Classic Bedtime Stories For Relaxation And Rest, 8 Hours

Hello and welcome to this collection of classic sleep stories.

My name is Francesca and I am genuinely so,

So pleased to have you here.

What follows is a collection of whimsical classic stories that are some of my favourites and they've been some of yours too.

These are combined together and will loop for eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

I've designed this so that if you wake up during the night,

The stories will continue to play so that you can get back to sleep.

The narration is calm and sleepy and each story features ambient sounds of countryside,

The ocean and a crackling fireplace.

I hope that you get nice and comfy and you're getting ready to fall asleep.

Please note that there is no pressure to fall asleep right away.

Just listen to these wholesome stories.

Hopefully they'll help you drift off to sleep but of course if you wake up,

That's okay.

Continue listening and the stories will repeat to hopefully create a familiar and comforting feeling to help you drift off.

Sweet dreams.

Once upon a time there was a little girl called Lucy who lived at a farm called Littletown.

She was a good little girl,

Only she was always losing her pocket handkerchiefs.

One day little Lucy came into the farmyard crying.

Oh,

She did cry so.

I've lost my pocket hankin,

Three hankins and a pinny.

Have you seen them Tabby Kitten?

The kitten went on washing her white paws.

So Lucy asked a speckled hen.

Sally Henny Penny,

Have you found three pocket hankins?

But the speckled hen ran into a barn clucking.

I go barefoot,

Barefoot,

Barefoot.

And then Lucy asked Cock Robin sitting on a twig.

Cock Robin looked sideways at Lucy with his bright black eye and he flew over a stile and away.

Lucy climbed upon the stile and looked up at the hill behind Littletown.

A hill that goes up,

Up into the clouds as though it had no top.

And a great way up the hillside.

She thought she saw some white things spread upon the grass.

Lucy scrambled up the hill as fast as her stout legs would carry her.

She ran along a steep pathway,

Up and up,

Until Littletown was right away down below.

She could have dropped a pebble down the chimney.

Presently she came to a spring,

Bubbling out from the hillside.

Someone had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water.

But the water was already running over,

For the can was no bigger than an egg cup.

And where the sand upon the path was wet,

There were footmarks of a very small person.

Lucy ran on and on.

The path ended under a big rock.

The grass was short and green.

And there were clothes.

Props cut from bracken stems,

With lines of plaited rushes,

And a heap of tiny clothespins.

But no pocket handkerchiefs.

But there was something else.

A door,

Straight into the hill,

And inside it someone was singing,

Lily white and clean,

With little frills between.

Smooth and hot,

Red rusty spot,

Never here be seen.

Lucy knocked,

Once,

Twice,

And interrupted the song.

A little frightened voice called out,

Who's that?

Lucy opened the door,

And what do you think there was inside the hill?

A nice clean kitchen with a flagged floor and wooden beams,

Just like any other farm kitchen.

Only the ceiling was so low,

That Lucy's head nearly touched it.

And the pots and pans were small,

And so was everything there.

There was a nice hot singey smell,

And at the table,

With an iron in her hand,

Stood a very stout short person,

Staring anxiously at Lucy.

Her print gown was tucked up,

And she was wearing a large apron over her striped petticoat.

Her little black nose went sniffle sniffle snuffle,

And her eyes went twinkle twinkle.

And underneath her cap,

Where Lucy had yellow curls,

That little person had prickles.

Who are you?

Said Lucy.

Have you seen my pocket hankins?

The little person made a bob curtsy.

Oh yes,

If you please,

My name is Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Oh yes,

If you please,

I'm an excellent clear starcher.

And she took something out of her clothes basket,

And spread it on the ironing blanket.

What's that thing?

Said Lucy.

That's not my pocket hankin.

Oh no,

If you please,

That's a little scarlet waistcoat belonging to Cock Robin.

And she ironed it,

And folded it,

And put it on one side.

Then she took something else off a clothes horse.

That isn't my penny,

Said Lucy.

Oh no,

If you please,

That's a damask tablecloth belonging to Jenny Wren.

Look how it's stained with current wine.

It's very bad to wash,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle's nose went sniffle,

Sniffle,

Snuffle.

And her eyes went twinkle,

Twinkle.

And she fetched another hot iron from the fire.

There's one of my pocket hankins,

Cried Lucy.

And there's my penny.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle ironed it,

And goffered it,

And shook out the frills.

Oh,

That is lovely,

Said Lucy.

And what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves?

Oh,

That's a pair of stockings belonging to Sally Hennypenny.

Look how she's worn the heels out with scratching in the yard.

She'll very soon go barefoot,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Why,

There's another hanker sniff.

But it isn't mine,

It's red.

Oh no,

If you please,

That one belongs to old Mrs Rabbit.

And it did so smell of onions.

I've had to wash it separately,

I can't get out the smell.

There's another one of mine,

Said Lucy.

What are those funny little white things?

That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kitten.

I only have to iron them,

She washes them herself.

That's my last pocket hankin,

Said Lucy.

And what are you dipping into that basin of starch?

They're little dicky shirt fronts belonging to Tom Titmouse.

Most terrible particular,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Now I've finished my ironing,

I'm going to air some clothes.

What are those dear soft fluffy things,

Said Lucy.

Oh,

Those are woolly coats belonging to the little lambs at Skelgill.

Will their jackets take off?

Asked Lucy.

Oh yes,

If you please.

Look at the sheep mark on the shoulder.

And here's one marked for Gatesgarth.

And three that come from Littletown.

They're always marked at washing,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

And she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes.

Small brown coats of mice.

And one velvety black moleskin waistcoat.

And a red tail coat with no tail,

Belonging to Squirrel Nutkin.

And a very much shrunk blue jacket,

Belonging to Peter Rabbit.

And a petticoat,

Not marked,

That had gone lost in the washing.

And at last the basket was empty.

Then Mrs Tiggy Winkle made tea.

A cup for herself.

And a cup for Lucy.

They sat before the fire on a bench.

And looked sideways at each other.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle's hand,

Holding the teacup,

Was very,

Very brown and very,

Very wrinkly.

With the soap suds.

And all through her gown and her cap.

There were hair pins sticking wrong end out.

So that Lucy didn't like to sit too near her.

When they had finished tea,

They tied up the clothes in bundles.

And Lucy's pocket handkerchiefs were folded up inside her clean pinny.

And fastened with a silver safety pin.

And then they made up the fire with turf.

And came out and locked the door and hid the key under the door sill.

Then away down the hill trotted Lucy and Mrs Tiggy Winkle with the bundles of clothes.

All the way down the path,

Little animals came out of the fern to meet them.

The very first they met were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny.

And she gave them their nice clean clothes.

And all the little animals and birds were so very much obliged to dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

So that at the bottom of the hill when they came to the stile.

There was nothing left to carry except Lucy's one little bundle.

Lucy scrambled up the stile with the bundle in her hand.

And then she turned to say goodnight.

And to thank the washerwoman.

But what a very odd thing.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle had not waited.

Either for thanks or for the washing bill.

She was running,

Running,

Running up the hill.

And where was her white frilled cap?

And her shawl and her gown and her petticoat.

And how small she had grown.

And how brown and covered with prickles.

Why,

Mrs Tiggy Winkle was nothing but a hedgehog.

Now,

Some people say that little Lucy had been asleep upon the stile.

But then how could she have found three clean pocket handkins and a pinny pinned with a silver safety pin?

And besides,

I have seen that door into the back of the hill called Cat Bells.

And besides,

I am very well acquainted with dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Mr Possum Mr Possum lived in a tree in the woods where Mr Bear lived.

And one morning,

Just before spring,

Mr Possum awoke very hungry.

He ran around to Mr Squirrel's house and tried to get an invitation to breakfast.

But Mr Squirrel had only enough for himself.

He knew that Mr Possum always lived on his neighbours when he could.

So he said,

Of course you have been to breakfast long ago,

Mr Possum.

You are such a smart fellow,

So I will not offer you any.

Mr Possum of course said he had,

And that he only dropped in to make a call.

He was on his way to Mr Rabbit's house.

But he met with no better success at Mr Rabbit's,

For he only put his nose out of the door.

And when he saw who was there,

Said,

I am as busy as I can be getting ready for my spring planting.

Will you come in and help sort seeds?

Mr Rabbit knew the easiest way to be rid of Mr Possum was to ask him to work.

I would gladly help you,

Replied Mr Possum.

But I am in a great hurry this morning.

I have some important business with Mr Bear and I only stop to say how do you do.

Mr Bear,

I am afraid,

Will not be receiving today,

Said Mr Rabbit.

It is rather early for him to be up,

Isn't it?

I thought as the sun was nice and warm he might venture out,

And I thought it would please him to have me there to welcome him,

Said Mr Possum.

Besides that,

I wish to see him on business.

Now Mr Possum knew well enough that Mr Bear would not be up.

He wanted to find him sleeping and soundly too.

He went to the door and knocked softly.

Then he waited,

And as he did not hear any moving inside,

He went to a window and looked in.

There was Mr Bear's chair and pipe,

Just as he had left them when he went to bed.

He looked in the bedroom window and he could see in the bed a big heap of bedclothes,

And just the tiniest tip of Mr Bear's nose.

Mr Possum listened,

And he trembled a little,

For he could hear Mr Bear breathing very loud,

And it sounded anything but pleasant.

Oh,

He is sound asleep for another week,

Said Mr Possum.

What is the use of being afraid?

He walked around the house until he came to the pantry window.

Then he stopped and raised the sash.

He put in one foot and sat on the sill and listened.

All was still,

So he slid off to the floor.

Mr Possum looked around Mr Bear's well-filled pantry.

He did not know where to begin,

He was so hungry.

He became so interested,

And was so greedy,

That he forgot all about that he was in Mr Bear's pantry.

And he stayed on and on,

And ate and ate.

Then he fell asleep,

And the first thing he knew a pair of shining eyes were looking in the window,

And a big head with a red mouth full of long white teeth was poked into the pantry.

Mr Possum thought his time had come,

So he just closed his eyes and pretended he was dead,

But he peeked a little so as to see what happened.

The big head was followed by a body,

And when it was on the sill,

Mr Possum saw it was Mr Fox.

And the next thing he knew,

Mr Fox came off the sill with a bang,

And hit a pan of beans,

And then knocked over a jar of preserves.

The noise was enough to awaken all the bears for miles around,

And Mr Possum was frightened nearly to death that he heard Mr Bear growling in the next room.

While Mr Fox was on the floor and trying to get up on his feet,

Mr Possum jumped up and was out of the window like a flash.

Mr Fox saw something,

But he did not know what,

And before he could make his escape,

The door of the pantry opened,

And there stood Mr Bear with a candle in his hand,

Looking in.

Oh ho,

He growled,

So you are trying to rob me while I'm taking my sleep,

And he sprang at Mr Fox.

Wait,

Wait,

Wait,

Said Mr Fox,

Let me explain my dear Mr Bear.

You are mistaken,

I was trying to protect your home.

I saw your window open and knew you were asleep,

And when I got in the window,

The thief attacked me and nearly killed me,

And now you are blaming me for it.

You are most ungrateful.

I shall know another time what to do.

Mr Bear looked at him.

His mouth did not show any signs of food,

And Mr Fox opened his mouth and told him to look.

I wonder who it could have been,

He said,

When he was satisfied that Mr Fox was not the thief.

It may have been that Possum fellow.

I'll go over to his house in the morning.

The next morning,

Mr Bear called on Mr Possum.

He found him sleeping soundly.

And when he at last opened the door,

He was rubbing his eyes as though he was not half awake.

Why,

How do you do?

He said when he saw Mr Bear.

I did not suppose you were up yet.

You didn't,

Asked Mr Bear,

And then he stared at Mr Possum's coat.

What's the matter with your coat?

He asked.

You have white hairs sticking out all over you,

And the rest of your coat is almost white too.

Now Mr Possum had a black coat before,

And he ran to the mirror and looked at himself.

It was true.

He was almost white.

He knew what had happened.

He was so frightened when he was caught in Mr Bear's pantry by Mr Fox,

And he heard Mr Bear growl that he had turned nearly white with fright.

I've been terribly ill,

He told Mr Bear going back to the door.

I've been here all alone this winter.

It was a terrible sickness.

I guess that is what has caused it.

Mr Bear went away,

Shaking his head.

That fellow is crafty,

He said.

I feel sure he was the thief,

And yet he certainly does look sick.

After that,

All the opossums were of dull white colour,

With long white hairs scattered here and there over their fur.

They were never able to outgrow the mark the thieving Mr Possum left upon his race.

Diner Cat and the Witch Once upon a time,

There was a little girl named Betty.

She was an orphan,

And a bad landlord turned her out of her home.

The only friend she had was a black cat named Diner.

Betty was crying as she walked along the road,

And Diner Cat ran beside her,

Rubbing against her.

All at once,

She ran in front of Betty and stood on her hind legs.

Do not cry,

Mistress,

She said,

I'll take care of you.

Betty was so surprised to hear Diner Cat speak,

That she stopped crying at once.

You poor Diner Cat,

She said,

What can you do?

We must go to the city,

And if I can find work we shall be able to live.

If not,

You must take care of yourself,

For you can catch mice and keep from starving.

You come with me,

Mistress,

Answered Diner Cat,

And you will not need to work and you will not starve.

She put out her paw for Betty to take and walked alongside her.

When they came to a path leading into the wood,

Diner Cat led Betty along this path,

Until they were in front of two very large trees,

Which had grown together,

But there was a big opening in the trunk.

We'll go in here,

Said Diner Cat,

And as they stepped through,

They were in a hall.

She led Betty up the stairs,

To a room where there was a snowy white bed and pretty furnishings.

Dinner will be served as soon as you are dressed,

Mistress,

Said Diner Cat.

After she had gone,

Betty looked around,

And in the closets she found pretty dresses which just fitted her.

She put on one of them,

And in a few minutes she was ready for dinner.

Just then,

She heard a soft scratching noise at the door,

And when she opened it,

Diner Cat walked in.

How do you like your new home,

Mistress?

She asked.

Oh,

Very much,

Betty answered,

But we cannot live in such a nice house.

We have no money,

And besides that,

This house must belong to someone,

And this dress I have on must belong to some little girl.

I should not wear it.

The dress did belong to a little girl,

Said Diner Cat,

But she cannot wear it now,

She wants you to have it.

And do not fret about the house,

It belongs to me.

I cannot tell you any more just now,

But you need not worry any more about anything,

For you are to live here if you wish,

After you have dinner,

For then you will meet a boy,

And you may not like him.

Diner Cat led Betty into a room,

Where the table was set for three persons,

And when they were seated,

A boy about Betty's age came in and sat with them.

He wore his hat,

And a thick veil hung from it.

I'm sorry I cannot remove my hat,

He said in a very sweet voice,

And I will go away if you'd rather I would.

Oh no,

Said Betty,

Feeling very much like an intruder.

I'm very grateful to you for letting me stay,

And I will help do the work.

You do not need to work,

Said the boy,

If you will stay we will be very glad.

Betty did not once get a glimpse of his face,

He lifted the veil so carefully,

And there sat Diner Cat,

Using her knife and fork like any lady.

Betty smiled to herself when she thought of her eating from a saucer.

Suddenly,

Diner Cat slid out of her chair and crawled under it,

And the little boy trembled so his chair shook.

Betty looked around to find the cause of their strange behaviour,

And saw standing in the doorway an old woman with a staff in her hand.

She hobbled over to where Diner Cat sat and raised the staff.

Betty thought she was going to strike her.

Don't you hurt Diner Cat,

She cried,

Running towards the old witch,

Who was so startled that she dropped the staff and Betty picked it up.

Don't let her have it again,

Said the boy.

That is the cause of all our trouble.

Betty threw the staff in a closet and locked the door.

All this time the witch was stepping backward toward the door by which she entered,

And she grew smaller with each step.

By the time she was out of the house she looked like a black speck,

And a breeze blowing just then carried her out of sight.

But how shall we ever be ourselves again,

Said the boy.

She is gone and here we are in this state.

Perhaps the stick will do it,

Said Diner Cat.

Betty wondered what they meant,

And the boy told her that Diner Cat was his sister before the witch changed her into a cat,

And made his face so hideous he had to wear a veil,

And they had lived very happily together.

But one day the old witch came and wanted to live with us,

And we let her for a while,

But she was so cross and made us so unhappy we told her she must go away.

Then she brought all this change upon us,

And every once in a while she returns and frightens us,

For we do not know what she will change us into next.

Let me get the stick,

Said Betty.

Perhaps we can change Diner Cat to your sister again.

Betty opened the door of the closet,

And instead of the stick there was a bright streak of light,

And walking on it was a little fairy who held a wand in her hand.

You will soon be happy again,

She told them.

I have destroyed the stick and the old witch will never return.

Then she walked over to Diner Cat and touched her with her wand,

And there stood a little girl about Betty's age,

In place of the black cat.

Now close your eyes,

Said the fairy,

For I want the boy to remove his veil and his face is not pleasant to look upon.

Betty did as the fairy told her,

But I am sorry to tell you that she peaked a very little.

Betty closed her eyes tight after the first glimpse,

And waited for the fairy to tell her to open them again,

And when she did,

There stood a boy with a very smiling face.

His sister ran to him and put her arms around him.

Now we shall be happy,

She said,

And Betty will live with us.

How can we thank you,

She asked the fairy.

Oh,

I shall be repaid by seeing you all happy,

The fairy replied.

And now I must go.

Will we see you again,

Asked Betty.

No,

Answered the fairy.

I only appear when people are in trouble,

And you will never need me again.

Tearful Once upon a time,

There was a little girl named Tearful,

Because she cried so often.

If she could not have her own way,

She cried.

If she could not have everything for which she wished,

She cried.

Her mother told her one day that she would melt away in tears if she cried so often.

You are like the boy who cried for the moon,

She told her,

And if it has been given to him,

It would have not made him happy,

For what possible use could the moon be to anyone out of its proper place?

And that is the way with you.

Half the things for which you cry would be of no use to you if you got them.

Tearful did not take warning or heed her mother's words of wisdom,

And kept on crying just the same.

One morning,

She was crying as she walked along to school,

Because she wanted to stay at home,

When she noticed a frog hopping along beside her.

Why are you following me?

She asked,

Looking at him through her tears.

Because you will soon form a pond around you with your tears,

Replied the frog,

And I have always wanted a pond all to myself.

I shall not make any pond for you,

Said Tearful,

And I do not want you following me either.

The frog continued to hop along beside her,

And Tearful stopped crying and began to run,

But the frog hopped faster and she could not get away from him,

So she began to cry again.

Go away,

You horrid green frog,

She said.

At last,

She was so tired,

She sat on a stone by the roadside,

Crying all the time.

Now,

Replied the frog,

I shall soon have my pond.

Tearful cried harder than ever.

Then she could not see,

Her tears fell so fast,

And by and by she heard a splashing sound.

She opened her eyes and saw water all around her.

She was on a small island in the middle of the pond.

The frog hopped out of the pond,

Making a terrible grimace as he sat down beside her.

I hope you are satisfied,

Said Tearful.

You have your pond,

Why don't you stay in it?

Alas,

Replied the frog,

I have wished for something which I cannot use now that I have it.

Your tears are salt,

And my pond which I have all by myself is so salty I cannot enjoy it.

If only your tears had been fresh,

I should have been a most fortunate fellow.

You needn't stay if you don't like it,

Said Tearful,

And you needn't find fault with my tears either,

She said,

Beginning to cry again.

Stop,

Stop,

Cried the frog,

Hopping about excitedly.

You will have a flood if you keep on crying.

Tearful saw the water rising around her,

So she stopped a minute.

What shall I do?

She asked.

I cannot swim,

And I will die if I have to stay here.

And then she began to cry again.

The frog hopped up and down in front of her,

Waving his front legs and telling her to hush.

If you would only stop crying,

He said,

I might be able to help you,

But I cannot do a thing if you cover me with your salt tears.

Tearful listened,

And promised she would not cry if he would get her away from the island.

There is only one way that I know of,

Said the frog.

You must smile.

That will dry the pond,

And we can escape.

But I do not feel like smiling,

Said Tearful,

And her eyes filled with tears again.

Look out,

Said the frog.

You will surely be drowned in your own tears if you cry again.

Tearful began to laugh.

That would be strange,

Wouldn't it,

To be drowned in my own tears,

She said.

That is right,

Keep on smiling,

Said the frog.

The pond is smaller already.

And he stood up on his hind legs,

And began to dance for joy.

Tearful laughed again.

Oh,

You are so funny,

She said.

I wish I had your picture.

I never saw a frog dance before.

You have a slate under your arm,

Said the frog.

Why don't you draw a picture of me?

The frog picked up a stick and stuck it in the ground.

And then he leaned on it with one arm,

Or front leg,

And crossing his feet,

He stood very still.

Tearful drew him in that position,

And then he kicked up his legs as if he were dancing.

And she tried to draw him that way,

But it was not a very good likeness.

Do you like that?

She asked the frog when she held the slate for him to see.

He looked so surprised that Tearful laughed again.

You did not think you were handsome,

Did you?

She asked.

I had never thought I looked as bad as those pictures,

Replied the frog.

Let me try drawing your picture,

He said.

Now,

Look pleasant,

He said,

As he seated himself in front of Tearful,

And do smile.

Tearful did as he requested,

And in a few minutes he handed her the slate.

Where is my nose?

Asked Tearful,

Laughing.

Oh,

I forgot the nose,

Said the frog.

But you don't think your eyes are nice and large,

And your mouth too?

They are certainly big in this picture,

Said Tearful.

I hope I do not look just like that.

I do not think either of us are artists,

Replied the frog.

Tearful looked around her.

Why,

Where is the pond?

She asked.

It's gone.

I thought it would dry up if you would only smile,

Said the frog.

And I think both of us have learned a lesson.

I shall never again wish for a pond of my own.

I should be lonely without my companions,

And then it might be salt,

Just as this one was.

And you will surely never cry over little things again,

For you see what might happen to you.

I feel much happier smiling,

And I do not want to be on an island again,

Even with such a pleasant companion as you were.

Look out for the tears then,

Said the frog as he hopped away.

There was a kitchen,

A parlour,

A pantry,

And a larder.

Also,

There was Mrs Tittlemouse's bedroom,

Where she slept in a little box bed.

Mrs Tittlemouse was a most terribly tidy particular little mouse,

Always sweeping and dusting the soft sandy floors.

Sometimes a beetle lost its way in the passages.

Shoo,

Shoo,

Little dirty feet,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse clattering her dustpan.

And one day a little old woman ran up and down in a red spotty cloak.

Your house is on fire,

Mother Ladybird.

Fly away home to your children.

Another day a big fat spider came in to shelter from the rain.

Beg pardon,

Is this not Miss Muffet's?

Go away,

You bold bad spider,

Leaving ends of cobweb all over my nice clean house.

She bundled the spider out at a window.

He let himself down the hedge with a long thin bit of string.

Mrs Tittlemouse went on her way to a distant storeroom to fetch cherry stones and thistledown seed for dinner.

All along the passage she sniffed and looked at the floor.

I smell a smell of honey.

Is it the cow slips outside in the hedge?

I am sure I can see the marks of little dirty feet.

Suddenly round a corner she met Babbity Bumble.

Ziz,

Biz,

Biz,

Said the bumblebee.

Mrs Tittlemouse looked at her severely.

She wished that she had a broom.

Good day,

Babbity Bumble.

I should be glad to buy some beeswax,

But what are you doing down here?

Why do you always come in at a window and say ziz,

Biz,

Biz?

Mrs Tittlemouse began to get cross.

Ziz,

Wiz,

Wiz,

Replied Babbity Bumble in a peevish squeak.

She sidled down a passage and disappeared into a storeroom which had been used for acorns.

Mrs Tittlemouse had eaten the acorns before Christmas.

The storeroom ought to have been empty,

But it was full of untidy,

Dry moss.

Mrs Tittlemouse began to pull out the moss.

Three or four other bees put their heads out and buzzed fiercely.

I am not in the habit of letting lodgings.

This is an intrusion,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse.

I will have them turned out.

Buzz,

Buzz,

Buzz.

I wonder who would help me.

Biz,

Wiz,

Wiz.

I will not have Mr Jackson.

He never wipes his feet.

Mrs Tittlemouse decided to leave the bees till after dinner.

When she got back to the parlour,

She heard someone coughing in a fat voice,

And there sat Mr Jackson himself.

He was sitting all over a small rocking chair,

Twiddling his thumbs and smiling with his feet on the fender.

He lived in a drain below the hedge in a very dirty,

Wet ditch.

How do you do,

Mr Jackson?

Deary me,

You have got very wet.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

I'll sit a while and dry myself.

Said Mr Jackson.

He sat and smiled and the water dripped off his coattails.

Mrs Tittlemouse went round with a mop.

He sat such a while that he had to be asked if he would take some dinner.

First she offered him cherry stones.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

No teeth,

Said Mr Jackson.

He opened his mouth most unnecessarily wide.

He certainly had not a tooth in his head.

Then she offered him some thistledown seed.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Poof,

Poof,

Poof,

Said Mr Jackson.

He blew the thistledown all over the room.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

Now what I really,

Really should like would be a little dish of honey.

I'm afraid I've not got any,

Mr Jackson,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse,

Said the smiling Mr Jackson.

I can smell it.

That is why I came to call.

Mr Jackson rose ponderously from the table and began to look into the cupboards.

Mrs Tittlemouse followed him with a dishcloth to wipe his large wet footmarks off the parlour floor.

When he had convinced himself that there was no honey in the cupboards,

He began to walk down the passage.

Indeed,

You will stick fast,

Mr Jackson.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

First,

He squeezed into the pantry.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

No honey,

No honey,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

There were three creepy,

Crawly people hiding in the plate rack.

Two of them got away,

But the littlest one he caught.

Then he squeezed into the larder.

Mrs Butterfly was tasting the sugar,

But she flew away out of the window.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

You seem to have plenty of visitors.

And without any invitation,

Said Mrs Thomasina Tittlemouse.

They went along the sandy passage.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Buzz,

Whiz,

Whiz.

He met Babbity around a corner and snapped her up and put her down again.

I do not like bumblebees.

They are all over bristles,

Said Mr Jackson,

Wiping his mouth with his coat sleeve.

Get out,

You nasty old toad,

Shrieked Babbity Bumble.

I shall go distracted,

Scolded Mrs Tittlemouse.

She shut herself up in the nut cellar,

While Mr Jackson pulled out the bee's nest.

He seemed to have no objection to stings.

When Mrs Tittlemouse ventured to come out,

Everybody had gone away.

But the untidiness was something dreadful.

Never did I see such a mess.

Smears of honey and moss and thistle down,

And marks of big and little dirty feet all over my nice clean house.

She gathered up the moss and the remains of the beeswax.

Then she went out and fetched some twigs to partly close up the front door.

I will make it too small for Mr Jackson.

She fetched soft soap and flannel,

And a new scrubbing brush from the storeroom.

But she was too tired to do any more.

First she fell asleep in her chair,

Then she went to bed.

Will it ever be tidy again,

Said poor Mrs Tittlemouse.

Next morning,

She got up very early and began a spring cleaning which lasted a fortnight.

She swept and scrubbed and dusted,

And she rubbed up the furniture with beeswax and polished her little tin spoons.

When it was all beautifully neat and clean,

She gave a party to five other little mice,

Without Mr Jackson.

He smelt the party and came up the bank,

But he could not squeeze in at the door.

So,

They handed him out acorn cupfuls of honeydew through the window,

And he was not at all offended.

He sat outside in the sun and said,

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

You're very good health,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

Little Hilda's father was a sailor,

And went away on long voyages.

Hilda lived in a little cottage on the shore,

And used to spin and knit when her father was away,

For her mother had passed away and she had to be the housekeeper.

Some days she would go out in her boat and fish,

For Hilda was fond of the water.

She was born and had always lived on the shore.

When the water was very calm,

Hilda would look down into the blue depths and try to see a mermaid.

She was very anxious to see one.

She had heard her father tell such wonderful stories about them,

How they sang and combed their beautiful long hair.

One night when the wind was blowing,

And the rain was beating hard upon her window,

Hilda could hear the horn warning the sailors off the rocks.

Hilda lighted her father's big lantern,

And ran down to the shore,

And hung it on a mast of a wreck which lay there,

So the sailors would not run their ships upon it.

Little Hilda was not afraid,

For she had seen many such storms.

When she returned to her cottage,

She found the door was unlatched,

But thought the wind had blown it open.

When she entered,

She found a little girl with beautiful hair,

Sitting on the floor.

She was a little frightened at first,

For the girl wore a green dress,

And it was wound around her body in the strangest manner.

I saw your light,

Said the child,

And came in.

The wind blew me far up on the shore.

I should not have come up on a night like this,

But a big wave looked so tempting,

I thought I would jump on it,

And have a nice ride.

But it was nearer the shore than I thought it,

And it landed me right near your door.

Oh my,

How Hilda's heart beat,

For she knew this child must be a mermaid.

Then she saw what she had thought a green dress was really her body and tail,

Curled up on the floor,

And it was beautiful as the lamp fell upon it and made it glisten.

Will you have some of my supper,

Asked Hilda,

For she wanted to be hospitable though she had not the least idea what mermaids ate.

Thank you,

Answered the mermaid.

I'm not very hungry,

But if you could give me a seaweed sandwich I should like it.

Poor Hilda did not know what to do.

