Little Saint Elizabeth and Other Stories, Page 3

  PART I

  Once upon a time, in the days of the fairies, there was in the far westcountry a kingdom which was called by the name of Stumpinghame. It was arather curious country in several ways. In the first place, the peoplewho lived there thought that Stumpinghame was all the world; they thoughtthere was no world at all outside Stumpinghame. And they thought that thepeople of Stumpinghame knew everything that could possibly be known, andthat what they did not know was of no consequence at all.

  One idea common in Stumpinghame was really very unusual indeed. It was apeculiar taste in the matter of feet. In Stumpinghame, the larger aperson's feet were, the more beautiful and elegant he or she wasconsidered; and the more aristocratic and nobly born a man was, the moreimmense were his feet. Only the very lowest and most vulgar persons wereever known to have small feet. The King's feet were simply huge; so werethe Queen's; so were those of the young princes and princesses. It hadnever occurred to anyone that a member of such a royal family couldpossibly disgrace himself by being born with small feet. Well, you mayimagine, then, what a terrible and humiliating state of affairs arosewhen there was born into that royal family a little son, a prince, whosefeet were so very small and slender and delicate that they would havebeen considered small even in other places than Stumpinghame. Grief andconfusion seized the entire nation. The Queen fainted six times a day;the King had black rosettes fastened upon his crown; all the flags wereat half-mast; and the court went into the deepest mourning. There hadbeen born to Stumpinghame a royal prince with small feet, and nobody knewhow the country could survive it!

  Yet the disgraceful little prince survived it, and did not seem to mindat all. He was the prettiest and best tempered baby the royal nurse hadever seen. But for his small feet, he would have been the flower of thefamily. The royal nurse said to herself, and privately told his littleroyal highness's chief bottle-washer that she "never see a infant as tooknotice so, and sneezed as intelligent." But, of course, the King andQueen could see nothing but his little feet, and very soon they made uptheir minds to send him away. So one day they had him bundled up andcarried where they thought he might be quite forgotten. They sent him tothe hut of a swineherd who lived deep, deep in a great forest whichseemed to end nowhere.

  They gave the swineherd some money, and some clothes for Fairyfoot, andtold him, that if he would take care of the child, they would send moneyand clothes every year. As for themselves, they only wished to be sure ofnever seeing Fairyfoot again.

  This pleased the swineherd well enough. He was poor, and he had a wifeand ten children, and hundreds of swine to take care of, and he knew hecould use the little Prince's money and clothes for his own family, andno one would find it out. So he let his wife take the little fellow, andas soon as the King's messengers had gone, the woman took the royalclothes off the Prince and put on him a coarse little nightgown, and gaveall his things to her own children. But the baby Prince did not seem tomind that--he did not seem to mind anything, even though he had no namebut Prince Fairyfoot, which had been given him in contempt by thedisgusted courtiers. He grew prettier and prettier every day, and longbefore the time when other children begin to walk, he could run about onhis fairy feet.

  The swineherd and his wife did not like him at all; in fact, theydisliked him because he was so much prettier and so much brighter thantheir own clumsy children. And the children did not like him, becausethey were ill natured and only liked themselves.

  So as he grew older year by year, the poor little Prince was more andmore lonely. He had no one to play with, and was obliged to be alwaysby himself. He dressed only in the coarsest and roughest clothes; heseldom had enough to eat, and he slept on straw in a loft under theroof of the swineherd's hut. But all this did not prevent his beingstrong and rosy and active. He was as fleet as the wind, and he had avoice as sweet as a bird's; he had lovely sparkling eyes, and brightgolden hair; and he had so kind a heart that he would not have done awrong or cruel thing for the world. As soon as he was big enough, theswineherd made him go out into the forest every day to take care of theswine. He was obliged to keep them together in one place, and if any ofthem ran away into the forest, Prince Fairyfoot was beaten. And as theswine were very wild and unruly, he was very often beaten, because itwas almost impossible to keep them from wandering off; and when theyran away, they ran so fast, and through places so tangled, that it wasalmost impossible to follow them.

