Mopsa the Fairy by Jean Ingelow (1820-1897) Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company, 1910.

MOPSA THE FAIRY
NINTH IMPRESSION

AND THEN JACK SAW THAT THE GUARDS WERE NOT REAL SOLDIERS, BUT ROSE-COLORED FLAMINGOES
Page 32

MOPSA
THE FAIRY

BY
JEAN INGELOW

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY
MARIA L. KIRK

PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1910
BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company
The Washington Square Press, Philadelphia, U. S. A.

DEDICATED
TO
MY DEAR LITTLE COUSIN
JANE HOLLWAY

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

I

ABOVE THE CLOUDS

BOY, whom I knew very well, was once going through a meadow, which was full of buttercups. The nurse and his baby sister were with him; and when they got to an old hawthorn, which grew in the hedge and was covered with blossom, they all sat down in its shade, and the nurse took out three slices of plum-cake, gave one to each of the children, and kept one for herself.

While the boy was eating, he observed that this hedge was very high and thick, and that there was a great hollow in the trunk of the old thorn-tree, and he heard a twittering, as if there was a nest somewhere inside; so he thrust his head in, twisted himself round, and looked up.

It was a very great thorn-tree, and the hollow was so large that two or three boys could have stood upright in it; and when he got used to the dim light in that brown, still place, he saw a good way above his head there was a nest,–rather a curious one, too, for it was as large as a pair of black-birds would have built,–and yet it was made of fine white wool and delicate bits of moss; in short, it was like a goldfinch's nest magnified three times.

Just then he thought he heard some little voices cry, "Jack! Jack!" His baby sister was asleep, and the nurse was reading a story-book, so it could not have been either of them who called. "I must get in here," said the boy. "I wish this hole was larger." So he began to wriggle and twist himself through, and just as he pulled in his last foot, he looked up, and three heads which had been peeping over the edge of the nest suddenly popped down again.

HE SNATCHED ONE OF THE FAIRIES OUT OF THE NEST

"Those heads had no beaks, I am sure," said Jack, and he stood on tiptoe and poked in one of his fingers. "And the things have no feathers," he continued; so, the hollow being rather rugged, he managed to climb up and look in.

His eyes were not used yet to the dim light; but he was sure those things were not birds,–no. He poked them, and they took no notice; but when he snatched one of them out of the nest, it gave a loud squeak, and said, "Oh, don't, Jack!" as plainly as possible, upon which he was so frightened that he lost his footing, dropped the thing, and slipped down himself. Luckily, he was not hurt, nor the thing either; he could see it quite plainly now: it was creeping about like rather an old baby, and had on a little frock and pinafore.

"It's a fairy!" exclaimed Jack to himself. "How curious! and this must be a fairy's nest. Oh, how angry the old mother will be if this little thing creeps away and gets out of the hole!" So he looked down. "Oh, the hole is on the other side," he said; and he turned round, but the hole was not on the other side; it was not on any side; it must have closed up all of a sudden, while he was looking into the nest, for, look whichever way he would, there was no hole at all, excepting a very little one high up over the nest, which let in a very small sunbeam.

Jack was very much astonished, but he went on eating his cake, and was so delighted to see the young fairy climb up the side of the hollow and scramble again into her nest, that he laughed heartily; upon which all the nestlings popped up their heads, and, showing their pretty white teeth, pointed at the slice of cake.

"Well," said Jack, "I may have to stay inside here for a long time, and I have nothing to eat but this cake; however, your mouths are very small, so you shall have a piece;" and he broke off a small piece, and put it into the nest, climbing up to see them eat it.

These young fairies were a long time dividing and munching the cake, and before they had finished, it began to be rather dark, for a black cloud came over and covered the little sunbeam. At the same time the wind rose, and rocked the boughs, and made the old tree creak and tremble. Then there was thunder and rain, and the little fairies were so frightened that they got out of the nest and crept into Jack's pockets. One got into each waistcoat pocket, and the other two were very comfortable, for he took out his handkerchief and made room for them in the pocket of his jacket.

It got darker and darker, till at last Jack could only just see the hole, and it seemed to be a very long way off. Every time he looked at it, it was farther off, and at last he saw a thin crescent moon shining through it.

"I am sure it cannot be night yet," he said; and he took out one of the fattest of the young fairies, and held it up towards the hole.

"Look at that," said he; "what is to be done now? the hole is so far off that it's night up there, and down here I haven't done eating my lunch."

"Well," answered the young fairy, "then why don't you whistle?"

Jack was surprised to hear her speak in this sensible manner, and in the light of the moon he looked at her very attentively.

"When first I saw you in the nest," said he, "you had a pinafore on, and now you have a smart little apron, with lace round it."

"That is because I am much older now," said the fairy; "we never take such a long time to grow up as you do."

"But your pinafore?" said Jack.

"Turned into an apron, of course," replied the fairy, "just as your velvet jacket will turn into a tail-coat when you are old enough."

"It won't," said Jack.

"Yes, it will," answered the fairy, with an air of superior wisdom. "Don't argue with me; I am older now than you are,–nearly grown up, in fact. Put me into your pocket again, and whistle as loudly as you can."

Jack laughed, put her in, and pulled out another.

"Worse and worse," he said; "why, this was a boy fairy, and now he has a mustache and a sword, and looks as fierce as possible!"

"I think I heard my sister tell you to whistle?" said this fairy very sternly.

"Yes, she did," said Jack. "Well, I suppose I had better do it." So he whistled very loudly indeed.

"Why did you leave off so soon?" said another of them, peeping out.

"Why, if you wish to know," answered Jack, "it was because I thought something took hold of my legs."

"Ridiculous child!" cried the last of the four, "how do you think you are ever to get out, if she doesn't take hold of your legs?"

Jack thought he would rather have done a long-division sum than have been obliged to whistle; but he could not help doing it when they told him, and he felt something take hold of his legs again, and then give him a jerk, which hoisted him on to its back, where he sat astride, and wondered whether the thing was a pony; but it was not, for he presently observed that it had a very slender neck, and then that it was covered with feathers. It was a large bird, and he presently found that they were rising towards the hole, which had become so very far off, and in a few minutes she dashed through the hole, with Jack on her back and all the fairies in his pockets.

It was so dark that he could see nothing, and he twined his arms round the bird's neck, to hold on, upon which this agreeable fowl told him not to be afraid, and said she hoped he was comfortable.

"I should be more comfortable," replied Jack, "if I knew how I could get home again. I don't wish to go home just yet, for I want to see where we are flying to, but papa and mamma will be frightened if I never do."

"Oh no," replied the albatross (for she was an albatross), "you need not be at all afraid about that. When boys go to Fairyland, their parents never are uneasy about them."

"Really?" exclaimed Jack.

"Quite true," replied the albatross.

"And so we are going to Fairyland?" exclaimed Jack; "how delightful!"

"Yes," said the albatross; "the back way, mind; we are only going the back way. You could go in two minutes by the usual route; but these young fairies want to go before they are summoned, and therefore you and I are taking them." And she continued to fly on in the dark sky for a very long time.

"They seem to be all fast asleep," said Jack.

"Perhaps they will sleep till we come to the wonderful river," replied the albatross; and just then she flew with a great bump against something that met her in the air.

"What craft is this that hangs out no light?" said a gruff voice.

"I might ask the same question of you," answered the albatross sullenly.

"I'm only a poor Will-o'-the-wisp," replied the voice, "and you know very well that I have but a lantern to show." Thereupon a lantern became visible, and Jack saw by the light of it a man, who looked old and tired, and he was so transparent that you could see through him, lantern and all.

"I hope I have not hurt you, William," said the albatross; " I will light up immediately. Good-night."

"Good-night," answered the Will-o'-the-wisp. "I am going down as fast as I can; the storm blew me up, and I am never easy excepting in my native swamps."

Jack might have taken more notice of Will, if the albatross had not begun to light up. She did it in this way: First, one of her eyes began to gleam with a beautiful green light, which cast its rays far and near, and then, when it was as bright as a lamp, the other eye began to shine, and the light of that eye was red. In short, she was lighted up just like a vessel at sea.

Jack was so happy that he hardly knew which to look at first, there really were so many remarkable things.

"They snore," said the albatross, "they are very fast asleep, and before they wake I should like to talk to you a little."

She meant that the fairies snored, and so they did, in Jack's pockets.

"My name," continued the albatross, "is Jenny. Do you think you shall remember that? because when you are in Fairyland and want some one to take you home again, call 'Jenny;' I shall be able to come to you, and I shall come with pleasure, for I like boys better than fairies."

"Thank you," said Jack. "Oh yes, I shall remember your name, it is such a very easy one."

"If it is in the night that you want me, just look up," continued the albatross, "and you will see a green and a red spark moving in the air; you will then call Jenny, and I will come; but remember that I cannot come unless you do call me."

"Very well," said Jack; but he was not attending, because there was so much to be seen.

In the first place, all the stars excepting a few large ones were gone, and they looked frightened; and as it got lighter, one after the other seemed to give a little start in the blue sky and go out. And then Jack looked down and saw, as he thought, a great country, covered with very jagged snow mountains with astonishingly sharp peaks. Here and there he saw a very deep lake,–at least he thought it was a lake; but while he was admiring the mountains, there came an enormous crack between two of the largest, and he saw the sun come rolling up among them, and it seemed to be almost smothered.

"Why, those are clouds!" exclaimed Jack; "and oh, how rosy they have all turned! I thought they were mountains."

"Yes, they are clouds," said the albatross; and then they turned gold color; and next they began to plunge and tumble, and every one of the peaks put on a glittering crown; and next they broke themselves to pieces, and began to drift away. In fact, Jack had been out all night, and now it was morning.

II

CAPTAIN JACK

"It has been our lot to sail with many captains, not one of whom is fit to be a patch on your back.–Letter of the Ship's Company of H. M. S. S. Royalist to Captain W. T. Bate.

LL this time the albatross kept dropping down and down like a stone, till Jack was quite out of breath, and they fell or flew, whichever you like to call it, straight through one of the great chasms which he had thought were lakes, and he looked down, as he sat on the bird's back, to see what the world is like when you hang a good way above it at sunrise.

It was a very beautiful sight; the sheep and lambs were still fast asleep on the green hills, and the sea-birds were asleep in long rows upon the ledges of the cliffs, with their heads under their wings.

"Are those young fairies awake yet?" asked the albatross.

"As sound asleep as ever," answered Jack; "but, Albatross, is not that the sea which lies under us? You are a sea-bird, I know, but I am not a sea boy, and I cannot live in the water."

"Yes, that is the sea," answered the albatross. "Don't you observe that it is covered with ships?"

"I see boats and vessels, "answered Jack, "and all their sails are set, but they cannot sail, because there is no wind."

"The wind never does blow in this great bay," said the bird; "and those ships would all lie there becalmed till they dropped to pieces if one of them was not wanted now and then to go up the wonderful river."

"But how did they come there?" asked Jack.

"Some of them had captains who ill-used their cabin-boys, some were pirate ships, and others were going out on evil errands. The consequence was, that when they chanced to sail within this great bay they got becalmed; the fairies came and picked all the sailors out and threw them into the water; they then took away the flags and pennons to make their best coats of, threw the ship-biscuits and other provisions to the fishes, and set all the sails. Many ships which are supposed by men to have foundered lie becalmed in this quiet sea. Look at those five grand ones with high prows; they are moored close together; they were part of the Spanish Armada: and those open boats with blue sails belonged to the Romans; they sailed with Caesar when he invaded Britain."

By this time the albatross was hovering about among the vessels, making choice of one to take Jack and the fairies up the wonderful river.