She went to the closet and brought out some bread,

Which she spread with nice fresh butter and filled a glass with milk.

She told her she was sorry,

She did not have any seaweed sandwiches,

But she hoped she would like what she had prepared.

The little mermaid ate it and Hilda was pleased.

Do you live here all the time,

She asked Hilda.

I should think you would be very warm and want to be in the water part of the time.

Hilda told her she could not live in the water as she did,

Because her body was not like hers.

Oh,

I am so sorry,

Replied the mermaid.

I hoped you would visit me sometime.

We have such good times,

My sisters and I,

Under the sea.

Tell me about your home,

Said Hilda.

Come and sit beside me and I will.

She replied.

Hilda sat upon the floor by her side.

The mermaid felt of Hilda's clothes and thought it must be a bother to have so many clothes.

How can you swim,

She asked.

Hilda told her she put on a bathing suit,

But the mermaid thought that a nuisance.

I will tell you about our house first,

She begun.

Our father,

Neptune,

Lives in a beautiful castle at the bottom of the sea.

It is built of mother of pearl.

All around the castle grow beautiful green things,

And it has fine white sand around it also.

All my sisters live there,

And we are always glad to get home after we have been at the top of the ocean.

It is so nice and cool in our home.

The wind never blows there,

And the rain does not reach us.

You do not mind being wet by the rain,

Do you?

Asked Hilda.

Oh no,

Said the mermaid,

But the rain hurts us.

It falls in little sharp points and feels like pebbles.

How do you know how pebbles feel,

Hilda asked.

Oh,

Sometimes the neareds come and bother us.

They throw pebbles and stir up the water,

So we cannot see.

Who are the neareds?

Asked Hilda.

They are the sea nymphs.

We make the dogfish drive them away.

We are sirens and they are very jealous of us,

Because we are more beautiful than they,

Said the mermaid.

Hilda thought she was rather conceited,

But the little mermaid seemed to be quite unconscious she had conveyed that impression.

How do you find your way home after you have been at the top of the ocean?

Asked Hilda.

Oh,

When father Neptune counts us and finds any missing.

He sends a whale to spout.

Sometimes he sends more than one.

And we know where to dive when we see that.

What do you eat besides seaweed sandwiches?

Asked Hilda.

Fish eggs and very little fish,

Answered the mermaid.

When we have a party,

We have cake.

Hilda opened her eyes.

Where do you get cake?

She asked.

We make it.

We grind coral into flour and mix it with fish eggs.

Then we put it in a shell and send a mermaid to the top of the ocean with it.

And she holds it in the sun until it bakes.

We go to the Gulf Stream and gather grapes and we have sea foam and lemonade to drink.

Lemonade?

Said Hilda.

Where do you get your lemons?

Why,

The sea lemon?

Replied the mermaid.

That is a small mussel fish the colour of a lemon.

What do you do at your parties?

You cannot dance,

Said Hilda.

We swim to the music,

Circle around and dive and glide.

But the music,

Where do you get your musicians?

Hilda continued.

We have plenty of music,

Replied the mermaid.

The sea elephant trumpets for us.

Then there is the pipefish.

The swordfish runs the scales of the sea adder with his sword.

The seashells blob and all together we have splendid music.

But it is late and we must not talk anymore.

So the little mermaid curled herself up and soon they were asleep.

The sun shining in the window awakened Hilda next morning and she looked about her.

The mermaid was not there,

But Hilda was sure it had not been a dream.

For she found pieces of seaweed on the floor.

And every time she goes out in her boat,

She looks for her friend.

And when the whales spout,

She knows they are telling the mermaids to come home.

The Good Sea Monster On a distant island of smooth rocks,

Surrounded by an endless ocean,

Lived a sea monster.

His head was enormous.

And when he opened his mouth,

It looked like a vast,

Moonlit cave.

People said he was so huge that he could swallow a ship whole.

And that on stormy nights,

He sat on the rocks,

While his eyes flashed like lighthouse beams across the dark water.

The sailors spoke of him with fear and trembling.

But the sea monster had really been their friend all along.

Showing them the dangerous rocks during storms by flashing his eyes.

Because he looked so frightening,

Everyone who saw him thought he must be cruel and terrible.

One night,

During a fierce storm,

The monster swam out into the churning ocean to see if any ship had been wrecked.

Hoping to help anyone who might be floating in the waves.

He found a young boy named Coco,

Drifting on a piece of broken wood.

When Coco first saw the monster,

He was terrified.

But when he realized the creature meant no harm,

He climbed onto the monster's broad back.

The monster carried him gently to the rocky island.

Then the monster disappeared back into the sea.

And Coco wondered if he would be left alone forever.

But after a while,

The monster returned,

And opened his mouth very wide.

Coco ran when he saw that enormous mouth,

Thinking the monster planned to swallow him.

But when the creature didn't follow or chase him,

Coco crept back,

Curious.

The monster opened his mouth again,

And Coco asked,

Do you want me to go inside?

The monster nodded his great head slowly.

It must be for some good reason,

Coco said to himself.

He could easily swallow me if he had wanted to,

Without waiting for me to walk in.

So Coco walked into the big mouth,

And down a dark,

Winding passage.

The air smelled of salt and seaweed.

And after his eyes adjusted to the dim light,

He saw a wooden stove,

A comfortable chair,

And a sturdy table.

I should take these out,

Coco said.

I'm sure I can use them.

He carried them to a dry cave on the island.

And when he returned,

The monster was gone.

Soon he came back,

Opening his mouth once more.

This time,

Coco walked in without hesitation,

And found boxes and barrels full of food,

Which he carefully stored in his cave.

When Coco had removed everything,

The monster lay down on the rocks and went to sleep.

Coco cooked himself dinner,

And then he gently woke the monster.

Dinner is ready,

He offered.

But the monster shook his head and dove into the ocean.

He returned with his mouth full of silver fish.

And then Coco understood that the monster had brought all the silver fish he could find.

All these things from sunken ships just for him.

He began to wish the monster could speak,

For he no longer feared him at all.

I wish you could talk,

Coco said aloud.

I can,

The monster replied in a voice like distant thunder.

No one ever wished it before.

Long ago,

An old witch transformed me into a monster,

And placed me on this island where no one could reach me.

The only way I can speak is if someone wishes it.

Well,

I'm glad I wished it,

Said Coco.

You have given me the gift of speech,

Said the monster.

But for me to become human again,

Someone else must wish it.

The monster and Coco lived peacefully on the island for many months.

The monster took Coco for long rides on his back through the calm waters.

And when the waves grew too high and Coco felt afraid,

The monster would open his mouth so Coco could crawl inside,

And be carried safely back to shore.

One morning after a storm,

Coco spotted something floating in the distance.

He climbed onto the monster's back,

And they swam out to investigate.

It was a girl about Coco's age who had survived a shipwreck.

They brought her to the island,

And at first she was frightened of the monster.

But when she learned that he had saved Coco,

And provided all their food and shelter,

She grew as fond of him as Coco was.

I wish he were human,

She said one day as she sat on his back with Coco,

Ready for their daily swim.

With a great splash,

Both children tumbled into the water.

And there in place of the monster was a kind old man with twinkling eyes and a long white beard.

He caught the children in his arms and brought them safely to shore.

But what will we do for food now that you're human?

Asked Coco,

Worried.

We shall want for nothing,

Replied the old man with a gentle smile.

I am a sea god,

And now that I have my true form again,

I can do wonderful things.

We will transform this island into a beautiful garden with fruit trees and clear streams.

When you both grow up,

You can choose your own adventures.

Perhaps you'll become explorers of distant lands,

Or scholars of the ocean's mysteries,

Or simply the very best of friends who share incredible stories.

And I will take you out on the ocean,

On the backs of my dolphins,

Whenever you wish.

Coco and the girl lived happily on the enchanted island,

Exploring tide pools and learning the names of every star.

As they grew older,

They became the dearest of friends,

And all the things the old sea god had promised came true.

The dolphins carried them to coral gardens and hidden lagoons,

And they discovered that the greatest treasure of all was the friendship they shared,

And the magical world they had found together.

The Mirror's Dream The very idea of putting me in the attic,

Said the little old-fashioned table,

As it spread out both leaves in a gesture of despair,

I have stood in the parlour downstairs for fifty years,

And now I am consigned to the rubbish room.

And it dropped its leaves at its side with a sigh.

I was there longer than that,

Said the sofa.

Many a courtship I have helped along.

What do you think of me?

Asked an old mirror that stood on the floor,

Leaning against the wall.

To be brought to the attic after reflecting generation after generation.

All the famous beauties have looked into my face.

It is a degradation from which I can never recover.

This young mistress who has come here to live,

Does not seem to understand the dignity of our position.

Why,

I was in the family when her husband's grandmother was a girl,

And she has doomed me to a dusty attic to dream out the rest of my days.

The shadows deepened in the room,

And gradually the discarded mirror ceased to complain.

It had fallen asleep,

But later the moonlight streamed in through the window,

And showed that its dreams were pleasant ones,

For it dreamed of the old and happy days.

The door opened softly,

And a young girl entered.

Her hair was dark,

And hung in curls over her white shoulders.

Her dark eyes wandered over the room,

Until she saw the old mirror.

She ran across the room,

And stood in front of it.

She wore a hoop skirt over which hung her dress of pale grey,

With tiny pink ruffles that began at her slender waist,

And ended at the bottom of her wide skirt.

Tiny pink rosebuds were dotted over the waist and skirt,

And she also wore them in her dark curls,

Where one stray blossom bolder than the others rested against her soft cheek.

She stood before the mirror,

And gazed at her reflection a minute.

Then she curtsied,

And said with a laugh,

I think you will do,

He must speak tonight.

She seemed to fade away in the moonlight.

The door opened again,

And a lady entered,

And with her came five handsome children.

They went to the mirror,

And one little girl with dark curls and pink cheeks went close and touched it with her finger.

Look,

She said to the others,

I look just like the picture of mother when she was a girl.

And as they stood there,

A gentleman appeared beside them,

And put his arm around the lady,

And the children gathered around them.

They seemed to walk along the moonlight path,

And disappear through the window.

Softly the door opened again,

And an old lady entered,

Leaning on the arm of an old gentleman.

They walked to the mirror,

And he put his arms around her,

And kissed her with a cheek.

You are always young and fair to me,

He said,

And her face smiled into the depths of the old mirror.

The moonlight made a halo around their heads as they faded away.

The morning light streamed in through the window,

And the mirror's dream was ended.

By and by the door opened,

And a young girl came into the room.

Her dark hair was piled high on her head,

And her dark eyes looked over the room until they fell upon a chest in the corner.

She went to it,

And opened it and took out a pale grey dress with pink ruffles.

She put it on,

And she let down her hair,

Which fell in curls over her shoulders.

She ran to the old mirror and looked at herself.

I do look like grandmother,

She said.

I will wear this to the old folks' party tonight.

Grandfather proposed to grandmother the night she wore this dress.

Her cheeks turned very pink as she said this,

And she ran out of the room.

Then one day,

The door opened again,

And a bride entered,

Leaning on the arm of her young husband.

There were tears in her eyes,

Although she was smiling.

She led him in front of the old mirror.

This old mirror,

She said,

Has seen all the brides in our family for generations,

And I am going far away and may never look into it again.

My brother's wife does not want it downstairs,

And I may be the last bride it will ever see.

And she passed her hand over its frame caressingly.

And then she went away,

And the old mirror was left to its dreams for many years.

Then one day,

The door opened again,

And a lady entered.

With her was a young girl.

The lady looked around the attic room until she saw the mirror.

There it is,

She said.

Come and look in it,

Dear.

The young girl followed her.

The last time I looked into this dear old mirror,

The lady said,

Was the day your father and I were married.

I never expected to have it for my own then.

But your uncle's wife wants to remodel the house,

And these things are in the way.

She does not want old-fashioned things,

And they are willing I should have them.

Oh mother,

They are beautiful,

Said the girl,

Looking around the room.

We will never part with them.

We will take them to our home and make them forget they were ever discarded.

And so the mirror and the sofa and the table and many other pieces of bygone days went to live where they were loved.

And the old mirror still reflects dark-haired girls and ladies who smile into its depths and see its beauty as well as their own.

Where the Sparks Go One night,

When the wind was blowing,

And it was clear and cold out of doors,

A cat and a dog,

Who were very good friends,

Sat dozing before a fireplace.

The wood was snapping and crackling,

Making the sparks fly.

Some flew up the chimney,

Others settled into coals in the bed of the fireplace,

While others flew out on the hearth and slowly closed their eyes and went to sleep.

One spark ventured farther out upon the hearth and fell very near the pussycat.

This made her jump,

Which awakened the dog.

That almost scorched your fur coat,

Miss Pussycat,

Said the dog.

No,

Indeed,

Answered the cat.

I am far too quick to be caught by those silly sparks.

Why do you call them silly?

Asked the dog.

I think them very good to look at,

And they help to keep us warm.

Yes,

That is all true,

Said the cat.

But those that fly up the chimney,

On a night like this,

Certainly are silly,

When they could be warm and comfortable inside.

For my part,

I cannot see why they fly up the chimney.

The spark that flew so near the pussycat was still winking,

And she blazed up a little when she heard the remark the cat made.

If you knew our reason,

You would not call us silly,

She said.

You cannot see what we do,

But if you were to look up the chimney and see what happens if we are fortunate enough to get out,

At the top,

You would not call us silly.

The dog and cat were very curious to know what happened,

But the spark told them to look and see for themselves.

Pussycat was very cautious,

And told the dog to look first,

So he stepped boldly up to the fireplace and thrust his head in.

He quickly withdrew it,

For his hair was singed,

Which made him cry and run to the other side of the room.

Miss Pussycat smoothed her soft coat,

And was very glad she had been so wise.

She walked over to the dog,

And urged him to come nearer the fire,

But he realised why a burnt child dreads the fire,

And remained at a safe distance.

The pussycat walked back to the spark,

And continued to question it.

We cannot go into the fire,

She said.

Now pretty,

Bright spark,

Do tell us what becomes of you when you fly up the chimney.

I am sure you only become soot,

And that cannot make you long to get to the top.

Oh,

You are very wrong,

Said the spark.

We are far from being black when we fly up the chimney,

For once we reach the top,

We live forever sparkling in the sky.

You can see,

If you look up the chimney,

All of our brothers and sisters who have been lucky and reached the top,

Winking at us almost every night.

Sometimes the wind blows them away,

I suppose,

For there are nights when we cannot see the sparks shine.

Who told you all that,

Said the cat.

Did any of the sparks ever come back,

And tell you they could live forever?

Oh no,

Said the spark,

But we can see them,

Can we not?

And of course,

We all want to shine forever.

I said you were silly,

Said the cat,

And now I know it.

Those are not sparks you see,

They are stars in the sky.

You can call them anything you like,

Replied the spark,

But we make the bright light you see.

Well,

If you take my advice,

Said the cat,

You will stay right in the fireplace,

For once you reach the top of the chimney,

Out of sight you go.

The stars you see twinkling are far above the chimney,

And you never could reach them.

But the spark would not be convinced.

Just then,

Someone opened a door,

And the draught blew the spark back into the fireplace.

In a few minutes it was flying with the others towards the top of the chimney.

The pussycat watched the fire a minute,

And then looked at the dog.

The spark may be right after all,

Said the dog,

Let us go out and see if we can see it.

The pussycat stretched herself and blinked.

Perhaps it is true,

She replied.

Anyway,

I will go with you and look.

The Tale of Mrs Tiggiewinkle Once upon a time,

There was a little girl called Lucy,

Who lived at a farm called Littletown.

She was a good little girl,

Only she was always losing her pocket handkerchiefs.

One day little Lucy came into the farmyard crying.

Oh,

She did cry so.

I've lost my pocket hankin.

Three hankins and a pinny.

Have you seen them,

Tabby kitten?

The kitten went on washing her white paws.

So Lucy asked a speckled hen.

Sally Henny Penny,

Have you found three pocket hankins?

But the speckled hen ran into a barn clucking.

I go barefoot,

Barefoot,

Barefoot.

And then Lucy asked Cock Robin sitting on a twig.

Cock Robin looked sideways at Lucy with his bright black eye,

And he flew over a stile and away.

Lucy climbed upon the stile and looked up at the hill behind Littletown.

A hill that goes up,

Up into the clouds,

As though it had no top.

And a great way up the hillside,

She thought she saw some white things spread upon the grass.

Lucy scrambled up the hill as fast as her stout legs would carry her.

She ran along a steep pathway,

Up and up,

Until Littletown was right away down below.

She could have dropped a pebble down the chimney.

Presently,

She came to a spring bubbling out from the hillside.

Someone had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water.

But the water was already running over,

For the can was no bigger than an egg cup.

And where the sand upon the path was wet,

There were footmarks of a very small person.

Lucy ran on and on.

The path ended under a big rock.

The grass was short and green,

And there were clothes.

Props cut from bracken stems,

With lines of plaited rushes,

And a heap of tiny clothespins.

But no pocket handkerchiefs.

But there was something else.

A door,

Straight into the hill,

And inside it,

Someone was singing,

Lily white and clean,

With little frills between.

Smooth and hot,

Red rusty spot,

Never here be seen.

Lucy knocked,

Once,

Twice,

And interrupted the song.

A little frightened voice called out,

Who's that?

Lucy opened the door.

And what do you think there was inside the hill?

A nice clean kitchen with a flagged floor and wooden beams.

Just like any other farm kitchen.

Only the ceiling was so low,

That Lucy's head nearly touched it.

And the pots and pans were small,

And so was everything there.

There was a nice hot singe-y smell,

And at the table,

With an iron in her hand,

Stood a very stout short person,

Staring anxiously at Lucy.

Her print gown was tucked up,

And she was wearing a large apron over her striped petticoat.

Her little black nose went sniffle,

Sniffle,

Snuffle,

And her eyes went twinkle,

Twinkle.

And underneath her cap,

Where Lucy had yellow curls,

That little person had prickles.

Who are you?

Said Lucy.

Have you seen my pocket hankins?

The little person made a bob curtsy.

Oh yes,

If you please,

My name is Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Oh yes,

If you please,

I'm an excellent clear starcher.

And she took something out of her clothes basket,

And spread it on the ironing blanket.

What's that thing?

Said Lucy.

That's not my pocket hankin.

Oh no,

If you please,

That's a little scarlet waistcoat belonging to Cock Robin.

And she ironed it,

And folded it,

And put it on one side.

Then she took something else off her clothes horse.

That isn't my penny,

Said Lucy.

Oh no,

If you please,

That's a damask tablecloth belonging to Jenny Wren.

Look how it's stained with current wine,

It's very bad to wash,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle's nose went sniffle,

Sniffle,

Snuffle,

And her eyes went twinkle,

Twinkle,

And she fetched another hot iron from the fire.

There's one of my pocket hankins,

Cried Lucy,

And there's my penny.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle ironed it,

And goffered it,

And shook out the frills.

Oh,

That is lovely,

Said Lucy.

And what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves?

Oh,

That's a pair of stockings belonging to Sally Hennypenny.

Look how she's worn the heels out with scratching in the yard.

She'll very soon go barefoot,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Why,

There's another hanker sniff.

But it isn't mine,

It's red.

Oh no,

If you please,

That one belongs to old Mrs Rabbit,

And it did so smell of onions.

I've had to wash it separately,

I can't get out the smell.

There's another one of mine,

Said Lucy.

What are those funny little white things?

That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kitten.

I only have to iron them,

She washes them herself.

That's my last pocket hankin,

Said Lucy.

And what are you dipping into that basin of starch?

They're little dicky shirt fronts belonging to Tom Titmouse.

Most terrible particular,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Now I've finished my ironing,

I'm going to air some clothes.

What are those dear soft fluffy things,

Said Lucy.

Oh,

Those are woolly coats belonging to the little lambs at Skelgill.

Will their jackets take off?

Asked Lucy.

Oh yes,

If you please.

Look at the sheep mark on the shoulder.

And here's one marked for Gatesgarth.

And three that come from Littletown.

They're always marked at washing,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

And she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes.

Small brown coats of mice.

And one velvety black moleskin waistcoat.

And a red tail coat with no tail belonging to Squirrel Nutkin.

And a very much shrunk blue jacket belonging to Peter Rabbit.

And a petticoat,

Not marked,

That had gone lost in the washing.

And at last the basket was empty.

Then Mrs Tiggy Winkle made tea.

A cup for herself and a cup for Lucy.

They sat before the fire on a bench and looked sideways at each other.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle's hand,

Holding the teacup,

Was very,

Very brown and very,

Very wrinkly with the soap suds.

And all through her gown and her cap,

There were hairpins sticking wrong end out.

So that Lucy didn't like to sit too near her.

When they had finished tea,

They tied up the clothes in bundles.

And Lucy's pocket handkerchiefs were folded up inside her clean pinny.

And fastened with a silver safety pin.

And then they made up the fire with turf.

And came out and locked the door and hid the key under the door sill.

Then away down the hill,

Trotted Lucy and Mrs Tiggy Winkle with the bundles of clothes.

All the way down the path,

Little animals came out of the fern to meet them.

The very first they met were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny.

And she gave them their nice clean clothes.

And all the little animals and birds were so very much obliged to dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

So that at the bottom of the hill when they came to the stile,

There was nothing left to carry except Lucy's one little bundle.

Lucy scrambled up the stile with the bundle in her hand.

And then she turned to say goodnight and to thank the washerwoman.

But what a very odd thing.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle had not waited,

Either for thanks or for the washing bill.

She was running,

Running,

Running up the hill.

And where was her white frilled cap and her shawl and her gown and her petticoat?

And how small she had grown and how brown and covered with prickles.

Why,

Mrs Tiggy Winkle was nothing but a hedgehog.

Now,

Some people say that little Lucy had been asleep upon the stile.

But then how could she have found three clean pocket handkins and a pinny pinned with a silver safety pin?

And besides,

I have seen that door into the back of the hill called Cat Bells.

And besides,

I am very well acquainted with dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Mr Possum lived in a tree in the woods where Mr Bear lived.

And one morning,

Just before spring,

Mr Possum awoke very hungry.

He ran around to Mr Squirrel's house and tried to get an invitation to breakfast.

But Mr Squirrel had only enough for himself.

He knew that Mr Possum always lived on his neighbours when he could.

So he said,

Of course you have been to breakfast long ago,

Mr Possum.

You are such a smart fellow,

So I will not offer you any.

Mr Possum of course said he had,

And that he only dropped in to make a call.

He was on his way to Mr Rabbit's house.

But he met with no better success at Mr Rabbit's,

For he only put his nose out of the door.

And when he saw who was there,

Said,

I am as busy as I can be getting ready for my spring planting.

Will you come in and help sort seeds?

Mr Rabbit knew the easiest way to be rid of Mr Possum was to ask him to work.

I would gladly help you,

Replied Mr Possum,

But I am in a great hurry this morning.

I have some important business with Mr Bear and I only stopped to say how do you do.

Mr Bear,

I am afraid,

Will not be receiving today,

Said Mr Rabbit.

It is rather early for him to be up,

Isn't it?

I thought as the sun was nice and warm he might venture out,

And I thought it would please him to have me there to welcome him,

Said Mr Possum.

Besides that,

I wish to see him on business.

Now Mr Possum knew well enough that Mr Bear would not be up.

He wanted to find him sleeping and soundly too.

He went to the door and knocked softly.

Then he waited,

And as he did not hear any moving inside,

He went to a window and looked in.

There was Mr Bear's chair and pipe,

Just as he had left them when he went to bed.

He looked in the bedroom window and he could see in the bed a big heap of bedclothes,

And just the tiniest tip of Mr Bear's nose.

Mr Possum listened,

And he trembled a little,

For he could hear Mr Bear breathing very loud,

And it sounded anything but pleasant.

Oh,

He is sound asleep for another week,

Said Mr Possum.

What is the use of being afraid?

He walked around the house until he came to the pantry window.

Then he stopped and raised the sash.

He put in one foot and sat on the sill and listened.

All was still,

So he slid off to the floor.

Mr Possum looked around Mr Bear's well-filled pantry.

He did not know where to begin,

He was so hungry.

He became so interested,

And was so greedy,

That he forgot all about that he was in Mr Bear's pantry.

And he stayed on and on,

And ate and ate.

Then he fell asleep,

And the first thing he knew,

A pair of shining eyes were looking in the window,

And a big head with a red mouth,

Full of long white teeth,

Was poked into the pantry.

Mr Possum thought his time had come,

So he just closed his eyes and pretended he was dead.

But he peeked a little,

So as to see what happened.

The big head was followed by a body.

And when it was on the sill,

Mr Possum saw it was Mr Fox.

And the next thing he knew,

Mr Fox came off the sill with a bang,

And hit a pan of beans,

And then knocked over a jar of preserves.

The noise was enough to awaken all the bears for miles around,

And Mr Possum was frightened nearly to death,

For he heard Mr Bear growling in the next room.

While Mr Fox was on the floor and trying to get up on his feet,

Mr Possum jumped up and was out of the window like a flash.

Mr Fox saw something,

But he did not know what.

Before he could make his escape,

The door of the pantry opened,

And there stood Mr Bear,

With a candle in his hand,

Looking in.

Oh ho!

He growled.

So you are trying to rob me while I'm taking my sleep!

And he sprang at Mr Fox.

Wait,

Wait,

Wait!

Said Mr Fox.

Let me explain,

My dear Mr Bear.

You are mistaken.

I was trying to protect your home.

I saw your window open and knew you were asleep.

And when I got in the window,

The thief attacked me and nearly killed me.

And now you are blaming me for it.

You are most ungrateful.

I shall know another time what to do.

Mr Bear looked at him.

His mouth did not show any signs of food.

And Mr Fox opened his mouth and told him to look.

I wonder who it could have been,

He said.

When he was satisfied that Mr Fox was not the thief.

It may have been that Possum fellow.

I'll go over to his house in the morning.

The next morning,

Mr Bear called on Mr Possum.

He found him sleeping soundly.

And when he at last opened the door,

He was rubbing his eyes as though he was not half awake.

Why,

How do you do?

He said when he saw Mr Bear.

I did not suppose you were up yet.

You didn't?

Asked Mr Bear.

And then he stared at Mr Possum's coat.

What's the matter with your coat?

He asked.

You have white hairs sticking out all over you.

And the rest of your coat is almost white too.

Now Mr Possum had a black coat before.

And he ran to the mirror and looked at himself.

It was true.

He was almost white.

He knew what had happened.

He was so frightened when he was caught in Mr Bear's pantry by Mr Fox.

And he heard Mr Bear growl that he had turned nearly white with fright.

I've been terribly ill,

He told Mr Bear going back to the door.

I've been here all alone this winter.

It was a terrible sickness.

I guess that is what has caused it.

Mr Bear went away shaking his head.

That fellow is crafty,

He said.

I feel sure he was the thief and yet he certainly does look sick.

After that,

All the opossums were of dull white colour.

With long white hairs scattered here and there over their fur.

They were never able to outgrow the mark the thieving Mr Possum left upon his race.

Dinah Cat and the Witch Once upon a time,

There was a little girl named Betty.

She was an orphan and a bad landlord turned her out of her home.

The only friend she had was a black cat named Dinah.

Betty was crying as she walked along the road and Dinah Cat ran beside her,

Rubbing against her feet.

All at once she ran in front of Betty and stood on her hind legs.

Do not cry mistress,

She said.

I'll take care of you.

Betty was so surprised to hear Dinah Cat speak that she stopped crying at once.

You poor Dinah Cat,

She said.

What can you do?

We must go to the city and if I can find work we shall be able to live.

If not,

You must take care of yourself,

For you can catch mice and keep from starving.

You come with me mistress,

Answered Dinah Cat,

And you will not need to work and you will not starve.

She put out her paw for Betty to take and walked alongside her.

When they came to a path leading into the wood,

Dinah Cat led Betty along this path until they were in front of two very large trees which had grown together,

But there was a big opening in the trunk.

We'll go in here,

Said Dinah Cat,

And as they stepped through they were in a hall.

She led Betty up the stairs to a room where there was a snowy white bed and pretty furnishings.

Dinner will be served as soon as you are dressed,

Mistress,

Said Dinah Cat.

After she had gone,

Betty looked around,

And in the closets she found pretty dresses which just fitted her.

She put on one of them,

And in a few minutes she was ready for dinner.

Just then,

She heard a soft scratching noise at the door,

And when she opened it Dinah Cat walked in.

How do you like your new home,

Mistress?

She asked.

Oh very much,

Betty answered,

But we cannot live in such a nice house.

We have no money,

And besides that,

This house must belong to someone,

And this dress I have on must belong to some little girl.

I should not wear it.

The dress did belong to a little girl,

Said Dinah Cat,

But she cannot wear it now.

She wants you to have it,

And do not fret about the house,

It belongs to me.

I cannot tell you any more just now,

But you need not worry any more about anything,

For you are to live here if you wish,

After you have dinner,

For then you will meet a boy,

And you may not like him.

Dinah Cat led Betty into a room,

Where the table was set for three persons,

And when they were seated,

A boy about Betty's age came in and sat with them.

He wore his hat,

And a thick veil hung from it.

I'm sorry I cannot remove my hat,

He said in a very sweet voice,

And I will go away if you'd rather I would.

Oh,

No,

Said Betty,

Feeling very much like an intruder.

I'm very grateful to you for letting me stay,

And I will help do the work.

You do not need to work,

Said the boy.

If you will stay,

We will be very glad.

