How to Tell Stories to Children, And Some Stories to Tell Part 10

Cushy cow bonny, let down thy milk, And I will give thee a gown of silk; A gown of silk and a silver tee, If thou wilt let down thy milk to me.

"Little girl, little girl, where have you been?"

"Gathering roses to give to the queen."

"Little girl, little girl, what gave she you?"

"She gave me a diamond as big as my shoe."

Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep, And can't tell where to find them; Leave them alone, and they'll come home, And bring their tails behind them.

Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep, And dreamt she heard them bleating; But when she awoke, she found it a joke, For still they all were fleeting.

Then up she took her little crook, Determin'd for to find them; She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed, For they'd left their tails behind them.

FIVE LITTLE WHITE HEADS[1]

[Footnote 1: From _Mother-Song and Child-Song_, Charlotte Brewster Jordan.]

BY WALTER LEARNED

Five little white heads peeped out of the mould, When the dew was damp and the night was cold; And they crowded their way through the soil with pride; "Hurrah! We are going to be mushrooms!" they cried.

But the sun came up, and the sun shone down, And the little white heads were withered and brown; Long were their faces, their pride had a fall-- They were nothing but toadstools, after all.

BIRD THOUGHTS[2]

[Footnote 2: _Ibid_.]

I lived first in a little house, And lived there very well; I thought the world was small and round, And made of pale blue sh.e.l.l.

I lived next in a little nest, Nor needed any other; I thought the world was made of straw, And brooded by my mother.

One day I fluttered from the nest To see what I could find.

I said, "The world is made of leaves; I have been very blind."

At length I flew beyond the tree, Quite fit for grown-up labours.

I don't know how the world _is_ made, And neither do my neighbours!

HOW WE CAME TO HAVE PINK ROSES[1]

[Footnote 1: Told me by Miss Elizabeth McCracken.]

Once, ever and ever so long ago, we didn't have any pink roses. All the roses in the world were white. There weren't any red ones at all, any yellow ones, or any pink ones,--only white roses.

And one morning, very early, a little white rosebud woke up, and saw the sun looking at her. He stared so hard that the little white rosebud did not know what to do; so she looked up at him and said, "Why are you looking at me so hard?"

"Because you are so pretty!" said the big round sun. And the little white rosebud blushed! She blushed pink. And all her children after her were little pink roses!

RAGGYLUG[2]

[Footnote 2: Adapted from Mr Ernest Thompson Seton's _Wild Animals I have known._ (David Nutt, 57-59 Long Acre, W.C. 6s. net.)]

Once there was a little furry rabbit, who lived with his mother deep down in a nest under the long gra.s.s. His name was Raggylug, and his mother's name was Molly Cottontail. Every morning, when Molly Cottontail went out to hunt for food, she said to Raggylug, "Now, Raggylug, lie still, and make no noise. No matter what you hear, no matter what you see, don't you move. Remember you are only a baby rabbit, and lie low." And Raggylug always said he would.

One day, after his mother had gone, he was lying very still in the nest, looking up through the feathery gra.s.s. By just c.o.c.king his eye, so, he could see what was going on up in the world. Once a big blue-jay perched on a twig above him, and scolded someone very loudly; he kept saying, "Thief! thief!" But Raggylug never moved his nose, nor his paws; he lay still. Once a lady-bird took a walk down a blade of gra.s.s, over his head; she was so top-heavy that pretty soon she tumbled off and fell to the bottom, and had to begin all over again. But Raggylug never moved his nose nor his paws; he lay still.

The sun was warm, and it was very still.

Suddenly Raggylug heard a little sound, far off. It sounded like "Swish, swish," very soft and far away. He listened. It was a queer little sound, low down in the gra.s.s, "rustle--rustle--rustle"; Raggylug was interested.

But he never moved his nose or his paws; he lay still. Then the sound came nearer, "rustle--rustle--rustle"; then grew fainter, then came nearer; in and out, nearer and nearer, like something coming; only, when Raggylug heard anything coming he always heard its feet, stepping ever so softly.

What could it be that came so smoothly,--rustle--rustle--without any feet?

He forgot his mother's warning, and sat up on his hind paws; the sound stopped then. "Pooh," thought Raggylug, "I'm not a baby rabbit, I am three weeks old; I'll find out what this is." He stuck his head over the top of the nest, and looked--straight into the wicked eyes of a great big snake.

"Mammy, Mammy!" screamed Raggylug. "Oh, Mammy, Mam--" But he couldn't scream any more, for the big snake had his ear in his mouth and was winding about the soft little body, squeezing Raggylug's life out. He tried to call "Mammy!" again, but he could not breathe.

Ah, but Mammy had heard the first cry. Straight over the fields she flew, leaping the stones and hummocks, fast as the wind, to save her baby. She wasn't a timid little cottontail rabbit then; she was a mother whose child was in danger. And when she came to Raggylug and the big snake, she took one look, and then hop! hop! she went over the snake's back; and as she jumped she struck at the snake with her strong hind claws so that they tore his skin. He hissed with rage, but he did not let go.

Hop! hop! she went again, and this time she hurt him so that he twisted and turned; but he held on to Raggylug.

Once more the mother rabbit hopped, and once more she struck and tore the snake's back with her sharp claws. Zzz! How she hurt! The snake dropped Raggy to strike at her, and Raggy rolled on to his feet and ran.

"Run, Raggylug, run!" said his mother, keeping the snake busy with her jumps; and you may believe Raggylug ran! Just as soon as he was out of the way his mother came too, and showed him where to go. When she ran, there was a little white patch that showed under her tail; that was for Raggy to follow,--he followed it now.

Far, far away she led him, through the long gra.s.s, to a place where the big snake could not find him, and there she made a new nest. And this time, when she told Raggylug to lie low you'd better believe he minded!

THE GOLDEN COBWEBS[1]

A STORY TO TELL BY THE CHRISTMAS TREE

[Footnote 1: This story was told me in the mother-tongue of a German friend, at the kindly instance of a common friend of both; the narrator had heard it at home from the lips of a father of story-loving children for whom he often invented such little tales. The present adaptation has pa.s.sed by hearsay through so many minds that it is perhaps little like the original, but I venture to hope it has a touch of the original fancy, at least.]

I am going to tell you a story about something wonderful that happened to a Christmas Tree like this, ever and ever so long ago, when it was once upon a time.

It was before Christmas, and the tree was trimmed with bright spangled threads and many-coloured candles and (name the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs of the tree before you), and it stood safely out of sight in a room where the doors were locked, so that the children should not see it before the proper time. But ever so many other little house-people had seen it. The big black p.u.s.s.y saw it with her great green eyes; the little grey kitty saw it with her little blue eyes; the kind house-dog saw it with his steady brown eyes; the yellow canary saw it with his wise, bright eyes. Even the wee, wee mice that were so afraid of the cat had peeped one peep when no one was by.

But there was someone who hadn't seen the Christmas tree. It was the little grey spider!

You see, the spiders lived in the corners,--the warm corners of the sunny attic and the dark corners of the nice cellar. And they were expecting to see the Christmas Tree as much as anybody. But just before Christmas a great cleaning-up began in the house. The house-mother came sweeping and dusting and wiping and scrubbing, to make everything grand and clean for the Christ-child's birthday. Her broom went into all the corners, poke, poke,--and of course the spiders had to run. Dear, dear, _how_ the spiders had to run! Not one could stay in the house while the Christmas cleanness lasted. So, you see, they couldn't see the Christmas Tree.

Spiders like to know all about everything, and see all there is to see, and these were very sad. So at last they went to the Christ-child and told him about it.