"It must not be a large one," she said, "for the river in some places is very shallow."

Jack would have liked very much to have a fine three-master, all to himself; but then he considered that he did not know anything about sails and rigging; he thought it would be just as well to be contented with whatever the albatross might choose, so he let her set him down in a beautiful little open boat, with a great carved figure-head to it. There he seated himself in great state, and the albatross perched herself on the next bench, and faced him.

"You remember my name?" asked the albatross.

"Oh yes," said Jack; but he was not attending,–he was thinking what a fine thing it was to have such a curious boat all to himself.

"That's well," answered the bird; "then, in the next place, are those fairies awake yet?"

"No, they are not," said Jack; and he took them out of his pockets, and laid them down in a row before the albatross.

"They are certainly asleep," said the bird. "Put them away again, and take great care of them. Mind you don't lose any of them, for I really don't know what will happen if you do. Now I have one thing more to say to you, and that is, are you hungry?"

"Rather," said Jack.

"Then," replied the albatross, "as soon as you feel very hungry, lie down in the bottom of the boat and go to sleep. You will dream that you see before you a roasted fowl, some new potatoes, and an apple-pie. Mind you don't eat too much in your dream, or you will be sorry for it when you wake. That is all. Good-by! I must go."

Jack put his arms round the neck of the bird, and hugged her; then she spread her magnificent wings and sailed slowly away. At first he felt very lonely, but in a few minutes he forgot that, because the little boat began to swim so fast.

She was not sailing, for she had no sails, and he was not rowing, for he had no oars; so I am obliged to call her motion swimming, because I don't know of a better word. In less than a quarter of an hour they passed close under the bows of a splendid three-decker, a seventy-gun ship. The gannets who live in those parts had taken possession of her, and she was so covered with nests that you could not have walked one step on her deck without treading on them. The father birds were aloft in the rigging, or swimming in the warm, green sea, and they made such a clamor when they saw Jack that they nearly woke the fairies,–nearly, but not quite, for the little things turned round in Jack's pockets, and sneezed, and began to snore again.

Then the boat swam past a fine brig. Some sea fairies had just flung her cargo overboard, and were playing at leap-frog on deck. These were not at all like Jack's own fairies; they were about the same height and size as himself, and they had brown faces, and red flannel skirts and red caps on. A large fleet of the pearly nautilus was collected close under the vessel's lee. The little creatures were feasting on what the sea fairies had thrown overboard, and Jack's boat, in its eagerness to get on, went plunging through them so roughly that several were capsized. Upon this the brown sea fairies looked over, and called out angrily, "Boat ahoy!" and the boat stopped.

"Tell that boat of yours to mind what she is about," said the fairy sea-captain to Jack.

Jack touched his hat, and said, "Yes, sir," and then called out to his boat, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, running down these little live fishing-vessels so carelessly. Go at a more gentle pace."

So it swam more slowly; and Jack, being by this time hungry, curled himself up in the bottom of the boat, and fell asleep.

He dreamt directly about a fowl and some potatoes, and he ate a wing, and then he ate a merry-thought, and then somebody said to him that he had better not eat any more, but he did,–he ate another wing; and presently an apple-pie came, and he ate some of that, and then he ate some more, and then he immediately woke.

"Now that bird told me not to eat too much," said Jack, "and yet I have done it. I never felt so full in my life;" and for more than half an hour he scarcely noticed anything.

At last he lifted up his head, and saw straight before him two great brown cliffs, and between them flowed in the wonderful river. Other rivers flow out, but this river flowed in, and took with it far into the land dolphins, sword-fish, mullet, sun-fish, and many other strange creatures; and that is one reason why it was called the magic river, or the wonderful river.

At first it was rather wide, and Jack was alarmed to see what multitudes of soldiers stood on either side to guard the banks, and prevent any person from landing.

He wondered how he should get the fairies on shore; However, in about an hour the river became much narrower, and then Jack saw that the guards were not real soldiers, but rose-colored flamingoes. There they stood, in long regiments, among the reeds, and never stirred. They are the only foot-soldiers the fairies have in their pay; they are very fierce, and never allow anything but a fairy ship to come up the river.

They guarded the banks for miles and miles, many thousands of them, standing a little way into the water among the flags and rushes; but at last there were no more reeds and no soldier guards, for the stream became narrower, and flowed between such steep rocks that no one could possibly have climbed them.

III

WINDING-UP TIME

ACK looked at these hot, brown rocks, first on the left bank and then on the right, till he was quite tired; but at last the shore on the right bank became flat, and he saw a beautiful little bay, where the water was still, and where grass grew down to the brink.

He was so much pleased at this change, that he cried out hastily, "Oh how I wish my boat would swim into that bay and let me land!" He had no sooner spoken than the boat altered her course, as if somebody had been steering her, and began to make for the bay as fast as she could go.

"How odd!" thought Jack. "I wonder whether I ought to have spoken; for the boat certainly did not intend to come into this bay. However, I think I will let her alone now, for I certainly do wish very much to land here."

As they drew towards the strand, the water got so shallow that you could see crabs and lobsters walking about at the bottom. At last the boat's keel grated on the pebbles; and just as Jack began to think of jumping on shore, he saw two little old women approaching, and gently driving a white horse before them.

The horse had panniers, one on each side; and when his feet were in the water he stood still; and Jack said to one of the old women: "Will you be so kind as to tell me whether this is Fairyland?"

"What does he say?" asked one old woman of the other.

"I asked if this was Fairyland," repeated Jack, for he thought the first old woman might have been deaf. She was very handsomely dressed in a red satin gown, and did not look in the least like a washer-woman, though it afterwards appeared that she was one.

"He says, 'Is this Fairyland?'" she replied; and the other, who had a blue satin cloak, answered, "Oh, does he?" and then they began to empty the panniers of many small blue, and pink, and scarlet shirts, and coats, and stockings; and when they had made them into two little heaps they knelt down and began to wash them in the river, taking no notice of him whatever.

Jack stared at them. They were not much taller than himself, and they were not taking the slightest care of their handsome clothes; then he looked at the old white horse, who was hanging his head over the lovely clear water with a very discontented air.

At last the blue washer-woman said, "I shall leave off now; I've got a pain in my works."

"Do," said the other. "We'll go home and have a cup of tea." Then she glanced at Jack, who was still sitting in the boat, and said, "Can you strike?"

"I can if I choose," replied Jack, a little astonished at this speech. And the red and blue washer-women wrung out the clothes, put them again into the panniers, and taking the old horse by the bridle, began gently to lead him away.

"I have a great mind to land," thought Jack. "I should not wonder at all if this is Fairyland. So as the boat came here to please me, I shall ask it to stay where it is, in case I should want it again."

So he sprang ashore, and said to the boat, "Stay just where you are, will you?" and he ran after the old women, calling to them,–

"Is there any law to prevent my coming into your country?"

"Wo!" cried the red-coated old woman, and the horse stopped, while the blue-coated woman repeated, "Any law? No, not that I know of; but if you are a stranger here you had better look out."

"Why?" asked Jack.

"You don't suppose, do you," she answered, "that our Queen will wind up strangers?"

While Jack was wondering what she meant, the other said,–

"I shouldn't wonder if he goes eight days. Gee!" and the horse went on.

"No, wo!" said the other.

"No, no. Gee! I tell you," cried the first.

Upon this, to Jack's intense astonishment, the old horse stopped, and said, speaking through his nose,–

"Now, then, which is it to be? I'm willing to gee, and I'm agreeable to wo; but what's a fellow to do when you say them both together?"

"Why, he talks!" exclaimed Jack.

"It's because he's got a cold in his head," observed one of the washer-women; "he always talks when he's got a cold, and there's no pleasing him; whatever you say, he's not satisfied. Gee, Boney, do!"

"Gee it is, then," said the horse, and began to jog on.

"He spoke again!" said Jack, upon which the horse laughed, and Jack was quite alarmed.

"It appears that your horses don't talk?" observed the blue-coated woman.

"Never," answered Jack; "they can't."

"You mean they won't," observed the old horse; and though he spoke the words of mankind, it was not in a voice like theirs. Still Jack felt that his was just the natural tone for a horse, and that it did not arise only from the length of his nose. "You'll find out some day, perhaps," he continued, "whether horses can talk or not."

"Shall I?" said Jack, very earnestly.

"They'll TELL," proceeded the white horse. "I wouldn't be you when they tell how you've used them."

"Have you been ill used?" said Jack, in an anxious tone.

"Yes, yes, of course he has," one of the women broke in; "but he has come here to get all right again. This is a very wholesome country for horses; isn't it, Boney?"

"Yes," said the horse.

"Well, then, jog on, there's a dear," continued the old woman. "Why, you will be young again soon, you know,–young, and gamesome, and handsome; you'll be quite a colt, by and by, and then we shall set you free to join your companions in the happy meadows."

The old horse was so comforted by this kind speech, that he pricked up his ears and quickened his pace considerably.

"He was shamefully used," observed one washer-woman. "Look at him, how lean he is! You can see all his ribs."

"Yes," said the other, as if apologizing for the poor old horse. "He gets low-spirited when he thinks of all he has gone through; but he is a vast deal better already than he was. He used to live in London; his master always carried a long whip to beat him with, and never spoke civilly to him."

"London!" exclaimed Jack; "why, that is in my country. How did the horse get here?"

"That's no business of yours," answered one of the women. "But I can tell you he came because he was wanted, which is more than you are."

"You let him alone," said the horse, in a querulous tone. "I don't bear any malice."

"No; he has a good disposition, has Boney," observed the red old woman. "Pray, are you a boy?"

"Yes," said Jack.

"A real boy, that wants no winding up?" inquired the old woman.

"I don't know what you mean," answered Jack; "but I am a real boy, certainly."

"Ah!" she replied. "Well, I thought you were, by the way Boney spoke to you. How frightened you must be! I wonder what will be done to all your people for driving, and working, and beating so many beautiful creatures to death every year that comes? They'll have to pay for it some day, you may depend."

Jack was a little alarmed, and answered that he had never been unkind himself to horses, and he was glad that Boney bore no malice.

"They worked him, and often drove him about all night in the miserable streets, and never let him have so much as a canter in a green field," said one of the women; "but he'll be all right now, only he has to begin at the wrong end."

"What do you mean?" said Jack.

"Why, in this country," answered the old woman, "they begin by being terribly old and stiff, and they seem miserable and jaded at first, but by degrees they get young again, as you heard me reminding him."

"Indeed," said Jack; "and do you like that?"

"It has nothing to do with me," she answered. "We are only here to take care of all the creatures that men have ill used. While they are sick and old, which they are when first they come to us,–after they are dead, you know,–we take care of them, and gradually bring them up to be young and happy again."

"This must be a very nice country to live in, then," said Jack.

"For horses it is," said the old lady significantly.

"Well," said Jack, "it does seem very full of haystacks, certainly, and all the air smells of fresh grass."

At this moment they came to a beautiful meadow, and the old horse stopped, and, turning to the blue-coated woman, said, "Faxa, I think I could fancy a handful of clover." Upon this Faxa snatched Jack's cap off his head, and in a very active manner jumped over a little ditch, and gathering some clover, presently brought it back full, handing it to the old horse with great civility.

"You shouldn't be in such a hurry," observed the old horse; "your weights will be running down some day, if you don't mind."

"It's all zeal," observed the red-coated woman.

Just then a little man, dressed like a groom, came running up out of breath. "Oh, here you are, Dow!" he exclaimed to the red-coated woman. "Come along, will you? Lady Betty wants you; it's such a hot day, and nobody, she says, can fan her so well as you can."