Betty did not once get a glimpse of his face,

He lifted the veil so carefully,

And there sat Dinah Cat,

Using her knife and fork like any lady,

Betty smiled to herself when she thought of her eating from a saucer.

Suddenly,

Dinah Cat slid out of her chair and crawled under it,

And the little boy trembled so his chair shook.

Betty looked around to find the cause of their strange behaviour,

And saw standing in the doorway an old woman with a staff in her hand.

She hobbled over to where Dinah Cat sat and raised the staff.

Betty thought she was going to strike her.

Don't you hurt Dinah Cat,

She cried,

Running towards the old witch,

Who was so startled that she dropped the staff and Betty picked it up.

Don't let her have it again,

Said the boy,

That is the cause of all our trouble.

Betty threw the staff in a closet and locked the door.

All this time,

The witch was stepping backward toward the door by which she entered,

And she grew smaller with each step.

By the time she was out of the house,

She looked like a black speck,

And a breeze blowing just then carried her out of sight.

But how shall we ever be ourselves again,

Said the boy,

She is gone and here we are in this state.

Perhaps the stick will do it,

Said Dinah Cat.

Betty wondered what they meant,

And the boy told her that Dinah Cat was his sister,

Before the witch changed her into a cat,

And made his face so hideous he had to wear a veil,

And they had lived very happily together.

But one day the old witch came and wanted to live with us,

And we let her for a while,

But she was so cross and made us so unhappy we told her she must go away.

Then she brought all this change upon us,

And every once in a while she returns and frightens us,

For we do not know what she will change us into next.

Let me get the stick,

Said Betty,

Perhaps we can change Dinah Cat to your sister again.

Betty opened the door of the closet,

And instead of the stick there was a bright streak of light,

And walking on it was a little fairy who held a wand in her hand.

You will soon be happy again,

She told them.

I have destroyed the stick and the old witch will never return.

Then she walked over to Dinah Cat and touched her with her wand,

And there stood a little girl about Betty's age in place of the black cat.

Now close your eyes,

Said the fairy,

For I want the boy to remove his veil and his face is not pleasant to look upon.

Betty did as the fairy told her,

But I am sorry to tell you that she peaked a very little.

Betty closed her eyes tight after the first glimpse,

And waited for the fairy to tell her to open them again,

And when she did,

There stood a boy with a very smiling face.

His sister ran to him and put her arms around him.

Now we shall be happy,

She said,

And Betty will live with us.

How can we thank you,

She asked the fairy.

Oh,

I shall be repaid by seeing you all happy,

The fairy replied,

And now I must go.

Will we see you again,

Asked Betty.

No,

Answered the fairy,

I only appear when people are in trouble,

And you will never need me again.

Tearful Once upon a time,

There was a little girl named Tearful,

Because she cried so often.

If she could not have her own way,

She cried.

If she could not have everything for which she wished,

She cried.

Her mother told her one day that she would melt away in tears if she cried so often.

You are like the boy who cried for the moon,

She told her,

And if it has been given to him it would have not made him happy,

For what possible use could the moon be to anyone out of its proper place?

And that is the way with you.

Half the things for which you cry would be of no use to you if you got them.

Tearful did not take warning or heed her mother's words of wisdom,

And kept on crying just the same.

One morning she was crying as she walked along to school,

Because she wanted to stay at home,

When she noticed a frog hopping along beside her.

Why are you following me?

She asked,

Looking at him through her tears.

Because you will soon form a pond around you with your tears,

Replied the frog,

And I have always wanted a pond all to myself.

I shall not make any pond for you,

Said Tearful,

And I do not want you following me either.

The frog continued to hop along beside her,

And Tearful stopped crying and began to run,

But the frog hopped faster and she could not get away from him,

So she began to cry again.

Go away,

You horrid green frog,

She said.

At last,

She was so tired she sat on a stone by the roadside,

Crying all the time.

Now,

Replied the frog,

I shall soon have my pond.

Tearful cried harder than ever.

Then she could not see,

Her tears fell so fast,

And by and by she heard a splashing sound.

She opened her eyes and saw water all around her.

She was on a small island in the middle of the pond.

The frog hopped out of the pond,

Making a terrible grimace as he sat down beside her.

I hope you are satisfied,

Said Tearful.

You have your pond,

Why don't you stay in it?

Alas,

Replied the frog,

I have wished for something which I cannot use now that I have it.

Your tears are salt,

And my pond which I have all by myself is so salty I cannot enjoy it.

If only your tears had been fresh,

I should have been a most fortunate fellow.

You needn't stay if you don't like it,

Said Tearful,

And you needn't find fault with my tears either,

She said,

Beginning to cry again.

Stop,

Stop,

Cried the frog,

Hopping about excitedly.

You will have a flood if you keep on crying.

Tearful saw the water rising around her,

So she stopped a minute.

What shall I do?

She asked.

I cannot swim,

And I will die if I have to stay here.

And then she began to cry again.

The frog hopped up and down in front of her,

Waving his front legs and telling her to hush.

If you would only stop crying,

He said,

I might be able to help you,

But I cannot do a thing if you cover me with your salt tears.

Tearful listened,

And promised she would not cry if he would get her away from the island.

There is only one way that I know of,

Said the frog.

You must smile.

That will dry the pond,

And we can escape.

But I do not feel like smiling,

Said Tearful,

And her eyes filled with tears again.

Look out,

Said the frog.

You will surely be drowned in your own tears if you cry again.

Tearful began to laugh.

That would be strange,

Wouldn't it,

To be drowned in my own tears,

She said.

That is right,

Keep on smiling,

Said the frog.

The pond is smaller already.

And he stood up on his hind legs and began to dance for joy.

Tearful laughed again.

Oh,

You are so funny,

She said.

I wish I had your picture.

I never saw a frog dance before.

You have a slate under your arm,

Said the frog.

Why don't you draw a picture of me?

The frog picked up a stick and stuck it in the ground.

And then he leaned on it with one arm,

Or front leg,

And crossing his feet he stood very still.

Tearful drew him in that position,

And then he kicked up his legs as if he were dancing.

And she tried to draw him that way,

But it was not a very good likeness.

Do you like that?

She asked the frog when she held the slate for him to see.

He looked so surprised that Tearful laughed again.

You did not think you were handsome,

Did you?

She asked.

I had never thought I looked as bad as those pictures,

Replied the frog.

Let me try drawing your picture,

He said.

Now look pleasant,

He said,

As he seated himself in front of Tearful,

And do smile.

Tearful did as he requested,

And in a few minutes he handed her the slate.

Where is my nose?

Asked Tearful,

Laughing.

Oh,

I forgot the nose,

Said the frog.

But you don't think your eyes are nice and large,

And your mouth too?

They are certainly big in this picture,

Said Tearful.

I hope I do not look just like that.

I do not think either of us are artists,

Replied the frog.

Tearful looked around her.

Why,

Where is the pond?

She asked.

It's gone.

I thought it would dry up if you would only smile,

Said the frog.

And I think both of us have learned a lesson.

I shall never again wish for a pond of my own.

I should be lonely without my companions,

And then it might be salt,

Just as this one was.

And you will surely never cry over little things again,

For you see what might happen to you.

I feel much happier smiling,

And I do not want to be on an island again,

Even with such a pleasant companion as you were.

Look out for the tears then,

Said the frog as he hopped away.

There was a kitchen,

A parlour,

A pantry and a larder.

Also,

There was Mrs Tittlemouse's bedroom,

Where she slept in a little box bed.

Mrs Tittlemouse was a most terribly tidy particular little mouse,

Always sweeping and dusting the soft sandy floors.

Sometimes a beetle lost its way in the passages.

Shoo,

Shoo,

Little dirty feet,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse clattering her dustpan.

And one day a little old woman ran up and down in a red spotty cloak.

Your house is on fire,

Mother Ladybird.

Fly away home to your children.

Another day a big fat spider came in to shelter from the rain.

Beg pardon,

Is this not Miss Muffet's?

Go away,

You bold bad spider,

Leaving ends of cobweb all over my nice clean house.

She bundled the spider out at a window.

He let himself down the hedge with a long thin bit of string.

Mrs Tittlemouse went on her way to a distant storeroom to fetch cherry stones and thistledown seed for dinner.

All along the passage she sniffed and looked at the floor.

I smell a smell of honey.

Is it the cow slips outside in the hedge?

I am sure I can see the marks of little dirty feet.

Suddenly round a corner she met Babbity Bumble.

Ziz,

Biz,

Biz,

Said the bumblebee.

Mrs Tittlemouse looked at her severely.

She wished that she had a broom.

Good day,

Babbity Bumble.

I should be glad to buy some beeswax.

But what are you doing down here?

Why do you always come in at a window and say ziz,

Biz,

Biz?

Mrs Tittlemouse began to get cross.

Ziz,

Wiz,

Wiz,

Replied Babbity Bumble in a peevish squeak.

She sidled down a passage and disappeared into a storeroom which had been used for acorns.

Mrs Tittlemouse had eaten the acorns before Christmas.

The storeroom ought to have been empty,

But it was full of untidy,

Dry moss.

Mrs Tittlemouse began to pull out the moss.

Three or four other bees put their heads out and buzzed fiercely.

I am not in the habit of letting lodgings.

This is an intrusion,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse.

I will have them turned out.

Buzz,

Buzz,

Buzz.

I wonder who would help me.

Biz,

Wiz,

Wiz.

I will not have Mr Jackson.

He never wipes his feet.

Mrs Tittlemouse decided to leave the bees till after dinner.

When she got back to the parlour,

She heard someone coughing in a fat voice.

And there sat Mr Jackson himself.

He was sitting all over a small rocking chair,

Twiddling his thumbs and smiling with his feet on the fender.

He lived in a drain below the hedge in a very dirty,

Wet ditch.

How do you do,

Mr Jackson?

Deary me,

You have got very wet.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

I'll sit a while and dry myself.

Said Mr Jackson.

He sat and smiled and the water dripped off his coattails.

Mrs Tittlemouse went round with a mop.

He sat such a while that he had to be asked if he would take some dinner.

First she offered him cherry stones.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

No teeth,

Said Mr Jackson.

He opened his mouth most unnecessarily wide.

He certainly had not a tooth in his head.

Then she offered him some thistledown seed.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Poof,

Poof,

Poof,

Said Mr Jackson.

He blew the thistledown all over the room.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

Now what I really,

Really should like would be a little dish of honey.

I'm afraid I've not got any,

Mr Jackson,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse,

Said the smiling Mr Jackson.

I can smell it.

That is why I came to call.

Mr Jackson rose ponderously from the table and began to look into the cupboards.

Mrs Tittlemouse followed him with a dishcloth to wipe his large,

Wet footmarks off the parlor floor.

When he had convinced himself that there was no honey in the cupboards,

He began to walk down the passage.

Indeed,

You will stick fast,

Mr Jackson.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

First he squeezed into the pantry.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly.

No honey,

No honey,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

There were three creepy,

Crawly people hiding in the plate rack.

Two of them got away,

But the littlest one he caught.

Then he squeezed into the larder.

Mrs Butterfly was tasting the sugar,

But she flew away out of the window.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

You seem to have plenty of visitors.

And without any invitation,

Said Mrs Thomasina Tittlemouse.

They went along the sandy passage.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Buzz,

Whiz,

Whiz.

He met Babbity around a corner and snapped her up and put her down again.

I do not like bumblebees.

They are all over bristles,

Said Mr Jackson,

Wiping his mouth with his coat sleeve.

Get out,

You nasty old toad,

Shrieked Babbity Bumble.

I shall go distracted,

Scolded Mrs Tittlemouse.

She shut herself up in the nut cellar,

While Mr Jackson pulled out the bee's nest.

He seemed to have no objection to stings.

When Mrs Tittlemouse ventured to come out,

Everybody had gone away.

But the untidiness was something dreadful.

Never did I see such a mess.

Smears of honey and moss and thistledown and marks of big and little dirty feet.

All over my nice clean house.

She gathered up the moss and the remains of the beeswax.

Then she went out and fetched some twigs to partly close up the front door.

I will make it too small for Mr Jackson.

She fetched soft soap and flannel and a new scrubbing brush from the storeroom.

But she was too tired to do any more.

First she fell asleep in her chair.

Then she went to bed.

Will it ever be tidy again,

Said poor Mrs Tittlemouse.

Next morning,

She got up very early and began a spring cleaning which lasted a fortnight.

She swept and scrubbed and dusted.

And she rubbed up the furniture with beeswax and polished her little tin spoons.

When it was all beautifully neat and clean.

She gave a party to five other little mice without Mr Jackson.

He smelt the party and came up the bank,

But he could not squeeze in at the door.

So they handed him out acorn cupfuls of honeydew through the window.

And he was not at all offended.

He sat outside in the sun and said,

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

You're very good health,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

Hilda's Mermaid Little Hilda's father was a sailor and went away on long voyages.

Hilda lived in a little cottage on the shore and used to spin and knit when her father was away.

For her mother had passed away and she had to be the housekeeper.

Some days she would go out in her boat and fish.

For Hilda was fond of the water.

She was born and had always lived on the shore.

When the water was very calm,

Hilda would look down into the blue depths and try to see a mermaid.

She was very anxious to see one.

She had heard her father tell such wonderful stories about them,

How they sang and combed their beautiful long hair.

One night when the wind was blowing and the rain was beating hard upon her window,

Hilda could hear the horn warning the sailors off the rocks.

Hilda lighted her father's big lantern and ran down to the shore and hung it on a mast of a wreck which lay there,

So the sailors would not run their ships upon it.

Little Hilda was not afraid,

For she had seen many such storms.

When she returned to her cottage,

She found the door was unlatched,

But thought the wind had blown it open.

When she entered,

She found a little girl with beautiful hair sitting on the floor.

She was a little frightened at first,

For the girl wore a green dress and it was wound around her body in the strangest manner.

I saw your light,

Said the child,

And came in.

The wind blew me far up on the shore.

I should not have come up on a night like this,

But a big wave looked so tempting,

I thought I would jump on it and have a nice ride.

But it was nearer the shore than I thought it,

And it landed me right near your door.

Oh my,

How Hilda's heart beat,

For she knew this child must be a mermaid.

Then she saw what she had thought a green dress was really her body and tail,

Curled up on the floor,

And it was beautiful as the lamp fell upon it and made it glisten.

Will you have some of my supper,

Asked Hilda,

For she wanted to be hospitable though she had not the least idea what mermaids ate.

Thank you,

Answered the mermaid.

I'm not very hungry,

But if you could give me a seaweed sandwich I should like it.

Poor Hilda did not know what to do.

She went to the closet and brought out some bread,

Which she spread with nice fresh butter and filled a glass with milk.

She told her she was sorry,

She did not have any seaweed sandwiches,

But she hoped she would like what she had prepared.

The little mermaid ate it and Hilda was pleased.

Do you live here all the time,

She asked Hilda.

I should think you would be very warm and want to be in the water part of the time.

Hilda told her she could not live in the water as she did,

Because her body was not like hers.

Oh,

I am so sorry,

Replied the mermaid.

I hoped you would visit me sometime.

We have such good times,

My sisters and I,

Under the sea.

Tell me about your home,

Said Hilda.

Come and sit beside me and I will.

She replied.

Hilda sat upon the floor by her side.

The mermaid felt of Hilda's clothes and thought it must be a bother to have so many clothes.

How can you swim,

She asked.

Hilda told her she put on a bathing suit,

But the mermaid thought that a nuisance.

I will tell you about our house first,

She begun.

Our father,

Neptune,

Lives in a beautiful castle at the bottom of the sea.

It is built of mother of pearl.

All around the castle grow beautiful green things,

And it has fine white sand around it also.

All my sisters live there,

And we are always glad to get home after we have been at the top of the ocean.

It is so nice and cool in our home.

The wind never blows there,

And the rain does not reach us.

You do not mind being wet by the rain,

Do you?

Asked Hilda.

Oh no,

Said the mermaid,

But the rain hurts us.

It falls in little sharp points and feels like pebbles.

How do you know how pebbles feel,

Hilda asked.

Oh,

Sometimes the neareids come and bother us.

They throw pebbles and stir up the water,

So we cannot see.

Who are the neareids?

Asked Hilda.

They are the sea nymphs.

We make the dogfish drive them away.

We are sirens,

And they are very jealous of us,

Because we are more beautiful than they,

Said the mermaid.

Hilda thought she was rather conceited,

But the little mermaid seemed to be quite unconscious she had conveyed that impression.

How do you find your way home,

After you have been at the top of the ocean?

Asked Hilda.

Oh,

When father Neptune counts us and finds any missing.

He sends a whale to spout.

Sometimes he sends more than one.

And we know where to dive when we see that.

What do you eat besides seaweed sandwiches?

Asked Hilda.

Fish eggs and very little fish,

Answered the mermaid.

When we have a party,

We have cake.

Hilda opened her eyes.

Where do you get cake?

She asked.

We make it.

We grind coral into flour and mix it with fish eggs.

Then we put it in a shell and send a mermaid to the top of the ocean with it.

And she holds it in the sun until it bakes.

We go to the Gulf Stream and gather grapes,

And we have sea foam and lemonade to drink.

Lemonade,

Said Hilda.

How do you get your lemons?

Why,

The sea lemon,

Replied the mermaid.

That is a small mussel fish the colour of a lemon.

What do you do at your parties?

You cannot dance,

Said Hilda.

We swim to the music,

Circle around and dive and glide.

But the music,

Where do you get your musicians?

Hilda continued.

We have plenty of music,

Replied the mermaid.

The sea elephant trumpets for us.

Then there is the pipe fish.

The swordfish runs the scales of the sea adder with his sword.

The seashells blob,

And altogether we have splendid music.

But it is late,

And we must not talk anymore.

So the little mermaid curled herself up,

And soon they were asleep.

The sun shining in the window awakened Hilda next morning,

And she looked about her.

The mermaid was not there,

But Hilda was sure it had not been a dream.

For she found pieces of seaweed on the floor,

And every time she goes out in her boat,

She looks for her friend.

And when the whales spout,

She knows they are telling the mermaids to come home.

The Good Sea Monster On a distant island of smooth rocks,

Surrounded by an endless ocean,

Lived a sea monster.

His head was enormous,

And when he opened his mouth,

It looked like a vast,

Moonlit cave.

People said he was so huge,

That he could swallow a ship whole.

And that on stormy nights,

He sat on the rocks,

While his eyes flashed like lighthouse beams across the dark water.

The sailors spoke of him with fear and trembling,

But the sea monster had really been their friend all along,

Showing them the dangerous rocks during storms,

By flashing his eyes.

Because he looked so frightening,

Everyone who saw him thought he must be cruel and terrible.

One night,

During a fierce storm,

The monster swam out into the churning ocean,

To see if any ship had been wrecked,

Hoping to help anyone who might be floating in the waves.

He found a young boy named Coco,

Drifting on a piece of broken wood.

When Coco first saw the monster,

He was terrified.

But when he realized the creature meant no harm,

He climbed onto the monster's broad back.

The monster carried him gently to the rocky island.

Then the monster disappeared back into the sea,

And Coco wondered if he would be left alone forever.

But after a while,

The monster returned,

And opened his mouth very wide.

Coco ran when he saw that enormous mouth,

Thinking the monster planned to swallow him.

But when the creature didn't follow or chase him,

Coco crept back,

Curious.

The monster opened his mouth again,

And Coco asked,

Do you want me to go inside?

The monster nodded his great head slowly.

It must be for some good reason,

Coco said to himself.

He could easily swallow me if he had wanted to,

Without waiting for me to walk in.

So Coco walked into the big mouth,

And down a dark,

Winding passage.

The air smelled of salt and seaweed.

And after his eyes adjusted to the dim light,

He saw a wooden stove,

A comfortable chair,

And a sturdy table.

I should take these out,

Coco said.

I'm sure I can use them.

He carried them to a dry cave on the island.

And when he returned,

The monster was gone.

Soon he came back,

Opening his mouth once more.

This time,

Coco walked in without hesitation,

And found boxes and barrels full of food,

Which he carefully stored in his cave.

When Coco had removed everything,

The monster lay down on the rocks and went to sleep.

Coco cooked himself dinner,

And then he gently woke the monster.

Dinner is ready,

He offered.

But the monster shook his head and dove into the ocean.

He returned with his mouth full of silver fish.

And then Coco understood that the monster had brought all the silver fish he could find.

All these things from sunken ships just for him.

He began to wish the monster could speak,

For he no longer feared him at all.

I wish you could talk,

Coco said aloud.

I can,

The monster replied in a voice like distant thunder.

No one ever wished it before.

Long ago,

An old witch transformed me into a monster,

And placed me on this island where no one could reach me.

The only way I can speak is if someone wishes it.

Well,

I'm glad I wished it,

Said Coco.

You have given me the gift of speech,

Said the monster.

But for me to become human again,

Someone else must wish it.

The monster and Coco lived peacefully on the island for many months.

The monster took Coco for long rides on his back through the calm waters.

And when the waves grew too high and Coco felt afraid,

The monster would open his mouth so Coco could crawl inside,

And be carried safely back to shore.

One morning after a storm,

Coco spotted something floating in the distance.

He climbed onto the monster's back,

And they swam out to investigate.

It was a girl about Coco's age who had survived a shipwreck.

They brought her to the island,

And at first she was frightened of the monster.

But when she learned that he had saved Coco,

And provided all their food and shelter,

She grew as fond of him as Coco was.

I wish he were human,

She said one day as she sat on his back with Coco,

Ready for their daily swim.

With a great splash,

Both children tumbled into the water.

And there in place of the monster was a kind old man with twinkling eyes and a long white beard.

He caught the children in his arms and brought them safely to shore.

But what will we do for food now that you're human?

Asked Coco,

Worried.

We shall want for nothing,

Replied the old man with a gentle smile.

I am a sea god,

And now that I have my true form again,

I can do wonderful things.

We will transform this island into a beautiful garden with fruit trees and clear streams.

When you both grow up,

You can choose your own adventures.

Perhaps you'll become explorers of distant lands,

Or scholars of the ocean's mysteries,

Or simply the very best of friends who share incredible stories.

And I will take you out on the ocean,

On the backs of my dolphins,

Whenever you wish.

Coco and the girl lived happily on the enchanted island,

Exploring tide pools and learning the names of every star.

As they grew older,

They became the dearest of friends,

And all the things the old sea god had promised came true.

The dolphins carried them to coral gardens and hidden lagoons,

And they discovered that the greatest treasure of all was the friendship they shared,

And the magical world they had found together.

The Mirror's Dream The very idea of putting me in the attic,

Said the little old-fashioned table,

As it spread out both leaves in a gesture of despair,

I have stood in the parlour downstairs for fifty years,

And now I am consigned to the rubbish room.

And it dropped its leaves at its side with a sigh.

I was there longer than that,

Said the sofa.

Many a courtship I have helped along.

What do you think of me?

Asked an old mirror that stood on the floor,

Leaning against the wall.

To be brought to the attic after reflecting generation after generation.

All the famous beauties have looked into my face.

It is a degradation from which I can never recover.

This young mistress who has come here to live does not seem to understand the dignity of our position.

Why,

I was in the family when her husband's grandmother was a girl,

And she has doomed me to a dusty attic to dream out the rest of my days.

The shadows deepened in the room,

And gradually the discarded mirror ceased to complain.

It had fallen asleep,

But later the moonlight streamed in through the window,

And showed that its dreams were pleasant ones,

For it dreamed of the old and happy days.

The door opened softly,

And a young girl entered.

Her hair was dark,

And hung in curls over her white shoulders.

Her dark eyes wandered over the room,

Until she saw the old mirror.

She ran across the room and stood in front of it.

She wore a hoop skirt over which hung her dress of pale grey,

With tiny pink ruffles that began at her slender waist,

And ended at the bottom of her wide skirt.

Tiny pink rosebuds were dotted over the waist and skirt,

And she also wore them in her dark curls,

Where one stray blossom bolder than the others rested against her soft cheek.

She stood before the mirror,

And gazed at her reflection a minute.

Then she curtsied,

And said with a laugh,

I think you will do,

He must speak tonight.

She seemed to fade away in the moonlight.

The door opened again,

And a lady entered,

And with her came five handsome children.

They went to the mirror,

And one little girl with dark curls and pink cheeks went close and touched it with her finger.

Look,

She said to the others,

I look just like the picture of mother when she was a girl.

And as they stood there,

A gentleman appeared beside them,

And put his arm around the lady,

And the children gathered around them.

They seemed to walk along the moonlight path,

And disappear through the window.

Softly the door opened again,

And an old lady entered,

Leaning on the arm of an old gentleman.

They walked to the mirror,

And he put his arms around her,

And kissed her with a cheek.

You are always young and fair to me,

He said,

And her face smiled into the depths of the old mirror.

The moonlight made a halo around their heads as they faded away.

The morning light streamed in through the window,

And the mirror's dream was ended.

By and by the door opened,

And a young girl came into the room.

Her dark hair was piled high on her head,

And her dark eyes looked over the room until they fell upon a chest in the corner.

She went to it,

And opened it,

And took out a pale grey dress with pink ruffles.

She put it on,

And she let down her hair,

Which fell in curls over her shoulders.

She ran to the old mirror,

And looked at herself.

I do look like grandmother,

She said.

I will wear this to the old folks' party tonight.

Grandfather proposed to grandmother the night she wore this dress.

Her cheeks turned very pink as she said this,

And she ran out of the room.

Then one day,

The door opened again,

And a bride entered,

Leaning on the arm of her young husband.

There were tears in her eyes,

Although she was smiling.

She led him in front of the old mirror.

This old mirror,

She said,

Has seen all the brides in our family for generations,

And I am going far away and may never look into it again.

My brother's wife does not want it downstairs,

And I may be the last bride it will ever see.

And she passed her hand over its frame caressingly.

And then she went away,

And the old mirror was left to its dreams for many years.

Then one day,

The door opened again,

And a lady entered.

With her was a young girl.

The lady looked around the attic room until she saw the mirror.

There it is,

She said.

Come and look in it,

Dear.

The young girl followed her.

The last time I looked into this dear old mirror,

The lady said,

Was the day your father and I were married.

I never expected to have it for my own then.

But your uncle's wife wants to remodel the house,

And these things are in the way.

She does not want old-fashioned things,

And they are willing I should have them.

Oh mother,

They are beautiful,

Said the girl,

Looking around the room.

We will never part with them.

We will take them to our home and make them forget they were ever discarded.

And so the mirror,

And the sofa,

And the table,

And many other pieces of bygone days,

Went to live where they were loved,

And the old mirror still reflects dark-haired girls and ladies who smile into its depths and see its beauty as well as their own.

Where the Sparks Go One night,

When the wind was blowing,

And it was clear and cold out of doors,

A cat and a dog,

Who were very good friends,

Sat dozing before a fireplace.

The wood was snapping and crackling,

Making the sparks fly.

Some flew up the chimney,

Others settled into coals in the bed of the fireplace,

While others flew out on the hearth and slowly closed their eyes and went to sleep.

One spark ventured farther out upon the hearth and fell very near the pussycat.

This made her jump,

Which awakened the dog.

That almost scorched your fur coat,

Miss Pussycat,

Said the dog.

No,

Indeed,

Answered the cat.

I am far too quick to be caught by those silly sparks.

Why do you call them silly?

Asked the dog.

I think them very good to look at,

And they help to keep us warm.

Yes,

That is all true,

Said the cat.

But those that fly up the chimney,

On a night like this,

Certainly are silly,

When they could be warm and comfortable inside.

For my part,

I cannot see why they fly up the chimney.

The spark that flew so near the pussycat was still winking,

And she blazed up a little when she heard the remark the cat made.

If you knew our reason,

You would not call us silly,

She said.

You cannot see what we do,

But if you were to look up the chimney and see what happens if we are fortunate enough to get out,

At the top,

You would not call us silly.

The dog and cat were very curious to know what happened,

But the spark told them to look and see for themselves.

Pussycat was very cautious,

And told the dog to look first,

So he stepped boldly up to the fireplace and thrust his head in.

He quickly withdrew it,

For his hair was singed,

Which made him cry and run to the other side of the room.

Miss Pussycat smoothed her soft coat,

And was very glad she had been so wise.

She walked over to the dog,

And urged him to come nearer the fire,

But he realised why a burnt child dreads the fire,

And remained at a safe distance.

The pussycat walked back to the spark,

And continued to question it.

We cannot go into the fire,

She said.

Now pretty,

Bright spark,

Do tell us what becomes of you when you fly up the chimney.

I am sure you only become soot,

And that cannot make you long to get to the top.

Oh,

You are very wrong,

Said the spark.

We are far from being black when we fly up the chimney,

For once we reach the top,

We live forever sparkling in the sky.

You can see,

If you look up the chimney,

All of our brothers and sisters,

Who have been lucky and reached the top,

Winking at us almost every night.

Sometimes the wind blows them away,

I suppose,

For there are nights when we cannot see the sparks shine.

Who told you all that,

Said the cat?

Did any of the sparks ever come back,

And tell you they could live forever?

Oh no,

Said the spark,

But we can see them,

Can we not?

And of course,

We all want to shine forever.

I said you were silly,

Said the cat,

And now I know it.

Those are not sparks you see,

They are stars in the sky.

You can call them anything you like,

Replied the spark,

But we make the bright light you see.

Well,

If you take my advice,

Said the cat,

You will stay right in the fireplace,

For once you reach the top of the chimney,

Out of sight you go.

