should like
you to bring me home a rose, a lovely red rose, if you can."

So her father kissed her, and promised he would bring her the rose,
and went on his way full of hopes.

What a pity it is that our hopes cannot be always realized, and that
we are so often doomed to disappointment! When the merchant arrived at
the city, to his dismay he found that the man who owed him the money
was still unable to pay him, the man had been disappointed himself at
the last moment.

So the unhappy father had to return home without the white satin dress
trimmed with lace and pearls, and without the bag of money, and he
dreaded meeting his two daughters, for he knew they would be terribly


Now on his way home from the station to his house he had to pass by
part of the wall that surrounded the Great Park where the Great Beast
lived in his Great Castle; and as he passed by a corner of the wall
what should he see hanging just over the top, and just within his
reach if he stood on his toes, but a lovely red rose.

"At any rate I can take my Beauty what she asked for," he said to
himself, and, without so much as giving a thought to the wrong he was
doing, he stood on his toes and plucked the rose.

He was sorry he did it.

Of a sudden there was a roar, such a roar that the very ground shook,
and as to the poor merchant he quivered like a leaf.

Enough to make him quiver indeed, for a gate in the wall suddenly
opened, and out rushed the _Beast_.

Yes, the Beast, if you please, and he seized the merchant by the
scruff of his neck, and dragged him into the Park, and shut the gate
after him.

"Don't you know it's a sin to steal?" roared the Beast. "How dare you
steal my roses? I am going to kill you."

"Oh, mercy, Mr. Beast," cried the unhappy man, flinging himself on his
knees before the monster.


"I'm going to kill you," roared the Beast still more loudly. "It's
taken years to cultivate this sort of rose, and--and I'm going to
kill you. Unless," he added after a pause, "you send me one of your
daughters here instead."

"All right," said the merchant and got on his feet again.

"She must be here to-morrow by breakfast time, and I breakfast early,"
said the Beast, as he let the merchant out of the gate. "If she is not
here, I shall come for you, and don't you forget it."

It was by no means likely that he would forget it, in fact he could
think of nothing else. He hurried home and told his dreadful news, and
received a dreadful scolding from his two elder daughters, who were
angry at not getting their presents.

"And it is Beauty's fault that you have got into this trouble," they
said. "Beauty and her stupid rose. Beauty had better get you out of
the trouble." Beauty said little, but smiled on, with sunshine in her
heart, and trust in her loving nature, and cooked the dinner.


Early next morning when the dawn was breaking she left her father's
house, leaving a little note behind her begging him not to be anxious
but that she had gone to the Beast's castle.

When she came to the gate in the wall she knocked upon it three
times and it opened as if by magic, for she could see no one. And she
stepped into the garden of red roses, and in the distance across the
Park she saw the Castle, and she thought she had never seen anything
so beautiful. For it was built of mother-of-pearl, and the red and
yellow gleams of the rising sun shone upon its glistening walls, and
lit them up with a thousand radiant lights.

Beauty marvelled at the loveliness and walked on. And when she arrived
at this beautiful Castle, the huge gates opened as if by magic, and
the doors opened as if by magic, for never a soul did she see, nor
living thing of any sort.

And in the great hall was the breakfast table laid for two. It was
a nice breakfast with steaming hot dishes, and jams, honey, and hot
rolls, and brightly polished silver, and sweet flowers.

Then the Beast appeared suddenly from behind a curtain; oh, he was
an awful Beast, and Beauty's heart beat fast! But he seemed a polite
Beast for all that.

He handed Beauty a chair, and when she had sat down said:

"I bid you welcome; which do you take, tea or coffee?"

"Tea please," answered Beauty.

"Then pour it out," he said, "and I'll take tea too, please. Eggs, do
you like eggs hard or soft?"

"I always cook mine three minutes and a half," replied Beauty.

"Half a minute too much, I think. But you shall have just what you

And so she had; not only at the breakfast table but in everything. She
had only to express a wish and it was immediately gratified. She
had ponies to ride, and dogs and cats, and pet birds, and the most
beautiful dresses ever worn by real princesses.

And if it had not been that she was away from her father she would
really have been happy.

[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_

The Beast was most kind and attentive to her, and told her that he
loved her, and three times a day he asked her to marry him, but Beauty
shook her head and said, oh no, she couldn't.

Well, Beauty had been at the great Castle some time when she began to
pine to go home and see her father, and she begged the Beast to let
her go.

"Very good," he said with a great sigh, "you may go home to-day, but
promise me that you will be back early to-morrow morning. If you do
not come back early I am sure I shall die for I love you so dearly."