The red-coated woman, without a word, went off with the groom, and Jack thought he would go with them, for this Lady Betty could surely tell him whether the country was called Fairyland, or whether he must get into his boat and go farther. He did not like either to hear the way in which Faxa and Dow talked about their works and their weights; so he asked Faxa to give him his cap, which she did, and he heard a curious sort of little ticking noise as he came close to her, which startled him.

"Oh, this must be Fairyland, I am sure," thought Jack, "for in my country our pulses beat quite differently from that."

"Well," said Faxa, rather sharply, "do you find any fault with the way I go?"

"No," said Jack, a little ashamed of having listened. "I think you walk beautifully; your steps are so regular."

"She's machine-made," observed the old horse, in a melancholy voice, and with a deep sigh. "In the largest magnifying-glass you'll hardly find the least fault with her chain. She's not like the goods they turn out in Clerkenwell."

Jack was more and more startled, and so glad to get his cap and run after the groom and Dow to find Lady Betty, that he might be with ordinary human beings again; but when he got up to them, he found that Lady Betty was a beautiful brown mare! She was lying in a languid and rather affected attitude, with a load of fresh hay before her, and two attendants, one of whom stood holding a parasol over her head, and the other was fanning her.

"I'm so glad you are come, my good Dow," said the brown mare. "Don't you think I am strong enough to-day to set off for the happy meadows?"

"Well," said Dow, "I'm afraid not yet; you must remember that it is of no use your leaving us till you have quite got over the effects of the fall."

Just then Lady Betty observed Jack, and said, "Take that boy away; he reminds me of a jockey."

The attentive groom instantly started forward, but Jack was too nimble for him; he ran and ran with all his might, and only wished he had never left the boat. But still he heard the groom behind him; and in fact the groom caught him at last, and held him so fast that struggling was of no use at all.

"You young rascal!" he exclaimed, as he recovered breath. "How you do run! It's enough to break your mainspring."

"What harm did I do?" asked Jack. "I was only looking at the mare."

"Harm!" exclaimed the groom; "harm indeed! Why, you reminded her of a jockey. It's enough to hold her back, poor thing!–and we trying so hard, too, to make her forget what a cruel end she came to in the old world."

"You need not hold me so tightly," said Jack, "I shall not run away again; but," he added, "if this is Fairyland, it is not half such a nice country as I expected."

"Fairyland!" exclaimed the groom, stepping back with surprise. "Why, what made you think of such a thing? This is only one of the border countries, where things are set right again that people have caused to go wrong in the world. The world, you know, is what men and women call their own home."

"I know," said Jack; "and that's where I came from." Then, as the groom seemed no longer to be angry, he went on: "And I wish you would tell me about Lady Betty."

"She was a beautiful fleet creature, of the race-horse breed," said the groom; "and she won silver cups for her master, and then they made her run a steeple-case, which frightened her, but still she won it; and then they made her run another, and she cleared some terribly high hurdles, and many gates and ditches, till she came to an awful one, and at first she would not take it, but her rider spurred and beat her till she tried. It was beyond her powers, and she fell and broke both her forelegs. Then they shot her. After she had died that miserable death, we had her here to make her all right again."

"Is this the only country where you set things right?" asked Jack.

"Certainly not," answered the groom; "they lie about in all directions. Why, you might wander for years, and never come to the end of this one."

"I am afraid I shall not find the one I am looking for," said Jack, "if your countries are so large."

"I don't think our world is much larger than yours," answered the groom. "But come along; I hear the bell, and we are a good way from the palace."

Jack, in fact, heard the violent ringing of a bell at some distance; and when the groom began to run, he ran beside him, for he thought he should like to see the palace. As they ran, people gathered from all sides,–fields, cottages, mills,–till at last there was a little crowd, among whom Jack saw Dow and Faxa, and they were all making for a large house, the wide door of which was standing open. Jack stood with the crowd, and peeped in. There was a woman sitting inside upon a rocking-chair,–a tall, large woman, with a gold-colored gown on,–and beside her stood a table, covered with things that looked like keys.

"What is that woman doing?" said he to Faxa, who was standing close to him.

"Winding us up, to be sure," answered Faxa. "You don't suppose, surely, that we can go forever?"

"Extraordinary!" said Jack. "Then are you wound up every evening, like watches?"

"Unless we have misbehaved ourselves," she answered; "and then she lets us run down."

"And what then?"

"What then?" repeated Faxa, "why, then we have to stop and stand against a wall, till she is pleased to forgive us, and let our friends carry us in to be set going again."

Jack looked in, and saw the people pass in and stand close by the woman. One after the other she took by the chin with her left hand, and with her right hand found a key that pleased her. It seemed to Jack that there was a tiny key-hole in the back of their heads, and that she put the key in and wound them up.

"You must take your turn with the others," said the groom.

"There's no key-hole in my head," said Jack; "besides, I do not want any woman to wind me up."

"But you must do as others do," he persisted; "and if you have no key-hole, our Queen can easily have one made, I should think."

"Make one in my head!" exclaimed Jack. "She shall do no such thing."

"We shall see," said Faxa quietly. And Jack was so frightened that he set off, and ran back towards the river with all his might. Many of the people called to him to stop, but they could not run after him, because they wanted winding up. However, they would certainly have caught him if he had not been very quick, for before he got to the river he heard behind him the footsteps of those who had been first attended to by the Queen, and he had only just time to spring into the boat when they reached the edge of the water.

No sooner was he on board than the boat swung round, and got out again into the middle of the stream; but he could not feel safe till not only was there a long reach of water between him and the shore, but till he had gone so far down the river that the beautiful bay had passed out of sight, and the sun was going down. By this time he began to feel very tired and sleepy; so, having looked at his fairies, and found that they were all safe and fast asleep, he lay down in the bottom of the boat, and fell into a doze, and then into a dream.

IV

BEES AND OTHER FELLOW-CREATURES

HEN Jack at length opened his eyes, he found that it was night, for the full moon was shining; but it was not at all a dark night, for he could see distinctly some black birds that looked like ravens. They were sitting in a row on the edge of the boat.

Now that he had fairies in his pockets, he could understand bird-talk, and he heard one of these ravens saying, "There is no meat so tender; 1 wish I could pick their little eyes out."

"Yes," said another, "fairies are delicate eating indeed. We must speak Jack fair if we want to get at them." And she heaved up a deep sigh.

Jack lay still, and thought he had better pretend to be asleep; but they soon noticed that his eyes were open, and one of them presently walked up his leg and bowed, and asked if he was hungry.

Jack said, "No."

"No more am I," replied the raven; "not at all hungry." Then she hopped off his leg, and Jack sat up.

"And how are the sweet fairies that my young master is taking to their home?" asked another of the ravens. "I hope they are safe in my young master's pockets?"

Jack felt in his pockets. Yes, they were all safe; but he did not take any of them out, lest the ravens should snatch at them.

"Eh?" continued the raven, pretending to listen; "did this dear young gentleman say that the fairies were asleep?"

"It doesn't amuse me to talk about fairies," said Jack; "but if you would explain some of the things in this country that I cannot make out, I should be very glad."

"What things?" asked the blackest of the ravens.

"Why," said Jack, "I see a full moon lying down there among the water-flags, and just going to set, and there is a half-moon overhead plunging among those great gray clouds, and just this moment I saw a thin crescent moon peeping out between the branches of that tree."

"Well," said all the ravens at once, "did the young master never see a crescent moon in the men and women's world?"

"Oh yes," said Jack.

"Did he never see a full moon ?" asked the ravens.

"Yes, of course," said Jack; "but they are the same moon. I could never see all three of them at the same time."

The ravens were very much surprised at this, and one of them said,–

"If my young master did not see the moons it must have been because he didn't look. Perhaps my young master slept in a room, and had only one window; if so, he couldn't see all the sky at once."

"I tell you, Raven," said Jack laughing, "that I KNOW there is never more than one moon in my country, and sometimes there is no moon at all!"

Upon this all the ravens hung down their heads, and looked very much ashamed; for there is nothing that birds hate so much as to be laughed at, and they believed that Jack was saying this to mock them, and that he knew what they had come for. So first one and then another hopped to the other end of the boat and flew away, till at last there was only one left, and she appeared to be out of spirits, and did not speak again till he spoke to her.

"Raven," said Jack, "there's something very cold and slippery lying at the bottom of the boat. I touched it just now, and I don't like it at all."

"It's a water-snake," said the raven; and she stooped and picked up a long thing with her beak, which she threw out, and then looked over. "The water swarms with them, wicked, murderous creatures; they smell the young fairies, and they want to eat them."

Jack was so thrown off his guard that he snatched one fairy out, just to make sure that it was safe. It was the one with the mustache; and, alas! in one instant the raven flew at it, got it out of his hand, and pecked off its head before it had time to wake or Jack to rescue it. Then, as she slowly rose, she croaked, and said to Jack, "You'll catch it for this my young master!" and she flew to the bough of a tree, where she finished eating the fairy and threw his little empty coat into the river.

On this Jack began to cry bitterly, and to think what a foolish boy he had been. He was the more sorry because he did not even know that poor little fellow's name. But he had heard the others calling by name to their companions, and very grand names they were too. One was Jovinian,–he was a very fierce-looking gentleman; the other two were Roxaletta and Mopsa.

Presently, however, Jack forgot to be unhappy, for two of the moons went down, and then the sun rose, and he was delighted to find that however many moons there might be, there was only one sun, even in the country of the wonderful river.

So on and on they went; but the river was very wide, and the waves were boisterous. On the right brink was a thick forest of trees, with such heavy foliage that a little way off they looked like a bank, green, and smooth, and steep; but as the light became clearer, Jack could see here and there the great stems, and see creatures like foxes, wild boars, and deer, come stealing down to drink in the river.

It was very hot here; not at all like the spring weather he had left behind. And as the low sunbeams shone into Jack's face he said hastily, without thinking of what would occur, "I wish I might land among those lovely glades on the left bank."

No sooner said than the boat began to make for the left bank, and the nearer they got towards it the more beautiful it became; but also the more stormy were the reaches of water they had to traverse.

A lovely country indeed! It sloped gently down to the water's edge, and beautiful trees were scattered over it, soft, mossy grass grew everywhere, great old laburnum trees stretched their boughs down in patches over the water, and higher up camellias, almost as large as hawthorns, grew together and mingled their red and white flowers.

The country was not so open as a park,–it was more like a half-cleared woodland; but there was a wide space just where the boat was steering for that had no trees, only a few flowering shrubs. Here groups of strange-looking people were bustling about, and there were shrill fifes sounding, and drums.

Farther back he saw rows of booths or tents under the shade of the trees.

In another place some people dressed like gypsies had made fires of sticks just at the skirts of the woodland, and were boiling their pots. Some of these had very gaudy tilted carts, hung all over with goods, such as baskets, brushes, mats, little glasses, pottery, and beads.

It seemed to be a kind of fair, to which people had gathered from all parts; but there was not one house to be seen. All the goods were either hung upon trees or collected in strange-looking tents.

The people were not all of the same race; indeed, he thought the only human beings were the gypsies, for the folks who had tents were no taller than himself.

How hot it was that morning! and as the boat pushed itself into a little creek, and made its way among the beds of yellow and purple iris which skirted the brink, what a crowd of dragon-flies and large butterflies rose from them!

"Stay where you are!" cried Jack to the boat; and at that instant such a splendid moth rose slowly, that he sprang on shore after it, and quite forgot the fair and the people in his desire to follow it.

The moth settled on a great red honey-flower, and he stole up to look at it. As large as a swallow, it floated on before him. Its wings were nearly black, and they had spots of gold on them.

