Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 03 (31 page)

By this time the three bears thought their porridge would be cool
enough; so they came home to breakfast. Now the little old woman
had left the spoon of the Great, Huge Bear, standing in his
porridge.

'SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!'

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great gruff voice. And when the
Middle Bear looked at his, he saw that the spoon was standing in
it too. They were wooden spoons; if they had been silver ones, the
naughty old woman would have put them in her pocket.

'Somebody Has Been At My Porridge!'

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

Then the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the
spoon in the porridge-pot, but the porridge was all gone.

'
Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all up
!'

said the Little, Small Wee Bear, in his little, small wee voice.

Upon this the three bears, seeing that some one had entered their
house, and eaten up the Little, Small, Wee Bear's breakfast, began
to look about them. Now the little old woman had not put the hard
cushion straight when she rose from the chair of the Great, Huge
Bear.

'SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!'

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And the little old woman had squatted down the soft cushion of the
Middle Bear.

'Somebody Has Been Sitting In My Chair!'

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

And you know what the little old woman had done to the third
chair.

'
Somebody has been sitting in my chair, and has sate the bottom
of it out
!'

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

Then the three bears thought it necessary that they should make
farther search; so they went up stairs into their bed-chamber. Now
the little old woman had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear
out of its place.

'SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!'

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And the little old woman had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear
out of its place.

'Somebody Has Been Lying In My Bed!'

said the Middle Bear in his middle voice.

And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed,
there was the bolster in its place, and the pillow in its place
upon the bolster, and upon the pillow was the little old woman's
ugly, dirty head,—which was not in its place, for she had no
business there.

'
Somebody has been lying in my bed,—and here she is
!'

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

The little old woman had heard in her sleep the great, rough,
gruff voice of the Great, Huge Bear; but she was so fast asleep
that it was no more to her than the roaring of wind or the
rumbling of thunder. And she had heard the middle voice of the
Middle Bear, but it was only as if she had heard someone speaking
in a dream. But when she heard the little, small, wee voice of the
Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so sharp, and so shrill, that it
awakened her at once. Up she started; and when she saw the Three
Bears on one side of the bed, she tumbled herself out at the
other, and ran to the window. Now the window was open, because the
bears, like good, tidy bears as they were, always opened their
bedchamber window when they got up in the morning. Out the little
old woman jumped; and whether she broke her neck in the fall, or
ran into the wood and was lost there, or found her way out of the
wood and was taken up by the constable and sent to the House of
Correction for a vagrant as she was, I cannot tell. But the Three
Bears never saw anything more of her.

Southey.

Once upon a time there lived a King and Queen who loved one
another dearly. Indeed the Queen, whose name was Santorina, was so
pretty and so kind-hearted that it would have been a wonder if her
husband had not been fond of her, while King Gridelin himself was
a perfect bundle of good qualities, for the Fairy who presided at
his christening had summoned the shades of all his ancestors, and
taken something good from each of them to form his character.
Unfortunately, though, she had given him rather too much kindness
of heart, which is a thing that generally gets its possessor into
trouble, but so far all things had prospered with King Gridelin.
However, it was not to be expected such good fortune could last,
and before very long the Queen had a lovely little daughter who
was named Placida. Now the King, who thought that if she resembled
her mother in face and mind she would need no other gift, never
troubled to ask any of the Fairies to her christening, and this
offended them mortally, so that they resolved to punish him
severely for thus depriving them of their rights. So, to the
despair of King Gridelin, the Queen first of all became very ill,
and then disappeared altogether. If it had not been for the little
Princess there is no saying what would have become of him, he was
so miserable, but there she was to be brought up, and luckily the
good Fairy Lolotte, in spite of all that had passed, was willing
to come and take charge of her, and of her little cousin Prince
Vivien, who was an orphan and had been placed under the care of
his uncle, King Gridelin, when he was quite a baby. Although she
neglected nothing that could possibly have been done for them,
their characters, as they grew up, plainly proved that education
only softens down natural defects, but cannot entirely do away
with them; for Placida, who was perfectly lovely, and with a
capacity and intelligence which enabled her to learn and
understand anything that presented itself, was at the same time as
lazy and indifferent as it is possible for anyone to be, while
Vivien on the contrary was only too lively, and was for ever
taking up some new thing and as promptly tiring of it, and flying
off to something else which held his fickle fancy an equally short
time. As these two children would possibly inherit the kingdom, it
was natural that their people should take a great interest in
them, and it fell out that all the tranquil and peace-loving
citizens desired that Placida should one day be their Queen, while
the rash and quarrelsome hoped great things for Vivien. Such a
division of ideas seemed to promise civil wars and all kinds of
troubles to the State, and even in the Palace the two parties
frequently came into collision. As for the children themselves,
though they were too well brought up to quarrel, still the
difference in all their tastes and feelings made it impossible for
them to like one another, so there seemed no chance of their ever
consenting to be married, which was a pity, since that was the
only thing that would have satisfied both parties. Prince Vivien
was fully aware of the feeling in his favour, but being too
honourable to wish to injure his pretty cousin, and perhaps too
impatient and volatile to care to think seriously about anything,
he suddenly took it into his head that he would go off by himself
in search of adventure. Luckily this idea occurred to him when he
was on horseback, for he would certainly have set out on foot
rather than lose an instant. As it was, he simply turned his
horse's head, without another thought than that of getting out of
the kingdom as soon as possible. This abrupt departure was a great
blow to the State, especially as no one had any idea what had
become of the Prince. Even King Gridelin, who had never cared for
anything since the disappearance of Queen Santorina, was roused by
this new loss, and though he could not so much as look at the
Princess Placida without shedding floods of tears, he resolved to
see for himself what talents and capabilities she showed. He very
soon found out that in addition to her natural indolence, she was
being as much indulged and spoilt day by day as if the Fairy had
been her grandmother, and was obliged to remonstrate very
seriously upon the subject. Lolotte took his reproaches meekly,
and promised faithfully that she would not encourage the Princess
in her idleness and indifference any more. From this moment poor
Placida's troubles began! She was actually expected to choose her
own dresses, to take care of her jewels, and to find her own
amusements; but rather than take so much trouble she wore the same
old frock from morning till night, and never appeared in public if
she could possibly avoid it. However, this was not all, King
Gridelin insisted that the affairs of the kingdom should be
explained to her, and that she should attend all the councils and
give her opinion upon the matter in hand whenever it was asked of
her, and this made her life such a burden to her that she implored
Lolotte to take her away from a country where too much was
required of an unhappy Princess.