The stars you see twinkling are far above the chimney,

And you never could reach them.

But the spark would not be convinced.

Just then,

Someone opened a door,

And the draught blew the spark back into the fireplace.

In a few minutes,

It was flying with the others towards the top of the chimney.

The pussycat watched the fire a minute,

And then looked at the dog.

The spark may be right after all,

Said the dog.

Let us go out and see if we can see it.

The pussycat stretched herself and blinked.

Perhaps it is true,

She replied.

Anyway,

I will go with you and look.

The Tale of Mrs Tiggiewinkle Once upon a time,

There was a little girl called Lucy,

Who lived at a farm called Littletown.

She was a good little girl,

Only she was always losing her pocket handkerchiefs.

One day,

Little Lucy came into the farmyard crying.

Oh,

She did cry so.

I've lost my pocket hankin.

Three hankins and a pinny.

Have you seen them,

Tabby kitten?

The kitten went on washing her white paws.

So Lucy asked a speckled hen.

Sally Henny Penny,

Have you found three pocket hankins?

But the speckled hen ran into a barn clucking.

I go barefoot,

Barefoot,

Barefoot.

And then Lucy asked Cock Robin,

Sitting on a twig.

Cock Robin looked sideways at Lucy with his bright black eye,

And he flew over a stile and away.

Lucy climbed upon the stile and looked up at the hill behind Littletown.

A hill that goes up,

Up into the clouds,

As though it had no top.

And a great way up the hillside,

She thought she saw some white things spread upon the grass.

Lucy scrambled up the hill as fast as her stout legs would carry her.

She ran along a steep pathway,

Up and up,

Until Littletown was right away down below.

She could have dropped a pebble down the chimney.

Presently,

She came to a spring,

Bubbling out from the hillside.

Someone had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water.

But the water was already running over,

For the can was no bigger than an egg cup.

And where the sand upon the path was wet,

There were footmarks of a very small person.

Lucy ran on and on.

The path ended under a big rock.

The grass was short and green,

And there were clothes.

Props cut from bracken stems,

With lines of plaited rushes,

And a heap of tiny clothespins.

But no pocket handkerchiefs.

But there was something else.

A door,

Straight into the hill,

And inside it,

Someone was singing,

Lily White and Clean,

With little frills between.

Smooth and hot,

Red rusty spot,

Never here be seen.

Lucy knocked,

Once,

Twice,

And interrupted the song.

A little frightened voice called out,

Who's that?

Lucy opened the door.

And what do you think there was inside the hill?

A nice clean kitchen,

With a flagged floor and wooden beams.

Just like any other farm kitchen.

Only the ceiling was so low,

That Lucy's head nearly touched it.

And the pots and pans were small,

And so was everything there.

There was a nice hot singe-y smell,

And at the table,

With an iron in her hand,

Stood a very stout short person,

Staring anxiously at Lucy.

Her print gown was tucked up,

And she was wearing a large apron over her striped petticoat.

Her little black nose went sniffle,

Sniffle,

Snuffle,

And her eyes went twinkle,

Twinkle.

And underneath her cap,

Where Lucy had yellow curls,

That little person had prickles.

Who are you?

Said Lucy.

Have you seen my pocket hankins?

The little person made a bob curtsy.

Oh yes,

If you please,

My name is Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Oh yes,

If you please,

I'm an excellent clear starcher.

And she took something out of her clothes basket,

And spread it on the ironing blanket.

What's that thing?

Said Lucy.

That's not my pocket hankin.

Oh no,

If you please,

That's a little scarlet waistcoat belonging to Cock Robin.

And she ironed it,

And folded it,

And put it on one side.

Then she took something else off a clothes horse.

That isn't my penny,

Said Lucy.

Oh no,

If you please,

That's a damask tablecloth belonging to Jenny Wren.

Look how it's stained with current wine,

It's very bad to wash,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle's nose went sniffle,

Sniffle,

Snuffle,

And her eyes went twinkle,

Twinkle,

And she fetched another hot iron from the fire.

There's one of my pocket hankins,

Cried Lucy,

And there's my penny.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle ironed it,

And goffered it,

And shook out the frills.

Oh,

That is lovely,

Said Lucy.

And what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves?

Oh,

That's a pair of stockings belonging to Sally Hennypenny.

Look how she's worn the heels out with scratching in the yard.

She'll very soon go barefoot,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Why,

There's another hanker sniff.

But it isn't mine,

It's red.

Oh no,

If you please,

That one belongs to old Mrs Rabbit,

And it did so smell of onions.

I've had to wash it separately,

I can't get out the smell.

There's another one of mine,

Said Lucy.

What are those funny little white things?

That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kitten.

I only have to iron them,

She washes them herself.

That's my last pocket hankin,

Said Lucy.

And what are you dipping into that basin of starch?

They're little dicky shirt fronts belonging to Tom Titmouse.

Most terrible particular,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Now I've finished my ironing,

I'm going to air some clothes.

What are those dear soft fluffy things,

Said Lucy.

Oh,

Those are woolly coats belonging to the little lambs at Skelgill.

Will their jackets take off?

Asked Lucy.

Oh yes,

If you please.

Look at the sheep mark on the shoulder.

And here's one marked for Gatesgarth,

And three that come from Littletown.

They're always marked at washing,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

And she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes.

Small brown coats of mice.

And one velvety black moleskin waistcoat.

And a red tail coat with no tail belonging to Squirrel Nutkin.

And a very much shrunk blue jacket belonging to Peter Rabbit.

And a petticoat,

Not marked,

That had gone lost in the washing.

And at last the basket was empty.

Then Mrs Tiggy Winkle made tea.

A cup for herself,

And a cup for Lucy.

They sat before the fire on a bench,

And looked sideways at each other.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle's hand,

Holding the teacup,

Was very,

Very brown and very,

Very wrinkly with the soap suds.

And all through her gown and her cap,

There were hairpins sticking wrong end out.

So that Lucy didn't like to sit too near her.

When they had finished tea,

They tied up the clothes in bundles.

And Lucy's pocket handkerchiefs were folded up inside her clean pinny.

And fastened with a silver safety pin.

And then they made up the fire with turf.

And came out and locked the door,

And hid the key under the door sill.

Then away down the hill,

Trotted Lucy and Mrs Tiggy Winkle with the bundles of clothes.

All the way down the path,

Little animals came out of the fern to meet them.

The very first they met were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny.

And she gave them their nice clean clothes.

And all the little animals and birds were so very much obliged to dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

So that at the bottom of the hill,

When they came to the stile,

There was nothing left to carry,

Except Lucy's one little bundle.

Lucy scrambled up the stile with the bundle in her hand.

And then she turned to say goodnight,

And to thank the washerwoman.

But,

What a very odd thing.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle had not waited,

Either for thanks,

Or for the washing bill.

She was running,

Running,

Running up the hill.

And where was her white frilled cap?

And her shawl?

And her gown?

And her petticoat?

And how small she had grown!

And how brown and covered with prickles!

Why,

Mrs Tiggy Winkle was nothing but a hedgehog.

Now,

Some people say that little Lucy had been asleep upon the stile.

But then how could she have found three clean pocket handkins and a pinny,

Pinned with a silver safety pin?

And besides,

I have seen that door into the back of the hill called Cat Bells.

And besides,

I am very well acquainted with dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Mr Possum Mr Possum lived in a tree in the woods,

Where Mr Bear lived.

And one morning,

Just before spring,

Mr Possum awoke very hungry.

He ran around to Mr Squirrel's house and tried to get an invitation to breakfast.

But Mr Squirrel had only enough for himself.

He knew that Mr Possum always lived on his neighbours when he could.

So he said,

Of course you have been to breakfast long ago,

Mr Possum.

You are such a smart fellow,

So I will not offer you any.

Mr Possum of course said he had,

And that he only dropped in to make a call.

He was on his way to Mr Rabbit's house.

But he met with no better success at Mr Rabbit's,

For he only put his nose out of the door.

And when he saw who was there,

Said,

I am as busy as I can be getting ready for my spring planting.

Will you come in and help sort seeds?

Mr Rabbit knew the easiest way to be rid of Mr Possum was to ask him to work.

I would gladly help you,

Replied Mr Possum,

But I am in a great hurry this morning.

I have some important business with Mr Bear and I only stopped to say how do you do.

Mr Bear,

I am afraid,

Will not be receiving today,

Said Mr Rabbit.

It is rather early for him to be up,

Isn't it?

I thought as the sun was nice and warm he might venture out,

And I thought it would please him to have me there to welcome him,

Said Mr Possum.

Besides that,

I wish to see him on business.

Now Mr Possum knew well enough that Mr Bear would not be up.

He wanted to find him sleeping and soundly too.

He went to the door and knocked softly.

Then he waited,

And as he did not hear any moving inside,

He went to a window and looked in.

There was Mr Bear's chair and pipe,

Just as he had left them when he went to bed.

He looked in the bedroom window and he could see in the bed a big heap of bedclothes,

And just the tiniest tip of Mr Bear's nose.

Mr Possum listened and he trembled a little,

For he could hear Mr Bear breathing very loud,

And it sounded anything but pleasant.

Oh,

He is sound asleep for another week,

Said Mr Possum.

What is the use of being afraid?

He walked around the house until he came to the pantry window.

Then he stopped and raised the sash.

He put in one foot and sat on the sill and listened.

All was still,

So he slid off to the floor.

Mr Possum looked around Mr Bear's well-filled pantry.

He did not know where to begin,

He was so hungry.

He became so interested and was so greedy,

That he forgot all about that he was in Mr Bear's pantry.

And he stayed on and on,

And ate and ate.

Then he fell asleep,

And the first thing he knew,

A pair of shining eyes were looking in the window,

And a big head with a red mouth full of long white teeth was poked into the pantry.

Mr Possum thought his time had come,

So he just closed his eyes and pretended he was dead,

But he peeked a little so as to see what happened.

The big head was followed by a body,

And when it was on the sill,

Mr Possum saw it was Mr Fox.

And the next thing he knew,

Mr Fox came off the sill with a bang,

And hit a pan of beans,

And then knocked over a jar of preserves.

The noise was enough to awaken all the bears for miles around,

And Mr Possum was frightened nearly to death,

For he heard Mr Bear growling in the next room.

While Mr Fox was on the floor and trying to get up on his feet,

Mr Possum jumped up and was out of the window like a flash.

Mr Fox saw something,

But he did not know what,

And before he could make his escape,

The door of the pantry opened,

And there stood Mr Bear with a candle in his hand,

Looking in.

Oh ho,

He growled,

So you are trying to rob me while I'm taking my sleep,

And he sprang at Mr Fox.

Wait,

Wait,

Wait,

Said Mr Fox,

Let me explain my dear Mr Bear.

You are mistaken,

I was trying to protect your home.

I saw your window open and knew you were asleep,

And when I got in the window the thief attacked me and nearly killed me,

And now you are blaming me for it.

You are most ungrateful,

I shall know another time what to do.

Mr Bear looked at him,

His mouth did not show any signs of food,

And Mr Fox opened his mouth and told him to look.

I wonder who it could have been,

He said.

When he was satisfied that Mr Fox was not the thief,

It may have been that Possum fellow.

I'll go over to his house in the morning.

The next morning Mr Bear called on Mr Possum.

He found him sleeping soundly.

And when he at last opened the door,

He was rubbing his eyes as though he was not half awake.

Why,

How do you do,

He said when he saw Mr Bear.

I did not suppose you were up yet.

You didn't,

Asked Mr Bear,

And then he stared at Mr Possum's coat.

What's the matter with your coat,

He asked.

You have white hairs sticking out all over you,

And the rest of your coat is almost white too.

Now Mr Possum had a black coat before,

And he ran to the mirror and looked at himself.

It was true,

He was almost white.

He knew what had happened,

He was so frightened when he was caught in Mr Bear's pantry by Mr Fox,

And he heard Mr Bear growl,

That he had turned nearly white with fright.

I've been terribly ill,

He told Mr Bear going back to the door.

I've been here all alone this winter.

It was a terrible sickness.

I guess that is what has caused it.

Mr Bear went away,

Shaking his head.

That fellow is crafty,

He said.

I feel sure he was the thief,

And yet he certainly does look sick.

After that,

All the opossums were of dull white colour,

With long white hairs scattered here and there over their fur.

They were never able to outgrow the mark the thieving Mr Possum left upon his race.

Dinah Cat and the Witch Once upon a time,

There was a little girl named Betty.

She was an orphan,

And a bad landlord turned her out of her home.

The only friend she had was a black cat named Dinah.

Betty was crying as she walked along the road,

And Dinah Cat ran beside her,

Rubbing against her.

All at once,

She ran in front of Betty and stood on her hind legs.

Do not cry,

Mistress,

She said.

I'll take care of you.

Betty was so surprised to hear Dinah Cat speak,

That she stopped crying at once.

You poor Dinah Cat,

She said.

What can you do?

We must go to the city,

And if I can find work,

We shall be able to live.

If not,

You must take care of yourself,

For you can catch mice and keep from starving.

You come with me,

Mistress,

Answered Dinah Cat,

And you will not need to work and you will not starve.

She put out her paw for Betty to take and walked alongside her.

When they came to a path leading into the wood,

Dinah Cat led Betty along this path,

Until they were in front of two very large trees,

Which had grown together,

But there was a big opening in the trunk.

We'll go in here,

Said Dinah Cat,

And as they stepped through,

They were in a hall.

She led Betty up the stairs to a room where there was a snowy white bed and pretty furnishings.

Dinner will be served as soon as you are dressed,

Mistress,

Said Dinah Cat.

After she had gone,

Betty looked around,

And in the closets she found pretty dresses which just fitted her.

She put on one of them,

And in a few minutes she was ready for dinner.

Just then,

She heard a soft scratching noise at the door,

And when she opened it,

Dinah Cat walked in.

How do you like your new home,

Mistress?

She asked.

Oh,

Very much,

Betty answered,

But we cannot live in such a nice house.

We have no money,

And besides that,

This house must belong to someone,

And this dress I have on must belong to some little girl.

I should not wear it.

The dress did belong to a little girl,

Said Dinah Cat,

But she cannot wear it now.

She wants you to have it,

And do not fret about the house,

It belongs to me.

I cannot tell you any more just now,

But you need not worry any more about anything,

For you are to live here if you wish,

After you have dinner,

For then you will meet a boy,

And you may not like him.

Dinah Cat led Betty into a room,

Where the table was set for three persons,

And when they were seated,

A boy about Betty's age came in and sat with them.

He wore his hat,

And a thick veil hung from it.

I'm sorry I cannot remove my hat,

He said in a very sweet voice,

And I will go away if you'd rather I would.

Oh no,

Said Betty,

Feeling very much like an intruder.

I'm very grateful to you for letting me stay,

And I will help do the work.

You do not need to work,

Said the boy,

If you will stay we will be very glad.

Betty did not once get a glimpse of his face,

He lifted the veil so carefully,

And there sat Dinah Cat,

Using her knife and fork like any lady.

Betty smiled to herself when she thought of her eating from a saucer.

Suddenly,

Dinah Cat slid out of her chair and crawled under it,

And the little boy trembled so his chair shook.

Betty looked around to find the cause of their strange behaviour,

And saw standing in the doorway an old woman with a staff in her hand.

She hobbled over to where Dinah Cat sat and raised the staff.

Betty thought she was going to strike her.

Don't you hurt Dinah Cat,

She cried,

Running towards the old witch,

Who was so startled that she dropped the staff,

And Betty picked it up.

Don't let her have it again,

Said the boy.

That is the cause of all our trouble.

Betty threw the staff in a closet and locked the door.

All this time the witch was stepping backward toward the door by which she entered,

And she grew smaller with each step.

By the time she was out of the house she looked like a black speck,

And a breeze blowing just then carried her out of sight.

But how shall we ever be ourselves again,

Said the boy.

She is gone and here we are in this state.

Perhaps the stick will do it,

Said Dinah Cat.

Betty wondered what they meant,

And the boy told her that Dinah Cat was his sister,

Before the witch changed her into a cat and made his face so hideous he had to wear a veil,

And they had lived very happily together.

But one day the old witch came and wanted to live with us,

And we let her for a while,

But she was so cross and made us so unhappy we told her she must go away.

Then she brought all this change upon us,

And every once in a while she returns and frightens us,

For we do not know what she will change us into next.

Let me get the stick,

Said Betty.

Perhaps we can change Dinah Cat to your sister again.

Betty opened the door of the closet,

And instead of the stick there was a bright streak of light,

And walking on it was a little fairy who held a wand in her hand.

You will soon be happy again,

She told them.

I have destroyed the stick and the old witch will never return.

Then she walked over to Dinah Cat and touched her with her wand,

And there stood a little girl about Betty's age,

In place of the black cat.

Now close your eyes,

Said the fairy,

For I want the boy to remove his veil and his face is not pleasant to look upon.

Betty did as the fairy told her,

But I am sorry to tell you that she peaked a very little.

Betty closed her eyes tight after the first glimpse,

And waited for the fairy to tell her to open them again,

And when she did,

There stood a boy with a very smiling face.

His sister ran to him and put her arms around him.

Now we shall be happy,

She said,

And Betty will live with us.

How can we thank you?

She asked the fairy.

Oh,

I shall be repaid by seeing you all happy,

The fairy replied.

And now I must go.

Will we see you again?

Asked Betty.

No,

Answered the fairy.

I only appear when people are in trouble,

And you will never need me again.

Tearful Once upon a time,

There was a little girl named Tearful,

Because she cried so often.

If she could not have her own way,

She cried.

If she could not have everything for which she wished,

She cried.

Her mother told her one day that she would melt away in tears if she cried so often.

You are like the boy who cried for the moon,

She told her,

And if it has been given to him,

It would have not made him happy,

For what possible use could the moon be to anyone out of its proper place?

And that is the way with you.

Half the things for which you cry would be of no use to you if you got them.

Tearful did not take warning or heed her mother's words of wisdom,

And kept on crying just the same.

One morning,

She was crying as she walked along to school,

Because she wanted to stay at home.

When she noticed a frog hopping along beside her.

Why are you following me?

She asked,

Looking at him through her tears.

Because you will soon form a pond around you with your tears,

Replied the frog,

And I have always wanted a pond all to myself.

I shall not make any pond for you,

Said Tearful,

And I do not want you following me either.

The frog continued to hop along beside her,

And Tearful stopped crying and began to run,

But the frog hopped faster,

And she could not get away from him,

So she began to cry again.

Go away,

You horrid green frog,

She said.

At last,

She was so tired,

She sat on a stone by the roadside,

Crying all the time.

Now,

Replied the frog,

I shall soon have my pond.

Tearful cried harder than ever.

Then she could not see,

Her tears fell so fast,

And by and by she heard a splashing sound.

She opened her eyes and saw water all around her.

She was on a small island in the middle of the pond.

The frog hopped out of the pond,

Making a terrible grimace as he sat down beside her.

I hope you are satisfied,

Said Tearful.

You have your pond,

Why don't you stay in it?

Alas,

Replied the frog,

I have wished for something which I cannot use now that I have it.

Your tears are salt,

And my pond which I have all by myself is so salty I cannot enjoy it.

If only your tears had been fresh,

I should have been the most fortunate fellow.

You needn't stay if you don't like it,

Said Tearful,

And you needn't find fault with my tears either,

She said,

Beginning to cry again.

Stop,

Stop,

Cried the frog,

Hopping about excitedly.

You will have a flood if you keep on crying.

Tearful saw the water rising around her,

So she stopped a minute.

What shall I do?

She asked.

I cannot swim and I will die if I have to stay here.

And then she began to cry again.

The frog hopped up and down in front of her,

Waving his front legs and telling her to hush.

If you would only stop crying,

He said,

I might be able to help you,

But I cannot do a thing if you cover me with your salt tears.

Tearful listened and promised she would not cry if he would get her away from the island.

There is only one way that I know of,

Said the frog.

You must smile.

That will dry the pond and we can escape.

But I do not feel like smiling,

Said Tearful,

And her eyes filled with tears again.

Look out,

Said the frog.

You will surely be drowned in your own tears if you cry again.

Tearful began to laugh.

That would be strange,

Wouldn't it?

To be drowned in my own tears,

She said.

That is right.

Keep on smiling,

Said the frog.

The pond is smaller already.

And he stood up on his hind legs and began to dance for joy.

Tearful laughed again.

Oh,

You are so funny,

She said.

I wish I had your picture.

I never saw a frog dance before.

You have a slate under your arm,

Said the frog.

Why don't you draw a picture of me?

The frog picked up a stick and stuck it in the ground.

And then he leaned on it with one arm,

Or front leg,

And crossing his feet,

He stood very still.

Tearful drew him in that position.

And then he kicked up his legs as if he were dancing.

And she tried to draw him that way,

But it was not a very good likeness.

Do you like that?

She asked the frog when she held the slate for him to see.

He looked so surprised that Tearful laughed again.

You did not think you were handsome,

Did you?

She asked.

I had never thought I looked as bad as those pictures,

Replied the frog.

Let me try drawing your picture,

He said.

Now,

Look pleasant,

He said,

As he seated himself in front of Tearful.

And do smile.

Tearful did as he requested.

And in a few minutes,

He handed her the slate.

Where is my nose?

Asked Tearful,

Laughing.

Oh,

I forgot the nose.

Said the frog.

But you don't think your eyes are nice and large,

And your mouth too?

They are certainly big in this picture,

Said Tearful.

I hope I do not look just like that.

I do not think either of us are artists,

Replied the frog.

Tearful looked around her.

Why,

Where is the pond?

She asked.

It's gone.

I thought it would dry up if you would only smile,

Said the frog.

And I think both of us have learned a lesson.

I shall never again wish for a pond of my own.

I should be lonely without my companions.

And then it might be salt,

Just as this one was.

And you will surely never cry over little things again.

For you see what might happen to you.

I feel much happier smiling,

And I do not want to be on an island again,

Even with such a pleasant companion as you were.

Look out for the tears,

Then,

Said the frog,

As he hopped away.

The Tale of Mrs Tittlemouse By Beatrix Potter Once upon a time,

There was a woodmouse.

And her name was Mrs Tittlemouse.

She lived in a bank under a hedge.

Such a funny house.

There were yards and yards of sandy passages,

Leading to storerooms and nut cellars and seed cellars,

All amongst the roots of the hedge.

There was a kitchen,

A parlour,

A pantry,

And a larder.

Also,

There was Mrs Tittlemouse's bedroom,

Where she slept in a little box bed.

Mrs Tittlemouse was a most terribly tidy particular little mouse,

Always sweeping and dusting the soft sandy floors.

Sometimes a beetle lost its way in the passages.

Shoo!

Shoo!

Little dirty feet,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse,

Clattering her dustpan.

And one day,

A little old woman ran up and down in a red spotty cloak.

Your house is on fire,

Mother Ladybird.

Fly away home to your children.

Another day,

A big fat spider came in to shelter from the rain.

Beg pardon,

Is this not Miss Muffet's?

Go away,

You bold bad spider,

Leaving ends of cobweb all over my nice clean house.

She bundled the spider out at a window.

He let himself down the hedge with a long thin bit of string.

Mrs Tittlemouse went on her way to a distant storeroom,

To fetch cherry stones and thistledown seed for dinner.

All along the passage she sniffed and looked at the floor.

I smell a smell of honey.

Is it the cow slips outside in the hedge?

I am sure I can see the marks of little dirty feet.

Suddenly round a corner she met Babbity Bumble.

Ziz,

Biz,

Biz,

Said the bumblebee.

Mrs Tittlemouse looked at her severely.

She wished that she had a broom.

Good day,

Babbity Bumble.

I should be glad to buy some beeswax.

But what are you doing down here?

Why do you always come in at a window and say ziz,

Biz,

Biz?

Mrs Tittlemouse began to get cross.

Ziz,

Wiz,

Wiz,

Replied Babbity Bumble in a peevish squeak.

She sidled down a passage and disappeared into a storeroom which had been used for acorns.

Mrs Tittlemouse had eaten the acorns before Christmas.

The storeroom ought to have been empty.

But it was full of untidy,

Dry moss.

Mrs Tittlemouse began to pull out the moss.

Three or four other bees put their heads out and buzzed fiercely.

I am not in the habit of letting lodgings.

This is an intrusion,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse.

I will have them turned out.

Buzz,

Buzz,

Buzz.

I wonder who would help me.

Biz,

Wiz,

Wiz.

I will not have Mr Jackson.

He never wipes his feet.

Mrs Tittlemouse decided to leave the bees till after dinner.

When she got back to the parlour,

She heard someone coughing in a fat voice.

And there sat Mr Jackson himself.

He was sitting all over a small rocking chair,

Twiddling his thumbs and smiling with his feet on the fender.

He lived in a drain below the hedge in a very dirty,

Wet ditch.

How do you do,

Mr Jackson?

Deary me,

You have got very wet.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

I'll sit a while and dry myself,

Said Mr Jackson.

He sat and smiled and the water dripped off his coattails.

Mrs Tittlemouse went round with a mop.

He sat such a while that he had to be asked if he would take some dinner.

First,

She offered him cherry stones.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

No teeth,

Said Mr Jackson.

He opened his mouth most unnecessarily wide.

He certainly had not a tooth in his head.

Then she offered him some thistle-down seed.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Poof,

Poof,

Poof,

Said Mr Jackson.

He blew the thistle down all over the room.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

Now what I really,

Really should like would be a little dish of honey.

I'm afraid I've not got any,

Mr Jackson,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse,

Said the smiling Mr Jackson.

I can smell it.

That is why I came to call.

Mr Jackson rose ponderously from the table and began to look into the cupboards.

Mrs Tittlemouse followed him with a dishcloth to wipe his large wet footmarks off the parlour floor.

When he had convinced himself that there was no honey in the cupboards,

He began to walk down the passage.

Indeed,

You will stick fast,

Mr Jackson.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

First he squeezed into the pantry.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

No honey,

No honey,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

There were three creepy,

Crawly people hiding in the plate rack.

Two of them got away,

But the littlest one he caught.

Then he squeezed into the larder.

Mrs Butterfly was tasting the sugar,

But she flew away out of the window.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

You seem to have plenty of visitors.

And without any invitation,

Said Mrs Tomasina Tittlemouse.

They went along the sandy passage.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Buzz,

Whiz,

Whiz.

He met Babbity around a corner and snapped her up and put her down again.

I do not like bumblebees.

They are all over bristles,

Said Mr Jackson,

Wiping his mouth with his coat sleeve.

Get out,

You nasty old toad,

Shrieked Babbity Bumble.

I shall go distracted,

Scolded Mrs Tittlemouse.

She shut herself up in the nut cellar,

While Mr Jackson pulled out the bee's nest.

He seemed to have no objection to stings.

When Mrs Tittlemouse ventured to come out,

Everybody had gone away.

But the untidiness was something dreadful.

Never did I see such a mess.

Smears of honey and moss and thistledown,

And marks of big and little dirty feet,

All over my nice clean house.

She gathered up the moss and the remains of the beeswax.

Then she went out and fetched some twigs to partly close up the front door.

I will make it too small for Mr Jackson.

She fetched soft soap and flannel and a new scrubbing brush from the storeroom.

But she was too tired to do any more.

First she fell asleep in her chair.

Then she went to bed.

Will it ever be tidy again,

Said poor Mrs Tittlemouse.

Next morning,

She got up very early and began a spring cleaning which lasted a fortnight.

She swept and scrubbed and dusted.

And she rubbed up the furniture with beeswax and polished her little tin spoons.

When it was all beautifully neat and clean.

She gave a party to five other little mice without Mr Jackson.

He smelt the party and came up the bank,

But he could not squeeze in at the door.

So they handed him out acorn cupfuls of honeydew through the window.

And he was not at all offended.

He sat outside in the sun and said,

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly.

You're very good health,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

Hilda's Mermaid Little Hilda's father was a sailor and went away on long voyages.

Hilda lived in a little cottage on the shore and used to spin and knit when her father was away.

For her mother had passed away and she had to be the housekeeper.

Some days she would go out in her boat and fish.

For Hilda was fond of the water.

She was born and had always lived on the shore.

When the water was very calm,

Hilda would look down into the blue depths.

And try to see a mermaid.

She was very anxious to see one.

She had heard her father tell such wonderful stories about them.

How they sang and combed their beautiful long hair.

One night when the wind was blowing and the rain was beating hard upon her window.

Hilda could hear the horn warning the sailors off the rocks.

Hilda lighted her father's big lantern.

And ran down to the shore and hung it on a mast of a wreck which lay there.

So the sailors would not run their ships upon it.

Little Hilda was not afraid,

For she had seen many such storms.

When she returned to her cottage,

She found the door was unlatched.

But thought the wind had blown it open.

When she entered,

She found a little girl with beautiful hair sitting on the floor.

She was a little frightened at first.

For the girl wore a green dress and it was wound around her body in the strangest manner.

I saw your light,

Said the child,

And came in.

The wind blew me far up on the shore.

I should not have come up on a night like this,

But a big wave looked so tempting.

I thought I would jump on it and have a nice ride.

But it was nearer the shore than I thought it.

And it landed me right near your door.

Oh my,

How Hilda's heart beat,

For she knew this child must be a mermaid.

Then she saw what she had thought a green dress was really her body and tail,

Curled up on the floor.

And it was beautiful as the lamp fell upon it and made it glisten.

Will you have some of my supper,

Asked Hilda.