When it rose again Jack ran after it, till he found himself close to the rows of tents where the brown people stood; and they began to cry out to him, "What'll you buy? what'll you buy, sir?" and they crowded about him, so that he soon lost sight of the moth, and forgot everything else in his surprise at the booths.

They were full of splendid things,–clocks and musical boxes, strange china ornaments, embroidered slippers, red caps, and many kinds of splendid silks and small carpets. In other booths were swords and dirks, glittering with jewels; and the chatter of the people when they talked together was not in a language that Jack could understand.

Some of the booths were square, and evidently made of common canvas, for when you went into them, and the sun shone, you could distinctly see the threads.

But scattered a little farther on in groups were some round tents, which were far more curious. They were open on all sides, and consisted only of a thick canopy overhead, which was supported by one beautiful round pillar in the middle.

Outside, the canopy was white or brownish; but when Jack stood under these tents, he saw that they were lined with splendid flutings of brown or pink silk: what looked like silk, at least, for it was impossible to be sure whether these were real tents or gigantic mushrooms.

They varied in size, also, as mushrooms do, and in shape: some were large enough for twenty people to stand under them, and had flat tops with a brown lining; others had dome-shaped roofs; these were lined with pink, and would only shelter six or seven.

The people who sold in these tents were as strange as their neighbors; each had a little high cap on his head, in shape just like a beehive, and it was made of straw, and had a little hole in front. In fact, Jack very soon saw bees flying in and out, and it was evident that these people had their honey made on the premises. They were chiefly selling country produce. They had cheeses so large as to reach to their waists, and the women trundled them along as boys do their hoops. They sold a great many kinds of seed, too, in wooden bowls, and cakes and good things to eat, such as gilt gingerbread. Jack bought some of this, and found it very nice indeed. But when he took out his money to pay for it, the little man looked rather strangely at it, and turned it over with an air of disgust. Then Jack saw him hand it to his wife, who also seemed to dislike it; and presently Jack observed that they followed him about, first on one side, then on the other. At last, the little woman slipped her hand into his pocket, and Jack, putting his hand in directly, found his sixpence had been returned.

JACK BOUGHT SOME OF THIS AND FOUND IT TO BE VERY NICE INDEED

"Why, you've given me back my money!" he said.

The little woman put her hands behind her. "I do not like it," she said; "it's dirty; at least, it's not new."

"No, it's not new," said Jack, a good deal surprised, "but it is a good sixpence."

"The bees don't like it," continued the little woman. "They like things to be neat and new, and that sixpence is bent."

"What shall I give you then?" said Jack.

The good little woman laughed and blushed.

"This young gentleman has a beautiful whistle round his neck," she observed, politely, but did not ask for it.

Jack had a dog-whistle, so he took it off and gave it to her.

"Thank you for the bees," she said. "They love to be called home when we've collected flowers for them."

So she made a pretty little courtesy, and went away to other customers.

There were some very strange creatures also, about the same height as Jack, who had no tents, and seemed there to buy, not to sell. Yet they looked poorer than the other folks, and they were also very cross and discontented; nothing pleased them. Their clothes were made of moss, and their mantles of feathers; and they talked in a queer whistling tone of voice, and carried their skinny little children on their backs and on their shoulders.

They were treated with great respect by the people in the tents; and when Jack asked his friend to whom he had given the whistle what they were, and where they got so much money as they had, she replied that they lived over the hills, and were afraid to come in their best clothes. They were rich and powerful at home, and they came shabbily dressed, and behaved humbly, lest their enemies should envy them. It was very dangerous, she said, to fairies to be envied.

Jack wanted to listen to their strange whistling talk, but he could not for the noise and cheerful chattering of the brown folks, and more still for the screaming and talking of parrots.

Among the goods were hundreds of splendid gilt cages, which were hung by long gold chains from the trees. Each cage contained a parrot and his mate, and they all seemed to be very unhappy indeed.

The parrots could talk, and they kept screaming to the discontented women to buy things for them, and trying very hard to attract attention.

One old parrot made himself quite conspicuous by these efforts. He flung himself against the wires of his cage, he squalled, he screamed, he knocked the floor with his beak, till Jack and one of the customers came running up to see what was the matter.

"What do you make such a fuss for?" cried the discontented woman. "You've set your cage swinging with knocking yourself about; and what good does that do? I cannot break the spell and open it for you."

"I know that," answered the parrot, sobbing; "but it hurts my feelings so that you should take no notice of me now that I have come down in the world."

"Yes," said the parrot's mate, "It hurts our feelings."

"I haven't forgotten you," answered the woman, more crossly than ever; "I was buying a measure of maize for you when you began to make such a noise."

Jack thought this was the queerest conversation he had ever heard in his life; and he was still more surprised when the bird answered,–

"I would much rather you would buy me a pocket-handkerchief. Here we are, shut up, without a chance of getting out, and with nobody to pity us; and we can't even have the comfort of crying, because we've got nothing to wipe our eyes with."

"But at least," replied the woman, "you CAN cry now if you please, and when you had your other face you could not."

"Buy me a handkerchief," sobbed the parrot.

"I can't afford both," whined the cross woman, "and I've paid now for the maize." So saying, she went back to the tent to fetch her present to the parrots; and as their cage was still swinging Jack put out his hand to steady it for them, and the instant he did so they became perfectly silent, and all the other parrots on that tree, who had been flinging themselves about in their cages, left off screaming, and became silent too.

The old parrot looked very cunning. His cage hung by such a long gold chain that it was just on a level with Jack's face, and so many odd things had happened that day that it did not seem more odd than usual to hear him say, in a tone of great astonishment,–

"It's a boy, if ever there was one!"

"Yes," said Jack; "I'm a boy."

"You won't go yet, will you?" said the parrot.

"No, don't," said a great many other parrots. Jack agreed to stay a little while, upon which they all thanked him.

"I had no notion you were a boy till you touched my cage," said the old parrot.

Jack did not know how this could have told him, so he only answered, "Indeed!"

"I'm a fairy," observed the parrot, in a confidential tone. "We are imprisoned here by our enemies the gypsies."

"So we are," answered a chorus of other parrots.

"I'm sorry for that," replied Jack. "I'm friends with the fairies."

"Don't tell," said the parrot, drawing a film over his eyes, and pretending to be asleep. At that moment his friend in the moss petticoat and feather cloak came up with a little measure of maize, and poured it into the cage.

"Here, neighbor," she said; "I must say good-by now, for the gypsy is coming this way, and I want to buy some of her goods."

"Well, thank you," answered the parrot, sobbing again; "but I could have wished it had been a pocket-handkerchief."

"I'll lend you my handkerchief," said Jack. "Here!" And he drew it out, and pushed it between the wires.

The parrot and his wife were in a great hurry to get Jack's handkerchief. They pulled it in very hastily; but instead of using it they rolled it up into a ball, and the parrot-wife tucked it under her wing.

"It makes me tremble all over," said she, "to think of such good luck."

"I say," observed the parrot to Jack, "I know all about it now. You've got some of my people in your pockets,–not of my own tribe, but fairies."

By this Jack was sure that the parrot really was a fairy himself, and he listened to what he had to say the more attentively.

V

THE PARROT IN HIS SHAWL

HAT gypsy woman who is coming with her cart," said the parrot, "is a fairy too, and very malicious. It was she and others of her tribe who caught us and put us into these cages, for they are more powerful than we. Mind you do not let her allure you into the woods, nor wheedle you or frighten you into giving her any of those fairies."

"No," said Jack; "I will not."

"She sold us to the brown people," continued the parrot. "Mind you do not buy anything of her, for your money in her palm would act as a charm against you."

"She has a baby," observed the parrot-wife, scornfully.

"Yes, a baby," repeated the old parrot; "and I hope by means of that baby to get her driven away, and perhaps get free myself. I shall try to put her in a passion. Here she comes."

There she was indeed, almost close at hand. She had a little cart; her goods were hung all about it, and a small horse drew it slowly on, and stopped when she got a customer.

Several gypsy children were with her, and as the people came running together over the grass to see her goods, she sang a curious kind of song, which made them wish to buy them.

Jack turned from the parrot's cage as she came up. He had heard her singing a little way off, and now, before she began again, he felt that already her searching eyes had found him out, and taken notice that he was different from the other people.

When she began to sing her selling song, he felt a most curious sensation. He felt as if there were some cobwebs before his face, and he put up his hand as if to clear them away. There were no real cobwebs, of course; and yet he again felt as if they floated from the gypsy woman to him, like gossamer threads, and attracted him towards her. So he gazed at her, and she at him, till Jack began to forget how the parrot had warned him.

He saw her baby too, wondered whether it was heavy for her to carry, and wished he could help her. I mean, he saw that she had a baby on her arm. It was wrapped in a shawl, and had a handkerchief over its face. She seemed very fond of it, for she kept hushing it; and Jack softly moved nearer and nearer to the cart, till the gypsy woman smiled, and suddenly began to sing,–

My good man–he's an old, old man
  And my good man got a fall,
To buy me a bargain so fast he ran
  When he heard the gypsies call:
     "Buy, buy brushes,
      Baskets wrought o' rushes;
      Buy them, buy them, take them, try them,
          Buy, dames all."

My old man, he has money and land
  And a young, young wife am I.
Let him put the penny in my white hand
  When he hears the gypsies cry:
     "Buy, buy laces,
      Veils to screen your faces;
      Buy them, buy them, take and try them,
          Buy, maids, buy."

When the gypsy had finished her song, Jack felt as if he were covered all over with cobwebs; but he could not move away and he did not mind them now. All his wish was to please her, and get close to her; so when she said, in a soft, wheedling voice, "What will you please to buy, my pretty gentleman?" he was just going to answer that he would buy anything she recommended, when, to his astonishment and displeasure, for he thought it very rude, the parrot suddenly burst into a violent fit of coughing, which made all the customers stare. "That's to clear my throat," he said, in a most impertinent tone of voice; and then he began to beat time with his foot, and sing, or rather scream out, an extremely saucy imitation of the gypsy's song, and all his parrot friends in the other cages joined in the chorus.

My fair lady's a dear, dear lady–
  I walked by her side to woo,
In a garden alley, so sweet and shady,
  She answered, "I love not you,
      John, John Brady,"
      Quoth my dear lady,
"Pray now, pray now, go your way now,
      Do, John, do!"

At first the gypsy did not seem to know where that mocking song came from, but when she discovered that it was her prisoner, the old parrot, who was thus daring to imitate her, she stood silent and glared at him, and her face was almost white with rage.

When he came to the end of the verse he pretended to burst into a violent fit of sobbing and crying, and screeched out to his wife, "Mate! mate! hand up my handkerchief. Oh! oh! it's so affecting, this song is."

Upon this the other parrot pulled Jack's handkerchief from under her wing, hobbled up, and began, with a great show of zeal, to wipe his horny beak with it. But this was too much for the gypsy; she took a large brush from her cart, and flung it at the cage with all her might.

This set it violently swinging backwards and forwards, but did not stop the parrot, who screeched out, "How delightful it is to be swung!" And then he began to sing another verse in the most impudent tone possible, and with a voice that seemed to ring through Jack's head, and almost pierce it:–

Yet my fair lady's my own, own lady,
  For I passed another day;
While making her moan, she sat all alone,
  And thus and thus did she say:
     "John, John Brady,"
      Quoth my dear lady,
"Do now, do now, once more woo now,
      Pray John pray!"