  The forest in which he had to spend the long days was a very beautifulone, however, and he could take pleasure in that. It was a forest sogreat that it was like a world in itself. There were in it strange,splendid trees, the branches of which interlocked overhead, and whentheir many leaves moved and rustled, it seemed as if they were whisperingsecrets. There were bright, swift, strange birds, that flew about in thedeep golden sunshine, and when they rested on the boughs, they, too,seemed telling one another secrets. There was a bright, clear brook, withwater as sparkling and pure as crystal, and with shining shells andpebbles of all colours lying in the gold and silver sand at the bottom.Prince Fairyfoot always thought the brook knew the forest's secret also,and sang it softly to the flowers as it ran along. And as for theflowers, they were beautiful; they grew as thickly as if they had been acarpet, and under them was another carpet of lovely green moss. The treesand the birds, and the brook and the flowers were Prince Fairyfoot'sfriends. He loved them, and never was very lonely when he was with them;and if his swine had not run away so often, and if the swineherd had notbeaten him so much, sometimes--indeed, nearly all summer--he would havebeen almost happy. He used to lie on the fragrant carpet of flowers andmoss and listen to the soft sound of the running water, and to thewhispering of the waving leaves, and to the songs of the birds; and hewould wonder what they were saying to one another, and if it were true,as the swineherd's children said, that the great forest was full offairies. And then he would pretend it was true, and would tell himselfstories about them, and make believe they were his friends, and that theycame to talk to him and let him love them. He wanted to love something orsomebody, and he had nothing to love--not even a little dog.

  One day he was resting under a great green tree, feeling really quitehappy because everything was so beautiful. He had even made a little songto chime in with the brook's, and he was singing it softly and sweetly,when suddenly, as he lifted his curly, golden head to look about him, hesaw that all his swine were gone. He sprang to his feet, feeling verymuch frightened, and he whistled and called, but he heard nothing. Hecould not imagine how they had all disappeared so quietly, without makingany sound; but not one of them was anywhere to be seen. Then his poorlittle heart began to beat fast with trouble and anxiety. He ran here andthere; he looked through the bushes and under the trees; he ran, and ran,and ran, and called and whistled, and searched; but nowhere--nowhere wasone of those swine to be found! He searched for them for hours, goingdeeper and deeper into the forest than he had ever been before. He sawstrange trees and strange flowers, and heard strange sounds: and at lastthe sun began to go down, and he knew he would soon be left in the dark.His little feet and legs were scratched with brambles, and were so tiredthat they would scarcely carry him; but he dared not go back to theswineherd's hut without finding the swine. The only comfort he had on allthe long way was that the little brook had run by his side, and sung itssong to him; and sometimes he had stopped and bathed his hot face in it,and had said, "Oh, little brook! you are so kind to me! You are myfriend, I know. I would be so lonely without you!"

  When at last the sun did go down, Prince Fairyfoot had wandered so farthat he did not know where he was, and he was so tired that he threwhimself down by the brook, and hid his face in the flowery moss, andsaid, "Oh, little brook! I am so tired I can go no further; and I cannever find them!"

  While he was lying there in despair, he heard a sound in the air abovehim, and looked up to see what it was. It sounded like a little bird insome trouble. And, surely enough, there was a huge hawk darting after aplump little brown bird with a red breast.
The little bird was utteringsharp frightened cries, and Prince Fairyfoot felt so sorry for it that hesprang up and tried to drive the hawk away. The little bird saw him atonce, and straightway flew to him, and Fairyfoot covered it with his cap.And then the hawk flew away in a great rage.

  When the hawk was gone, Fairyfoot sat down again and lifted his cap,expecting, of course, to see the brown bird with the red breast. But, in.stead of a bird, out stepped a little man, not much higher than yourlittle finger--a plump little man in a brown suit with a bright red vest,and with a cocked hat on.

  "Why," exclaimed Fairyfoot, "I'm surprised!"