So Beauty promised and went home, and she took presents for her father
and her sisters, and when the sisters heard of all the wonderful
things at the great Castle, they were envious and jealous, and made up
their minds to do Beauty and the Beast a great injury.

So they mixed something in Beauty's supper that made her sleep nearly
all the next day, and so she did not keep her promise. It was evening
when she arrived at the gate in the wall, instead of early morning.

But she knocked three times and the gate opened by magic, and she went
through the garden and hurried to the Castle, that shone like fire in
the light of the setting sun. And the huge gates opened by magic, and
the doors opened by magic, and she stood in the great hall, but there
was no Beast there. She searched in all the rooms but he was not
there; with fear and anxiety in her heart she ran into the gardens,
and there she found him at last. Found him lying stretched out on the
grass, and she thought he was dead.

"Oh, dear darling Beast," she cried, as she threw herself on her knees
beside him, and raised his ugly head, "dear Beast, do not die, for
I love you with all my heart, and will marry you to-morrow." And she
kissed him. Then of a sudden he sprang to his feet, but no longer
the Beast, no longer a hideous monster, but a beautiful prince most
beautifully dressed. "Dearest," he said, "a wicked fairy turned me
into this brute form until a day should come when a good girl like you
should tell me that she loved me. And you will marry me to-morrow."

"Oh, yes," answered Beauty, "but the wicked fairy could not change
your nature. I would have married you if you had remained just as you


And so they married and lived happy ever afterwards, and they took
care of Beauty's father until the end of his days; so he was happy,
and they forgave the two sisters and gave them fine dresses and
jewels, and the two sisters turned over a new leaf and were less
selfish, and they were happy, so this is a very happy ending to the

What a pity all stories can't end the same way!



There was once upon a time a Queen who had the ugliest little baby
imaginable, so ugly, indeed, that it was almost impossible to believe
he was a little boy at all.

A fairy, however, assured his mother that the little baby would be
very good and clever, saying that she was also giving him a gift which
would enable him to make that person whom he loved the best as clever
as himself.

This somewhat consoled the Queen, but still she was very unhappy
because her son was so ugly, though no sooner had he begun to speak
than he could talk about all sorts of things, and he had such pretty
ways that people were charmed with him.

I forgot to say, that, when he was quite a baby, he had a funny little
tuft of hair on his head, so he was called Tufty Riquet, for Riquet
was the family name.

When Riquet was about seven years old, the Queen of a kingdom near by
was given two baby daughters, twins, of which one was so exquisitely
beautiful that the Queen nearly died of joy when she saw her, and so
the fairy, the same one who had given Riquet his gift of cleverness,
to keep the Queen from making herself ill with excitement, told her
that this little Princess would not be at all clever, indeed she would
be as stupid as she was beautiful.


The Queen was very much grieved at this, and felt still more troubled
when she beheld her other daughter, for the second Princess was
extremely ugly.

"Do not take it too much to heart, madam," remarked the fairy, "for
this second daughter will be so clever that it will scarcely be
noticed that she is not beautiful."

"Well, if it must be so, it must," remarked the Queen, "but I should
certainly have liked the elder one, who is beautiful, to be just a
little bit clever too."

"I can do nothing as to her mind, madam," replied the fairy, "but for
her beauty I can, and as there is nothing I would not do to please
you, I will give her a gift so that she can make the one who wins her
heart beautiful too."

As the Princesses grew up, their gifts likewise grew with them, so
that everybody spoke about the beauty of the one and the cleverness
of the other; but also their defects grew, so that it could not but
be noticed that the younger was daily uglier, and the elder day by
day became more stupid, until she either said nothing in reply to a
question, or something quite silly, and so clumsy was she that she
could not arrange four china ornaments on the chimney piece without
breaking one, or drink a glass of water without spilling half of it on
her frock.

Although it is a great thing to have beauty, yet the younger generally
received more attention in company than her elder sister.

At first, everybody would gather around the beautiful one admiringly,
but before long they would leave her for the clever Princess, to
listen to her pleasant conversation; and by the end of a quarter of
an hour the elder would be left alone, while the other would be the
centre of a group.

This the elder sister noticed, in spite of her stupidity, and she
would gladly have given all her beauty for half the cleverness of
her sister, and sometimes the Queen, although full of kindness, would
reproach her daughter for her foolishness, which caused the Princess
almost to die of grief.