"It's beautiful!" screeched the parrot-wife, "and so ap-pro-pri-ate." Jack was delighted when she managed slowly to say this long word with her black tongue, and he burst out laughing. In the mean time a good many of the brown people came running together, attracted by the noise of the parrot and the rage of the gypsy, who flung at his cage, one after the other, all the largest things she had in her cart. But nothing did the parrot any harm; the more violently his cage swung, the louder he sang, till at last the wicked gypsy seized her poor little young baby, who was lying in her arms, rushed frantically at the cage as it flew swiftly through the air towards her, and struck at it with the little creature's head. "Oh, you cruel, cruel woman!" cried Jack, and all the small mothers who were standing near with their skinny children on their shoulders, screamed out with terror and indignation; but only for one instant, for the handkerchief flew off that had covered its face, and was caught in the wires of the cage, and all the people saw that it was not a real baby at all, but a bundle of clothes, and its head was a turnip.

Yes, a turnip! You could see that as plainly as possible, for though the green leaves had been cut off, their stalks were visible through the lace cap that had been tied on it.

Upon this all the crowd pressed closer, throwing baskets, and brushes, and laces, and beads at the gypsy, and calling out, "We will have none of your goods, you false woman! Give us back our money, or we will drive you out of the fair. You've stuck a stick into a turnip, and dressed it up in baby clothes. You're a cheat! a cheat!"

"My sweet gentlemen, my kind ladies," began the gypsy; but baskets and brushes flew at her so fast that she was obliged to sit down on the grass and hold up the sham baby to screen her face.

While this was going on, Jack felt that the cobwebs which had seemed to float about his face were all gone; he did not care at all any more about the gypsy, and began to watch the parrots with great attention.

He observed that when the handkerchief stuck between the cage wires, the parrots caught it, and drew it inside; and then Jack saw the cunning old bird himself lay it on the floor, fold it crosswise like a shawl, and put it on his wife.

Then she jumped upon the perch, and held it with one foot, looking precisely like an old lady with a parrot's head. Then he folded Jack's handkerchief in the same way, put it on, and got upon the perch beside his wife, screaming out, in his most piercing tone,–

"I like shawls; they're so becoming."

Now the gypsy did not care at all what those inferior people thought of her, and she was calmly counting out their money, to return it; but she was very desirous to make Jack forget her behavior, and had begun to smile again, and tell him she had only been joking, when the parrot spoke, and, looking up, she saw the two birds sitting side by side, and the parrot-wife was screaming in her mate's ear, though neither of them was at all deaf,–

"If Jack lets her allure him into the woods, he'll never come out again. She'll hang him up in a cage, as she did us. I say, how does my shawl fit?"

So saying, the parrot-wife whisked herself round on the perch, and lo! in the corner of the handkerchief were seen some curious letters, marked in red. When the crowd saw these, they drew a little farther off, and glanced at one another with alarm.

"You look charming, my dear; it fits well!" screamed the old parrot in answer. "A word in your ear: 'Share and share alike' is a fine motto."

"What do you mean by all this?" said the gypsy, rising, and going with slow steps to the cage, and speaking cautiously.

"Jack," said the parrot, "do they ever eat handkerchiefs in your part of the country?"

"No, never," answered Jack.

"Hold your tongue and be reasonable," said the gypsy, trembling. "What do you want? I'll do it, whatever it is."

"But do they never pick out the marks?" continued the parrot. "Oh, Jack! are you sure they never pick out the marks?"

"The marks?" said Jack, considering. "Yes, perhaps they do."

"Stop!" cried the gypsy, as the old parrot made a peck at the strange letters. "Oh! you're hurting me. What do you want? I say again, tell me what you want, and you shall have it."

"We want to get out," replied the parrot; "you must undo the spell."

"Then give me my handkerchief," answered the gypsy, "to bandage my eyes. I dare not say the words with my eyes open. You had no business to steal it. It was woven by human hands, so that nobody can see through it; and if you don't give it to me, you'll never get out,–no, never!"

"Then," said the old parrot, tossing his shawl off, "you may have Jack's handkerchief; it will bandage your eyes just as well. It was woven over the waters, as yours was."

"It won't do!" cried the gypsy, in terror; "give me my own."

"I tell you," answered the parrot, "that you shall have Jack's handkerchief; you can do no harm with that."

By this time the parrots all around had become perfectly silent, and none of the people ventured to say a word, for they feared the malice of the gypsy. She was trembling dreadfully, and her dark eyes, which had been so bright and piercing, had become dull and almost dim; but when she found there was no help for it, she said,–

"Well, pass out Jack's handkerchief. I will set you free if you will bring out mine with you."

"Share and share alike," answered the parrot; "you must let all my friends out too."

"Then I won't let you out," answered the gypsy. "You shall come out first, and give me my handkerchief, or not one of their cages will I undo. So take your choice."

"My friends, then," answered the brave old parrot; and he poked Jack's handkerchief out to her through the wires.

The wondering crowd stood by to look, and the gypsy bandaged her eyes tightly with the handkerchief; and then, stooping low, she began to murmur something and clap her hands–softly at first, but by degrees more and more violently. The noise was meant to drown the words she muttered; but as she went on clapping, the bottom of cage after cage fell clattering down. Out flew the parrots by hundreds, screaming and congratulating one another; and there was such a deafening din that not only the sound of her spell, but the clapping of her hands, was quite lost in it.

But all this time Jack was very busy; for the moment the gypsy had tied up her eyes, the old parrot snatched the real handkerchief off his wife's shoulders, and tied it round her neck. Then she pushed out her head through the wires, and the old parrot called to Jack, and said, "Pull!"

Jack took the ends of the handkerchief, pulled terribly hard, and stopped. "Go on! go on!" screamed the old parrot.

"I shall pull her head off," cried Jack.

"No matter," cried the parrot; "no matter,–only pull."

Well, Jack did pull, and he actually did pull her head off! nearly tumbling backward himself as he did it; but he saw what the whole thing meant then, for there was another head inside,–a fairy's head.

Jack flung down the old parrot's head and great beak, for he saw that what he had to do was to clear the fairy of its parrot covering. The poor little creature seemed nearly dead, it was so terribly squeezed in the wires. It had a green gown or robe on, with an ermine collar; and Jack got hold of this dress, stripped the fairy out of the parrot feathers, and dragged her through,–velvet robe, and crimson girdle, and little yellow shoes. She was very much exhausted, but a kind brown woman took her instantly, and laid her in her bosom. She was a splendid little creature, about half a foot long.

"NO MATTER," CRIED THE PARROT, "NO MATTER, ONLY PULL."

"There's a brave boy!" cried the parrot. Jack glanced round, and saw that not all the parrots were free yet, the gypsy was still muttering her spell.

He returned the handkerchief to the parrot, who put it round his own neck, and again Jack pulled. But oh! what a tough old parrot that was, and how Jack tugged before his cunning head would come off! It did, however, at last; and just as a fine fairy pulled through, leaving his parrot skin and the handkerchief behind him, the gypsy untied her eyes, and saw what Jack had done.

"Give me my handkerchief!" she screamed in despair.

"It's in the cage, gypsy," answered Jack; "you can get it yourself. Say your words again."

But the gypsy's spell would only open places where she had confined fairies, and no fairies were in the cage now.

"No, no, no!" she screamed; "too late! Hide me! Oh, good people, hide me!"

But it was indeed too late. The parrots had been wheeling in the air, hundreds and hundreds of them, high above her head; and as she ceased speaking, she fell shuddering on the ground, drew her cloak over her face, and down they came, swooping in one immense flock, and settled so thickly all over her that she was completely covered; from her shoes to her head not an atom of her was to be seen.

All the people stood gravely looking on. So did Jack, but he could not see much for the fluttering of the parrots, nor hear anything for their screaming voices; but at last he made one of the cross people hear when he shouted to her, "What are they going to do to the poor gypsy?"

"Make her take her other form," she replied; "and then she cannot hurt us while she stays in our country. She is a fairy, as we have just found out, and all fairies have two forms."

"Oh!" said Jack; but he had no time for more questions.

The screaming and fighting and tossing about of little bits of cloth and cotton ceased; a black lump heaved itself up from the ground among the parrots; and as they flew aside, an ugly great condor, with a bare neck, spread out its wings, and, skimming the ground, sailed slowly away.

"They have pecked her so that she can hardly rise," exclaimed the parrot fairy. "Set me on your shoulder, Jack, and let me see the end of it."

Jack set him there; and his little wife, who had recovered herself, sprang from her friend the brown woman, and sat on the other shoulder. He then ran on,–the tribe of brown people and mushroom people, and the feather-coated folks running too,–after the great black bird, who skimmed slowly on before them till she got to the gypsy carts, when out rushed the gypsies, armed with poles, milking-stools, spades, and everything they could get hold of to beat back the people and the parrots from hunting their relation, who had folded her tired wings, and was skulking under a cart, with ruffled feathers and a scowling eye.

Jack was so frightened at the violent way in which the gypsies and the other tribes were knocking each other about, that he ran off, thinking he had seen enough of such a dangerous country.

As he passed the place where that evil-minded gypsy had been changed, he found the ground strewed with little bits of her clothes. Many parrots were picking them up, and poking them into the cage where the handkerchief was; and presently another parrot came with a lighted brand, which she had pulled from one of the gypsies' fires.

"That's right," said the fairy on Jack's shoulder, when he saw his friend push the brand between the wires of what had been his cage, and set the gypsy's handkerchief on fire, and all the bits of her clothes with it. "She won't find much of herself here," he observed, as Jack went on. "It will not be very easy to put herself together again."

So Jack moved away. He was tired of the noise and confusion; and the sun was just setting as he reached the little creek where his boat lay.

Then the parrot fairy and his wife sprang down, and kissed their hands to him as he stepped on board and pushed the boat off. He saw, when he looked back, that a great fight was still going on; so he was glad to get away, and he wished his two friends good-by, and set off, the old parrot fairly calling after him, "My relations have put some of our favorite food on board for you." Then they again thanked him for his good help, and sprang into a tree, and the boat began to go down the wonderful river.

"This has been a most extraordinary day," thought Jack; "the strangest day I have had yet." And after he had eaten a good supper of what the parrots had brought, he felt so tired and sleepy that he lay down in the boat, and presently fell fast asleep. His fairies were sound asleep too in his pockets, and nothing happened of the least consequence; so he slept comfortably till morning.

VI

THE TOWN WITH NOBODY IN IT

OON after sunrise they came to a great city, and it was perfectly still. There were grand towers and terraces, wharves, too, and a large market, but there was nobody anywhere to be seen. Jack thought that might be because it was so early in the morning; and when the boat ran itself up against a wooden wharf and stopped, he jumped ashore, for he thought this must be the end of his journey. A delightful town it was, if only there has been any people in it! The market-place was full of stalls, on which were spread toys, baskets, fruit, butter, vegetables, and all the other things that are usually sold in a market.

Jack walked about in it. Then he looked in at the open doors of the houses, and at last, finding that they were all empty, he walked into one, looked at the rooms, examined the picture-books, rang the bells, and set the musical-boxes going. Then, after he had shouted a good deal and tried in vain to make some one hear, he went back to the edge of the river where his boat was lying, and the water was so delightfully clear and calm, that he thought he would bathe. So he took off his clothes, and folding them very carefully, so as not to hurt the fairies, laid them down beside a hay-cock, and went in, and ran about and paddled for a long time,–much longer than there was any occasion for; but then he had nothing to do.

When at last he had finished, he ran to the hay-cock and began to dress himself; but he could not find his stockings, and after looking about for some time he was obliged to put on his clothes without them, and he was going to put his boots on his bare feet, when, walking to the other side of the hay-cock, he saw a little old woman about as large as himself. She had a pair of spectacles on, and she was knitting.

She looked so sweet-tempered that Jack asked her if she knew anything about his stockings.

"It will be time enough to ask for them when you have had your breakfast." said she. "Sit down. Welcome to our town. How do you like it?"