  "So am I," said the little man, cheerfully. "I never was more surprisedin my life, except when my great-aunt's grandmother got into such a rage,and changed me into a robin-redbreast. I tell you, that surprised me!"

  "I should think it might," said Fairyfoot. "Why did she do it?"

  "Mad," answered the little man--"that was what was the matter with her.She was always losing her temper like that, and turning people intoawkward things, and then being sorry for it, and not being able to changethem back again. If you are a fairy, you have to be careful. If you'llbelieve me, that woman once turned her second-cousin's sister-in-law intoa mushroom, and somebody picked her, and she was made into catsup, whichis a thing no man likes to have happen in his family!"

  "WHY," EXCLAIMED FAIRYFOOT, "I'M SURPRISED!"]

  "Of course not," said Fairyfoot, politely.

  "The difficulty is," said the little man, "that some fairies don'tgraduate. They learn to turn people into things, but they don't learn howto unturn them; and then, when they get mad in their families--you knowhow it is about getting mad in families--there is confusion. Yes,seriously, confusion arises. It arises. That was the way with mygreat-aunt's grandmother. She was not a cultivated old person, and shedid not know how to unturn people, and now you see the result. Quiteaccidentally I trod on her favorite corn; she got mad and changed me intoa robin, and regretted it ever afterward. I could only become myselfagain by a kind-hearted person's saving me from a great danger. You arethat person. Give me your hand."

  Fairyfoot held out his hand. The little man looked at it.

  "On second thought," he said, "I can't shake it--it's too large. I'll siton it, and talk to you."

  With these words, he hopped upon Fairyfoot's hand, and sat down, smilingand clasping his own hands about his tiny knees.

  "I declare, it's delightful not to be a robin," he said. "Had to go aboutpicking up worms, you know. Disgusting business. I always did hateworms. I never ate them myself--I drew the line there; but I had to getthem for my family."

  Suddenly he began to giggle, and to hug his knees up tight.

  "Do you wish to know what I'm laughing at?" he asked Fairyfoot.

  "Yes," Fairyfoot answered.

  The little man giggled more than ever.

  "I'm thinking about my wife," he said--"the one I had when I was a robin.A nice rage she'll be in when I don't come home to-night! She'll have tohustle around and pick up worms for herself, and for the children too,and it serves her right. She had a temper that would embitter the life ofa crow, much more a simple robin. I wore myself to skin and bone takingcare of her and her brood, and how I did hate 'em!--bare, squawkingthings, always with their throats gaping open. They seemed to think aparent's sole duty was to bring worms for them."

  "It must have been unpleasant," said Fairyfoot.

  "It was more than that," said the little man; "it used to make myfeathers stand on end. There was the nest, too! Fancy being changed intoa robin, and being obliged to build a nest at a moment's notice! I neverfelt so ridiculous in my life. How was I to know how to build a nest!And the worst of it was the way she went on about it."

  "She!" said Fairyfoot

  "Oh, her, you know," replied the little man, ungrammatically, "my wife.She'd always been a robin, and she knew how to build a nest; she liked toorder me about, too--she was one of that kind. But, of course, I wasn'tgoing to own that I didn't know anything about nest-building. I couldnever have done anything with her in the world if I'd let her think sheknew as much as I did. So I just put things together in a way of my own,and built a nest that would have made you weep! The bottom fell out of itthe first night. It nearly killed me."

  "Did you fall out, too?" inquired Fairyfoot.

  "Oh, no," answered the little man. "I meant that it nearly killed me tothink the eggs weren't in it at the time."

  "What did you do about the nest?" asked Fairyfoot.

  The little man winked in the most improper manner.

  "Do?" he said. "I got mad, of course, and told her that if she hadn'tinterfered, it wouldn't have happened; said it was exactly like a hen tofly around giving advice and unsettling one's mind, and then complain ifthings weren't right. I told her she might build the nest herself, ifshe thought she could build a better one. She did it, too!" And hewinked again.