One day when she had retreated to a wood to brood over her
unhappiness, she saw a little man coming towards her. He was
uncommonly ugly and unpleasing in appearance, but was very richly

It was the young Prince Tufty Riquet, who had fallen in love with the
pictures he had seen of her, and had left his father's kingdom for the
sake of making her acquaintance.

Delighted to meet her alone in this manner, he accosted her as
courteously as possible, but soon, noticing that she was melancholy,
he said:

"I cannot understand how it is that anyone as beautiful as you are,
can be as sad as you appear to be; for I must own, that although I
can boast of having seen many beauties, not one have I ever met whose
beauty equalled yours."


"It pleases you to say so, sir," replied the Princess, and relapsed
into silence.

"Beauty," went on Riquet, "is so delightful that one would give
everything for it, and if anyone is beautiful I can't understand
anything troubling greatly."

"I would rather be as ugly as you," answered the Princess, "and be
clever, than as beautiful as I am, and be stupid."

"To think you are stupid is a sure sign that you have a certain amount
of cleverness, madam," replied Riquet.

"I don't think about that," said the Princess, "but I am quite sure
that I am very silly, and the grief of that is killing me."

"If that is all that troubles you, I can soon put an end to your
grief," said Riquet, "for I have the power of giving cleverness to the
person whom I love the best, and if only you will marry me, you shall
become as clever as you can wish."

The Princess was greatly astonished, but remained silent.

"I can see," continued Riquet, "that this proposal is not to your
taste, and I am not astonished. I will give you a year to think about

So great was the longing of the Princess to be clever, that she at
once promised Riquet to marry him in a year's time, and no sooner had
she made the promise than a great change took place in her, and she
found she could say all sorts of pleasant things, on all sorts of
subjects, in quite an easy manner.

She at once began a conversation with Riquet, making such brilliant
remarks, that he could almost think he had given her all his
cleverness and had kept none for himself.

When the Princess returned to the Palace, everybody was astonished
at the sudden and extraordinary change, for, instead of saying stupid
things, or just nothing at all, she was now full of beautiful ideas
which she expressed most charmingly.

The report of this transformation was soon spread abroad, and all
the young Princes of the neighbouring kingdoms asked for her hand in
marriage, but not one did she find altogether suitable.

However, at last one arrived, who was so powerful, rich, clever and
handsome, that she could not help approving of him, and her father,
noticing this, told her she was quite free to choose what husband she

The Princess thanked him, and asked for time to consider the matter.


Then, to think it over, she went by chance, into the wood where she had
met Tufty Riquet.

While she was walking, deep in thought, she noticed a loud noise
beneath her feet, as of many persons hastening to and fro; then,
listening attentively, she heard a voice say, "Bring me the saucepan,"
and another voice cry, "Put some wood on the fire."

At the same moment the earth opened and she saw a big kitchen full
of cooks, and all sorts of things necessary for the making of a
magnificent banquet, and everybody hard at work.

The Princess, astonished at this sight, asked the men for whom they
were working.

"For the Prince Tufty Riquet," answered the head cook, "for to-morrow
is his wedding day."

The Princess, more surprised than ever, all at once recollected that
it was just a year ago that very day that she had promised to marry
the ugly Tufty Riquet.


The reason that she had not remembered her promise before was that she
was foolish when she made it, and in becoming clever she had forgotten
all her former stupidities.

She had only walked on a few steps further, when Riquet appeared
before her, magnificently clad, as a Prince about to marry.

"Here you see me, madam," said he, "keeping my word, and I have no
doubt that you also came here to keep yours, and by giving me your
hand to make me the happiest of men."

"I frankly confess," replied the Princess, "that I have not yet made
up my mind, and I do not think I can ever do as you wish."

"You surprise me, madam," said Riquet.

"I can quite believe that," said the Princess, "and if you were not
a good and clever man, I should not know how to act. But you are well
aware that it was when I was stupid I promised to marry you, but now,
as you may imagine, I am not so easily pleased."

"Except for my ugliness," said Riquet, "have you anything against me?
Do you object to my birth, my character, or my manners?"

"Not at all," replied the Princess, "I love those things in you."

"If that is so," answered Riquet, "I shall indeed be made happy,
because you can cause me to become the most delightful of men if only
you will desire it. For know, madam, the same fairy who at my birth
gave me the power to impart cleverness to whomsoever I should love,
gave you a gift also, that of being able to render beautiful the one
to whom you would grant this favour."

"If that is the case," exclaimed the Princess, "I desire with all my
heart that you might be the most handsome and pleasing Prince in the

No sooner had the Princess uttered these words than her wish was
fulfilled, though some say that no change really took place in Riquet,
but that the Princess loved him now so much that all his ugliness was
seen as beauty by her eyes.