For she wanted to be hospitable,

Though she had not the least idea what mermaids ate.

Thank you,

Answered the mermaid.

I'm not very hungry,

But if you could give me a seaweed sandwich,

I should like it.

Poor Hilda did not know what to do.

She went to the closet and brought out some bread.

And she spread with nice,

Fresh butter and filled a glass with milk.

She told her she was sorry.

She did not have any seaweed sandwiches,

But she hoped she would like what she had prepared.

The little mermaid ate it and Hilda was pleased.

Do you live here all the time?

She asked Hilda.

I should think you would be very warm and want to be in the water part of the time.

Hilda told her she could not live in the water as she did,

Because her body was not like hers.

Oh,

I am so sorry,

Replied the mermaid.

I hoped you would visit me sometime.

We have such good times,

My sisters and I,

Under the sea.

Tell me about your home,

Said Hilda.

Come and sit beside me and I will,

She replied.

Hilda sat upon the floor by her side.

The mermaid felt of Hilda's clothes and thought it must be a bother to have so many clothes.

How can you swim?

She asked.

Hilda told her she put on a bathing suit,

But the mermaid thought that a nuisance.

I will tell you about our house first,

She begun.

Our father,

Neptune,

Lives in a beautiful castle at the bottom of the sea.

It is built of mother-of-pearl.

All around the castle grow beautiful green things,

And it has fine white sand around it also.

All my sisters live there,

And we are always glad to get home after we have been at the top of the ocean.

It is so nice and cool in our home.

The wind never blows there,

And the rain does not reach us.

You do not mind being wet by the rain,

Do you?

Asked Hilda.

Oh no,

Said the mermaid,

But the rain hurts us.

It falls in little sharp points and feels like pebbles.

How do you know how pebbles feel?

Hilda asked.

Oh,

Sometimes the neareds come and bother us.

They throw pebbles and stir up the water so we cannot see.

Who are the neareds?

Asked Hilda.

They are the sea nymphs.

We make the dogfish drive them away.

They are sirens and they are very jealous of us because we are more beautiful than they,

Said the mermaid.

Hilda thought she was rather conceited,

But the little mermaid seemed to be quite unconscious she had conveyed that impression.

How do you find your way home after you have been at the top of the ocean?

Asked Hilda.

Oh,

When Father Neptune counts us and finds any missing.

He sends a whale to spout.

Sometimes he sends more than one.

And we know where to dive when we see that.

What do you eat besides seaweed sandwiches?

Asked Hilda.

Fish eggs and very little fish,

Answered the mermaid.

When we have a party,

We have cake.

Hilda opened her eyes.

Where do you get cake?

She asked.

We make it.

We grind coral into flour and mix it with fish eggs.

Then we put it in a shell and send a mermaid to the top of the ocean with it.

And she holds it in the sun until it bakes.

We go to the Gulf Stream and gather grapes and we have sea foam and lemonade to drink.

Lemonade,

Said Hilda.

Where do you get your lemons?

Why,

The sea lemon,

Replied the mermaid.

That is a small mussel fish the colour of a lemon.

What do you do at your parties?

You cannot dance,

Said Hilda.

We swim to the music,

Circle around and dive and glide.

But the music,

Where do you get your musicians?

Hilda continued.

We have plenty of music,

Replied the mermaid.

The sea elephant trumpets for us.

Then there is the pipe fish.

The swordfish runs the scales of the sea adder with his sword.

The seashells blob and all together we have splendid music.

But it is late and we must not talk anymore.

So the little mermaid curled herself up and soon they were asleep.

The sun shining in the window awakened Hilda next morning and she looked about her.

The mermaid was not there,

But Hilda was sure it had not been a dream.

For she found pieces of seaweed on the floor.

And every time she goes out in her boat,

She looks for her friend.

And when the whales spout,

She knows they are telling the mermaids to come home.

The Good Sea Monster On a distant island of smooth rocks,

Surrounded by an endless ocean,

Lived a sea monster.

His head was enormous and when he opened his mouth,

It looked like a vast moonlit cave.

People said he was so huge that he could swallow a ship whole.

And that on stormy nights,

He sat on the rocks,

While his eyes flashed like lighthouse beams across the dark water.

The sailors spoke of him with fear and trembling.

But the sea monster had really been their friend all along,

Showing them the dangerous rocks during storms by flashing his eyes.

Because he looked so frightening,

Everyone who saw him thought he must be cruel and terrible.

One night,

During a fierce storm,

The monster swam out into the churning ocean to see if any ship had been wrecked.

Hoping to help anyone who might be floating in the waves.

He found a young boy named Koko,

Drifting on a piece of broken wood.

When Koko first saw the monster,

He was terrified.

But when he realized the creature meant no harm,

He climbed onto the monster's broad back.

The monster carried him gently to the rocky island.

Then the monster disappeared back into the sea.

And Koko wondered if he would be left alone forever.

But after a while,

The monster returned and opened his mouth very wide.

Koko ran when he saw that enormous mouth,

Thinking the monster planned to swallow him.

But when the creature didn't follow or chase him,

Koko crept back,

Curious.

The monster opened his mouth again.

And Koko asked,

Do you want me to go inside?

The monster nodded his great head slowly.

It must be for some good reason,

Koko said to himself.

He could easily swallow me if he had wanted to,

Without waiting for me to walk in.

So Koko walked into the big mouth and down a dark,

Winding passage.

The air smelled of salt and seaweed.

And after his eyes adjusted to the dim light,

He saw a wooden stove,

A comfortable chair and a sturdy table.

I should take these out,

Koko said.

I'm sure I can use them.

He carried them to a dry cave on the island.

And when he returned,

The monster was gone.

Soon he came back,

Opening his mouth once more.

This time,

Koko walked in without hesitation.

And found boxes and barrels full of food,

Which he carefully stored in his cave.

When Koko had removed everything,

The monster lay down on the rocks.

And went to sleep.

Koko cooked himself dinner.

And then he gently woke the monster.

Dinner is ready,

He offered.

But the monster shook his head and dove into the ocean.

He returned with his mouth full of silver fish.

And then Koko understood that the monster had brought all these things from sunken ships just for him.

He began to wish the monster could speak,

For he no longer feared him at all.

I wish you could talk,

Koko said aloud.

I can,

The monster replied in a voice like distant thunder.

No one ever wished it before.

Long ago,

An old witch transformed me into a monster.

And placed me on this island where no one could reach me.

The only way I can speak is if someone wishes it.

Well,

I'm glad I wished it,

Said Koko.

You have given me the gift of speech,

Said the monster.

But for me to become human again,

Someone else must wish it.

The monster and Koko lived peacefully on the island for many months.

The monster took Koko for long rides on his back through the calm waters.

And when the waves grew too high and Koko felt afraid,

The monster would open his mouth so Koko could crawl inside and be carried safely back to shore.

One morning,

After a storm,

Koko spotted something floating in the distance.

He climbed onto the monster's back.

And they swam out to investigate.

It was a girl about Koko's age who had survived a shipwreck.

They brought her to the island,

And at first she was frightened of the monster.

But when she learned that he had saved Koko and provided all their food and shelter,

She grew as fond of him as Koko was.

I wish he were human,

She said one day as she sat on his back with Koko,

Ready for their daily swim.

With a great splash,

Both children tumbled into the water.

And there in place of the monster was a kind old man with twinkling eyes and a long white beard.

He caught the children in his arms and brought them safely to shore.

But what will we do for food now that you're human?

Asked Koko,

Worried.

We shall want for nothing,

Replied the old man with a gentle smile.

I am a sea god.

And now that I have my true form again,

I can do wonderful things.

We will transform this island into a beautiful garden with fruit trees and clear streams.

When you both grow up,

You can choose your own adventures.

Perhaps you'll become explorers of distant lands,

Or scholars of the ocean's mysteries,

Or simply the very best of friends who share incredible stories.

I will take you out on the ocean on the backs of my dolphins whenever you wish.

Koko and the girl lived happily on the enchanted island,

Exploring tide pools and learning the names of every star.

As they grew older,

They became the dearest of friends.

And all the things the old sea god had promised came true.

The dolphins carried them to coral gardens and hidden lagoons,

And they discovered that the greatest treasure of all was the friendship they shared and the magical world they had found together.

The Mirror's Dream The very idea of putting me in the attic,

Said the little old-fashioned table,

As it spread out both leaves in a gesture of despair.

I have stood in the parlour downstairs for fifty years,

And now I am consigned to the rubbish room.

And it dropped its leaves at its side with a sigh.

I was there longer than that,

Said the sofa.

Many a courtship I have helped along.

What do you think of me?

Asked an old mirror that stood on the floor,

Leaning against the wall.

To be brought to the attic after reflecting generation after generation.

All the famous beauties have looked into my face.

It is a degradation from which I can never recover.

This young mistress who has come here to live does not seem to understand the dignity of our position.

Why,

I was in the family when her husband's grandmother was a girl,

And she has doomed me to a dusty attic to dream out the rest of my days.

The shadows deepened in the room,

And gradually the discarded mirror ceased to complain.

It had fallen asleep,

But later the moonlight streamed in through the window,

And showed that its dreams were pleasant ones,

For it dreamed of the old and happy days.

The door opened softly,

And a young girl entered.

Her hair was dark,

And hung in curls over her white shoulders.

Her dark eyes wandered over the room,

Until she saw the old mirror.

She ran across the room,

And stood in front of it.

She wore a hoop skirt over which hung her dress of pale grey,

With tiny pink ruffles that began at her slender waist,

And ended at the bottom of her wide skirt.

Tiny pink rosebuds were dotted over the waist and skirt.

And she also wore them in her dark curls,

Where one stray blossom bolder than the others rested against her soft cheek.

She stood before the mirror,

And gazed at her reflection a minute.

Then she curtsied,

And said with a laugh,

I think you will do,

He must speak tonight.

She seemed to fade away in the moonlight.

The door opened again,

And a lady entered,

And with her came five handsome children.

They went to the mirror,

And one little girl with dark curls and pink cheeks went close and touched it with her finger.

Look,

She said to the others,

I look just like the picture of mother when she was a girl.

And as they stood there,

A gentleman appeared beside them.

And put his arm around the lady.

And the children gathered around them.

They seemed to walk along the moonlight path,

And disappear through the window.

Softly the door opened again,

And an old lady entered,

Leaning on the arm of an old gentleman.

They walked to the mirror,

And he put his arms around her,

And kissed her withered cheek.

You are always young and fair to me,

He said,

And her face smiled into the depths of the old mirror.

The moonlight made a halo around their heads as they faded away.

The morning light streamed in through the window,

And the mirror's dream was ended.

By and by,

The door opened,

And a young girl came into the room.

Her dark hair was piled high on her head,

And her dark eyes looked over the room,

Until they fell upon a chest in the corner.

She went to it,

And opened it,

And took out a pale grey dress with pink ruffles.

She put it on,

And she let down her hair,

Which fell in curls over her shoulders.

She ran to the old mirror,

And looked at herself.

I do look like grandmother,

She said.

I will wear this to the old folks' party tonight.

Grandfather proposed to grandmother the night she wore this dress.

Her cheeks turned very pink as she said this,

And she ran out of the room.

Then one day,

The door opened again,

And a bride entered,

Leaning on the arm of her young husband.

There were tears in her eyes,

Although she was smiling.

She led him in front of the old mirror.

This old mirror,

She said,

Has seen all the brides in our family for generations,

And I am going far away,

And may never look into it again.

My brother's wife does not want it downstairs,

And I may be the last bride it will ever see.

And she passed her hand over its frame caressingly.

And then she went away,

And the old mirror was left to its dreams for many years.

Then one day,

The door opened again,

And a lady entered.

With her was a young girl.

The lady looked around the attic room until she saw the mirror.

There it is,

She said.

Come and look in it,

Dear.

The young girl followed her.

The last time I looked into this dear old mirror,

The lady said,

Was the day your father and I were married.

I never expected to have it for my own then.

But your uncle's wife wants to remodel the house,

And these things are in the way.

She does not want old-fashioned things,

And they are willing I should have them.

Oh,

Mother,

They are beautiful,

Said the girl,

Looking around the room.

We will never part with them.

We will take them to our home and make them forget they were ever discarded.

And so the mirror and the sofa and the table and many other pieces of bygone days went to live where they were loved.

And the old mirror still reflects dark-haired girls and ladies who smile into its depths and see its beauty as well as their own.

Where the Sparks Go One night,

When the wind was blowing and it was clear and cold out of doors,

A cat and a dog,

Who were very good friends,

Sat dozing before a fireplace.

The wood was snapping and crackling,

Making the sparks fly.

Some flew up the chimney,

Others settled into coals in the bed of the fireplace,

While others flew out on the hearth and slowly closed their eyes and went to sleep.

One spark ventured farther out upon the hearth and fell very near the Pussycat.

This made her jump,

Which awakened the dog.

That almost scorched your fur coat,

Miss Pussycat,

Said the dog.

No,

Indeed,

Answered the cat.

I am far too quick to be quiet.

I am caught by those silly sparks.

Why do you call them silly?

Asked the dog.

I think them very good to look at and they help to keep us warm.

Yes,

That is all true,

Said the cat.

But those that fly up the chimney on a night like this certainly are silly.

When they could be warm and comfortable inside.

For my part,

I cannot see why they fly up the chimney.

The spark that flew so near the Pussycat was still winking and she blazed up a little when she heard the remark the cat made.

If you knew our reason,

You would not call us silly,

She said.

You cannot see what we do,

But if you were to look up the chimney and see what happens if we are fortunate enough to get out at the top,

You would not call us silly.

The dog and cat were very curious to know what happened,

But the spark told them to look and see for themselves.

Pussycat was very cautious.

And told the dog to look first.

So he stepped boldly up to the fireplace and thrust his head in.

He quickly withdrew it,

For his hair was singed,

Which made him cry and run to the other side of the room.

Miss Pussycat smoothed her soft coat and was very glad she had been so wise.

She walked over to the dog and urged him to come nearer the fire,

But he realised why a burnt child dreads the fire and remained at a safe distance.

The Pussycat walked back to the spark and continued to question it.

We cannot go into the fire,

She said.

Now pretty,

Bright spark,

Do tell us what becomes of you when you fly up the chimney.

I am sure you only become soot,

And that cannot make you long to get to the top.

Oh,

You are very wrong,

Said the spark.

We are far from being black when we fly up the chimney,

For once we reach the top,

We live forever sparkling in the sky.

You can see,

If you look up the chimney,

All of our brothers and sisters who have been lucky and reached the top,

Winking at us almost every night.

Sometimes the wind blows them away,

I suppose,

For there are nights when we cannot see the sparks shine.

Who told you all that,

Said the cat.

Did any of the sparks ever come back and tell you they could live forever?

Oh,

No,

Said the spark,

But we can see them,

Can we not?

And of course,

We all want to shine forever.

I said you were silly,

Said the cat,

And now I know it.

Those are not sparks you see,

They are stars in the sky.

You can call them anything you like,

Replied the spark,

But we make the bright light you see.

Well,

If you take my advice,

Said the cat,

You will stay right in the fireplace,

For once you reach the top of the chimney,

Out of sight you go.

The stars you see twinkling are far above the chimney,

And you never could reach them.

But the spark would not be convinced.

Just then,

Someone opened a door,

And the draught blew the spark back into the fireplace.

In a few minutes,

It was flying with the others towards the top of the chimney.

The pussycat watched the fire a minute,

And then looked at the dog.

The spark may be right after all,

Said the dog.

Let us go out and see if we can see it.

The pussycat stretched herself and blinked.

Perhaps it is true,

She replied.

Anyway,

I will go with you and look.

The Tale of Mrs Tiggywinkle Once upon a time,

There was a little girl called Lucy,

Who lived at a farm called Littletown.

She was a good little girl,

Only she was always losing her pocket handkerchiefs.

One day,

Little Lucy came into the farmyard crying.

Oh,

She did cry so.

I've lost my pocket hankin!

Three hankins and a pinny!

Have you seen them,

Tabby Kitten?

The kitten went on washing her white paws.

So Lucy asked a speckled hen.

Sally Henny Penny,

Have you found three pocket hankins?

But the speckled hen ran into a barn clucking.

I go barefoot,

Barefoot,

Barefoot!

And then Lucy asked Cock Robin,

Sitting on a twig.

Cock Robin looked sideways at Lucy with his bright black eye.

And he flew over a stile and away.

Lucy climbed upon the stile and looked up at the hill behind Littletown.

A hill that goes up,

Up into the clouds,

As though it had no top.

And a great way up the hillside,

She thought she saw some white things spread upon the grass.

Lucy scrambled up the hill as fast as her stout legs would carry her.

She ran along a steep pathway,

Up and up,

Until Littletown was right away down below.

She could have dropped a pebble down the chimney.

Presently,

She came to a spring,

Bubbling out from the hillside.

Someone had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water.

But the water was already running over,

For the can was no bigger than an egg cup.

And where the sand upon the path was wet,

There were footmarks of a very small bird.

Lucy ran on and on.

The path ended under a big rock.

The grass was short and green.

And there were clothes.

Props cut from bracken stems,

With lines of plaited rushes,

And a heap of tiny clothespins.

But no pocket handkerchiefs.

But there was something else.

A door,

Straight into the hill.

And inside it,

Someone was singing,

Lily white and clean,

With little frills between.

Smooth and hot,

Red rusty spot,

Never here be seen.

Lucy knocked,

Once,

Twice,

And interrupted the song.

A little frightened voice called out,

Who's that?

Lucy opened the door.

And what do you think there was inside the hill?

A nice clean kitchen,

With a flagged floor and wooden beams.

Just like any other farm kitchen.

Only the ceiling was so low,

That Lucy's head nearly touched it.

And the pots and pans were small,

And so was everything there.

There was a nice hot singy smell.

And at the table,

With an iron in her hand,

Stood a very stout short person,

Staring anxiously at Lucy.

Her print gown was tucked up,

And she was wearing a large apron over her striped petticoat.

Her little black nose went sniffle,

Sniffle,

Snuffle.

And her eyes went twinkle,

Twinkle.

And underneath her cap,

Where Lucy had yellow curls,

That little person had prickles.

Who are you?

Said Lucy.

Have you seen my pocket hankins?

The little person made a bob curtsy.

Oh yes,

If you please,

My name is Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Oh yes,

If you please,

I'm an excellent clear starcher.

And she took something out of her clothes basket,

And spread it on the ironing blanket.

And what's that thing?

Said Lucy.

That's not my pocket hankin.

Oh no,

If you please,

That's a little scarlet waistcoat belonging to Cock Robin.

And she ironed it,

And folded it,

And put it on one side.

Then she took something else off her clothes horse.

That isn't my penny,

Said Lucy.

Oh no,

If you please,

That's a damask tablecloth belonging to Jenny Wren.

Look how it's stained with current wine.

It's very bad to wash,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle's nose went sniffle,

Sniffle,

Snuffle.

And her eyes went twinkle,

Twinkle.

And she fetched another hot iron from the fire.

There's one of my pocket hankins,

Cried Lucy.

And there's my penny.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle ironed it,

And goffered it,

And shook out the frills.

Oh,

That is lovely,

Said Lucy.

And what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves?

Oh,

That's a pair of stockings belonging to Sally Henning.

Sally Henning.

Look how she's worn the heels out with scratching in the yard.

She'll very soon go barefoot,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Why,

There's another hanker sniff.

But it isn't mine,

It's red.

Oh no,

If you please,

That one belongs to old Mrs Rabbit.

And it did so smell of onions.

I've had to wash it separately,

I can't get out the smell.

There's another one of mine,

Said Lucy.

What are those funny little white things?

That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kitten.

I only have to iron them,

She washes them herself.

That's my last pocket hankin,

Said Lucy.

And what are you dipping into that basin of starch?

They're little dicky shirt fronts belonging to Tom Titmouse.

Most terrible particular,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Now I've finished my ironing,

I'm going to air some clothes.

What are those dear soft fluffy things,

Said Lucy.

Oh,

Those are woolly coats belonging to the little lambs at Skelgill.

Will their jackets take off?

Asked Lucy.

Oh yes,

If you please.

Look at the sheep mark on the shoulder.

And here's one marked for Gatesgarth.

And three that come from Littletown.

They're always marked at washing,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

And she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes.

Small brown coats of mice.

And one velvety black moleskin waistcoat.

And a red tail coat with no tail belonging to Squirrel Nutkin.

And a very much shrunk blue jacket belonging to Peter Rabbit.

And a petticoat,

Not marked,

That had gone lost in the washing.

And at last the basket was empty.

Then Mrs Tiggy Winkle made tea.

A cup for herself and a cup for Lucy.

They sat before the fire on a bench and looked sideways at each other.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle's hand holding the tea cup was very,

Very brown and very,

Very wrinkly.

With the soap suds.

And all through her gown and her cap.

There were hair pins sticking wrong end out.

So that Lucy didn't like to sit too near her.

When they had finished tea,

They tied up the clothes in bundles.

And Lucy's pocket handkerchiefs were folded up inside her clean pinny.

And fastened with a silver safety pin.

And then they made up the fire with turf.

And came out and locked the door and hid the key under the door sill.

Then away down the hill trotted Lucy and Mrs Tiggy Winkle with the bundles of clothes.

All the way down the path,

Little animals came out of the fern to meet them.

The very first they met were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny.

And she gave them their nice clean clothes.

And all the little animals and birds were so very much obliged to dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

So that at the bottom of the hill when they came to the stile.

There was nothing left to carry except Lucy's one little bundle.

Lucy scrambled up the stile with the bundle in her hand.

And then she turned to say goodnight.

And to thank the washerwoman.

But what a very odd thing.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle had not waited.

Either for thanks or for the washing bill.

She was running,

Running,

Running up the hill.

And where was her white frilled cap?

And her shawl?

And her gown?

And her petticoat?

And how small she had grown.

And how brown and covered with prickles.

Why,

Mrs Tiggy Winkle was nothing but a hedgehog.

Now,

Some people say that little Lucy had been asleep upon the stile.

But then how could she have found three clean pocket handkins and a penny pinned with a silver safety pin?

And besides,

I have seen that door into the back of the hill called Cat Bells.

And besides,

I am very well acquainted with dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Mr Possum Mr Possum lived in a tree in the woods where Mr Bear lived.

And one morning,

Just before spring,

Mr Possum awoke very hungry.

He ran around to Mr Squirrel's house and tried to get an invitation to breakfast.

But Mr Squirrel had only enough for himself.

He knew that Mr Possum always lived on his neighbours when he could.

So he said,

Of course you have been to breakfast long ago,

Mr Possum.

You are such a smart fellow,

So I will not offer you any.

Mr Possum of course said he had,

And that he only dropped in to make a call.

He was on his way to Mr Rabbit's house.

But he met with no better success at Mr Rabbit's,

For he only put his nose out of the door.

And when he saw who was there,

Said,

Will you come in and help sort seeds?

Mr Rabbit knew the easiest way to be rid of Mr Possum was to ask him to work.

I would gladly help you,

Replied Mr Possum,

But I am in a great hurry this morning.

I have some important business with Mr Bear and I only stop to say how do you do.

Mr Bear,

I am afraid,

Will not be receiving today,

Said Mr Rabbit.

It is rather early for him to be up,

Isn't it?

I thought as the sun was nice and warm he might venture out,

And I thought it would please him to have me there to welcome him,

Said Mr Possum.

Besides that,

I wish to see him on business.

Now Mr Possum knew well enough that Mr Bear would not be up.

He wanted to find him sleeping and soundly too.

He went to the door and knocked softly.

Then he waited.

And as he did not hear any moving inside,

He went to a window and looked in.

There was Mr Bear's chair and pipe just as he had left them when he went to bed.

He looked in the bedroom window and he could see in the bed a big heap of bedclothes and just the tiniest tip of Mr Bear's nose.

Mr Possum listened and he trembled a little,

For he could hear Mr Bear breathing very loud and it sounded anything but pleasant.

Oh,

He is sound asleep for another week,

Said Mr Possum.

What is the use of being afraid?

He walked around the house until he came to the pantry window.

Then he stopped and raised the sash.

He put in one foot and sat on the sill and listened.

All was still,

So he slid off to the floor.

Mr Possum looked around Mr Bear's well-filled pantry.

He did not know where to begin,

He was so hungry.

He became so interested and was so greedy that he forgot all about that he was in Mr Bear's pantry and he stayed on and on and ate and ate.

Then he fell asleep and the first thing he knew a pair of shining eyes were looking in the window and a big head with a red mouth full of long white teeth was poked into the pantry.

Mr Possum thought his time had come,

So he just closed his eyes and pretended he was dead,

But he peeked a little so as to see what happened.

The big head was followed by a body and when it was on the sill Mr Possum saw it was Mr Fox.

And the next thing he knew Mr Fox came off the sill with a bang and hit a pan of beans and then knocked over a jar of preserves.

The noise was enough to awaken all the bears for miles around and Mr Possum was frightened nearly to death that he heard Mr Bear growling in the next room.

While Mr Fox was on the floor and trying to get up on his feet,

Mr Possum jumped up and was out of the window like a flash.

Mr Fox saw something but he did not know what and before he could make his escape the door of the pantry opened and there stood Mr Bear with a candle in his hand looking in.

Oh ho,

He growled,

So you are trying to rob me while I'm taking my sleep and he sprang at Mr Fox.

Wait,

Wait,

Wait,

Said Mr Fox,

Let me explain my dear Mr Bear,

You are mistaken.

I was trying to protect your home.

I saw your window open and knew you were asleep and when I got in the window the thief attacked me and nearly killed me and now you are blaming me for it.

You are most ungrateful.

I shall know another time what to do.

Mr Bear looked at him.

His mouth did not show any signs of food and Mr Fox opened his mouth and told him to look.

I wonder who it could have been,

He said.

When he was satisfied that Mr Fox was not the thief,

It may have been that Possum fellow.

I'll go over to his house in the morning.

The next morning Mr Bear called on Mr Possum.

He found him sleeping soundly and when he at last opened the door,

He was rubbing his eyes as though he was not half awake.

Why,

How do you do?

He said when he saw Mr Bear.

I did not suppose you were up yet.

You didn't?

Asked Mr Bear and then he stared at Mr Possum's coat.

What's the matter with your coat?

He asked.

You have white hairs sticking out all over you and the rest of your coat is almost white too.

Now Mr Possum had a black coat before and he ran to the mirror and looked at himself.

It was true.

He was almost white.

He knew what had happened.

He was so frightened when he was caught in Mr Bear's pantry by Mr Fox and he heard Mr Bear growl that he had turned nearly white with fright.

I've been terribly ill,

He told Mr Bear going back to the door.

I've been here all alone this winter.

It was a terrible sickness.

I guess that is what has caused it.

Mr Bear went away shaking his head.

That fellow is crafty,

He said.

I feel sure he was the thief and yet he certainly does look sick.

After that,

All the O' Possums were of dull white colour,

With long white hairs scattered here and there over their fur.

They were never able to outgrow the mark the thieving Mr Possum left upon his race.

Diner Cat and the Witch Once upon a time,

There was a little girl named Betty.

She was an orphan and a bad landlord turned her out of her home.

The only friend she had was a black cat named Diner.

Betty was crying as she walked along the road and Diner Cat ran beside her,

Rubbing against her.

All at once,

She ran in front of Betty and stood on her hind legs.

Do not cry,

Mistress,

She said.

I'll take care of you.

Betty was so surprised to hear Diner Cat speak that she stopped crying at once.

You poor Diner Cat,

She said.

What can you do?

We must go to the city and if I can find work,

We shall be able to live.

If not,

You must take care of yourself,

For you can catch mice and keep from starving.

You come with me,

Mistress,

Answered Diner Cat,

And you will not need to work and you will not starve.

And she put out her paw for Betty to take and walked alongside her.

When they came to a path leading into the wood,

Diner Cat led Betty along this path until they were in front of two very large trees,

Which had grown together,

But there was a big opening in the trunk.

We'll go in here,

Said Diner Cat,

And as they stepped through,

They were in a hall.

She led Betty up the stairs to a room where there was a snowy white bed and pretty furnishings.

Dinner will be served as soon as you are dressed,

Mistress,

Said Diner Cat.

After she had gone,

Betty looked around,

And in the closets she found pretty dresses which just fitted her.

She put on one of them,

And in a few minutes she was ready for dinner.

Just then,

She heard a soft scratching noise at the door,

And when she opened it Diner Cat walked in.

How do you like your new home,

Mistress,

She asked.

Oh,

Very much,

Betty answered,

But we cannot live in such a nice house.

We have no money,

And besides that,

This house must belong to someone,

And this dress I have on must belong to some little girl.

I should not wear it.

The dress did belong to a little girl,

Said Diner Cat,

But she cannot wear it now.

She wants you to have it,

And do not fret about the house.

It belongs to me.

I cannot tell you any more just now,

But you need not worry any more about anything,

For you are to live here if you wish,

After you have dinner,

For then you will meet a boy,

And you may not like him.

Diner Cat led Betty into a room,

Where the table was set for three persons,

And when they were seated a boy about Betty's age came in and sat with them.

He wore his hat,

And a thick veil hung from it.

I'm sorry I cannot remove my hat,

He said in a very sweet voice,

And I will go away if you'd rather I would.

Oh no,

Said Betty,

Feeling very much like an intruder.

I'm very grateful to you for letting me stay,

And I will help do the work.

You do not need to work,

Said the boy.

If you will stay we will be very glad.