  "Was it a better one?" asked Fairyfoot.

  The little man actually winked a third time. "It may surprise you to hearthat it was," he replied; "but it didn't surprise me. By-the-by," headded, with startling suddenness, "what's your name, and what's thematter with you?"

  "My name is Prince Fairyfoot," said the boy, "and I have lost mymaster's swine."

  "My name," said the little man, "is Robin Goodfellow, and I'll findthem for you."

  He had a tiny scarlet silk pouch hanging at his girdle, and he put hishand into it and drew forth the smallest golden whistle you ever saw.

  "Blow that," he said, giving it to Fairyfoot, "and take care that youdon't swallow it. You are such a tremendous creature!"

  Fairyfoot took the whistle and put it very delicately to his lips. Heblew, and there came from it a high, clear sound that seemed to piercethe deepest depths of the forest.

  "Blow again," commanded Robin Goodfellow.

  Again Prince Fairyfoot blew, and again the pure clear sound rang throughthe trees, and the next instant he heard a loud rushing and tramping andsqueaking and grunting, and all the great drove of swine came tearingthrough the bushes and formed themselves into a circle and stood staringat him as if waiting to be told what to do next.

  "Oh, Robin Goodfellow, Robin Goodfellow!" cried Fairyfoot, "how gratefulI am to you!"

  "Not as grateful as I am to you," said Robin Goodfellow. "But for you Ishould be disturbing that hawk's digestion at the present moment, insteadof which, here I am, a respectable fairy once more, and my late wife(though I ought not to call her that, for goodness knows she was earlyenough hustling me out of my nest before daybreak, with the unpleasantproverb about the early bird catching the worm!)--I suppose I should saymy early wife--is at this juncture a widow. Now, where do you live?"

  Fairyfoot told him, and told him also about the swineherd, and how ithappened that, though he was a prince, he had to herd swine and live inthe forest.

  "Well, well," said Robin Goodfellow, "that is a disagreeable state ofaffairs. Perhaps I can make it rather easier for you. You see that is afairy whistle."

  "I thought so," said Fairyfoot.

  "Well," continued Robin Goodfellow, "you can always call your swine withit, so you will never be beaten again. Now, are you ever lonely?"

  "Sometimes I am very lonely indeed," ananswered the Prince. "No onecares for me, though I think the brook is sometimes sorry, and tries totell me things."

  "Of course," said Robin. "They all like you. I've heard them say so."

  "Oh, have you?" cried Fairyfoot, joyfully.

  "Yes; you never throw stones at the birds, or break the branches of thetrees, or trample on the flowers when you can help it."

  "The birds sing to me," said Fairyfoot, "and the trees seem to beckon tome and whisper; and when I am very lonely, I lie down in the grass andlook into the eyes of the flowers and talk to them. I would not hurt oneof them for all the world!"

  "Humph!" said Robin, "you are a rather good little fellow. Would you liketo go to a party?"

  "A party!" said Fairyfoot. "What is th
at?"

  "This sort of thing," said Robin; and he jumped up and began to dancearound and to kick up his heels gaily in the palm of Fairyfoot'shand. "Wine, you know, and cake, and all sorts of fun. It begins attwelve to-night, in a place the fairies know of, and it lasts untiljust two minutes and three seconds and a half before daylight. Wouldyou like to come?"

  "Oh," cried Fairyfoot, "I should be so happy if I might!"

  "Well, you may," said Robin; "I'll take you. They'll be delighted to seeany friend of mine, I'm a great favourite; of course, you can easilyimagine that. It was a great blow to them when I was changed; such aloss, you know. In fact, there were several lady fairies, who--but nomatter." And he gave a slight cough, and began to arrange his necktiewith a disgracefully consequential air, though he was trying very hardnot to look conceited; and while he was endeavouring to appear easy andgracefully careless, he began accidentally to hum, "See the ConqueringHero Comes," which was not the right tune under the circumstances.