However that may be, she straightway consented to be his bride, and,
as the preparations had already been made, the wedding took place the
very next day.

[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_



There was once a poor woodman sitting by the fire in his cottage and
his wife sat by his side spinning. "How lonely it is," said he, "for
you and me to sit here by ourselves without any children to play about
and amuse us, while other people seem so happy and merry with their
children!" "What you say is very true," said the wife, sighing, and
turning her wheel; "how happy should I be if I had but one child! and
if it were ever so small, nay, if it were no bigger than my thumb, I
should be very happy, and love it dearly." Now it came to pass that
this good woman's wish was fulfilled just as she desired; for, some
time afterwards, she had a little boy, who was quite healthy and
strong, but not much bigger than my thumb. So they said, "Well, we
cannot say we have not got what we wished for, and, little as he is,
we will love him dearly;" and they called him Thumbling.

They gave him plenty of food, yet he never grew bigger, but remained
just the same size as when he was born; still, his eyes were sharp and
sparkling and he soon showed himself to be a clever little fellow,
who always knew well what he was about. One day, as the woodman was
getting ready to go into the wood to cut fuel, he said, "I wish I had
some one to bring the cart after me, for I want to make haste." "Oh,
father!" cried Thumbling, "I will take care of that; the cart shall
be in the wood by the time you want it." Then the woodman laughed and
said, "How can that be? You cannot reach up to the horse's bridle."
"Never mind that, father," said Thumbling; "if my mother will only
harness the horse, I will get into his ear, and tell him which way to
go." "Well," said the father, "we will try for once."

When the time came, the mother harnessed the horse to the cart, and
put Thumbling into its ear; and as he sat there, the little man told
the beast how to go, crying out, "Go on," and "Stop," as he wanted;
so the horse went on just as if the woodman had driven it himself into
the wood. It happened that, as the horse was going a little too fast,
and Thumbling was calling out "Gently, gently!" two strangers came up.
"What an odd thing that is!" said one, "there is a cart going along,
and I heard a carter talking to the horse but can see no one." "That
is strange," said the other; "let us follow the cart and see where it
goes." So they went on into the wood, till at last they came to the
place where the woodman was. Then Thumbling, seeing his father, cried
out, "See, father, here I am, with the cart, all right and safe; now
take me down." So his father took hold of the horse with one hand, and
with the other took his son out of the ear; then he put him down upon
a straw, where he sat as merry as you please. The two strangers were
all this time looking on, and did not know what to say for wonder. At
last one took the other aside and said, "That little urchin will make
our fortune if we can get him, and carry him about from town to town
as a show; we must buy him." So they went to the woodman and asked him
what he would take for the little man: "He will be better off," said
they, "with us than with you." "I won't sell him at all," said the
father, "my own flesh and blood is dearer to me than all the silver
and gold in the world." But Thumbling, hearing of the bargain they
wanted to make, crept up his father's coat to his shoulder, and
whispered in his ear, "Take the money, father, and let them have me;
I'll soon come back to you."


So the woodman at last agreed to sell Thumbling to the strangers for
a large piece of gold. "Where do you like to sit?" said one of them.
"Oh! put me on the rim of your hat, that will be a nice gallery for
me; I can walk about there, and see the country as we go along."
So they did as he wished; and when Thumbling had taken leave of his
father, they carried him away with them. They journeyed on till it
began to be dusky, and then the little man said, "Let me get down,
I'm tired." So the man took off his hat and set him down on a clod of
earth in a ploughed field by the side of the road, But Thumbling ran
about amongst the furrows, and at last slipped into a mouse-hole.
"Good-night, masters," said he, "I'm off! mind and look sharp after me
the next time." They ran directly to the place, and poked the ends
of their sticks into the mouse-hole, but all in vain; Thumbling only
crawled further and further in, and at last it became quite dark, so
they were obliged to go their way without their prize, as sulky as you


When Thumbling found they were gone, he came out of his hiding-place.
"What dangerous walking it is," said he, "in this ploughed field! If
I were to fall from one of these great clods, I should certainly break
my neck." At last, by good chance, he found a large empty snail-shell.
"This is lucky," said he, "I can sleep here very well," and in he
crept. Just as he was falling asleep he heard two men passing, and one
said to the other, "How shall we manage to steal that rich parson's
silver and gold?" "I'll tell you," cried Thumbling. "What noise was
that?" said the thief, frightened. "I am sure I heard some one speak."
They stood still listening, and Thumbling said, "Take me with you,
and I'll soon show you how to get the parson's money." "But where are
you?" said they. "Look about on the ground," answered he, "and listen
where the sound comes from." At last the thieves found him out, and
lifted him up in their hands. "You little urchin!" said they, "what
can you do for us?" "Why, I can get between the iron window-bars of
the parson's house, and throw you out whatever you want." "That's a
good thought," said the thieves: "come along, we shall see what you
can do."