Betty did not once get a glimpse of his face.

He lifted the veil so carefully,

And there sat Diner Cat,

Using her knife and fork like any lady.

Betty smiled to herself when she thought of her eating from a saucer.

Suddenly Diner Cat slid out of her chair and crawled under it,

And the little boy trembled so his chair shook.

Betty looked around to find the cause of their strange behaviour,

And saw standing in the doorway an old woman with a staff in her hand.

She hobbled over to where Diner Cat sat and raised the staff.

Betty thought she was going to strike her.

Don't you hurt Diner Cat,

She cried,

Running towards the old witch,

Who was so startled that she dropped the staff,

And Betty picked it up.

Don't let her have it again,

Said the boy.

That is the cause of all our trouble.

Betty threw the staff in a closet and locked the door.

All this time the witch was stepping backward toward the door by which she entered,

And she grew smaller with each step.

By the time she was out of the house she looked like a black speck,

And a breeze blowing just then carried her out of sight.

But how shall we ever be ourselves again,

Said the boy.

She is gone and here we are in this state.

Perhaps the stick will do it,

Said Diner Cat.

Betty wondered what they meant,

And the boy told her that Diner Cat was his sister,

Before the witch changed her into a cat,

And made his face so hideous he had to wear a veil,

And they had lived very happily together.

But one day the old witch came and wanted to live with us,

And we let her for a while,

But she was so cross and made us so unhappy we told her she must go away.

Then she brought all this change upon us,

And every once in a while she returns and frightens us,

For we do not know what she will change us into next.

Let me get the stick,

Said Betty.

Perhaps we can change Diner Cat to your sister again.

Betty opened the door of the closet,

And instead of the stick there was a bright streak of light,

And walking on it was a little fairy,

Who held a wand in her hand.

You will soon be happy again,

She told them.

I have destroyed the stick and the old witch will never return.

Then she walked over to Diner Cat and touched her with her wand,

And there stood a little girl about Betty's age,

In place of the black cat.

Now close your eyes,

Said the fairy,

For I want the boy to remove his veil and his face is not pleasant to look upon.

Betty did as the fairy told her,

But I am sorry to tell you that she peeked a very little.

Betty closed her eyes tight after the first glimpse,

And waited for the fairy to tell her to open them again,

And when she did,

There stood a boy with a very smiling face.

His sister ran to him and put her arms around him.

Now we shall be happy,

She said,

And Betty will live with us.

How can we thank you?

She asked the fairy.

Oh,

I shall be repaid by seeing you all happy,

The fairy replied,

And now I must go.

Will we see you again?

Asked Betty.

No,

Answered the fairy.

I only appear when people are in trouble,

And you will never need me again.

Tearful Once upon a time,

There was a little girl named Tearful,

Because she cried so often.

If she could not have her own way,

She cried.

If she could not have everything for which she wished,

She cried.

Her mother told her one day that she would melt away in tears if she cried so often.

You are like the boy who cried for the moon,

She told her,

And if it has been given to him,

It would have not made him happy,

For what possible use could the moon be to anyone out of its proper place?

And that is the way with you.

Half the things for which you cry would be of no use to you if you got them.

Tearful did not take warning or heed her mother's words of wisdom,

And kept on crying just the same.

One morning she was crying as she walked along to school,

Because she wanted to stay at home,

When she noticed a frog hopping along beside her.

Why are you following me?

She asked,

Looking at him through her tears.

Because you will soon form a pond around you with your tears,

Replied the frog,

And I have always wanted a pond all to myself.

I shall not make any pond for you,

Said Tearful,

And I do not want you following me either.

The frog continued to hop along beside her,

And Tearful stopped crying and began to run,

But the frog hopped faster and she could not get away from him,

So she began to cry again.

Go away,

You horrid green frog,

She said.

At last,

She was so tired she sat on a stone by the roadside,

Crying all the time.

Now,

Replied the frog,

I shall soon have my pond.

Tearful cried harder than ever.

Then she could not see,

Her tears fell so fast,

And by and by she heard a splashing sound.

She opened her eyes and saw water all around her.

She was on a small island in the middle of the pond.

The frog hopped out of the pond,

Making a terrible grimace as he sat down beside her.

I hope you are satisfied,

Said Tearful.

You have your pond,

Why don't you stay in it?

Alas,

Replied the frog,

I have wished for something which I cannot use now that I have it.

Your tears are salt,

And my pond which I have all by myself is so salty I cannot enjoy it.

If only your tears had been fresh,

I should have been a most fortunate fellow.

You needn't stay if you don't like it,

Said Tearful,

And you needn't find fault with my tears either,

She said,

Beginning to cry again.

Stop,

Stop,

Cried the frog,

Hopping about excitedly.

You will have a flood if you keep on crying.

Tearful saw the water rising around her,

So she stopped a minute.

What shall I do,

She asked.

I cannot swim and I will die if I have to stay here,

And then she began to cry again.

The frog hopped up and down in front of her,

Waving his front legs and telling her to hush.

If you would only stop crying,

He said,

I might be able to help you,

But I cannot do a thing if you cover me with your salt tears.

Tearful listened and promised she would not cry if he would get her away from the island.

There is only one way that I know of,

Said the frog.

You must smile.

That will dry the pond and we can escape.

But I do not feel like smiling,

Said Tearful,

And her eyes filled with tears again.

Look out,

Said the frog,

You will surely be drowned in your own tears if you cry again.

Tearful began to laugh.

That would be strange,

Wouldn't it,

To be drowned in my own tears,

She said.

That is right,

Keep on smiling,

Said the frog,

The pond is smaller already.

And he stood up on his hind legs and began to dance for joy.

Tearful laughed again.

Oh,

You are so funny,

She said.

I wish I had your picture.

I never saw a frog dance before.

You have a slate under your arm,

Said the frog.

Why don't you draw a picture of me?

The frog picked up a stick and stuck it in the ground,

And then he leaned on it with one arm,

Or front leg,

And crossing his feet,

He stood very still.

Tearful drew him in that position,

And then he kicked up his legs as if he were dancing,

And she tried to draw him that way,

But it was not a very good likeness.

Do you like that?

She asked the frog when she held the slate for him to see.

He looked so surprised that Tearful laughed again.

You did not think you were handsome,

Did you?

She asked.

I had never thought I looked as bad as those pictures,

Replied the frog.

Let me try drawing your picture,

He said.

Now look pleasant,

He said,

As he seated himself in front of Tearful,

And do smile.

Tearful did as he requested,

And in a few minutes he handed her the slate.

Where is my nose?

Asked Tearful,

Laughing.

Oh,

I forgot the nose,

Said the frog,

But you don't think your eyes are nice and large,

And your mouth too?

They are certainly big in this picture,

Said Tearful.

I hope I do not look just like that.

I do not think either of us are artists,

Replied the frog.

Tearful looked around her.

Why,

Where is the pond?

She asked.

It's gone.

I thought it would dry up if you would only smile,

Said the frog,

And I think both of us have learned a lesson.

I shall never again wish for a pond of my own.

I should be lonely without my companions,

And then it might be salt just as this one was.

And you will surely never cry over little things again,

For you see what might happen to you.

I feel much happier smiling,

And I do not want to be on an island again.

Even with such a pleasant companion as you were.

Look out for the tears then,

Said the frog as he hopped away.

A hedge.

Such a funny house.

There were yards and yards of sandy passages,

Leading to storerooms and nut cellars and seed cellars,

All amongst the roots of the hedge.

There was a kitchen,

A parlour,

A pantry,

And a larder.

Also,

There was Mrs Tittlemouse's bedroom.

Where she slept in a little box bed.

Mrs Tittlemouse was a most terribly tidy particular little mouse,

Always sweeping and dusting the soft sandy floors.

Sometimes a beetle lost its way in the passages.

Shoo!

Shoo!

Little dirty feet,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse clattering her dustpan.

And one day a little old woman ran up and down in a red spotty cloak.

Your house is on fire,

Mother Ladybird.

Fly away home to your children.

Another day,

A big fat spider came in to shelter from the rain.

Beg pardon,

Is this not Miss Muffet's?

Go away,

You bold bad spider,

Leaving ends of cobweb all over my nice clean house.

She bundled the spider out at a window.

He let himself down the hedge with a long thin bit of string.

Mrs Tittlemouse went on her way to a distant storeroom to fetch cherry stones and thistledown seed for dinner.

All along the passage she sniffed and looked at the floor.

I smell a smell of honey.

Is it the cow slips outside in the hedge?

I am sure I can see the marks of little dirty feet.

Suddenly round a corner she met Babbity Bumble.

Ziz!

Biz!

Biz!

Said the bumblebee.

Mrs Tittlemouse looked at her severely.

She wished that she had a broom.

Good day,

Babbity Bumble.

I should be glad to buy some beeswax,

But what are you doing down here?

Why do you always come in at a window and say ziz,

Biz,

Biz?

Mrs Tittlemouse began to get cross.

Ziz!

Wiz!

Wiz!

Replied Babbity Bumble in a peevish squeak.

She sidled down a passage and disappeared into a storeroom which had been used for acorns.

Mrs Tittlemouse had eaten the acorns before Christmas.

The storeroom ought to have been empty,

But it was full of untidy dry moss.

Mrs Tittlemouse began to pull out the moss.

Three or four other bees put their heads out and buzzed fiercely.

I am not in the habit of letting lodgings.

This is an intrusion,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse.

I will have them turned out.

Buzz!

Buzz!

Buzz!

I wonder who would help me?

Biz!

Wiz!

Wiz!

I will not have Mr Jackson.

He never wipes his feet.

Mrs Tittlemouse decided to leave the bees till after dinner.

When she got back to the parlour,

She heard someone coughing in a fat voice.

And there sat Mr Jackson himself.

He was sitting all over a small rocking chair,

Twiddling his thumbs and smiling with his feet on the fender.

He lived in a drain below the hedge in a very dirty,

Wet ditch.

How do you do,

Mr Jackson?

Deary me,

You have got very wet.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

I'll sit a while and dry myself,

Said Mr Jackson.

He sat and smiled and the water dripped off his coattails.

Mrs Tittlemouse went round with a mop.

He sat such a while that he had to be asked if he would take some dinner.

First she offered him cherry stones.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

No teeth,

Said Mr Jackson.

He opened his mouth most unnecessarily wide.

He certainly had not a tooth in his head.

Then she offered him some thistle down seed.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Poof,

Poof,

Poof,

Said Mr Jackson.

He blew the thistle down all over the room.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

Now what I really,

Really should like would be a little dish of honey.

I'm afraid I've not got any,

Mr Jackson,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse,

Said the smiling Mr Jackson.

I can smell it.

That is why I came to call.

Mr Jackson rose ponderously from the table and began to look into the cupboards.

Mrs Tittlemouse followed him with a dishcloth to wipe his large,

Wet footmarks off the parlour floor.

When he had convinced himself that there was no honey in the cupboards,

He began to walk down the passage.

Indeed,

You will stick fast,

Mr Jackson.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

First he squeezed into the pantry.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly.

No honey,

No honey,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

There were three creepy,

Crawly people hiding in the plate rack.

Two of them got away,

But the littlest one he caught.

Then he squeezed into the larder.

Mrs Butterfly was tasting the sugar,

But she flew away out of the window.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

You seem to have plenty of visitors and without any invitation,

Said Mrs Thomasina Tittlemouse.

They went along the sandy passage.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Buzz,

Whizz,

Whizz.

He met Babbity around a corner and snapped her up and put her down again.

I do not like bumblebees.

They are all over bristles,

Said Mr Jackson,

Wiping his mouth with his coat sleeve.

Get out,

You nasty old toad,

Shrieked Babbity Bumble.

I shall go distracted,

Scolded Mrs Tittlemouse.

She shut herself up in the nut cellar.

While Mr Jackson pulled out the bee's nest,

He seemed to have no objection to stings.

When Mrs Tittlemouse ventured to come out,

Everybody had gone away.

But the untidiness was something dreadful.

Never did I see such a mess.

Smears of honey and moss and thistledown and marks of big and little dirty feet all over my nice clean house.

She gathered up the moss and the remains of the beeswax.

Then she went out and fetched some twigs to partly close up the front door.

I will make it too small for Mr Jackson.

She fetched soft soap and flannel and a new scrubbing brush from the storeroom.

But she was too tired to do any more.

First she fell asleep in her chair.

Then she went to bed.

Will it ever be tidy again,

Said poor Mrs Tittlemouse.

Next morning,

She got up very early and began a spring cleaning which lasted a fortnight.

She swept and scrubbed and dusted.

And she rubbed up the furniture with beeswax and polished her little tin spoons.

When it was all beautifully neat and clean,

She gave a party to five other little mice without Mr Jackson.

He smelt the party and came up the bank,

But he could not squeeze in at the door.

So they handed him out acorn cupfuls of honeydew through the window and he was not at all offended.

He sat outside in the sun and said,

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

You're very good health,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

Hilda's Mermaid Little Hilda's father was a sailor and went away on long voyages.

Hilda lived in a little cottage on the shore and used to spin and knit when her father was away,

For her mother had passed away and she had to be the housekeeper.

Some days she would go out in her boat and fish,

For Hilda was fond of the water.

She was born and had always lived on the shore.

When the water was very calm,

Hilda would look down into the blue depths and try to see a mermaid.

She was very anxious to see one.

She had heard her father tell such wonderful stories about them,

How they sang and combed their beautiful long hair.

One night,

When the wind was blowing and the rain was beating hard upon her window,

Hilda could hear the horn warning the sailors off the rocks.

Hilda lighted her father's big lantern and ran down to the shore and hung it on a mast of a wreck which lay there,

So the sailors would not run their ships upon it.

Little Hilda was not afraid,

For she had seen many such storms.

When she returned to her cottage,

She found the door was unlatched,

But thought the wind had blown it open.

When she entered,

She found a little girl with beautiful hair sitting on the floor.

She was a little frightened at first,

For the girl wore a green dress and it was wound around her body in the strangest manner.

I saw your light,

Said the child,

And came in.

The wind blew me far up on the shore.

I should not have come up on a night like this,

But a big wave looked so tempting,

I thought I would jump on it and have a nice ride.

But it was nearer the shore than I thought it,

And it landed me right near your door.

Oh my,

How Hilda's heart beat,

For she knew this child must be a mermaid.

Then she saw what she had thought a green dress was really her body and tail curled up on the floor,

And it was beautiful as the lamp fell upon it and made it glisten.

Will you have some of my supper,

Asked Hilda,

For she wanted to be hospitable,

Though she had not the least idea what mermaids ate.

Thank you,

Answered the mermaid.

I'm not very hungry,

But if you could give me a seaweed sandwich I should like it.

Poor Hilda did not know what to do.

She went to the closet and brought out some bread,

Which she spread with nice fresh butter and filled a glass with milk.

She told her she was sorry,

She did not have any seaweed sandwiches,

But she hoped she would like what she had prepared.

The little mermaid ate it and Hilda was pleased.

Do you live here all the time,

She asked Hilda.

I should think you would be very warm and want to be in the water part of the time.

Hilda told her she could not live in the water as she did,

Because her body was not like hers.

Oh,

I am so sorry,

Replied the mermaid.

I hoped you would visit me sometime.

We have such good times,

My sisters and I,

Under the sea.

Tell me about your home,

Said Hilda.

Come and sit beside me and I will,

She replied.

Hilda sat upon the floor by her side.

The mermaid felt of Hilda's clothes and thought it must be a bother to have so many clothes.

How can you swim,

She asked.

Hilda told her she put on a bathing suit,

But the mermaid thought that a nuisance.

I will tell you about our house first,

She begun.

Our father,

Neptune,

Lives in a beautiful castle at the bottom of the sea.

It is built of mother of pearl.

All around the castle grow beautiful green things and it has fine white sand around it also.

All my sisters live there and we are always glad to get home after we have been at the top of the ocean.

It is so nice and cool in our home.

The wind never blows there and the rain does not reach us.

You do not mind being wet by the rain,

Do you,

Asked Hilda.

Oh no,

Said the mermaid,

But the rain hurts us.

It falls in little sharp points and feels like pebbles.

How do you know how pebbles feel,

Hilda asked.

Oh,

Sometimes the neareds come and bother us.

They throw pebbles and stir up the water so we cannot see.

Who are the neareds,

Asked Hilda.

They are the sea nymphs.

We make the dogfish drive them away.

We are sirens and they are very jealous of us because we are more beautiful than they,

Said the mermaid.

Hilda thought she was rather conceited,

But the little mermaid seemed to be quite unconscious she had conveyed that impression.

How do you find your way home after you have been at the top of the ocean,

Asked Hilda.

Oh,

When father Neptune counts us and finds any missing.

He sends a whale to spout.

Sometimes he sends more than one and we know where to dive when we see that.

What do you eat besides seaweed sandwiches,

Asked Hilda.

Fish eggs and very little fish,

Answered the mermaid.

When we have a party,

We have cake.

Hilda opened her eyes.

Where do you get cake,

She asked.

We make it.

We grind coral into flour and mix it with fish eggs.

Then we put it in a shell and send a mermaid to the top of the ocean with it.

And she holds it in the sun until it bakes.

We go to the gulf stream and gather grapes and we have sea foam and lemonade to drink.

Lemonade,

Said Hilda.

Where do you get your lemons?

Why,

The sea lemon,

Replied the mermaid.

That is a small mussel fish the colour of a lemon.

What do you do at your parties?

You cannot dance,

Said Hilda.

We swim to the music,

Circle around and dive and glide.

But the music,

Where do you get your musicians?

Hilda continued.

We have plenty of music,

Replied the mermaid.

The sea elephant trumpets for us.

Then there is the pipefish.

The swordfish runs the scales of the sea adder with his sword.

The seashells blob and all together we have splendid music.

But it is late and we must not talk anymore.

So the little mermaid curled herself up and soon they were asleep.

The sun shining in the window awakened Hilda next morning and she looked about her.

The mermaid was not there but Hilda was sure it had not been a dream.

For she found pieces of seaweed on the floor and every time she goes out in her boat she looks for her friend.

And when the whales spout she knows they are telling the mermaids to come home.

The Good Sea Monster On a distant island of smooth rocks,

Surrounded by an endless ocean,

Lived a sea monster.

His head was enormous and when he opened his mouth it looked like a vast moonlit cave.

People said he was so huge that he could swallow a ship whole.

And that on stormy nights he sat on the rocks while his eyes flashed like lighthouse beams across the dark water.

The sailors spoke of him with fear and trembling.

But the sea monster had really been their friend all along,

Showing them the dangerous rocks during storms by flashing his eyes.

Because he looked so frightening,

Everyone who saw him thought he must be cruel and terrible.

One night,

During a fierce storm,

The monster swam out into the churning ocean to see if any ship had been wrecked,

Hoping to help anyone who might be floating in the waves.

He found a young boy named Coco,

Drifting on a piece of broken wood.

When Coco first saw the monster,

He was terrified.

But when he realized the creature meant no harm,

He climbed onto the monster's broad back.

The monster carried him gently to the rocky island.

Then the monster disappeared back into the sea,

And Coco wondered if he would be left alone forever.

But after a while,

The monster returned and opened his mouth very wide.

Coco ran when he saw that enormous mouth,

Thinking the monster planned to swallow him.

But when the creature didn't follow or chase him,

Coco crept back,

Curious.

The monster opened his mouth again,

And Coco asked,

Do you want me to go inside?

The monster nodded his great head slowly.

It must be for some good reason,

Coco said to himself.

He could easily swallow me if he had wanted to,

Without waiting for me to walk in.

So Coco walked into the big mouth,

And down a dark,

Winding passage.

The air smelled of salt and seaweed.

And after his eyes adjusted to the dim light,

He saw a wooden stove,

A comfortable chair,

And a sturdy table.

I should take these out,

Coco said.

I'm sure I can use them.

He carried them to a dry cave on the island.

And when he returned,

The monster was gone.

Soon he came back,

Opening his mouth once more.

This time,

Coco walked in without hesitation,

And found boxes and barrels full of food,

Which he carefully stored in his cave.

When Coco had removed everything,

The monster lay down on the rocks and went to sleep.

Coco cooked himself dinner,

And then he gently woke the monster.

Dinner is ready,

He offered.

But the monster shook his head and dove into the ocean.

He returned with his mouth full of silver fish.

And then Coco understood that the monster had brought all these things from sunken ships just for him.

He began to wish the monster could speak.

For he no longer feared him at all.

I wish you could talk,

Coco said aloud.

I can,

The monster replied in a voice like distant thunder.

No one ever wished it before.

Long ago,

An old witch transformed me into a monster,

And placed me on this island where no one could reach me.

The only way I can speak is if someone wishes it.

Well,

I'm glad I wished it,

Said Coco.

You have given me the gift of speech,

Said the monster.

But for me to become human again,

Someone else must wish it.

The monster and Coco lived peacefully on the island for many months.

The monster took Coco for long rides on his back through the calm waters.

And when the waves grew too high and Coco felt afraid,

The monster would open his mouth so Coco could crawl inside,

And be carried safely back to shore.

One morning,

After a storm,

Coco spotted something floating in the distance.

He climbed onto the monster's back,

And they swam out to investigate.

It was a girl about Coco's age,

Who had survived a shipwreck.

They brought her to the island,

And at first she was frightened of the monster.

But when she learned that he had saved Coco,

And provided all their food and shelter,

She grew as fond of him as Coco was.

I wish he were human,

She said one day as she sat on his back with Coco,

Ready for their daily swim.

With a great splash,

Both children tumbled into the water.

And there in place of the monster,

Was a kind old man with twinkling eyes and a long white beard.

He caught the children in his arms and brought them safely to shore.

But what will we do for food now that you're human?

Asked Coco,

Worried.

We shall want for nothing,

Replied the old man with a gentle smile.

I am a sea god,

And now that I have my true form again,

I can do wonderful things.

We will transform this island into a beautiful garden with fruit trees and clear streams.

When you both grow up,

You can choose your own adventures.

Perhaps you'll become explorers of distant lands,

Or scholars of the ocean's mysteries,

Or simply the very best of friends who share incredible stories.

And I will take you out on the ocean on the backs of my dolphins whenever you wish.

Coco and the girl lived happily on the enchanted island,

Exploring tide pools and learning the names of every star.

As they grew older,

They became the dearest of friends,

And all the things the old sea god had promised came true.

The dolphins carried them to coral gardens and hidden lagoons,

And they discovered that the greatest treasure of all was the friendship they shared,

And the magical world they had found together.

The Mirror's Dream The very idea of putting me in the attic,

Said the little old-fashioned table,

As it spread out both leaves in a gesture of despair.

I have stood in the parlour downstairs for fifty years,

And now I am consigned to the rubbish room,

And it dropped its leaves at its side with a sigh.

I was there longer than that,

Said the sofa.

Many a courtship I have helped along.

What do you think of me?

Asked an old mirror that stood on the floor,

Leaning against the wall,

To be brought to the attic after reflecting generation after generation.

All the famous beauties have looked into my face.

It is a degradation from which I can never recover.

This young mistress who has come here to live does not seem to understand the dignity of our position.

Why,

I was in the family when her husband's grandmother was a girl,

And she has doomed me to a dusty attic to dream out the rest of my days.

The shadows deepened in the room,

And gradually the discarded mirror ceased to complain.

It had fallen asleep,

But later the moonlight streamed in through the window,

And showed that its dreams were pleasant ones,

For it dreamed of the old and happy days.

The door opened softly,

And a young girl entered.

Her hair was dark and hung in curls over her white shoulders.

Her dark eyes wandered over the room,

Until she saw the old mirror.

She ran across the room and stood in front of it.

She wore a hoop skirt over which hung her dress of pale grey,

With tiny pink ruffles that began at her slender waist,

And ended at the bottom of her wide skirt.

Tiny pink rosebuds were dotted over the waist and skirt,

And she also wore them in her dark curls,

Where one stray blossom bolder than the others rested against her soft cheek.

She stood before the mirror and gazed at her reflection a minute.

Then she curtsied and said with a laugh,

I think you will do,

He must speak tonight.

She seemed to fade away in the moonlight.

The door opened again,

And a lady entered,

And with her came five handsome children.

They went to the mirror,

And one little girl with dark curls and pink cheeks went close and touched it with her finger.

Look,

She said to the others,

I look just like the picture of mother when she was a girl.

And as they stood there,

A gentleman appeared beside them,

And put his arm around the lady,

And the children gathered around them.

They seemed to walk along the moonlight path and disappear through the window.

Softly the door opened again,

And an old lady entered,

Leaning on the arm of an old gentleman.

They walked to the mirror,

And he put his arms around her and kissed her with a cheek.

You are always young and fair to me,

He said,

And her face smiled into the depths of the old mirror.

The moonlight made a halo around their heads as they faded away.

The morning light streamed in through the window,

And the mirror's dream was ended.

By and by the door opened,

And a young girl came into the room.

Her dark hair was piled high on her head,

And her dark eyes looked over the room until they fell upon a chest in the corner.

She went to it,

And opened it and took out a pale grey dress with pink ruffles.

She put it on,

And she let down her hair,

Which fell in curls over her shoulders.

She ran to the old mirror and looked at herself.

I do look like grandmother,

She said.

I will wear this to the old folks' party tonight.

Grandfather proposed to grandmother the night she wore this dress.

Her cheeks turned very pink as she said this,

And she ran out of the room.

Then one day the door opened again,

And a bride entered,

Leaning on the arm of her young husband.

There were tears in her eyes,

Although she was smiling.

She led him in front of the old mirror.

This old mirror,

She said,

Has seen all the brides in our family for generations,

And I am going far away and may never look into it again.

My brother's wife does not want it downstairs,

And I may be the last bride it will ever see.

And she passed her hand over its frame caressingly.

And then she went away,

And the old mirror was left to its dreams for many years.

Then one day the door opened again,

And a lady entered.

With her was a young girl.

The lady looked around the attic room until she saw the mirror.

There it is,

She said.

Come and look in it,

Dear.

The young girl followed her.

The last time I looked into this dear old mirror,

The lady said,

Was the day your father and I were married.

I never expected to have it for my own then.

But your uncle's wife wants to remodel the house,

And these things are in the way.

She does not want old-fashioned things,

And they are willing I should have them.

Oh mother,

They are beautiful,

Said the girl,

Looking around the room.

We will never part with them.

We will take them to our home and make them forget they were ever discarded.

And so the mirror,

And the sofa,

And the table,

And many other pieces of bygone days,

Went to live where they were loved.

And the old mirror still reflects dark-haired girls and ladies who smile into its depths and see its beauty as well as their own.

Where the Sparks Go One night,

When the wind was blowing,

And it was clear and cold out of doors,

A cat and a dog,

Who were very good friends,

Sat dozing before a fireplace.

The wood was snapping and crackling,

Making the sparks fly.

Some flew up the chimney,

Others settled into coals in the bed of the fireplace,

While others flew out on the hearth,

And slowly closed their eyes,

And went to sleep.

One spark ventured farther out upon the hearth,

And fell very near the pussycat.

This made her jump,

Which awakened the dog.

That almost scorched your fur coat,

Miss Pussycat,

Said the dog.

No,

Indeed,

Answered the cat.

I am far too quick to be caught by those silly sparks.

Why do you call them silly?

Asked the dog.

I think them very good to look at,

And they help to keep us warm.

Yes,

That is all true,

Said the cat.

But those that fly up the chimney on a night like this,

Certainly are silly,

When they could be warm and comfortable inside.

For my part,

I cannot see why they fly up the chimney.

The spark that flew so near the pussycat was still winking,

And she blazed up a little when she heard the remark the cat made.

If you knew our reason,

You would not call us silly,

She said.

You cannot see what we do,

But if you were to look up the chimney,

And see what happens if we are fortunate enough to get out at the top,

You would not call us silly.

The dog and cat were very curious to know what happened,

But the spark told them to look and see for themselves.

Pussycat was very cautious,

And told the dog to look first.

So he stepped boldly up to the fireplace and thrust his head in.

He quickly withdrew it,

For his hair was singed,

Which made him cry and run to the other side of the room.

Miss Pussycat smoothed her soft coat,

And was very glad she had been so wise.

She walked over to the dog,

And urged him to come nearer the fire,

But he realised why a burnt child dreads the fire,

And remained at a safe distance.

The pussycat walked back to the spark,

And continued to question it.

We cannot go into the fire,

She said.

Now pretty,

Bright spark,

Do tell us what becomes of you,

When you fly up the chimney.

I am sure you only become soot,

And that cannot make you long to get to the top.

Oh,

You are very wrong,

Said the spark.

We are far from being black when we fly up the chimney,

For once we reach the top,

We live forever sparkling in the sky.

You can see,

If you look up the chimney,

All of our brothers and sisters,

Who have been lucky and reached the top,

Winking at us almost every night.

Sometimes the wind blows them away,

I suppose,

For there are nights when we cannot see the sparks shine.

Who told you all that,

Said the cat.

Did any of the sparks ever come back,

And tell you they could live forever?

Oh no,

Said the spark,

But we can see them,

Can we not?

And of course,

We all want to shine forever.

I said you were silly,

Said the cat,

And now I know it.

Those are not sparks you see,

They are stars in the sky.

You can call them anything you like,

Replied the spark,

But we make the bright light you see.

Well,

If you take my advice,

Said the cat,

You will stay right in the fireplace.

For once you reach the top of the chimney,

Out of sight you go.

The stars you see twinkling are far above the chimney,

And you never could reach them.

