Fairy Tales for Young Readers (12 page)

“Oh, my White Cat!” he said, “my dear, own White Cat!”

“Strike!” she said, and raised her furry head. “Have faith, and strike!”

So he had faith, and struck, and the round head rolled on the floor. And still he had faith, and struck off the long white tail, and picked up the head and the tail and threw both into the fire, and the flames licked the white fur to brown.

“Oh, my own White Cat,” he said, “then this is the end of everything!” And the tears ran down his face so that he could not see.

But suddenly he felt kind arms round his neck, a soft face laid against his, and a voice spoke, and it was the voice of his own White Cat.

“My own Prince,” she said, “look at me, and see how beautiful I am!”

And he looked, and she was indeed as beautiful as any dream, tall and fair and strong—a splendid Princess.

“I was changed into a white cat,” she explained as well as she could, for his kisses and love-words, “by a wicked fairy, and doomed to keep that shape till some one loved me enough to trust me utterly. You have loved me enough for that, and we are going to be the happiest lovers in all the world.”

There seemed to be no doubt of that.

Next day they journeyed to the Court of the King, followed by a long and glorious train of noble ladies and gallant knights and stalwart men-at-arms, and the procession was like a magnificent ribbon laid across the green country, so long it was, and so bright with silk and velvet and with gold and jewels. For the stroke of Hyacinth's sword had freed from enchantment not only the White Cat herself, but all her Court, who had been enchanted with her.

Demetrius and Artemesius had found two lovely princesses, but their beauty paled as starlight before sunshine in the presence of the beauty of the White Cat Princess.

“Well, Hyacinth, my boy,” said the King, sighing heavily, “I suppose there's no getting out of it this time. I'm sure I hope you'll be very happy, my dears,” he added forlornly.

Then the White Cat Princess rose up from the silver throne that had hastily been wheeled forward for her by the King's orders, and kneeled in front of the King, and said:

“Please, your Majesty and dear father-in-law, keep your kingdom and go on governing it. You do do it so nicely. I have three kingdoms of my own. Hyacinth and I will take one of them, and the other two we will give to Demetrius
and Artemesius, as soon as your Majesty is satisfied that they have learned on their own estates the way to rule wisely.”

And she smiled so kindly and gently at the elder princes that they were not angry or ashamed at her words, only grateful for her splendid present. And the courtiers shouted till you could have heard them twenty miles off; and they cleared away the chairs and tables, and thrones, and carpets and things, and had a dance then and there, because every one was so happy.

“You know, my dear,” said the old King, mopping his forehead and putting his crown straight after leading off with the White Cat Princess in the first country dance, “you know I really
do
think it's best for me to go on being King. It's the only business I really understand, and I couldn't learn another trade so late in life, and I never could bear to be idle.”

“Exactly,” said she; “so now everybody's pleased.”

And, so beyond doubt, everybody was.

I
N A VERY small hut beside a very big forest there once lived a poor man whose only way of getting a living was to pick up sticks, tie them in bundles, and carry them to the town, where he sold them. He managed in this way to make just enough to keep himself and his wife, but not enough to keep his family. He had seven children, all boys, and none of them ever had quite enough to eat. The father's spirit had been broken by long poverty, or he would certainly have cut a purse on the high-road or robbed a till rather than do the dreadful thing which in the end he did. As for his wife, she must have been an idiot, or worse.

This poor man used to look at his children as they sat round the table eating at one meal the bread that would have kept him and his wife for three days, and by degrees the idea got into his head that if he could only get rid of his seven children he and his wife would have enough to eat, which at present they never did have. And one night when the children had gone to bed in the cock-loft that served for a dormitory, he leaned his elbows on the table, and his head in his hands, and said:

“Wife, our children are starving, and so are we. I can't bear to see them die of starvation—now don't contradict me, because I won't stand it. If you can bear it, I can't. Tomorrow I shall take them into the forest and lose them there. Perhaps some rich man may find them—such
things have happened. Anyway, you and I will get enough to eat when they are gone.”