When they came to the parson's house, Thumbling slipped through the
window-bars into the room, and then called out as loudly as he could
bawl, "Will you have all that is here?" At this the thieves were
frightened, and said "Softly, softly, speak low that you may not
awaken anybody." But Thumbling pretended not to understand them, and
bawled out again, "How much will you have? Shall I throw it all out?"
Now the cook lay in the next room, and hearing a noise she raised
herself in her bed and listened. Meanwhile the thieves were
frightened, and ran off to a little distance; but at last they plucked
up courage, and said, "The little urchin is only trying to make fools
of us." So they came back and whispered softly to him, saying, "Now,
let us have no more of your jokes, but throw out some of the money."
Then Thumbling called out as loudly as he could, "Very well; hold out
your hands, here it comes." The cook heard this quite plainly, so she
sprang out of bed and ran to open the door. The thieves rushed off as
if a wolf were at their heels; and the maid, having groped about
and found nothing, went away for a light. By the time she returned,
Thumbling had slipped off into the barn; and when the cook had looked
about and searched every hole and corner, and found nobody, she went
to bed, thinking she must have been dreaming with her eyes open. The
little man crawled about in the hay-loft, and at last found a glorious
place to finish his night's rest in; so he laid himself down, meaning
to sleep till daylight, and then find his way home to his father and
mother. But, alas! how cruelly was he disappointed! what crosses and
sorrows happen in this world! The cook got up early, before daybreak,
to feed the cows: she went straight to the hay loft, and carried away
a large bundle of hay with the little man in the middle of it fast
asleep. He still, however, slept on, and did not wake till he found
himself in the mouth of the cow, who had taken him up with a mouthful
of hay: "Good lack-a-day!" said he, "how did I manage to tumble into
the mill?" But he soon found out where he really was, and was obliged
to have all his wits about him in order that he might not get between
the cow's teeth, and so be crushed to death. At last she swallowed him
down. "It is rather dark here," said he; "they forgot to build windows
in this room to let the sun in; a candle would be no bad thing."


Though he made the best of his bad luck, he did not like his quarters
at all; and the worst of it was, that more and more hay was always
coming down, and the space in which he was became smaller and smaller.
At last he cried out as loudly as he could, "Don't bring me any more
hay! Don't bring me any more hay!" The maid happened to be just then
milking the cow, and hearing someone speak and seeing nobody, and
yet being quite sure it was the same voice that she had heard in the
night, she was so much frightened that she fell off her stool and
overset the milk-pail. She ran off as fast as she could to her master,
the parson, and said, "Sir, sir, the cow is talking!" But the parson
said, "Woman, thou art surely mad!" However, he went with her into the
cow-house to see what was the matter. Scarcely had they set their feet
on the threshold when Thumbling called out, "Don't bring me any more
hay!" Then the parson himself was frightened; and thinking the cow was
surely bewitched, ordered that she should be killed directly. So the
cow was killed, and the part in which Thumbling lay was thrown away.

Thumbling soon set himself to work to get out, which was not a very
easy task; but at last, just as he had made room to get his head
through, a new misfortune befell him: a hungry wolf passed by
and swallowed Thumbling and all, at a single gulp, and ran away.
Thumbling, however, was not disheartened; and thinking the wolf would
not dislike having some chat with him as he was going along, he called
out, "My good friend, I can show you a famous treat." "Where's that?"
said the wolf. "In such and such a house," said Thumbling, describing
his father's house, "you can crawl through the drain into the kitchen,
and there you will find cakes, ham, beef, and everything your heart
can desire." The wolf did not want to be asked twice; so that very
night he went to the house and crawled through the drain into the
kitchen, and ate and drank there to his heart's content. As soon as he
was satisfied, he wanted to get away; but he had eaten so much that
he could not get out the same way that he came in. This was just what
Thumbling had reckoned upon; and he now began to set up a great shout,
making all the noise he could. "Will you be quiet?" said the wolf,
"you'll awaken everybody in the house." "What's that to me?" said the
little man, "you have had your frolic, now I've a mind to be merry
myself;" and he began again singing and shouting as loudly as he