"I should like it very much indeed." said Jack, "if there was anybody in it."

"I'm glad of that," said the woman. "You've seen a good deal of it; but it pleases me to find that you are a very honest boy. You did not take anything at all. I am honest too."

"Yes," said Jack, "of course you are."

"And as I am pleased with you for being honest," continued the little woman, "I shall give you some breakfast out of my basket." So she told out a saucer full of honey, a roll of bread, and a cup of milk.

"Thank you," said Jack, "but I am not a beggar-boy; I have got a half-crown, a shilling, a sixpence, and two pence; so I can buy this breakfast of you, if you like. You look very poor."

"Do I?" said the little woman, softly and she went on knitting, and Jack began to eat the breakfast.

"I wonder what has become of my stockings," said Jack.

"You will never see them any more," said the old woman. "I threw them into the river, and they floated away."

"Why did you?" asked Jack.

The little woman took no notice: but presently she had finished a beautiful pair of stockings, and she handed them to Jack and said,–

"Is that like the pair you lost?"

"Oh no," said Jack; "these are much more beautiful stockings than mine."

"Do you like them as well?" asked the fairy woman.

"I like them much better," said Jack, putting them on. "How clever you are!"

"Would you like to wear these," said the woman, "instead of yours?"

She gave Jack such a strange look when she said this, that he was afraid to take them, and answered,–

"I shouldn't like to wear them if you think I had better not."

"Well," she answered, "I am very honest, as I told you; and therefore I am obliged to say that if I were you I would not wear those stockings on any account."

"Why not?" said Jack; for she looked so sweet-tempered that he could not help trusting her.

"Why not?" repeated the fairy; "why, because when you have those stockings on, your feet belong to me."

"Oh!" said Jack. "Well, if you think that matters, I'll take them off again. Do you think it matters?"

"Yes," said the fairy woman; "it matters, because I am a slave, and my master can make me do whatever he pleases, for I am completely in his power. So, if he found out that I had knitted these stockings for you, he would make me order you to walk into his mill,–the mill which grinds the corn for the town; and there you would have to grind and grind till I got free again."

When Jack heard this, he pulled off the beautiful stockings, and laid them on the old woman's lap. Upon this she burst out crying, as if her heart would break.

"If my fairies that I have in my pocket would only wake," said Jack, "I would fight your master; for if he is no bigger than you are, perhaps I could beat him, and get you away."

"No Jack," said the little woman; "that would be of no use. The only thing you could do would be to buy me; for my cruel master has said that if ever I am late again he shall sell me in the slave market to the brown people, who work underground. And, though I am dreadfully afraid of my master, I mean to be late to-day, in hopes (as you are kind, and as you have some money) that you will come to the slave-market and buy me. Can you buy me, Jack, to be your slave?"

"I don't want a slave," said Jack; "and besides, I have hardly any money to buy you with."

"But it is real money," said the fairy woman, "not like what my master has. His money has to be made every week, for if there comes a hot day it cracks, so it never has time to look old, as your half-crown does; and that is how we know the real money, for we cannot imitate anything that is old. Oh, now, now it is twelve o'clock! Now I am late again! and though I said I would do it, I am so frightened!"

So saying, the little woman ran off towards the town, wringing her hands, and Jack ran beside her.

"How am I to find your master?" he said.

"Oh, Jack, buy me! buy me!" cried the fairy woman. "You will find me in the slave-market. Bid high for me. Go back and put your boots on, and bid high."

Now Jack had nothing on his feet, so he left the poor little woman to run into the town by herself, and went back to put his boots on. They were very uncomfortable, as he had no stockings; but he did not much mind that, and he counted his money. There was the half-crown that his grandmamma had given him on his birthday, there was a shilling, a sixpence, and two pence, besides a silver fourpenny-piece which he had forgotten. He then marched into the town; and now it was quite full of people,–all of them little men and women about his own height. They thought he was somebody of consequence, and they called out to him to buy their goods. And he bought some stockings and said," What I want to buy now is a slave."

So they showed him the way to the slave-market, and there whole rows of odd-looking little people were sitting, while in front of them stood the slaves.

Now Jack had observed as he came along how very disrespectful the dogs of that town were to the people. They had a habit of going up to them and smelling at their legs, and even gnawing their feet as they sat before the little tables selling their wares; and what made this more surprising was that the people did not always seem to find out when they were being gnawed. But the moment the dogs saw Jack they came and fawned on him, and two old hounds followed him all the way to the slave-market; and when he took a seat one of them lay down at his feet and said, "Master, set your handsome feet on my back, that they may be out of the dust."

"Don't be afraid of him," said the other hound; "he won't gnaw your feet. He knows well enough that they are real ones."

"Are the other people's feet not real?" asked Jack.

"Of course not," said the hound. "They had a feud long ago with the fairies, and they all went one night into a great corn-field which belong to these enemies of theirs, intending to steal the corn. So they made themselves invisible, as they are always obliged to do till twelve o'clock at noon; but before morning dawned, the wheat being quite ripe, down came the fairies with their sickles, surrounded the field, and cut the corn. So all their legs of course got cut off with it, for when they are invisible they cannot stir. Ever since that they have been obliged to make their legs of wood."

While the hound was telling this story Jack looked about, but he did not see one slave who was in the least like his poor little friend, and he was beginning to be afraid that he should not find her, when he heard two people talking together.

"Good-day!" said one, "so you have sold that good-for-nothing slave of yours?"

"Yes," answered a very cross-looking old man. "She was late again this morning, and came to me crying and praying to be forgiven; but I was determined to make an example of her, so I sold her at once to Clink-of-the-Hole, and he has just driven her away to work in his mine."

Jack, on hearing this, whispered to the hound at his feet, "If you will guide me to Clink's hole, you shall be my dog."

"Master, I will do my best," answered the hound; and he stole softly out of the market, Jack following him.

VII

HALF-A-CROWN

HE old hound went straight through the town, smelling Clink's footsteps, till he came into a large field of barley; and there, sitting against a sheaf, for it was harvest time, they found Clink-of-the-Hole. He was a very ugly little brown man, and he was smoking a pipe in the shade; while crouched near him was the poor little woman, with her hand spread before her face.

"Good-day, sir," said Clink to Jack. "You are a stranger here, no doubt?"

"Yes," said Jack; "I only arrived this morning."

"Have you seen the town?" asked Clink civilly; "there is a very fine market."

"Yes, I have seen the market," answered Jack. "I went into it to buy a slave, but I did not see one that I liked."

"Ah!" said Clink, "and yet they had some very fine articles." Here he pointed to the poor little woman, and said, "Now that's a useful body enough, and I had her very cheap."

"What did you give for her?" said Jack, sitting down.

"Three pitchers," said Clink, "fifteen cups and saucers, and two shillings in the money of the town."

"Is their money like this?" said Jack, taking out his shilling.

When Clink saw the shilling he changed color, and said, very earnestly," Where did you get that, dear sir?"

"Oh, it was given me," said Jack, carelessly.

Clink looked hard at the shilling and so did the fairy woman, and Jack let them look some time, for he amused himself with throwing it up several times and catching it. At last he put it back in his pocket, and then Clink heaved a deep sigh. Then Jack took out a penny, and began to toss that up, upon which, to his great surprise, the little brown man fell on his knees and said, "Oh a shilling and a penny,–a shilling and a penny of mortal coin! What would I not give for a shilling and a penny!"

"I don't believe you have got anything to give," said Jack, cunningly; "I see nothing but that ring on your finger, and the old woman."

"But I have a great many things at home, sir," said the brown man, wiping his eyes; "and besides, that ring would be cheap at a shilling,–even a shilling of mortal coin."

"Would the slave be cheap at a penny?" said Jack.

"Would you give a penny for her, dear sir?" inquired Clink, trembling with eagerness.

"She is honest," answered Jack; "ask her whether I had better buy her with this penny."

"It does not matter what she says," replied the brown man; "I would sell twenty such as she is for a penny,–a real one."

"Ask her," repeated Jack: and the poor little women wept bitterly, but she said, "No."

"Why not?" asked Jack; but she only hung down her head and cried.

"I'll make you suffer for this," said the brown man. But when Jack took out the shilling, and said, "Shall I buy you with this, slave?" his eyes actually shot out sparks, he was so eager.

"Speak!" he said to the fairy woman; "and if you don't say 'Yes,' I'll strike you."

"He cannot buy me with that," answered the fairy woman, "unless it is the most valuable coin he has got."

The brown man, on hearing this, rose up in a rage, and was just going to strike her a terrible blow, when Jack cried out, "Stop!" and took out his half-crown.

"Can I buy you with this?" said he; and the fairy woman answered, "Yes."

Upon this Clink drew a long breath, and his eyes grew bigger and bigger as he gazed at the half-crown.

"Shall she be my slave forever, and not yours," said Jack, "if I give you this?"

"She shall," said the brown man. And he made such a low bow, as he took the money, that his head actually knocked the ground. Then he jumped up; and, as if he was afraid Jack should repent of his bargain, he ran off towards the hole in the hill with all his might, shouting for joy as he went.

"Slave," said Jack, "that is a very ragged old apron that you have got, and your gown is quite worn out. Don't you think we had better spend my shilling in buying you some new clothes? You look so very shabby."

"Do I?" said the fairy woman, gently. "Well, master, you will do as you please."

"But you know better than I do," said Jack, "though you are my slave."

"You had better give me the shilling, then," answered the little old woman; "and then I advise you to go back to the boat, and wait there till I come."

"What!" said Jack; "can you go all the way back into the town again? I think you must be tired, for you know you are so very old."

The fairy woman laughed when Jack said this, and she had such a sweet laugh that he loved to hear it; but she took the shilling, and trudged off to the town, and he went back to the boat, his hound running after him.

He was a long time going, for he ran a good many times after butterflies, and then he climbed up several trees; and altogether he amused himself for such a long while that when he reached the boat his fairy woman was there before him. So he stepped on board, the hound followed, and the boat immediately began to swim on.

"Why, you have not bought any new clothes!" said Jack to his slave.

"No, master," answered the fairy woman; "but I have bought what I wanted." And she took out of her pocket a little tiny piece of purple ribbon, with a gold-colored satin edge, and a very small tortoise-shell comb.

When Jack saw these he was vexed, and said, "What do you mean by being so silly? I can't scold you properly, because I don't know what name to call you by, and I don't like to say 'Slave,' because that sounds so rude. Why, this bit of ribbon is such a little bit that it's of no use at all. It's not large enough even to make one mitten of."

"Isn't it?" said the slave. "Just take hold of it, master, and let us see if it will stretch."

So Jack did. And she pulled, and he pulled, and very soon the silk had stretched till it was nearly as large as a handkerchief; and then she shook it, and they pulled again. "This is very good fun," said Jack; "why now it is as large as an apron."

So she shook it again, and gave it a twitch here and a pat there; and then they pulled again, and the silk suddenly stretched so wide that Jack was very nearly falling overboard. So Jack's slave pulled off her ragged gown and apron, and put it on. It was a most beautiful robe of purple silk; it had a gold border, and it just fitted her.

"That will do," she said. And then she took out the little tortoise-shell comb, pulled off her cap, and threw it into the river. She had a little knot of soft, gray hair, and she let it down, and began to comb. And as she combed the hair got much longer and thicker, till it fell in waves all about her throat. Then she combed again, and it all turned gold-color, and came tumbling down to her waist; and then she stood up in the boat, and combed once more, and shook out the hair, and there was such a quantity that it reached down to her feet, and she was so covered with it that you could not see one bit of her, excepting her eyes, which peeped out, and looked bright and full of tears.