“Never,” said his wife. “How can you dare to think of doing such a wicked thing? Take
me
out and lose
me
in the forest. I don't mind starving or being eaten by wolves, but I won't have it done to my babies, so I tell you.”

And she began to cry—very loudly, and very miserably.

“Hold your noise,” said the father, “and listen to me. If we keep the children here we shall starve together. But if I take them into the forest they're not at all certain to be eaten by wolves. The King might come riding by, and adopt the lot of them; or some richer woodcutter than I might take them as servants; or they might find a pot of gold. Anyhow, tomorrow morning I'm going to take them out and lose them; and if you dare to interfere I'll kill you first, and then I'll kill the children, and then I'll kill myself, and the matter will be settled once for all.”

So the mother, being, as I said, a very silly woman, said, “Very well, I see it's the best thing we can do.” And then they talked over their horrible plan for a while, and at last raked the ashes together, to keep the fire alive for next day, and went to bed.

Now someone had been listening at the key-hole, and this someone was Hop-o'-my-Thumb. He was the youngest of the seven children, and when he was born he was only as long as his father's thumb, so they gave him that name. And he was a very silent child, who hardly ever spoke, but he listened to everything. His brothers used to make fun of him, and call him “Silly Billy,” and he had to do most of the housework, that ought to have been done by all seven—share and share alike.

Now when Hop-o'-my-Thumb woke up and heard his mother crying he crept out of bed, and, as I said, he listened at the door, which is considered a very dishonourable thing to do, except in case of war. But I suppose if you happen to have a father and mother like that faggot-maker and his wife it is quite as dangerous as war, and you have to act accordingly.

Hop-o'-my-Thumb heard all their plans, and he thought and thought. Being such a silent child, he had had a good deal of practice in thinking, and he did it rather well. When he thought he had thought enough, he curled up in the ragged blanket and went to sleep.

Next morning the children went down to the brook to wash their hands and faces, and Hop-o'-my-Thumb filled all his pockets with small white stones from the brook's edge, and when his father said, “Come, children, let's go into the forest, and I'll show you how to set a snare for bears,” and all the children eagerly followed, Hop-o'-my-Thumb lagged behind, and every ten paces he dropped a white stone, so that the road should be marked by them, and he should be able to find his way back again. The father led them by ways they did not know, and he turned this way and he turned that way, till none of the boys knew even in which direction their home lay, much less the way to get to it.

Then this odd sort of father set the children to dig a pit to trap bears in, and when the poor little dears were working their hardest, and thinking how pleased he would be to see them so industrious, he just slipped away and left them, and went hurrying back to his wife, to tell her he had succeeded in losing their seven sons, and now there would be enough for father and mother to eat. I am glad the fathers and mothers that we have now are not like that.

When the seven children had dug as much as they could, they stopped digging—which was bound to hap-pen—and then they found that they were lost in the wood, or rather their father was lost, for they could not find him. And of course that came to the same thing. They all began to cry, except Hop-o'-my-Thumb; and little Robin, who was his mother's blue-eyed darling, cried more and louder than any of the others.

Then Hop-o'-my-Thumb put his legs very far apart, and stuck his hands on his hips, and looked as manly as he could, and “Cry-babies!” said he.

“Cry-baby yourself,” said his eldest brother.

“I'm not,” said Hop-o'-my-Thumb. “You just look at me. My face is as dry as a bone. For why? I know how to find the way home, and you don't. And if you call me names I'll go home by myself, and leave you here in the forest.
Cry-baby!
”

So saying, he turned and walked away; and the others followed him, because there seemed nothing else to do.

He led the way to the place where he had dropped the last of the white stones. “Now,” he said, “keep your eyes open, for by these white stones we shall find our way home. And keep your mouths shut when you get there, for we may have to do this little trick again.”