The woodman and his wife, being awakened by the noise, peeped through
a crack in the door; but when they saw that the wolf was there, you
may well suppose that they were terribly frightened; and the woodman
ran for his axe, and gave his wife a scythe. "Now do you stay behind,"
said the woodman; "and when I have knocked him on the head, do you
cut him open with the scythe." Thumbling heard all this, and said,
"Father, father! I am here; the wolf has swallowed me;" and his father
said, "Heaven be praised! we have found our dear child again;" and
he told his wife not to use the scythe, for fear she should hurt
him. Then he aimed a great blow, and struck the wolf on the head, and
killed him on the spot; and when he was dead they cut open his body
and set Thumbling free. "Ah!" said the father, "what fears we have had
for you!" "Yes, father," answered he, "I have travelled all over the
world, since we parted, in one way or other; and now I am very glad to
get fresh air again." "Why, where have you been?" said the father. "I
have been in a mouse-hole, in a snail-shell, down a cow's throat, and
inside the wolf; and yet here I am again safe and sound." "Well," said
they, "we will not sell you again for all the riches in the world." So
they hugged and kissed their dear little son, and gave him plenty to
eat and drink, and fetched new clothes for him, for his old ones were
quite spoiled on his journey.

[Illustration: From "THE GOOSE GIRL"]





Pictorial Boards, Cloth Back. Cloth, Bevelled Gilt Edges

A charming series of delightful volumes that have certainly taken a
foremost place amongst the cherished classics for young people. Each
book embodies a distinct feature, all are carefully compiled, and
appeal alike to children and their elders. The tales are told by able
authors of to-day and celebrated writers of past years, with lavish
and excellent illustrations by popular artists. The volumes are bound
in attractive covers.




These ancient legends of England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland,
delightfully narrated and brilliantly illustrated, constitute a volume
which may well claim to be amongst the most beautiful books of this
beautiful series. Printed on rough art paper. 10 full-page colour
plates, 144 pp. letterpress, 4to.

[Illustration: _From "Children's Stories from Old British Legends."_]




The well-known stories of "Cinderella," "Beauty and the Beast,"
"Red Riding Hood," etc., etc. Popular tales that are ever in demand,
sumptuously illustrated with exquisitely decorative and highly
original designs. Printed on rough art paper. 12 full-page colour
plates. 144 pp. letterpress, crown 4to.



Dainty grace and quaint charm pervade this exquisite edition of a
selection from the beloved fairy tales. Numerous black and white
drawings. Printed on rough art paper. 12 full-page colour plates. 144
pp. letterpress, crown 4to.



New editions of these famous stories are ever acceptable, and in these
illustrations Mabel Lucie Attwell has excelled herself, so admirably
has she depicted the conceptions of the famous writers. Printed on
rough art paper. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress,
crown 4to.

[Illustration: _From "My Book of Favourite Fairy Tales."_]

[Illustration: _From "Animal Legends from many Lands."_]




Truly splendid stories illustrative of the cunning of the Fox,
the greediness of the Wolf, the obstinacy of the Mule, and other
fancifully descriptive tales of the ways and doings of the inhabitants
of the Animal Kingdom. These stories, as the title of the volume
indicates, are collected from the legendary lore of many lands. The
pictures are in the artist's most spirited and powerful style. Printed
on rough art paper. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress,
crown 4to.



A magnificent edition of these ever-applicable and world-famed Fables,
strikingly pictured with excellent coloured and black and white
drawings, and forming a most desirable volume alike for young and old,
and a handsome addition to any library. Printed on rough art paper, 12
full-page colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress, crown 4to.

[Illustration: _From "Tales of King Arthur and the Knights of the
Round Table."]





A particularly apt selection from the marvellous exploits of the
Knights of the Round Table, related in thrilling language and
illustrated in an ideal manner with pictures in colour and black
and white. A perfect present for a boy or girl. Printed on rough art
paper. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress, crown 4to.





Books of Battles are ever popular, and this one, with its well-chosen
incidents, told in an easy and interesting style by an officer of the
British Army, and its inspiring foreword, will take a high rank and
be greatly in demand particularly amongst that large section of the
public to whom fact appeals so much more strongly than fiction. The
illustrator has spared no pains in making his pictures worthy of their
subject. Printed on rough art paper. 12 full-page colour plates and
numerous black and white drawings. 144 pp. letterpress, crown 4to.