Then she began to gather up her lovely locks; and when she had dried her eyes with them, she said, "Master, do you know what you have done? look at me now!" So she threw back the hair from her face, and it was a beautiful young face; and she looked so happy that Jack was glad he had bought her with his half-crown,–so glad that he could not help crying, and the fair slave cried too; and then instantly the little fairies woke, and sprang out of Jack's pockets. As they did so, Jovinian cried out, "Madam, I am your most humble servant;" and Roxaletta said, "I hope your Grace is well;" but the third got on Jack's knee, and took hold of the buttons of his waistcoat, and when the lovely slave looked at her she hid her face and blushed with pretty childish shyness.

"THESE ARE FAIRIES," SAID JACK'S SLAVE, "BUT WHAT ARE YOU?"

"These are fairies," said Jack's slave; "but what are you?"

"Jack kissed me," said the little thing; "and I want to sit on his knee."

"Yes," said Jack; "I took them out, and laid them in a row, to see that they were safe, and this one I kissed, because she looked such a little dear."

"Was she not like the others, then?" asked the slave.

"Yes," said Jack; "but I liked her the best; she was my favorite."

Now, the instant these three fairies sprang out of Jack's pockets, they got very much larger; in fact, they became fully grown,–that is to say, they measured exactly one foot one inch in height, which, as most people know, is exactly the proper height for fairies of that tribe. The two who had sprung our first were very beautifully dressed. One had a green velvet coat, and a sword, the hilt of which was incrusted with diamonds. The second had a white spangled robe, and the loveliest rubies and emeralds round her neck and in her hair; but the third, the one who sat on Jack's knee, had a white frock and a blue sash on. She had soft, fat arms, and a face just like that of a sweet little child.

When Jack's slave saw this, she took the little creature on her knee, and said to her, "How comes it that you are not like your companions?"

And she answered, in a pretty lisping voice. "It's because Jack kissed me."

"Even so it must be," answered the slave; "the love of a mortal works changes indeed. It is not often that we win anything so precious. Here, master, let her sit on your knee sometimes, and take care of her, for she cannot now take the same care of herself that others of her race are capable of."

So Jack let little Mopsa sit on his knee; and when he was tired of admiring his slave, and wondering at the respect with which the other two fairies treated her, and at their cleverness in getting water-lilies for her, and fanning her with feathers, he curled himself up in the bottom of the boat with his own little favorite, and taught her how to play at cat's-cradle.

When they had been playing some time, and Mopsa was getting quite clever at the game, the lovely slave said, "Master, it is a long time since you spoke to me."

"And yet," said Jack, "there is something that I particularly want to ask you about."

"Ask it then," she replied.

"I don't like to have a slave," answered Jack; "and as you are so clever, don't you think you can find out how to be free again?"

"I am very glad you asked me about that," said the fairy woman. "Yes, master, I wish very much to be free; and as you were so kind as to give the most valuable piece of real money you possessed in order to buy me, I can be free if you can think of anything that you really like better than that half-crown, and if I can give it you."

"Oh, there are many things," said Jack. "I like going up this river to Fairyland much better."

"But you are going there, master," said the fairy woman; "you were on the way before I met with you."

"I like this little child better," said Jack; "I love this little Mopsa. I should like her to belong to me."

"She is yours," answered the fairy woman; "she belongs to you already. Think of something else."

Jack thought again, and was so long about it that at last the beautiful slave said to him, "Master, do you see those purple mountains?"

Jack turned round in the boat, and saw a splendid range of purple mountains, going up and up. They were very great and steep, each had a crown of snow, and the sky was very red behind them, for the sun was going down.

"At the other side of those mountains is Fairyland," said the slave; "but if you can not think of something that you should like better to have than your half-crown, I can never enter in. The river flows straight up to yonder steep precipice, and there is a chasm in it which pierces it, and through which the river runs down beneath, among the very roots of the mountains, till it comes out at the other side. Thousands and thousands of the small people will come when they see the boat, each with a silken thread in his hand; but if there is a slave in it, not all their strength and skill can tow it through. Look at those rafts on the river; on them are the small people coming up."

Jack looked, and saw that the river was spotted with rafts, on which were crowded brown fairy sailors, each one with three green stripes on his sleeve, which looked like good conduct marks. All the sailors were chattering very fast, and the rafts were coming down to meet the boat.

"All these sailors to tow my slave!" said Jack. "I wonder, I do wonder, what you are?" But the fairy woman only smiled, and Jack went on: "I have thought of something that I should like much better than my half-crown. I should like to have a little tiny bit of that purple gown of yours with the gold border."

Then the fairy woman said, "I thank you, master. Now I can be free." So she told Jack to lend her his knife, and with it she cut off a very small piece of the skirt of her robe, and gave it to him. "Now mind," she said, "I advise you never to stretch this unless you want to make some particular thing of it, for then it will only stretch to the right size; but if you merely begin to pull it for your own amusement, it will go on stretching and stretching, and I don't know where it will stop."

VIII

A STORY

Y this time, as the sun had gone down, and none of the moons had risen, it would have been dark but that each of the rafts was rigged with a small mast that had a lantern hung to it.

By the light of these lanterns Jack saw crowds of little brown faces; and presently many rafts had come up to the boat, which was now swimming very slowly. Every sailor in every raft fastened to the boat's side a silken thread; then the rafts were rowed to shore, and the sailors jumped out, and began to tow the boat along.

These crimson threads looked no stronger than the silk that ladies sew with, yet by means of them the small people drew the boat along merrily. There were so many of them that they looked like an army as they marched in the light of the lanterns and torches. Jack thought they were very happy, though the work was hard, for they shouted and sang.

The fairy woman looked more beautiful than ever now, and far more stately. She had on a band of precious stones to bind back her hair, and they shone so brightly in the night that her features could be clearly seen.

Jack's little favorite was fast asleep, and the other two fairies had flown away. He was beginning to feel rather sleepy himself, when he was roused by the voice of his free lady, who said to him, "Jack, there is no one listening now, so I will tell you my story. I am the Fairy Queen!"

Jack opened his eyes very wide, but he was so much surprised that he did not say a word.

"One day, long, long ago," said the Queen, I was discontented with my own happy country. I wished to see the world, so I set forth with a number of the one-foot-one fairies, and went down the wonderful river, thinking to see the world.

"So we sailed down the river till we came to that town which you know of; and there in the very middle of the stream, stood a tower,–a tall tower, built upon a rock.

"Fairies are afraid of nothing but of other fairies, and we did not think this tower was fairy-work, so we left our ship and went up the rock and into the tower, to see what it was like; but just as we had descended into the dungeon keep, we heard the gurgling of water overhead, and down came the tower. It was nothing but water enchanted into the likeness of stone, and we all fell down with it into the very bed of the river.

"Of course we were not drowned, but there we were obliged to lie, for we have no power out of our own element; and the next day the towns-people came down with a net and dragged the river, picked us all out of the meshes, and made us slaves. The one-foot-one fairies got away shortly; but from that day to this, in sorrow and distress, I have had to serve my masters. Luckily, my crown had fallen off in the water, so I was not known to be the Queen; but till you came, Jack, I had almost forgotten that I had ever been happy and free, and I had hardly any hope of getting away."

"How sorry your people must have been," said Jack, "when they found you did not come home again."

"No," said the Queen; "they only went to sleep, and they will not wake till to-morrow morning, when I pass in again. They will think I have been absent for a day, and so will the apple-woman. You must not undeceive them; if you do, they will be very angry."

"And who is the apple-woman?" inquired Jack; but the Queen blushed, and pretended not to hear the question, so he repeated,–

"Queen, who is the apple-woman?"

"I've only had her for a very little while," said the Queen evasively.

"And how long do you think you have been a slave, Queen?" asked Jack.

"I don't know," said the Queen. "I have never been able to make up my mind about that."

And now all the moons began to shine, and all the trees lighted themselves up, for almost every leaf had a glowworm or a fire-fly on it, and the water was full of fishes that had shining eyes. And now they were close to the steep mountain side; and Jack looked and saw an opening in it, into which the river ran. It was a kind of cave, something like a long, long church with a vaulted roof, only the pavement of it was that magic river, and a narrow towing-path ran on either side.

As they entered the cave there was a hollow, murmuring sound, and the Queen's crown became so bright that it lighted up the whole boat; at the same time she began to tell Jack a wonderful story, which he liked very much to hear, but every fresh thing she said he forgot what had gone before; and at last, though he tried very hard to listen, he was obliged to go to sleep; and he slept soundly, and never dreamed of anything till it was morning.

He saw such a curious sight when he woke! They had been going through this underground cavern all night, and now they were approaching its opening on the other side. This opening, because they were a good way from it yet, looked like a lovely little round window of blue and yellow and green glass, but as they drew on he could see far-off mountains, blue sky, and a country all covered with sunshine.

He heard singing, too, such as fairies make; and he saw some beautiful people, such as those fairies whom he had brought with him. They were coming along the towing-path. They were all lady fairies; but they were not very polite, for as each one came up she took a silken rope out of a brown sailor's hand, and gave him a shove which pushed him into the water. In fact, the water became filled with such swarms of these sailors that the boat could hardly get on. But the poor little brown fellows did not seem to mind this conduct, for they plunged and shook themselves about, scattering a good deal of spray. Then they all suddenly dived, and when they came up again they were ducks,–nothing but brown ducks, I assure you, with green stripes on their wings; and with a great deal of quacking and floundering, they all began to swim back again as fast as they could.

Then Jack was a good deal vexed, and he said to himself, "If nobody thanks the ducks for towing us I will;" so he stood up in the boat and shouted, "Thank you, ducks; we are very much obliged to you!" But neither the Queen nor these new towers took the least notice, and gradually the boat came out of that dim cave and entered Fairyland, while the river became so narrow that you could hear the song of the towers quite easily; those on the right bank sang the first verse, and those on the left bank answered–

Drop, drop from the leaves of lign aloes,
  O honey-dew! drop from the tree.
Float up through your clear river shallows,
   White lilies, beloved of the bee.

Let the people, O Queen! say, and bless thee,
   Her bounty drops soft as the dew,
And spotless in honor confess thee,
   As lilies are spotless in hue.

On the roof stands yon white stork awaking,
   His feathers flush rosy the while,
For, lo! from the blushing east breaking,
   The sun sheds the bloom of his smile.

Let them boast of thy word, "It is certain;
   We doubt it no more," let them say,
"Than to-morrow that night's dusky curtain
   Shall roll back its folds for the day."

"Master," whispered the old hound, who was lying at Jack's feet.

"Well," said Jack.

"They didn't invent that song themselves," said the hound; "the old apple-woman taught it to them,–the woman whom they love because she can make them cry."

Jack was rather ashamed of the hound's rudeness in saying this; but the Queen took no notice. And now they had reached a little landing-place which ran out a few feet into the river, and was strewed thickly with cowslips and violets.

Here the boat stopped, and the Queen rose and got out.

Jack watched her. A whole crowd of one-foot-one fairies came down a garden to meet her, and he saw them conduct her to a beautiful tent, with golden poles and a silken covering; but nobody took the slightest notice of him, or of little Mopsa, or of the hound, and after a long silence the hound said, "Well, master, don't you feel hungry? Why don't you go with the others and have some breakfast?"

"The Queen didn't invite me," said Jack.

"But do you feel as if you couldn't go?" asked the hound.

"Of course not," answered Jack; "but perhaps I may not."

"Oh, yes, master," replied the hound; "whatever you can do in Fairyland you may do."

"Are you sure of that?" asked Jack.

"Quite sure, master," said the hound; "and I am hungry too."