Now when the wood-cutter got back from the forest after getting rid of his children he was met at the door by a servant who had come on horseback from the King to pay eight crowns that had been owing for firewood. So now there was money to get things to eat, and he sent his wife down to the village to buy food. And she did; and when she had cooked supper they sat down to eat it; and it was not till they had satisfied their hunger that the mother began to cry because the children were not there to clear up the dish. The children by this time had found their way home, and were listening outside the door, and when they heard their mother say, “I wish the dear children were here to share this supper with us,” they rushed in, and their father and mother were really glad to see them.

But the eight silver crowns were presently spent, and the family as poor as ever. And again the father decided to lose the children, and again Hop-o'-my-Thumb overheard their cruel plans. He was not much troubled. He felt that he could get out of the forest as before, by laying a track of white pebbles. But he reckoned without that little sneak and mother's darling, Robin, who had told all about the pebbles; so that when Hop-o'-my-Thumb got up early to fill his pockets he found the door locked.

“Never mind,” he said to himself; “I won't eat my breakfast, and I'll crumble the bread—the crumbs will do instead of pebbles to mark the way home.”

But alas! when everything had happened as before, and when he started to lead his brothers proudly home, he could not do it. For the crumbs were gone. The birds had eaten them.

“Never mind,” said Hop-o'-my-Thumb; “let us just walk towards the sun. We shall get out of the wood some time, and we'll go to the first house we see and ask for a night's lodging. Perhaps they'll take us on as servants. I know how to work, and if the rest of you don't, you ought to.”

None of the others could think of any better plan, so they followed Hop-o'-my-Thumb towards the setting sun. And they walked, and they walked, and they walked, and they walked, and everyone was tired out, even the sun, which had gone to bed, before they came to a big house with spiky iron railings. A light shone through a round window over the porch, and there was a big knocker to the door—too high for them to reach. But the eldest boy made a back, and Hop-o'-my-Thumb got on it, and knocked loudly.

A kind-looking old lady opened the door.

“Sakes alive!” she said, looking down at the seven tired little boys. “What do
you
want at this time of night?”

Hop-o'-my-Thumb said, “A night's lodging and a bit of bread, your Majesty.”

The lady laughed a jolly laugh.

“Bless you,” she said, “I'm not the Queen! I'm Mrs. Gruffky, and my husband is an ogre, I am sorry to say, and eats little children. So you'd best be off the way you came, before he catches you. Go on to the next house. It's only four miles away.”

“We can't,” said Hop-o'-my-Thumb. “We're too tired to go on for forty yards, let alone four miles. Hide us for the night, good lady, and give us a crust, and we'll go on early in the morning.”

The other six began to cry, and the ogre's wife was so sorry for them that she said, “Well, come in, if you must. But don't blame me if anything goes wrong.”

With that she opened the door wide, and they followed her into the big warm kitchen, where a whole sheep was roasting before the fire for the ogre's supper. She let the children warm themselves, and gave them bread and hot dripping with salt on it, which is called sop-in-the-pan, and is much nicer than you would think.

They soon felt very comfortable and jolly, and quite forgot their tiredness and all their misfortunes. And then suddenly there was a great knocking at the door, and it was the ogre come home.

“Quick, quick! Hide! Here he comes!” whispered Mrs. Gruffky, and pushed the seven boys behind the red window-curtains.

“Is supper ready?” said the ogre; “and have you drawn my bucket of red wine?”

“Oh, yes,” said his wife, “it's all ready, and I'll dish up at once.”

Soon the whole sheep was smoking in a dish, and the ogre sat down to supper. But he had not eaten more than two or three of the joints when he began to sniff.

“What's this I smell?” he said. “Young flesh—live flesh—child's flesh?”

“Perhaps,” said his wife, “it is the sucking-pigs that are hanging in the dairy ready for your breakfast.”

“No, no, it's boys' flesh,” said the ogre; “you don't deceive me so easily.” He got up and looked about. The red curtains shook with the trembling of the children. The ogre saw the movement, pulled back the curtains, and caught up the boys, four in one hand and three in the other.