  "But for you," he said next, "I couldn't have given them the relief andpleasure of seeing me this evening. And what ecstasy it will be to them,to be sure! I shouldn't be surprised if it broke up the whole thing.They'll faint so--for joy, you know--just at first--that is, the ladieswill. The men won't like it at all; and I don't blame 'em. I suppose Ishouldn't like it--to see another fellow sweep all before him. That'swhat I do; I sweep all before me." And he waved his hand in such a finelarge gesture that he overbalanced himself, and turned a somersault. Buthe jumped up after it quite undisturbed.

  "You'll see me do it to-night," he said, knocking the dents out of hishat--"sweep all before me." Then he put his hat on, and his hands on hiships, with a swaggering, man-of-society air. "I say," he said, "I'm gladyou're going. I should like you to see it."

  "And I should like to see it," replied Fairyfoot.

  "Well," said Mr. Goodfellow, "you deserve it, though that's saying agreat deal. You've restored me to them. But for you, even if I'd escapedthat hawk, I should have had to spend the night in that beastly robin'snest, crowded into a corner by those squawking things, and domineeredover by her! I wasn't made for that! I'm superior to it. Domestic lifedoesn't suit me. I was made for society. I adorn it. She neverappreciated me. She couldn't soar to it. When I think of the way shetreated me," he exclaimed, suddenly getting into a rage, "I've a greatmind to turn back into a robin and peck her head off!"

  "Would you like to see her now?" asked Fairyfoot, innocently.

  Mr. Goodfellow glanced behind him in great haste, and suddenly sat down.

  "No, no!" he exclaimed in a tremendous hurry; "by no means! She has nodelicacy. And she doesn't deserve to see me. And there's a violence anduncertainty about her movements which is annoying beyond anything you canimagine. No, I don't want to see her! I'll let her go unpunished for thepresent. Perhaps it's punishment enough for her to be deprived of me.Just pick up your cap, won't you? and if you see any birds lying about,throw it at them, robins particularly."

  "I think I must take the swine home, if you'll excuse me," saidFairyfoot, "I'm late now."

  "Well, let me sit on your shoulder and I'll go with you and show you ashort way home," said Goodfellow; "I know all about it, so you needn'tthink about yourself again. In fact, we'll talk about the party. Justblow your whistle, and the swine will go ahead."

  Fairyfoot did so, and the swine rushed through the forest before them,and Robin Goodfellow perched himself on the Prince's shoulder, andchatted as they went.

  It had taken Fairyfoot hours to reach the place where he found Robin, butsomehow it seemed to him only a very short time before they came to theopen place near the swineherd's hut; and the path they had walked in hadbeen so pleasant and flowery that it had been delightful all the way.

  "Now," said Robin when they stopped, "if you will come here to-night attwelve o'clock, when the moon shines under this tree, you will find mewaiting for you. Now I'm going. Good-bye!" And he was gone before thelast word was quite finished.

  Fairyfoot went towards the hut, driving the swine before him, andsuddenly he saw the swineherd come out of his house, and stand staringstupidly at the pigs. He was a very coarse, hideous man, with bristlingyellow hair, and little eyes, and a face rather like a pig's, and healways looked stupid, but just now he looked more stupid than ever. Heseemed dumb with surprise.

  "What's the matter with the swine?" he asked in his hoarse voice, whichwas rather piglike, too.

  "I don't know," answered Fairyfoot, feeling a little alarmed. "What _is_the matter with them?"

  "They are four times fatter, and five times bigger, and six timescleaner, and seven times heavier, and eight times handsomer than theywere when you took them out," the swineherd said.

  "I've done nothing to them," said Fairyfoot. "They ran away, but theycame back again."

  The swineherd went lumbering back into the hut, and called his wife.

  "Come and look at the swine," he said.

  And then the woman came out, and stared first at the swine and then atFairyfoot.

  "He has been with the fairies," she said at last to her husband; "or itis because he is a king's son. We must treat him better if he can dowonders like that."

  "WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH THE SWINE?" HE ASKED.]