The Fairy refused at first with a great show of firmness, but who
could resist the tears and entreaties of anyone so pretty as
Placida? It came to this in the end, that she transported the
Princess just as she was, cosily tucked up upon her favourite
couch, to her own Grotto, and this new disappearance left all the
people in despair, and Gridelin went about looking more distracted
than ever. But now let us return to Prince Vivien, and see what
his restless spirit has brought him to. Though Placida's kingdom
was a large one; his horse had carried him gallantly to the limit
of it, but it could go no further, and the Prince was obliged to
dismount and continue his journey on foot, though this slow mode
of progress tired his patience severely.

After what seemed to him a very long time, he found himself all
alone in a vast forest, so dark and gloomy that he secretly
shuddered; however, he chose the most promising looking path he
could find, and marched along it courageously at his best speed,
but in spite of all his efforts, night fell before he reached the
edge of the wood.

For some time he stumbled along, keeping to the path as well as he
could in the darkness, and just as he was almost wearied out he
saw before him a gleam of light.

This sight revived his drooping spirits, and he made sure that he
was now close to the shelter and supper he needed so much, but the
more he walked towards the light the further away it seemed;
sometimes he even lost sight of it altogether, and you may imagine
how provoked and impatient he was by the time he finally arrived
at the miserable cottage from which the light proceeded. He gave a
loud knock at the door, and an old woman's voice answered from
within, but as she did not seem to be hurrying herself to open it
he redoubled his blows, and demanded to be let in imperiously,
quite forgetting that he was no longer in his own kingdom. But all
this had no effect upon the old woman, who only noticed all the
uproar he was making by saying gently:

'You must have patience.'

He could hear that she really was coming to open the door to him,
only she was so very long about it. First she chased away her cat,
lest it should run away when the door was opened, then he heard
her talking to herself and made out that her lamp wanted trimming,
that she might see better who it was that knocked, and then that
it lacked fresh oil, and she must refill it. So what with one
thing and another she was an immense time trotting to and fro, and
all the while she now and again bade the Prince have patience.
When at last he stood within the little hut he saw with despair
that it was a picture of poverty, and that not a crumb of anything
eatable was to be seen, and when he explained to the old woman
that he was dying of hunger and fatigue she only answered
tranquilly that he must have patience. However, she presently
showed him a bundle of straw on which he could sleep.

'But what can I have to eat?' cried Prince Vivien sharply.

'Wait a little, wait a little,' she replied. 'If you will only
have patience I am just going out into the garden to gather some
peas: we will shell them at our leisure, then I will light a fire
and cook them, and when they are thoroughly done, we can enjoy
them peaceably; there is no hurry.'

'I shall have died of starvation by the time all that is done,'
said the Prince ruefully.

'Patience, patience,' said the old woman looking at him with her
slow gentle smile, 'I can't be hurried. "All things come at last
to him who waits;" you must have heard that often.'

Prince Vivien was wild with aggravation, but there was nothing to
be done.

'Come then,' said the old woman, 'you shall hold the lamp to light
me while I pick the peas.'

The Prince in his haste snatched it up so quickly that it went
out, and it took him a long time to light it again with two little
bits of glowing charcoal which he had to dig out from the pile of
ashes upon the hearth. However, at last the peas were gathered and
shelled, and the fire lighted, but then they had to be carefully
counted, since the old woman declared that she would cook fifty-
four, and no more. In vain did the Prince represent to her that he
was famished—that fifty-four peas would go no way towards
satisfying his hunger—that a few peas, more or less, surely could
not matter. It was quite useless, in the end he had to count out
the fifty-four, and worse than that, because he dropped one or two
in his hurry, he had to begin again from the very first, to be
sure the number was complete. As soon as they were cooked the old
dame took a pair of scales and a morsel of bread from the
cupboard, and was just about to divide it when Prince Vivien, who
really could wait no longer, seized the whole piece and ate it up,
saying in his turn, 'Patience.'

'You mean that for a joke,' said the old woman, as gently as ever,
'but that is really my name, and some day you will know more about
me.'

Then they each ate their twenty-seven peas, and the Prince was
surprised to find that he wanted nothing more, and he slept as
sweetly upon his bed of straw as he had ever done in his palace.