But the spark would not be convinced.

Just then,

Someone opened a door,

And the draught blew the spark back into the fireplace.

In a few minutes,

It was flying with the others towards the top of the chimney.

The pussycat watched the fire a minute,

And then looked at the dog.

The spark may be right after all,

Said the dog.

Let us go out and see if we can see it.

The pussycat stretched herself and blinked.

Perhaps it is true,

She replied.

Anyway,

I will go with you and look.

The Tale of Mrs Tiggiewinkle Once upon a time,

There was a little girl called Lucy,

Who lived at a farm called Littletown.

She was a good little girl,

Only she was always losing her pocket hat.

She was a good little girl,

Only she was always losing her pocket handkerchiefs.

One day,

Little Lucy came into the farmyard crying.

Oh,

She did cry so.

I've lost my pocket hankin,

Three hankins and a pinny.

Have you seen them,

Tabby Kitten?

The kitten went on washing her white paws.

So Lucy asked a speckled hen.

Sally Henny Penny,

Have you found three pocket hankins?

But the speckled hen ran into a barn clucking.

I go barefoot,

Barefoot,

Barefoot.

And then Lucy asked Cock Robin,

Sitting on a twig.

Cock Robin looked sideways at Lucy with his bright black eye.

And he flew over a stile and away.

Lucy climbed upon the stile and looked up at the hill behind Littletown.

A hill that goes up,

Up into the clouds as though it had no top.

And a great way up the hillside,

She thought she saw some white things spread upon the grass.

Lucy scrambled up the hill as fast as her stout legs would carry her.

She ran along a steep pathway,

Up and up,

Until Littletown was right away down below.

She could have dropped a pebble down the chimney.

Presently,

She came to a spring,

Bubbling out from the hillside.

Someone had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water.

But the water was already running over,

For the can was no bigger than an egg cup.

And where the sand upon the path was wet,

There were footmarks of a very small person.

Lucy ran on and on.

The path ended under a big rock.

The grass was short and green.

And there were clothes.

Props cut from bracken stems,

With lines of plaited rushes,

And a heap of tiny clothespins.

But no pocket handkerchiefs.

But there was something else.

A door,

Straight into the hill,

And inside it someone was singing.

Lily white and clean,

With little frills between.

Smooth and hot,

Red rusty spot,

Never here be seen.

Lucy knocked.

Once.

Twice.

And interrupted the song.

A little frightened voice called out,

Who's that?

Lucy opened the door.

And what do you think there was inside the hill?

A nice clean kitchen with a flagged floor and wooden beams.

Just like any other farm kitchen.

Only the ceiling was so low,

That Lucy's head nearly touched it.

And the pots and pans were small,

And so was everything there.

There was a nice hot singey smell.

And at the table,

With an iron in her hand,

Stood a very stout short person,

Staring anxiously at Lucy.

Her print gown was tucked up,

And she was wearing a large apron over her striped petticoat.

Her little black nose went sniffle sniffle snuffle.

And her eyes went twinkle twinkle.

And underneath her cap,

Where Lucy had yellow curls,

That little person had prickles.

Who are you?

Said Lucy.

Have you seen my pocket hankins?

The little person made a bob curtsy.

Oh yes,

If you please,

My name is Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Oh yes,

If you please,

I'm an excellent clear starcher.

And she took something out of her clothes basket,

And spread it on the ironing blanket.

What's that thing?

Said Lucy.

That's not my pocket hankin.

Oh no,

If you please,

That's a little scarlet waistcoat belonging to Cock Robin.

And she ironed it,

And folded it,

And put it on one side.

Then she took something else off her clothes horse.

That isn't my penny,

Said Lucy.

Oh no,

If you please,

That's a damask tablecloth belonging to Jenny Wren.

Look how it's stained with current wine,

It's very bad to wash,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle's nose went sniffle,

Sniffle,

Snuffle.

And her eyes went twinkle,

Twinkle.

And she fetched another hot iron from the fire.

There's one of my pocket hankins,

Cried Lucy.

And there's my penny.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle ironed it,

And goffered it,

And shook out the frills.

Oh,

That is lovely,

Said Lucy.

And what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves?

Oh,

That's a pair of stockings belonging to Sally Hennypenny.

Look how she's worn the heels out with scratching in the yard.

She'll very soon go barefoot,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Why,

There's another hanker sniff.

But it isn't mine,

It's red.

Oh no,

If you please,

That one belongs to old Mrs Rabbit.

And it did so smell of onions.

I've had to wash it separately,

I can't get out the smell.

There's another one of mine,

Said Lucy.

What are those funny little white things?

That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kitten.

I only have to iron them,

She washes them herself.

That's my last pocket hankin,

Said Lucy.

And what are you dipping into that basin of starch?

They're little dicky shirt fronts belonging to Tom Titmouse.

Most terrible particular,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Now I've finished my ironing,

I'm going to air some clothes.

What are those dear soft fluffy things?

Said Lucy.

Oh,

Those are woolly coats belonging to the little lambs at Skelgill.

Will their jackets take off?

Asked Lucy.

Oh yes,

If you please.

Look at the sheep mark on the shoulder.

And here's one marked for Gatesgarth.

And three that come from Littletown.

They're always marked at washing,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

And she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes.

Small brown coats of mice.

And one velvety black moleskin waistcoat.

And a red tail coat with no tail,

Belonging to Squirrel Nutkin.

And a very much shrunk blue jacket,

Belonging to Peter Rabbit.

And a petticoat,

Not marked,

That had gone lost in the washing.

And at last the basket was empty.

Then Mrs Tiggy Winkle made tea.

A cup for herself and a cup for Lucy.

They sat before the fire on a bench and looked sideways at each other.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle's hand,

Holding the teacup,

Was very,

Very brown and very,

Very wrinkly with the soap suds.

And all through her gown and her cap,

There were hairpins sticking wrong end out.

So that Lucy didn't like to sit too near her.

When they had finished tea,

They tied up the clothes in bundles.

And Lucy's pocket handkerchiefs were folded up inside her clean pinny and fastened with a silver safety pin.

And then they made up the fire with turf and came out and locked the door and hid the key under the door sill.

Then away down the hill trotted Lucy and Mrs Tiggy Winkle with the bundles of clothes.

All the way down the path,

Little animals came out of the fern to meet them.

The very first they met were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny.

And she gave them their nice clean clothes.

And all the little animals and birds were so very much obliged to dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

So that at the bottom of the hill,

When they came to the stile,

There was nothing left to carry except Lucy's one little bundle.

Lucy scrambled up the stile with the bundle in her hand.

And then she turned to say,

Good night and to thank the washerwoman.

But what a very strange thing happened.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle had not waited,

Either for thanks or for the washing bill.

She was running,

Running,

Running up the hill.

And where was her white frilled cap and her shawl and her gown and her petticoat?

And how small she had grown,

And how brown and covered with prickles.

Why,

Mrs Tiggy Winkle,

Was nothing but a hedgehog.

Now,

Some people say that little Lucy had been asleep upon the stile.

But then how could she have found three clean pocket handkerchiefs?

And a penny pinned with a silver safety pin.

And besides,

I have seen that door into the back of the hill called Cat Bells.

And besides,

I am very well acquainted with dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Mr Possum Mr Possum lived in a tree in the woods,

Where Mr Bear lived.

And one morning,

Just before spring,

Mr Possum awoke very hungry.

He ran around to Mr Squirrel's house and tried to get an invitation to breakfast.

But Mr Squirrel had only enough for himself.

He knew that Mr Possum always lived on his neighbours when he could.

So he said,

Of course you have been to breakfast long ago,

Mr Possum.

You are such a smart fellow,

So I will not offer you any.

Mr Possum of course said he had,

And that he only dropped in to make a call.

He was on his way to Mr Rabbit's house.

But he met with no better success at Mr Rabbit's,

For he only put his nose out of the door.

And when he saw who was there,

Said,

I am as busy as I can be getting ready for my spring planting.

Will you come in and help sort seeds?

Mr Rabbit knew the easiest way to be rid of Mr Possum was to ask him to work.

I would gladly help you,

Replied Mr Possum.

But I am in a great hurry this morning.

I have some important business with Mr Bear,

And I only stop to say how do you do.

Mr Bear,

I am afraid,

Will not be receiving today,

Said Mr Rabbit.

It is rather early for him to be up,

Isn't it?

I thought as the sun was nice and warm he might venture out,

And I thought it would please him to have me there to welcome him,

Said Mr Possum.

Besides that,

I wish to see him on business.

Now Mr Possum knew well enough that Mr Bear would not be up,

And he wanted to find him sleeping and soundly too.

He went to the door and knocked softly.

Then he waited,

And as he did not hear any moving inside,

He went to a window and looked in.

There was Mr Bear's chair and pipe,

Just as he had left them when he went to bed.

He looked in the bedroom window and he could see in the bed a big heap of bedclothes,

And just the tiniest tip of Mr Bear's nose.

Mr Possum listened,

And he trembled a little,

For he could hear Mr Bear breathing very loud,

And it sounded anything but pleasant.

Oh,

He is sound asleep for another week,

Said Mr Possum.

What is the use of being afraid?

He walked around the house until he came to the pantry window.

Then he stopped and raised the sash.

He put in one foot and sat on the sill and listened.

All was still,

So he slid off to the floor.

Mr Possum looked around Mr Bear's well-filled pantry.

He did not know where to begin,

He was so hungry.

He became so interested,

And was so greedy,

That he forgot all about that he was in Mr Bear's pantry,

And he stayed on and on,

And ate and ate.

Then he fell asleep,

And the first thing he knew,

A pair of shining eyes were looking in the window,

And a big head with a red mouth,

Full of long white teeth,

Was poked into the pantry.

Mr Possum thought his time had come,

So he just closed his eyes and pretended he was dead.

But he peeked a little,

So as to see what happened.

The big head was followed by a body,

And when it was on the sill,

Mr Possum saw it was Mr Fox.

And the next thing he knew,

Mr Fox came off the sill with a bang,

And hit a pan of beans,

And then knocked over a jar of preserves.

The noise was enough to awaken all the bears for miles around,

And Mr Possum was frightened nearly to death,

For he heard Mr Bear growling in the next room.

While Mr Fox was on the floor and trying to get up on his feet,

Mr Possum jumped up and was out of the window like a flash.

Mr Fox saw something,

But he did not know what.

Before he could make his escape,

The door of the pantry opened,

And there stood Mr Bear,

With a candle in his hand,

Looking in.

Oh-ho,

He growled,

So you are trying to rob me while I'm taking my sleep.

And he sprang at Mr Fox.

Wait,

Wait,

Wait,

Said Mr Fox,

Let me explain,

My dear Mr Bear.

You are mistaken,

I was trying to protect your home.

I saw your window open and knew you were asleep,

And when I got in the window,

The thief attacked me,

And nearly killed me,

And now you are blaming me for it.

You are most ungrateful,

I shall know another time what to do.

Mr Bear looked at him,

His mouth did not show any signs of food,

And Mr Fox opened his mouth and told him to look.

I wonder who it could have been,

He said.

When he was satisfied that Mr Fox was not the thief,

It may have been that possum fellow.

I'll go over to his house in the morning.

The next morning,

Mr Bear called on Mr Possum.

He found him sleeping soundly,

And when he at last opened the door,

He was rubbing his eyes as though he was not half awake.

Why,

How do you do,

He said,

When he saw Mr Bear.

I did not suppose you were up yet.

You didn't,

Asked Mr Bear,

And then he stared at Mr Possum's coat.

What's the matter with your coat,

He asked.

You have white hairs sticking out all over you,

And the rest of your coat is almost white too.

Now Mr Possum had a black coat before,

And he ran to the mirror and looked at himself.

It was true,

He was almost white.

He knew what had happened.

He was so frightened when he was caught in Mr Bear's pantry by Mr Fox,

And he heard Mr Bear growl,

That he had turned nearly white with fright.

I've been terribly ill,

He told Mr Bear,

Going back to the door.

I've been here all alone this winter.

It was a terrible sickness.

I guess that is what has caused it.

Mr Bear went away,

Shaking his head.

That fellow is crafty,

He said.

I feel sure he was the thief,

And yet he certainly does look sick.

After that,

All the O'Possums were of dull white colour,

With long white hairs scattered here and there over their fur.

They were never able to outgrow the mark the thieving Mr Possum left upon his race.

Diner Cat and the Witch Once upon a time,

There was a little girl named Betty.

She was an orphan,

And a bad landlord turned her out of her home.

The only friend she had was a black cat named Diner.

Betty was crying as she walked along the road,

And Diner Cat ran beside her,

Rubbing against her feet.

All at once she ran in front of Betty and stood on her hind leg.

Do not cry,

Mistress,

She said,

I'll take care of you.

Betty was so surprised to hear Diner Cat speak,

That she stopped crying at once.

You poor Diner Cat,

She said,

What can you do?

We must go to the city,

And if I can find work we shall be able to live.

If not,

You must take care of yourself,

For you can catch mice and keep from starving.

You come with me,

Mistress,

Answered Diner Cat,

And you will not need to work and you will not starve.

And she put out her paw for Betty to take and walked alongside her.

When they came to a path leading into the wood,

Diner Cat led Betty along this path,

Until they were in front of two very large trees,

Which had grown together,

But there was a big opening in the trunk.

We'll go in here,

Said Diner Cat,

And as they stepped through,

They were in a hall.

She led Betty up the stairs,

To a room where there was a snowy white bed and pretty furnishings.

Dinner will be served as soon as you are dressed,

Mistress,

Said Diner Cat.

After she had gone,

Betty looked around,

And in the closets she found pretty dresses which just fitted her.

She put on one of them,

And in a few minutes she was ready for dinner.

Just then,

She heard a soft scratching noise at the door,

And when she opened it Diner Cat walked in.

How do you like your new home,

Mistress?

She asked.

Oh,

Very much,

Betty answered,

But we cannot live in such a nice house.

We have no money,

And besides that,

This house must belong to someone,

And this dress I have on must belong to some little girl.

I should not wear it.

The dress did belong to a little girl,

Said Diner Cat,

But she cannot wear it now.

She wants you to have it.

Do not fret about the house,

It belongs to me.

I cannot tell you any more just now,

But you need not worry any more about anything,

For you are to live here if you wish,

After you have dinner,

For then you will meet a boy,

And you may not like him.

Diner Cat led Betty into a room,

Where the table was set for three persons,

And when they were seated,

A boy about Betty's age came in and sat with them.

He wore his hat,

And a thick veil hung from it.

I'm sorry I cannot remove my hat,

He said in a very sweet voice,

And I will go away if you'd rather I would.

Oh,

No,

Said Betty,

Feeling very much like an intruder.

I am very grateful to you for letting me stay,

And I will help do the work.

You do not need to work,

Said the boy.

If you will stay we will be very glad.

Betty did not once get a glimpse of his face,

He lifted the veil so carefully.

And there sat Diner Cat,

Using her knife and fork like any lady.

Betty smiled to herself when she thought of her eating from a saucer.

Suddenly,

Diner Cat slid out of her chair and crawled under it,

And the little boy trembled so his chair shook.

Betty looked around to find the cause of their strange behaviour,

And saw standing in the doorway an old woman with a staff in her hand.

She hobbled over to where Diner Cat sat and raised the staff.

Betty thought she was going to strike her.

Don't you hurt Diner Cat,

She cried,

Running towards the old witch,

Who was so startled that she dropped the staff,

And Betty picked it up.

Don't let her have it again,

Said the boy.

That is the cause of all our trouble.

Betty threw the staff in a closet and locked the door.

All this time the witch was stepping backward toward the door by which she entered,

And she grew smaller with each step.

By the time she was out of the house she looked like a black speck,

And a breeze blowing just then carried her out of sight.

But how shall we ever be ourselves again,

Said the boy.

She is gone and here we are in this state.

Perhaps the stick will do it,

Said Diner Cat.

Betty wondered what they meant,

And the boy told her that Diner Cat was his sister,

Before the witch changed her into a cat,

And made his face so hideous he had to wear a veil,

And they had lived very happily together.

But one day the old witch came and wanted to live with us,

And we let her for a while,

But she was so cross and made us so unhappy we told her she must go away.

Then she brought all this change upon us,

And every once in a while she returns and frightens us,

For we do not know what she will change us into next.

Let me get the stick,

Said Betty.

Perhaps we can change Diner Cat to your sister again.

Betty opened the door of the closet,

And instead of the stick there was a bright streak of light,

And walking on it was a little fairy who held a wand in her hand.

You will soon be happy again,

She told them.

I have destroyed the stick and the old witch will never return.

Then she walked over to Diner Cat and touched her with her wand,

And there stood a little girl about Betty's age in place of the black cat.

Now close your eyes,

Said the fairy,

For I want the boy to remove his veil and his face is not pleasant to look upon.

Betty did as the fairy told her,

But I am sorry to tell you that she peaked a very little.

Betty closed her eyes tight after the first glimpse,

And waited for the fairy to tell her to open them again,

And when she did,

There stood a boy with a very smiling face.

His sister ran to him and put her arms around him.

Now we shall be happy,

She said,

And Betty will live with us.

How can we thank you,

She asked the fairy.

Oh,

I shall be repaid by seeing you all happy,

The fairy replied,

And now I must go.

Will we see you again,

Asked Betty.

No,

Answered the fairy.

I only appear when people are in trouble,

And you will never need me again.

Tearful Once upon a time,

There was a little girl named Tearful,

Because she cried so often.

If she could not have her own way,

She cried.

If she could not have everything for which she wished,

She cried.

Her mother told her one day that she would melt away in tears if she cried so often.

You are like the boy who cried for the moon,

She told her,

And if it has been given to him,

It would have not made him happy,

For what possible use could the moon be to anyone out of its proper place?

And that is the way with you.

Half the things for which you cry would be of no use to you if you got them.

Tearful did not take warning or heed her mother's words of wisdom,

And kept on crying just the same.

One morning,

She was crying as she walked along to school,

Because she wanted to stay at home,

When she noticed a frog hopping along beside her.

Why are you following me?

She asked,

Looking at him through her tears.

Because you will soon form a pond around you with your tears,

Replied the frog,

And I have always wanted a pond all to myself.

I shall not make any pond for you,

Said Tearful,

And I do not want you following me either.

The frog continued to hop along beside her,

And Tearful stopped crying and began to run,

But the frog hopped faster,

And she could not get away from him,

So she began to cry again.

Go away,

You horrid green frog,

She said.

At last,

She was so tired,

She sat on a stone by the roadside,

Crying all the time.

Now,

Replied the frog,

I shall soon have my pond.

Tearful cried harder than ever.

Then she could not see,

Her tears fell so fast,

And by and by she heard a splashing sound.

She opened her eyes and saw water all around her.

She was on a small island in the middle of the pond.

The frog hopped out of the pond,

Making a terrible grimace as he sat down beside her.

I hope you are satisfied,

Said Tearful.

You have your pond,

Why don't you stay in it?

Alas,

Replied the frog,

I have wished for something which I cannot use now that I have it.

Your tears are salt,

And my pond which I have all by myself is so salty I cannot enjoy it.

If only your tears had been fresh,

I should have been a most fortunate fellow.

You needn't stay if you don't like it,

Said Tearful,

And you needn't find fault with my tears either,

She said,

Beginning to cry again.

Stop,

Stop,

Cried the frog,

Hopping about excitedly.

You will have a flood if you keep on crying.

Tearful saw the water rising around her,

So she stopped a minute.

What shall I do?

She asked.

I cannot swim and I will die if I have to stay here.

And then she began to cry again.

The frog hopped up and down in front of her,

Waving his front legs and telling her to hush.

If you would only stop crying,

He said,

I might be able to help you,

But I cannot do a thing if you cover me with your salt tears.

Tearful listened and promised she would not cry if he would get her away from the island.

There is only one way that I know of,

Said the frog.

You must smile.

That will dry the pond and we can escape.

But I do not feel like smiling,

Said Tearful,

And her eyes filled with tears again.

Look out,

Said the frog.

You will surely be drowned in your own tears if you cry again.

Tearful began to laugh.

That would be strange,

Wouldn't it?

To be drowned in my own tears,

She said.

That is right.

Keep on smiling.

Said the frog.

The pond is smaller already.

And he stood up on his hind legs and began to dance for joy.

Tearful laughed again.

Oh,

You are so funny,

She said.

I wish I had your picture.

I never saw a frog dance before.

You have a slate under your arm,

Said the frog.

Why don't you draw a picture of me?

The frog picked up a stick and stuck it in the ground.

And then he leaned on it with one arm or front leg and crossing his feet,

He stood very still.

Tearful drew him in that position and then he kicked up his legs as if he were dancing.

And she tried to draw him that way,

But it was not a very good likeness.

Do you like that?

She asked the frog when she held the slate for him to see.

He looked so surprised that Tearful laughed again.

You did not think you were handsome,

Did you?

She asked.

I had never thought I looked as bad as those pictures,

Replied the frog.

Let me try drawing your picture,

He said.

Now look pleasant,

He said,

As he seated himself in front of Tearful.

And do smile.

Tearful did as he requested.

And in a few minutes he handed her the slate.

Where is my nose?

Asked Tearful,

Laughing.

Oh,

I forgot the nose,

Said the frog.

But you don't think your eyes are nice and large and your mouth too?

They are certainly big in this picture,

Said Tearful.

I hope I do not look just like that.

I do not think either of us are artists,

Replied the frog.

Tearful looked around her.

Why,

Where is the pond?

She asked.

It's gone.

I thought it would dry up if you would only smile,

Said the frog.

And I think both of us have learned a lesson.

I shall never again wish for a pond of my own.

I should be lonely without my companions.

And then it might be salt,

Just as this one was.

And you will surely never cry over little things again,

For you see what might happen to you.

I feel much happier smiling,

And I do not want to be on an island again,

Even with such a pleasant companion as you were.

Look out for the tears then,

Said the frog,

As he hopped away.

The Tale of Mrs Tittlemouse By Beatrix Potter Once upon a time,

There was a woodmouse,

And her name was Mrs Tittlemouse.

She lived in a bank under a hedge.

Such a funny house!

There were yards and yards of sandy passages,

Leading to store rooms and nut sellers and seed sellers.

All amongst the roots of the hedge.

There was a kitchen,

A parlour,

A pantry and a larder.

Also,

There was Mrs Tittlemouse's bedroom,

Where she slept in a little box bed.

Mrs Tittlemouse was a most terribly tidy particular little mouse,

Always sweeping and dusting the soft sandy floors.

Sometimes a beetle lost its way in the passages.

Shoo!

Shoo!

Little dirty feet,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse,

Clattering her dustpan.

And one day a little old woman ran up and down in a red spotty cloak.

Your house is on fire,

Mother Ladybird.

Fly away home to your children.

Another day,

A big fat spider came in to shelter from the rain.

Beg pardon,

Is this not Miss Muffet's?

Go away,

You bold bad spider,

Leaving ends of cobweb all over my nice clean house.

She bundled the spider out at a window.

He let himself down the hedge with a long thin bit of string.

Mrs Tittlemouse went on her way to a distant storeroom to fetch cherry stones and thistledown seed for dinner.

All along the passage,

She sniffed and looked at the floor.

I smell a smell of honey.

Is it the cow slips outside in the hedge?

I am sure I can see the marks of little dirty feet.

Suddenly round a corner,

She met Babbity Bumble.

Ziz!

Biz!

Biz!

Said the bumblebee.

Mrs Tittlemouse looked at her severely.

She wished that she had a broom.

Good day,

Babbity Bumble.

I should be glad to buy some beeswax.

But what are you doing down here?

Why do you always come in at a window and say Ziz!

Biz!

Biz!

Mrs Tittlemouse began to get cross.

Ziz!

Wiz!

Wiz!

Replied Babbity Bumble in a peevish squeak.

She sidled down a passage and disappeared into a storeroom,

Which had been used for acorns.

Mrs Tittlemouse had eaten the acorns before Christmas.

The storeroom ought to have been empty.

But it was full of untidy,

Dry moss.

Mrs Tittlemouse began to pull out the moss.

Three or four other bees put their heads out and buzzed fiercely.

I am not in the habit of letting lodgings.

This is an intrusion,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse.

I will have them turned out.

Buzz!

Buzz!

Buzz!

I wonder who would help me.

Biz!

Wiz!

Wiz!

I will not have Mr Jackson.

He never wipes his feet.

Mrs Tittlemouse decided to leave the bees till after dinner.

When she got back to the parlour,

She heard someone coughing in a fat voice,

And there sat Mr Jackson himself.

He was sitting all over a small rocking chair,

Twiddling his thumbs and smiling with his feet on the fender.

He lived in a drain below the hedge in a very dirty,

Wet ditch.

How do you do,

Mr Jackson?

Deary me,

You have got very wet.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

I'll sit a while and dry myself,

Said Mr Jackson.

He sat and smiled and the water dripped off his coattails.

Mrs Tittlemouse went round with a mop.

He sat such a while that he had to be asked if he would take some dinner.

First she offered him cherry stones.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

No teeth,

Said Mr Jackson.

He opened his mouth most unnecessarily wide.

He certainly had not a tooth in his head.

Then she offered him some thistledown seed.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Poof,

Poof,

Poof,

Said Mr Jackson.

He blew the thistledown all over the room.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

Now what I really,

Really should like would be a little dish of honey.

I'm afraid I've not got any,

Mr Jackson,

Said Mrs Tittlemouse.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

Said the smiling Mr Jackson.

I can smell it.

That is why I came to call.

Mr Jackson rose ponderously from the table and began to look into the cupboards.

Mrs Tittlemouse followed him with a dishcloth to wipe his large wet footmarks off the parlour floor.

When he had convinced himself that there was no honey in the cupboards,

He began to walk down the passage.

Indeed,

You will stick fast,

Mr Jackson.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

First,

He squeezed into the pantry.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly.

No honey,

No honey,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

There were three creepy,

Crawly people hiding in the plate rack.

Two of them got away,

But the littlest one he caught.

Then he squeezed into the larder.

Mrs Butterfly was tasting the sugar,

But she flew away out of the window.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

You seem to have plenty of visitors.

And without any invitation.

Said Mrs Tomasina Tittlemouse.

They went along the sandy passage.

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Buzz,

Whiz,

Whiz.

He met Babbety around a corner and snapped her up and put her down again.

I do not like bumblebees.

They are all over bristles,

Said Mr Jackson,

Wiping his mouth with his coat sleeve.

Get out,

You nasty old toad,

Shrieked Babbety Bumble.

I shall go distracted,

Scolded Mrs Tittlemouse.

She shut herself up in the nut cellar.

While Mr Jackson pulled out the bees nest.

He seemed to have no objection to stings.

When Mrs Tittlemouse ventured to come out,

Everybody had gone away.

But the untidiness was something dreadful.

Never did I see such a mess.

Smears of honey and moss and thistle down and marks of big and little dirty feet.

All over my nice clean house.

She gathered up the moss and the remains of the beeswax.

Then she went out and fetched some twigs to partly close up the front door.

I will make it too small for Mr Jackson.

She fetched soft soap and flannel and a new scrubbing brush from the storeroom.

But she was too tired to do any more.

First,

She fell asleep in her chair.

Then she went to bed.

Will it ever be tidy again,

Said poor Mrs Tittlemouse.

Next morning,

She got up very early and began a spring cleaning which lasted a fortnight.

She swept and scrubbed and dusted.

And she rubbed up the furniture with beeswax and polished her little tin spoons.

When it was all beautifully neat and clean.

She gave a party to five other little mice without Mr Jackson.

He smelt the party and came up the bank,

But he could not squeeze in at the door.

So,

They handed him out acorn cupfuls of honeydew through the window and he was not at all offended.

He sat outside in the sun and said,

Tiddly,

Widdly,

Widdly,

You're very good health,

Mrs Tittlemouse.

Hilda's Mermaid Little Hilda's father was a sailor and went away on long voyages.

Hilda lived in a little cottage on the shore and used to spin and knit when her father was away.

For her mother had passed away and she had to be the housekeeper.

Some days she would go out in her boat and fish.

For Hilda was fond of the water.

She was born and had always lived on the shore.

When the water was very calm,

Hilda would look down into the blue depths and try to see a mermaid.

She was very anxious to see one.

She had heard her father tell such wonderful stories about them.

How they sang and combed their beautiful long hair.

One night when the wind was blowing and the rain was beating hard upon her window,

Hilda could hear the horn warning the sailors off the rocks.

Hilda lighted her father's big lantern and ran down to the shore and hung it on a mast of a wreck which lay there so the sailors would not run their ships upon it.

Little Hilda was not afraid,

For she had seen many such storms.

When she returned to her cottage,

She found the door was unlatched,

But thought the wind had blown it open.

When she entered,

She found a little girl with beautiful hair sitting on the floor.

She was a little frightened at first,

For the girl wore a green dress and it was wound around her body in the strangest manner.

I saw your light,

Said the child,

And came in.

The wind blew me far up on the shore.

I should not have come up on a night like this,

But a big wave looked so tempting,

I thought I would jump on it and have a nice ride.

But it was nearer the shore than I thought it,

And it landed me right near your door.

Oh my,

How Hilda's heart beat,

For she knew this child must be a mermaid.

Then she saw what she had thought a green dress was really her body and tail curled up on the floor,

And it was beautiful as the lamp fell upon it and made it glisten.

Will you have some of my supper?

Asked Hilda,

For she wanted to be hospitable,

Though she had not the least idea what mermaids ate.