This book brings before the minds of children, in a most attractive
manner, many of the great dramatic poet's works, acquainting them
with the characters and plots of the plays in a delicate way, and in
a style that is certain to make them long for the time when they
shall read the whole for themselves. The introductory history by Dr.
Furnivall is full of charm and instruction. This entirely new edition
has full-page colour and black and white drawings by John H. Bacon,
A.R.A., Arthur Dixon, Howard Davie and Harold Copping. Printed on
rough art paper. 10 full-page colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress,
crown 4to.




The most popular poems of Tennyson, "The Lily Maid," "Lady Clare,"
"The Lord of Burleigh," "The Story of King Arthur," etc., etc., retold
in prose, and so introducing to the minds of young people the great
poet's works, and familiarising them with his celebrated characters.
This is a new edition, with additional beautiful illustrations in
colour and black and white by John H. Bacon, A.R.A., Gordon Browne,
R.I., Arthur Dixon and others. Printed on rough art paper. 10
full-page colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress, crown 4to.

[Illustration: _From "Children's Stories from Tennyson."_]

[Illustration: _From "Children's Stories from Italian Fairy Tales."_]



ILLUSTRATED BY HOWARD DAVIE Their charm enhanced by the numerous
characteristic illustrations, these stories, with their vivid local
colouring, gathered from the fairy tales and folk-lore of lovely
Italy, translated and retold, form a truly magnificent volume. Printed
on rough art paper. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress,
crown 4to.




The stories most sympathetic to the feelings of the English-reading
juvenile public have been collected and translated, and the book,
with its fascinating illustrations in colour and black and white, has
proved a valuable addition to the series. Printed on rough art paper.
10 full-page colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress, crown 4to.



Translated from the original, and adapted by Miss Seraphima Pulman,
these stories are truly charming, while they are valuable as giving
an insight into Russian life and habits. The illustrations possess
all that delicacy and beauty which is characteristic of the artist.
Printed on rough art paper. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp.
letterpress, crown 4to.




Written with much feeling and charm, while the artist has delineated
the episodes with strikingly beautiful drawings in colour and black
and white, this book is also popular as furthering the knowledge of a
land and people so closely bound in the heart of the British Empire.
Printed on rough art paper. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp.
letterpress, crown 4to.




Tales to be read with breathless interest, so full of incident and
romance are they, and in dealing with them the writer has shown
consummate tact, both in her choice of stories and her manner
of handling them, and this, combined with the wholly fascinating
illustrations, in colour and black and white, has resulted in an
altogether lovely volume. Printed on rough art paper. 12 full-page
colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress, crown 4to.

[Illustration: _From "Children's Stories from French Fairy Tales_"]




Those entrancing legends of the Icelandic and Scandinavian poets are
here recounted in a cohesive and lucid style suitable for boys and
girls, thus in an easy way introducing the famous and fantastic heroes
and heroines of Norse Mythology. The beautiful colour pictures, with
the black and white drawings, are full of poetry and interest. Printed
on rough art paper. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress,
crown 4to.




An admirable collection of the most famous poems, delightfully
translated into prose, and profusely illustrated with exquisite
pictures in colour and black and white by Harold Copping, A. Dixon, M.
Bowley and others, rendering the readers anxious for, and appreciative
of, such poems as "The Golden Legend," "Evangeline," and "Hiawatha,"
which, with other favourites, are placed before them in this
attractive guise. To this new edition more pictures have been added.
Printed on rough art paper. 10 full-page colour plates. 144 pp.
letterpress, crown 4to.



Some of the most noteworthy and interesting historical events
woven into entertaining stories, and so of great value in indelibly
impressing them upon the mind. The volume is charmingly illustrated
throughout by the late John H. Bacon, A.R.A., Howard Davie, M. Bowley,
and other popular artists. Printed on rough art paper. 9 full-page
colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress, crown 4to.

[Illustration: _From "Alice in Wonderland"_]




Characters and incidents in the works of Chaucer, Pope, Keats, Milton,
Browning, and other great poets, teeming with interest, and with
which all minds should be conversant, are here presented in extremely
fascinating prose narrative, beautifully illustrated in colour
and black and white by Frank Adams. Printed on rough art paper. 12
full-page colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress, crown 4to.



An exceptionally attractive edition of the popular Fairy Tale by Lewis
Carroll, characteristically and charmingly illustrated with many black
and white drawings and full-page colour plates. This story, which will
hold its own as long as dreams are dreamed, is here presented in a
worthy setting, and one which will meet with universal approbation.
Printed on rough art paper. 12 full-page colour plates. 152 pp.
letterpress, crown 4to.