"Well," said Jack, "I will go there and take Mopsa. She shall ride on my shoulder; you may follow."

So he walked up that beautiful garden till he came to the great tent. A banquet was going on inside. All the one-foot-one fairies sat down the sides of the table, and at the top sat the Queen on a larger chair; and there were two empty chairs, one on each side of her.

Jack blushed; but the hound whispering again, "Master, whatever you can do you may do," he came slowly up the table towards the Queen, who was saying as he drew near, "Where is our trusty and well-beloved, the apple-woman?" And she took no notice of Jack; so, though he could not help feeling rather red and ashamed, he went and sat in the chair beside her with Mopsa still on his shoulder. Mopsa laughed for joy when she saw the feast. The Queen said, "Oh, Jack, I am so glad to see you!" and some of the one-foot-one fairies cried out, "What a delightful little creature that is! She can laugh! Perhaps she can also cry!"

Jack looked about, but there was no seat for Mopsa; and he was afraid to let her run about on the floor, lest she should be hurt.

There was a very large dish standing before the Queen; for though the people were small, the plates and dishes were exactly like those we use, and of the same size.

This dish was raised on a foot, and filled with grapes and peaches. Jack wondered at himself for doing it, but he saw no other place for Mopsa; so he took out the fruit, laid it round the dish, and set his own little one-foot-one in the dish.

Nobody looked in the least surprised; and there she sat very happily, biting an apple with her small white teeth.

Then, as they brought him nothing to eat, Jack helped himself from some of the dishes before him, and found that a fairy breakfast was very nice indeed.

In the meantime there was a noise outside, and in stumped an elderly woman. She had very thick boots on, a short gown of red print, an orange cotton handkerchief over her shoulders, and a black silk bonnet. She was exactly the same height as the Queen,–for of course nobody in Fairyland is allowed to be any bigger than the Queen; so, if they are not children when they arrive, they are obliged to shrink.

"How are you, dear?" said the Queen.

"I am as well as can be expected," answered the apple-woman, sitting down in the empty chair. "Now, then, where's my tea? They're never ready with my cup of tea."

Two attendants immediately brought a cup of tea, and set it down before the apple-woman, with a plate of bread and butter; and she proceeded to pour it into the saucer, and blow it, because it was hot. In so doing her wandering eyes caught sight of Jack and little Mopsa, and she set down the saucer, and looked at them with attention.

Now Mopsa, I am sorry to say, was behaving so badly that Jack was quite ashamed of her. First, she got out of her dish, took something nice out of the Queen's plate with her fingers, and ate it; and then, as she was going back, she tumbled over a melon, and upset a glass of red wine, which she wiped up with her white frock; after which she got into her dish again, and there she sat smiling, and daubing her pretty face with a piece of buttered muffin.

"Mopsa," said Jack, "you are very naughty; if you behave in this way, I shall never take you out to parties again."

"Pretty lamb!" said the apple-woman; "It's just like a child." And then she burst into tears, and exclaimed, sobbing, "It's many a long day since I've seen a child. Oh dear! Oh deary me!"

Upon this, to the astonishment of Jack, every one of the guests began to cry and sob too.

"Oh dear! oh dear!" they said to one another, "we're crying; we can cry just as well as men and women. Isn't it delightful? What a luxury it is to cry, to be sure!"

They were evidently quite proud of it; and when Jack looked at the Queen for an explanation, she only give him a still little smile.

But Mopsa crept along the table to the apple-woman, let her take her and hug her, and seemed to like her very much; for as she sat on her knee, she patted her brown face with a little dimpled hand.

"I should like vastly well to be her nurse," said the apple-woman, drying her eyes, and looking at Jack.

"If you'll always wash her, and put clean frocks on her, you may," said Jack; "for just look at her,–what a figure she is already!"

Upon this the apple-woman laughed for joy, and again every one else did the same. The fairies can only laugh and cry when they see mortals do so.

IX

AFTER THE PARTY

HEN the breakfast was over, the guests got up, one after the other, without taking the least notice of the Queen; and the tent began to get so thin and transparent that you could see the trees and the sky through it. At last, it looked only like a colored mist, with blue, and green, and yellow stripes, and then it was gone; and the table and all the things on it began to go in the same way. Only Jack, and the apple-woman, and Mopsa were left sitting on their chairs, with the Queen between them.

Presently, the Queen's lips began to move, and her eyes looked straight before her, as she sat upright in her chair. Whereupon the apple-woman snatched up Mopsa, and seizing Jack's hand, hurried him off, exclaiming, "Come away! come away! She is going to tell one of her stories; and if you listen, you'll be obliged to go to sleep, and sleep nobody knows how long,"

Jack did not want to go to sleep; he wished to go down to the river again, and see what had become of his boat, for he had left his cap and several other things in it.

So he parted from the apple-woman,–who took Mopsa with her, and said he would find her again when he wanted her at her apple-stall,–and went down to the boat, where he saw that his faithful hound was there before him.

"It was lucky, master, that I came when I did," said the hound, "for a dozen or so of those one-foot-one fellows were just shoving it off, and you will want it at night to sleep in."

"Yes," said Jack; "and I can stretch the bit of purple silk to make a canopy over head,–a sort of awning,–for I should not like to sleep in tents or palaces that are inclined to melt away."

So the hound with his teeth, and Jack with his hands, pulled and pulled at the silk till it was large enough to make a splendid canopy like a tent; and it reached down to the water's edge, and roofed in all the after part of the boat.

So now he had a delightful little home of his own; and there was no fear of its being blown away, for no wind ever blows in Fairyland. All the trees are quite still, no leaf rustles, and the flowers lie on the ground exactly where they fall.

After this Jack told the hound to watch his boat, and went himself in search of the apple-woman. Not one fairy was to be seen, any more than if he had been in his own country, and he wandered down the green margin of the river till he saw the apple-woman sitting at a small stall with apples on it, and cherries tied to sticks, and some dry-looking nuts. She had Mopsa on her knee, and had washed her face, and put a beautiful clean white frock on her.

"Where are all the fairies gone to?" asked Jack.

"I never take any notice of that common trash and their doings," she answered. "When the Queen takes to telling her stories they are generally frightened, and go and sit in the tops of the trees."

"But you seem very fond of Mopsa," said Jack, "and she is one of them. You will help me to take care of her, won't you, till she grows a little older?"

"Grows!" said the apple-woman, laughing. "Grows! Why, you don't think, surely, that she will ever be any different from what she is now?"

"I thought she would grow up," said Jack.

"They never change so long as they last," answered the apple-woman, "when once they are one-foot-one high."

"Mopsa," said Jack, "come here, and I'll measure you."

Mopsa came dancing towards Jack, and he tried to measure her, first with a yard measure that the apple-woman took out of her pocket, and then with a stick, and then with a bit of string; but Mopsa would not stand steady, and at last it ended in their having a good game of romps together, and a race; but when he carried her back, sitting on his shoulder, he was sorry to see that the apple-woman was crying again, and he asked her kindly what she did it for.

"It is because," she answered, "I shall never see my own country any more, nor any men and women and children, excepting such as by a rare chance stray in for a little while as you have done."

"I can go back whenever I please," said Jack. "Why don't you?"

HE TRIED TO MEASURE HER

"Because I came in of my own good-will, after I had had fair warning that if I came at all it would end in my staying always. Besides, I don't know that I exactly wish to go home again: I should be afraid."

"Afraid of what?" asked Jack.

"Why, there's the rain and the cold, and not having anything to eat excepting what you earn. And yet," said the apple-woman, "I have three boys of my own at home; one of them must be nearly a man by this time, and the youngest is about as old as you are. If I went home I might find one or more of those boys in jail, and then how miserable I should be."

"But you are not happy as it is," said Jack. "I have seen you cry."

"Yes," said the apple-woman; "but now I live here I don't care about anything so much as I used to do. 'May I have a satin gown and a coach?' I asked, when first I came. 'You may have a hundred and fifty satin gowns if you like,' said the Queen, 'and twenty coaches with six cream-colored horses to each.' But when I had been here a little time, and found I could have every thing I wished for, and change it as often as I pleased, I began not to care for anything; and at last I got so sick of all their grand things that I dressed myself in my own clothes that I came in, and made up my mind to have a stall and sit at it, as I used to do, selling apples. And I used to say to myself, 'I have but to wish with all my heart to go home, and I can go, I know that;' but oh dear! oh dear! I couldn't wish enough, for it would come into my head that I should be poor, or that my boys would have forgotten me, or that my neighbors would look down on me, and so I always put off wishing for another day. Now here is the Queen coming. Sit down on the grass and play with Mopsa. Don't let her see us talking together, lest she should think I have been telling you things which you ought not to know."

Jack looked, and saw the Queen coming slowly towards them, with her hands held out before her, as if it were dark. She felt her way, yet her eyes were wide open, and she was telling her stories all the time.

"Don't you listen to a word she says," whispered the apple-woman; and then, in order that Jack might not hear what the Queen was talking about, she began to sing.

She had no sooner begun than up from the river came swarms of one-foot-one fairies to listen, and hundreds of them dropped down from the trees. The Queen, too, seemed to attend as they did, though she kept murmuring her story all the time; and nothing that any of them did appeared to surprise the apple-woman,–she sang as if nobody was taking any notice at all:–

When I sit on market-days amid the comers and the goers,
  Oh! full oft I have a vision of the days without alloy,
And a ship comes up the river with a jolly gang of towers,
  And a "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!

There is busy talk around me, all about mine ears it hummeth,
  But the wooden wharves I look on, and a dancing, heaving buoy,
For 'tis tidetime in the river, and she cometh–oh, she cometh!
  With a "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!

Then I hear the water washing, never golden waves were brighter,
  And I hear the capstan creaking–'tis a sound that cannot cloy.
Bring her to, to ship her lading, brig or schooner, sloop or lighter,
  With a "pull'e, haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!

"Will ye step aboard, my dearest? for the high seas lie before us."
  So I sailed adown the river in those days without alloy.
We are launched! But when, I wonder, shall a sweeter sound float o'er us
  Than yon "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!

"Does the Queen tell stories of what has happened, or of what is going to happen?"

"Why, of what is going to happen, of course," replied the woman. "Anybody could tell the other sort."

"Because I heard a little of it," observed Jack. "I thought she was talking of me. She said, 'So he took the measure, and Mopsa stood still for once, and he found she was only one foot high, and she grew a great deal after that. Yes, she can grow.' "

"That's a fine hearing, and a strange hearing," said the apple-woman; "and what did she mutter next?"

"Of how she heard me sobbing," replied Jack; "and while you went on about stepping on board the ship, she said, 'He was very good to me, dear little fellow! But Fate is the name of my old mother, and she reigns here. Oh, she reigns! The fatal F is in her name, and I cannot take it out!' "

"Ah!" replied the apple-woman, "they all say that, and that they are fays, and that mortals call their history fable; they are always crying out for an alphabet without the fatal F."

"And then she told how she heard Mopsa sobbing too," said Jack; "sobbing among the reeds and rushes by the river side."

"There are no reeds, and no rushes either, here," said the apple-woman, "and I have walked the river from end to end. I don't think much of that part of the story. But you are sure she said that Mopsa was short of her proper height?"

"'Yes, and that she would grow; but that's nothing. In my country we always grow."

"Hold your tongue about your country!" said the apple-woman, sharply. "Do you want to make enemies of them all?"

Mopsa had been listening to this, and now she said, "I don't love the Queen. She slapped my arm as she went by, and it hurts."

Mopsa showed her little fat arm as she spoke, and there was a red place on it.

"That's odd, too," said the apple-woman; "there's nothing red in a common fairy's veins. They have sap in them: that'