Thank you,

Answered the mermaid.

I'm not very hungry,

But if you could give me a seaweed sandwich,

I should like it.

Poor Hilda did not know what to do.

She went to the closet and brought out some bread,

Which she spread with nice fresh butter and filled a glass with milk.

She told her she was sorry.

She did not have any seaweed sandwiches,

But she hoped she would like what she had prepared.

The little mermaid ate it and Hilda was pleased.

Do you live here all the time?

She asked Hilda.

I should think you would be very warm and want to be in the water part of the time.

Hilda told her she could not live in the water as she did,

Because her body was not like hers.

Oh,

I am so sorry,

Replied the mermaid.

I hoped you would visit me sometime.

We have such good times,

My sisters and I,

Under the sea.

Tell me about your home,

Said Hilda.

Come and sit beside me and I will,

She replied.

Hilda sat upon the floor by her side.

The mermaid felt of Hilda's clothes and thought it must be a bother to have so many clothes.

How can you swim?

She asked.

Hilda told her she put on a bathing suit,

But the mermaid thought that a nuisance.

I will tell you about our house first,

She begun.

Our father,

Neptune,

Lives in a beautiful castle at the bottom of the sea.

It is built of mother of pearl.

All around the castle grow beautiful green things,

And it has fine white sand around it also.

All my sisters live there,

And we are always glad to get home after we have been at the top of the ocean.

It is so nice and cool in our home.

The wind never blows there,

And the rain does not reach us.

You do not mind being wet by the rain,

Do you?

Asked Hilda.

Oh no,

Said the mermaid,

But the rain hurts us.

It falls in little sharp points and feels like pebbles.

How do you know how pebbles feel?

Hilda asked.

Oh,

Sometimes the neareids come and bother us.

They throw pebbles and stir up the water so we cannot see.

Who are the neareids?

Asked Hilda.

They are the sea nymphs.

We make the dogfish drive them away.

We are sirens and they are very jealous of us,

Because we are more beautiful than they,

Said the mermaid.

Hilda thought she was rather conceited,

But the little mermaid seemed to be quite unconscious she had conveyed that impression.

How do you find your way home,

After you have been at the top of the ocean?

Asked Hilda.

Oh,

When Father Neptune counts us and finds any missing.

He sends a whale to spout.

Sometimes he sends more than one.

And we know where to dive when we see that.

What do you eat besides seaweed sandwiches?

Asked Hilda.

Fish eggs and very little fish,

Answered the mermaid.

When we have a party,

We have cake.

Hilda opened her eyes.

Where do you get cake?

She asked.

We make it.

We grind coral into flour and mix it with fish eggs.

Then we put it in a shell and send a mermaid to the top of the ocean with it.

And she holds it in the sun until it bakes.

We go to the gulf stream and gather grapes and we have sea foam and lemonade to drink.

Lemonade,

Said Hilda.

Where do you get your lemons?

Why,

The sea lemon,

Replied the mermaid.

That is a small mussel fish the colour of a lemon.

What do you do at your parties?

You cannot dance,

Said Hilda.

We swim to the music,

Circle around and dive and glide.

But the music,

Where do you get your musicians?

Hilda continued.

We have plenty of music,

Replied the mermaid.

The sea elephant trumpets for us.

Then there is the pipefish.

The swordfish runs the scales of the sea adder with his sword.

The seashells blob and all together we have splendid music.

But it is late and we must not talk anymore.

So the little mermaid curled herself up and soon they were asleep.

The sun shining in the window awakened Hilda next morning and she looked about her.

The mermaid was not there,

But Hilda was sure it had not been a dream.

For she found pieces of seaweed on the floor.

And every time she goes out in her boat,

She looks for her friend.

And when the whales spout,

She knows they are telling the mermaids to come home.

The Good Sea Monster On a distant island of smooth rocks,

Surrounded by an endless ocean,

Lived a sea monster.

His head was enormous and when he opened his mouth,

It looked like a vast moonlit cave.

People said he was so huge that he could swallow a ship whole.

And that on stormy nights,

He sat on the rocks.

While his eyes flashed like lighthouse beams across the dark water.

The sailors spoke of him with fear and trembling.

But the sea monster had really been their friend all along.

Showing them the dangerous rocks during storms by flashing his eyes.

Because he looked so frightening,

Everyone who saw him thought he must be cruel and terrible.

One night,

During a fierce storm,

The monster swam out into the churning ocean to see if any ship had been wrecked.

Hoping to help anyone who might be floating in the waves.

He found a young boy named Coco,

Drifting on a piece of broken wood.

When Coco first saw the monster,

He was terrified.

But when he realized the creature meant no harm,

He climbed onto the monster's broad back.

The monster carried him gently to the rocky island.

Then the monster disappeared back into the sea.

And Coco wondered if he would be left alone forever.

But after a while,

The monster returned and opened his mouth very wide.

Coco ran when he saw that enormous mouth.

Thinking the monster planned to swallow him.

But when the creature didn't follow or chase him,

Coco crept back,

Curious.

The monster opened his mouth again.

And Coco asked,

Do you want me to go inside?

The monster nodded his great head slowly.

It must be for some good reason,

Coco said to himself.

He could easily swallow me if he had wanted to,

Without waiting for me to walk in.

So Coco walked into the big mouth and down a dark,

Winding passage.

The air smelled of salt and seaweed.

And after his eyes adjusted to the dim light,

He saw a wooden stove,

A comfortable chair,

And a sturdy table.

I should take these out,

Coco said.

I'm sure I can use them.

He carried them to a dry cave on the island.

And when he returned,

The monster was gone.

Soon,

He came back,

Opening his mouth once more.

This time,

Coco walked in without hesitation.

And found boxes and barrels full of food,

Which he carefully stored in his cave.

When Coco had removed everything,

The monster lay down on the rocks.

And went to sleep.

Coco cooked himself dinner.

And then he gently woke the monster.

Dinner is ready,

He offered.

But the monster shook his head and dove into the ocean.

He returned with his mouth full of silver fish.

And then Coco understood that the monster had brought all these things from sunken ships just for him.

He began to wish the monster could speak,

For he no longer feared him at all.

I wish you could talk,

Coco said aloud.

I can,

The monster replied in a voice like distant thunder.

No one ever wished it before.

Long ago,

An old witch transformed me into a monster.

And placed me on this island where no one could reach me.

The only way I can speak is if someone wishes it.

Well,

I'm glad I wished it,

Said Coco.

You have given me the gift of speech,

Said the monster.

But for me to become human again,

Someone else must wish it.

The monster and Coco lived peacefully on the island for many months.

The monster took Coco for long rides on his back through the calm waters.

And when the waves grew too high and Coco felt afraid,

The monster would open his mouth so Coco could crawl inside and be carried safely back to shore.

One morning,

After a storm,

Coco spotted something floating in the distance.

He climbed onto the monster's back.

And they swam out to investigate.

It was a girl about Coco's age who had survived a shipwreck.

They brought her to the island.

And at first she was frightened of the monster.

But when she learned that he had saved Coco and provided all their food and shelter,

She grew as fond of him as Coco was.

I wish he were human,

She said one day as she sat on his back with Coco,

Ready for their daily swim.

With a great splash,

Both children tumbled into the water.

And there in place of the monster was a kind old man with twinkling eyes and a long white beard.

He caught the children in his arms and brought them safely to shore.

But what will we do for food now that you're human,

Asked Coco,

Worried.

We shall want for nothing,

Replied the old man with a gentle smile.

I am a sea god.

And now that I have my true form again,

I can do wonderful things.

We will transform this island into a beautiful garden with fruit trees and clear streams.

When you both grow up,

You can choose your own adventures.

Perhaps you'll become explorers of distant lands,

Or scholars of the ocean's mysteries,

Or simply the very best of friends who share incredible stories.

I will take you out on the ocean on the backs of my dolphins whenever you wish.

Coco and the girl lived happily on the enchanted island,

Exploring tide pools and learning the names of every star.

As they grew older,

They became the dearest of friends.

And all the things the old sea god had promised came true.

The dolphins carried them to coral gardens and hidden lagoons.

And they discovered that the greatest treasure of all was the friendship they shared,

And the magical world they had found together.

The Mirror's Dream The very idea of putting me in the attic,

Said the little old-fashioned table,

As it spread out both leaves in a gesture of despair.

I have stood in the parlour downstairs for fifty years,

And now I am consigned to the rubbish room.

And it dropped its leaves at its side with a sigh.

I was there longer than that,

Said the sofa.

Many a courtship I have helped along.

What do you think of me?

Asked an old mirror that stood on the floor,

Leaning against the wall.

To be brought to the attic after reflecting generation after generation.

All the famous beauties have looked into my face.

It is a degradation from which I can never recover.

This young mistress who has come here to live,

Does not seem to understand the dignity of our position.

Why,

I was in the family when her husband's grandmother was a girl,

And she has doomed me to a dusty attic to dream out the rest of my days.

The shadows deepened in the room,

And gradually the discarded mirror ceased to complain.

It had fallen asleep,

But later the moonlight streamed in through the window,

And showed that its dreams were pleasant ones,

For it dreamed of the old and happy days.

The door opened softly,

And a young girl entered.

Her hair was dark,

And hung in curls over her white shoulders.

Her dark eyes wandered over the room,

Until she saw the old mirror.

She ran across the room and stood in front of it.

She wore a hoop skirt over which hung her dress of pale grey,

With tiny pink ruffles that began at her slender waist,

And ended at the bottom of her wide skirt.

Tiny pink rosebuds were dotted over the waist and skirt.

And she also wore them in her dark curls,

Where one stray blossom bolder than the others rested against her soft cheek.

She stood before the mirror,

And gazed at her reflection a minute.

Then she curtsied,

And said with a laugh,

I think you will do,

He must speak tonight.

She seemed to fade away in the moonlight.

The door opened again,

And a lady entered,

And with her came five handsome children.

They went to the mirror,

And one little girl with dark curls and pink cheeks went close and touched it with her finger.

Look,

She said to the others,

I look just like the picture of mother when she was a girl.

And as they stood there,

A gentleman appeared beside them.

And put his arm around the lady,

And the children gathered around them.

They seemed to walk along the moonlight path and disappear through the window.

Softly the door opened again,

And an old lady entered,

Leaning on the arm of an old gentleman.

They walked to the mirror,

And he put his arms around her and kissed her withered cheek.

You are always young and fair to me,

He said,

And her face smiled into the depths of the old mirror.

The moonlight made a halo around their heads as they faded away.

The morning light streamed in through the window,

And the mirror's dream was ended.

By and by the door opened,

And a young girl came into the room.

Her dark hair was piled high on her head,

And her dark eyes looked over the room until they fell upon a chest in the corner.

She went to it,

And opened it and took out a pale grey dress with pink ruffles.

She put it on,

And she let down her hair,

Which fell in curls over her shoulders.

She ran to the old mirror and looked at herself.

I do look like grandmother,

She said.

I will wear this to the old folks' party tonight.

Grandfather proposed to grandmother the night she wore this dress.

Her cheeks turned very pink as she said this,

And she ran out of the room.

Then one day,

The door opened again,

And a bride entered.

Leaning on the arm of her young husband.

There were tears in her eyes,

Although she was smiling.

She led him in front of the old mirror.

This old mirror,

She said,

Has seen all the brides in our family for generations,

And I am going far away and may never look into it again.

My brother's wife does not want it downstairs,

And I may be the last bride it will ever see.

And she passed her hand over its frame caressingly.

And then she went away,

And the old mirror was left to its dreams for many years.

Then one day,

The door opened again,

And a lady entered.

With her was a young girl.

The lady looked around the attic room until she saw the mirror.

There it is,

She said.

Come and look in it,

Dear.

The young girl followed her.

The last time I looked into this dear old mirror,

The lady said,

Was the day your father and I were married.

I never expected to have it for my own then.

But your uncle's wife wants to remodel the house,

And these things are in the way.

She does not want old-fashioned things,

And they are willing I should have them.

Oh mother,

They are beautiful,

Said the girl,

Looking around the room.

We will never part with them.

We will take them to our home and make them forget they were ever discarded.

And so the mirror,

And the sofa,

And the table,

And many other pieces of bygone days,

Went to live where they were loved.

And the old mirror still reflects dark-haired girls and ladies,

Who smile into its depths and see its beauty as well as their own.

Where the Sparks Go One night,

When the wind was blowing,

And it was clear and cold out of doors,

A cat and a dog,

Who were very good friends,

Sat dozing before a fireplace.

The wood was snapping and crackling,

Making the sparks fly.

Some flew up the chimney,

Others settled into coals in the bed of the fireplace,

While others flew out on the hearth,

And slowly closed their eyes,

And went to sleep.

One spark ventured farther out upon the hearth,

And fell very near the pussycat.

This made her jump,

Which awakened the dog.

That almost scorched your fur coat,

Miss Pussycat,

Said the dog.

No,

Indeed,

Answered the cat.

I am far too quick to be caught by those silly sparks.

Why do you call them silly?

Asked the dog.

I think them very good to look at,

And they help to keep us warm.

Yes,

That is all true,

Said the cat,

But those that fly up the chimney,

On a night like this,

Certainly are silly,

When they could be warm and comfortable inside.

For my part,

I cannot see why they fly up the chimney.

The spark that flew so near the pussycat was still winking,

And she blazed up a little when she heard the remark the cat made.

If you knew our reason,

You would not call us silly,

She said.

You cannot see what we do,

But if you were to look up the chimney,

And see what happens if we are fortunate enough to get out at the top,

You would not call us silly.

The dog and cat were very curious to know what happened,

But the spark told them to look and see for themselves.

Pussycat was very cautious,

And told the dog to look first,

So he stepped boldly up to the fireplace and thrust his head in.

He quickly withdrew it,

For his hair was singed,

Which made him cry and run to the other side of the room.

Miss Pussycat smoothed her soft coat,

And was very glad she had been so wise.

She walked over to the dog,

And urged him to come nearer the fire,

But he realised why a burnt child dreads the fire,

And remained at a safe distance.

The pussycat walked back to the spark,

And continued to question it.

We cannot go into the fire,

She said.

Now,

Pretty,

Bright spark,

Do tell us what becomes of you when you fly up the chimney.

I am sure you only become soot,

And that cannot make you long to get to the top.

Oh,

You are very wrong,

Said the spark.

We are far from being black when we fly up the chimney,

For once we reach the top,

We live forever sparkling in the sky.

You can see,

If you look up the chimney,

All of our brothers and sisters,

Who have been lucky and reached the top,

Winking at us almost every night.

Sometimes the wind blows them away,

I suppose,

For there are nights when we cannot see the sparks shine.

Who told you all that,

Said the cat.

Did any of the sparks ever come back,

And tell you they could live forever?

Oh no,

Said the spark,

But we can see them,

Can we not?

And of course,

We all want to shine forever.

I said you were silly,

Said the cat,

And now I know it.

Those are not sparks you see,

They are stars in the sky.

You can call them anything you like,

Replied the spark,

But we make the bright light you see.

Well,

If you take my advice,

Said the cat,

You will stay right in the fireplace.

For once you reach the top of the chimney,

Out of sight you go.

The stars you see twinkling are far above the chimney,

And you never could reach them.

But the spark would not be convinced.

Just then,

Someone opened a door,

And the draught blew the spark back into the fireplace.

In a few minutes,

It was flying with the others towards the top of the chimney.

The pussycat watched the fire a minute,

And then looked at the dog.

The spark may be right after all,

Said the dog.

Let us go out and see if we can see it.

The pussycat stretched herself and blinked.

Perhaps it is true,

She replied.

Anyway,

I will go with you and look.

The Tale of Mrs Tiggiewinkle Once upon a time,

There was a little girl called Lucy,

Who lived at a farm called Littletown.

She was a good little girl,

Only she was always losing her pocket handkerchiefs.

One day,

Little Lucy came into the farmyard crying.

Oh,

She did cry so.

I've lost my pocket hankin.

Three hankins and a pinny.

Have you seen them,

Tabby Kitten?

The kitten went on washing her white paws.

So Lucy asked a speckled hen.

Sally Henny Penny,

Have you found three pocket hankins?

But the speckled hen ran into a barn clucking.

I go barefoot,

Barefoot,

Barefoot!

And then Lucy asked Cock Robin,

Sitting on a twig.

Cock Robin looked sideways at Lucy with his bright black eye,

And he flew over a stile and away.

Lucy climbed upon the stile and looked up at the hill behind Littletown.

A hill that goes up,

Up into the clouds,

As though it had no top.

And a great way up the hillside,

She thought she saw some white things spread upon the grass.

Lucy scrambled up the hill as fast as her stout legs would carry her.

She ran along a steep pathway,

Up and up,

Until Littletown was right away down below.

She could have dropped a pebble down the chimney.

Presently,

She came to a spring,

Bubbling out from the hillside.

Someone had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water.

But the water was already running over,

For the can was no bigger than an egg cup.

And where the sand upon the path was wet,

There were footmarks of a very small bird.

Lucy ran on and on.

The path ended under a big rock.

The grass was short and green,

And there were clothes.

Props cut from bracken stems,

With lines of plaited rushes,

And a heap of tiny clothespins.

But no pocket handkerchiefs.

But there was something else.

A door,

Straight into the hill.

And inside it,

Someone was singing,

Lily white and clean,

With little frills between.

Smooth and hot,

Red rusty spot,

Never here be seen.

Lucy knocked,

Once,

Twice,

And interrupted the song.

A little frightened voice called out,

Who's that?

Lucy opened the door.

And what do you think there was inside the hill?

A nice clean kitchen,

With a flagged floor and wooden beams.

Just like any other farm kitchen.

Only the ceiling was so low,

That Lucy's head nearly touched it.

And the pots and pans were small,

And so was everything there.

There was a nice hot singy smell,

And at the table,

With an iron in her hand,

Stood a very stout short person,

Staring anxiously at Lucy.

Her print gown was tucked up,

And she was wearing a large apron over her striped petticoat.

Her little black nose went sniffle sniffle snuffle,

And her eyes went twinkle twinkle.

And underneath her cap,

Where Lucy had yellow curls,

That little person had prickles.

Who are you?

Said Lucy.

Have you seen my pocket hankins?

The little person made a bob curtsy.

Oh yes,

If you please,

My name is Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Oh yes,

If you please,

I'm an excellent clear starcher.

And she took something out of her clothes basket,

And spread it on the ironing blanket.

What's that thing?

Said Lucy.

That's not my pocket hankin.

Oh no,

If you please,

That's a little scarlet waistcoat belonging to Cock Robin.

And she ironed it,

And folded it,

And put it on one side.

Then she took something else off a clothes horse.

That isn't my penny,

Said Lucy.

Oh no,

If you please,

That's a damask tablecloth belonging to Jenny Wren.

Look how it's stained with current wine.

It's very bad to wash,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle's nose went sniffle sniffle snuffle,

And her eyes went twinkle twinkle,

And she fetched another hot iron from the fire.

There's one of my pocket hankins,

Cried Lucy,

And there's my penny.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle ironed it,

And goffered it,

And shook out the frills.

Oh,

That is lovely,

Said Lucy.

And what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves?

Oh,

That's a pair of stockings belonging to Sally Hennypenny.

Look how she's worn the heels out with scratching in the yard.

She'll very soon go barefoot,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Why,

There's another hanker sniff,

But it isn't mine,

It's red.

Oh no,

If you please,

That one belongs to old Mrs Rabbit.

And it did so smell of onions.

I've had to wash it separately,

I can't get out the smell.

There's another one of mine,

Said Lucy.

What are those funny little white things?

That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kitten.

I only have to iron them,

She washes them herself.

That's my last pocket hankin,

Said Lucy.

And what are you dipping into that basin of starch?

They're little dicky shirt fronts belonging to Tom Titmouse.

Most terrible particular,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Now I've finished my ironing,

I'm going to air some clothes.

What are those dear soft fluffy things,

Said Lucy.

Oh,

Those are woolly coats belonging to the little lambs at Skelgill.

Will their jackets take off,

Asked Lucy.

Oh yes,

If you please.

Look at the sheep mark on the shoulder.

And here's one marked for Gatesgarth.

And three that come from Littletown.

They're always marked at washing,

Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

And she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes.

Small brown coats of mice.

And one velvety black moleskin waistcoat.

And a red tail coat with no tail,

Belonging to Squirrel Nutkin.

And a very much shrunk blue jacket,

Belonging to Peter Rabbit.

And a petticoat,

Not marked,

That had gone lost in the washing.

And at last the basket was empty.

Then Mrs Tiggy Winkle made tea.

A cup for herself and a cup for Lucy.

They sat before the fire on a bench and looked sideways at each other.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle's hand,

Holding the tea cup,

Was very,

Very brown and very,

Very wrinkly.

With the soap suds.

And all through her gown and her cap.

There were hair pins sticking wrong end out.

So that Lucy didn't like to sit too near her.

When they had finished tea,

They tied up the clothes in bundles.

And Lucy's pocket handkerchiefs were folded up inside her clean pinny.

And fastened with a silver safety pin.

And then they made up the fire with turf.

And came out and locked the door and hid the key under the door sill.

Then away down the hill trotted Lucy and Mrs Tiggy Winkle with the bundles of clothes.

All the way down the path,

Little animals came out of the fern to meet them.

The very first they met were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny.

And she gave them their nice clean clothes.

And all the little animals and birds were so very much obliged to dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

So that at the bottom of the hill when they came to the stile.

There was nothing left to carry except Lucy's one little bundle.

Lucy scrambled up the stile with the bundle in her hand.

And then she turned to say goodnight.

And to thank the washerwoman.

But what a very odd thing.

Mrs Tiggy Winkle had not waited.

Either for thanks or for the washing bill.

She was running,

Running,

Running up the hill.

And where was her white frilled cap?

And her shawl and her gown and her petticoat.

And how small she had grown.

And how brown and covered with prickles.

Why,

Mrs Tiggy Winkle was nothing but a hedgehog.

Now,

Some people say that little Lucy had been asleep upon the stile.

But then how could she have found three clean pocket handkins and a penny.

Pinned with a silver safety pin.

And besides,

I have seen that door into the back of the hill called Cat Bells.

And besides,

I am very well acquainted with dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle.

Mr Possum Mr Possum lived in a tree in the woods where Mr Bear lived.

And one morning,

Just before spring,

Mr Possum awoke very hungry.

He ran around to Mr Squirrel's house and tried to get an invitation to breakfast.

But Mr Squirrel had only enough for himself.

He knew that Mr Possum always lived on his neighbours when he could.

So he said,

Of course you have been to breakfast long ago,

Mr Possum.

You are such a smart fellow,

So I will not offer you any.

Mr Possum of course said he had,

And that he only dropped in to make a call.

He was on his way to Mr Rabbit's house.

But he met with no better success at Mr Rabbit's,

For he only put his nose out of the door.

And when he saw who was there,

Said,

I am as busy as I can be getting ready for my spring planting.

Will you come in and help sort seeds?

Mr Rabbit knew the easiest way to be rid of Mr Possum was to ask him to work.

I would gladly help you,

Replied Mr Possum.

But I am in a great hurry this morning.

I have some important business with Mr Bear and I only stop to say how do you do.

Mr Bear,

I am afraid,

Will not be receiving today,

Said Mr Rabbit.

It is rather early for him to be up,

Isn't it?

I thought as the sun was nice and warm he might venture out,

And I thought it would please him to have me there to welcome him,

Said Mr Possum.

Besides that,

I wish to see him on business.

Now Mr Possum knew well enough that Mr Bear would not be up.

He wanted to find him sleeping and soundly too.

He went to the door and knocked softly.

Then he waited,

And as he did not hear any moving inside,

He went to a window and looked in.

There was Mr Bear's chair and pipe,

Just as he had left them when he went to bed.

He looked in the bedroom window and he could see in the bed a big heap of bedclothes,

And just the tiniest tip of Mr Bear's nose.

Mr Possum listened and he trembled a little,

For he could hear Mr Bear breathing very loud,

And it sounded anything but pleasant.

Oh,

He is sound asleep for another week,

Said Mr Possum.

What is the use of being afraid?

He walked around the house until he came to the pantry window.

Then he stopped and raised the sash.

He put in one foot and sat on the sill and listened.

All was still,

So he slid off to the floor.

Mr Possum looked around Mr Bear's well-filled pantry.

He did not know where to begin,

He was so hungry.

He became so interested and was so greedy,

That he forgot all about that he was in Mr Bear's pantry.

And he stayed on and on,

And ate and ate.

Then he fell asleep,

And the first thing he knew,

A pair of shining eyes were looking in the window,

And a big head with a red mouth,

Full of long white teeth,

Was poked into the pantry.

Mr Possum thought his time had come,

So he just closed his eyes and pretended he was dead.

But he peeked a little,

So as to see what happened.

The big head was followed by a body.

And when it was on the sill,

Mr Possum saw it was Mr Fox.

And the next thing he knew,

Mr Fox came off the sill with a bang,

And hit a pan of beans,

And then knocked over a jar of preserves.

The noise was enough to awaken all the bears for miles around,

And Mr Possum was frightened nearly to death,

For he heard Mr Bear growling in the next room.

While Mr Fox was on the floor and trying to get up on his feet,

Mr Possum jumped up and was out of the window like a flash.

Mr Fox saw something,

But he did not know what.

Before he could make his escape,

The door of the pantry opened,

And there stood Mr Bear,

With a candle in his hand,

Looking in.

Oh ho,

He growled,

So you are trying to rob me while I'm taking my sleep.

And he sprang at Mr Fox.

Wait,

Wait,

Wait,

Said Mr Fox.

Let me explain,

My dear Mr Bear.

You are mistaken.

I was trying to protect your home.

I saw your window open and knew you were asleep.

And when I got in the window,

The thief attacked me and nearly killed me.

And now you are blaming me for it.

You are most ungrateful.

I shall know another time what to do.

Mr Bear looked at him.

His mouth did not show any signs of food.

And Mr Fox opened his mouth and told him to look.

I wonder who it could have been,

He said.

When he was satisfied that Mr Fox was not the thief,

It may have been that Possum fellow.

I'll go over to his house in the morning.

The next morning,

Mr Bear called on Mr Possum.

He found him sleeping soundly.

And when he at last opened the door,

He was rubbing his eyes as though he was not half awake.

Why,

How do you do?

He said when he saw Mr Bear.

I did not suppose you were up yet.

You didn't,

Asked Mr Bear.

And then he stared at Mr Possum's coat.

What's the matter with your coat?

He asked.

You have white hairs sticking out all over you.

And the rest of your coat is almost white too.

Now Mr Possum had a black coat before.

And he ran to the mirror and looked at himself.

It was true.

He was almost white.

He knew what had happened.

He was so frightened when he was caught in Mr Bear's pantry by Mr Fox.

And he heard Mr Bear growl that he had turned nearly white with fright.

I've been terribly ill,

He told Mr Bear going back to the door.

I've been here all alone this winter.

It was a terrible sickness.

I guess that is what has caused it.

Mr Bear went away,

Shaking his head.

That fellow is crafty,

He said.

I feel sure he was the thief and yet he certainly does look sick.

After that,

All the opossums were of dull white colour,

With long white hairs scattered here and there over their fur.

They were never able to outgrow the mark the thieving Mr Possum left upon his race.

Diner Cat and the Witch Once upon a time,

There was a little girl named Betty.

She was an orphan and a bad landlord turned her out of her home.

The only friend she had was a black cat named Diner.

Betty was crying as she walked along the road,

And Diner Cat ran beside her,

Rubbing against her.

All at once,

She ran in front of Betty and stood on her hind legs.

Do not cry,

Mistress,

She said,

I'll take care of you.

Betty was so surprised to hear Diner Cat speak,

That she stopped crying at once.

You poor Diner Cat,

She said,

What can you do?

We must go to the city,

And if I can find work we shall be able to live.

If not,

You must take care of yourself,

For you can catch mice and keep from starving.

You come with me,

Mistress,

Answered Diner Cat,

And you will not need to work and you will not starve.

She put out her paw for Betty to take and walked alongside her.

When they came to a path leading into the wood,

Diner Cat led Betty along this path,

Until they were in front of two very large trees,

Which had grown together,

But there was a big opening in the trunk.

We'll go in here,

Said Diner Cat,

And as they stepped through,

They were in a hall.

She led Betty up the stairs,

To a room where there was a snowy white bed and pretty furnishings.

Dinner will be served as soon as you are dressed,

Mistress,

Said Diner Cat.

After she had gone,

Betty looked around,

And in the closets she found pretty dresses which just fitted her.

She put on one of them,

And in a few minutes she was ready for dinner.

Just then,

She heard a soft scratching noise at the door,

And when she opened it Diner Cat walked in.

How do you like your new home,

Mistress?

She asked.

Oh very much,

Betty answered,

But we cannot live in such a nice house.

We have no money,

And besides that,

This house must belong to someone,

And this dress I have on must belong to some little girl.

I should not wear it.

The dress did belong to a little girl,

Said Diner Cat,

But she cannot wear it now.

She wants you to have it.

And do not fret about the house,

It belongs to me.

I cannot tell you any more just now,

But you need not worry any more about anything,

For you are to live here if you wish,

After you have dinner,

For then you will meet a boy,

And you may not like him.

Diner Cat led Betty into a room,

Where the table was set for three persons,

And when they were seated,

A boy about Betty's age came in and sat with them.

He wore his hat,

And a thick veil hung from it.