The child interest from some of Dickens' masterpieces is here
depicted afresh, and told in simple and charming language by his
grand-daughter, Mary Angela Dickens, and other writers, with an
introduction by Percy Fitzgerald, the friend of, and eminent authority
on, Charles Dickens. The stories of Little David Copperfield, Little
Nell, Tiny Tim, Little Paul Dombey, etc., etc., are here narrated, all
being profusely illustrated. Printed on rough art paper 11 full-page
coloured plates. 144 pp. letterpress, crown 4to.




The histories of Sir Walter Scott's most popular characters condensed
into short stories, and thus adapted as an interesting introduction to
the Scott classics, so worthily considered a part of the education of
every up-to-date boy and girl. These tales are admirably illustrated
with numerous drawings in colour and black and white. Printed on rough
art paper. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress, crown 4to.




An admirable collection of the most popular tales, carefully compiled
so as to form an entirely delightful and charming volume. The book
is beautifully illustrated with pictures gorgeous in their Eastern
colours, and innumerable black and white drawings. Printed on rough
art paper. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp. letterpress, crown 4to.

[Illustration: _From "Children's Stories from Dickens"_]



Thirty beautiful Volumes, profusely illustrated in colour and black
and white. Pictorial Boards, Cloth Back, or Cloth. Bevelled, Gilt
Edges. Crown 4to.

BROCK. 12 full-page colour plates. 144pp.

by EDWIN NOBLE. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp.

ASHLEY. Illustrated by A.A. DIXON. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp.

others. Illustrated by JENNIE HARBOUR. 12 full-page colour plates.

and HILDA HART. Illustrated by HARRY G. THEAKER. 10 full-page colour
plates. 144 pp.

Illustrated by MABEL LUCIE ATTWELL. 12 full-page colour plates. 144

ROMANO. Illustrated by HOWARD DAVIE 12 full-page colour plates. 144pp.

HILDA HART. Illustrated by H.G. THEAKER. 12 full-page colour plates.

and adapted by N. KATO. Illustrated by H.G. THEAKER. 10 full-page
colour plates. 144 pp.

GASTER, Ph.D., late President of the English Folk-lore Society, &c.
Illustrated by C.E. BROCK. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp.

and adapted by SERAPHIMA PULMAN. Illustrated by ARTHUR A. DIXON. 12
full-page colour plates. 144pp.

and HILDA HART. Illustrated by HARRY G. THEAKER. 12 full-page colour
plates. 152 pp.

C. EARNSHAW. 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp.

HART. Illustrated by FRANK ADAMS. 12 full-page colour plates. 152pp.

ASHLEY. Illustrated by JOHN H. BACON, A.R.A., HOWARD DAVIE, and
others. 9 full-page colour plates. 144pp.

Illustrated by H.G. THEAKER 12 full-page colour plates. 144 pp.

by HAROLD COPPING. 11 full-page colour plates. 144 pp.

J.H. BACON, A.R.A., HOWARD DAVIE, and H. COPPING. 10 full-page colour
plates. 144 pp.

H. BACON, A.R.A., ARTHUR DIXON, HAROLD COPPING, and other artists. 10
full-page colour plates. 144pp.

A.A. DIXON, H. COPPING, and others. 10 full-page colour plates. 144

Foreword by Sir ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE. Illustrated by HARRY PAYNE. 12
full-page colour plates. 144 pp.

THE WATER BABIES. By CHARLES KINGSLEY. Abridged Edition. Illustrated
by MABEL LUCIE ATTWELL. 12 full-page colour plates. 144pp.

full-page colour plates. 144 pp.

GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES. Illustrated by MABEL LUCIE ATTWELL. 12 full-page
colour plates. 144 pp.

ATTWELL. 12 full-page colour plates. 152pp.

MOTHER GOOSE. Illustrated by MABEL LUCIE ATTWELL. 12 full-page colour
plates. 144 pp.

ÆSOP'S FABLES. Illustrated by EDWIN NOBLE. 12 full-page colour plates.

CURLY HEADS AND LONG LEGS. Stories by the Editor, GRACE C. FLOYD, and
others. Illustrated by HILDA COWHAM. 12 full-page colour plates. 144

FLOYD, the Editor, and others. Illustrated by AGNES RICHARDSON. 12
full-page colour plates. 144pp.

TINKER, TAILOR. Stories by Captain EDRIC VREDENBURG. Illustrated by
Louis WAIN. 12 full-page colour plates. 144pp.

_Raphael Tuck and Sons, Ltd., London, Paris, New York._
_Publishers by special appointment to Their Majesties the King and

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "My Book of Favorite Fairy Tales" ***

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