 Sunbeam and Zephyr by Jerry Randolph Brown. They named him Zephyr because he was like the wind that rustles the leaves, bends over the lily bells and makes the tall pines sing. Zephyr was a prince among the fairies. He was strong and big for a fairy, nearly two inches tall. Although he was young, he had done great deeds. Once with his sharp sword he had slain a crosshopper. At another time he had driven a whole kingdom of ants from an anthill, and Zephyr was so clever that all the fairies would sit still and listen when he began to talk. Oh, the funny stories he could tell! Even the grave-old men, like the prime minister, would hold their sides and laugh. Zephyr loved Sunbeam because she had pink cheeks like the sweet Arbutus, eyes blue as the sky, and hair as yellow as the golden sunshine. She was so small that she could lie down in the petal of her rose, and often went to sleep, curled up for the night in a honeysuckle blossom. All the fairies loved her, too, because she was so kind and good. She was their queen, and they obeyed her. These fairies lived in the woods and seldom went outside, so Sunbeam, although a queen, had never been beyond the long shadow where the sun goes down at night. Before twilight all the fairies went to bed. They liked best to sleep in the morning glories, for they made such nice beds, and they shut up so tightly at just the right time for little fairies to go to sleep. Then the morning glories would open when the sun came up, and would tumble the sleepy little fairies out on the grass and just laugh to see the little sleepy heads rub the two out of their eyes and try to be wide awake. Once ever so long before, Sunbeam had had a dreadful experience. Her two uncles, Sunflower and Hollyhawk, had warned her that she must go to bed early, but one day she thought that, since she was queen, she wouldn't let even her prime ministers tell her what to do, so she stayed up very late. It was almost half past six. Hollyhawk and Sunflower were very much worried and kept saying, please run and get inside that wild rose and go to sleep, Sunbeam. But Sunbeam wouldn't, because she was a very woeful little fairy. Then Trixie, Sunbeam's dearest little friend and one of her ladies in waiting, said, oh, how funny you look, Sunbeam. Sunbeam said, I don't look funny at all. Just the same, she ran to the fountain, for the fountain was her favorite mirror, and looked into it, in such a sight. Instead of her rose, she checked, chubby little fairy, all she could see was a pale, thin little fairy, so pale and so thin, that she wouldn't have known herself, if it hadn't been for the dent in her chin, where a dimple had always been. Oh, but Sunbeam was frightened. Run quick, Sunbeam, said Hollyhawk, you're growing thinner every minute. Sunbeam looked, and she could see that she was growing thinner, so she ran and ran as fast as ever she could, and jumped right into the wild rose, and hid her dear little eyes in the soft pink petal, and fell fast asleep. When she walked, she ran and looked in the fountain again, the very first thing, and you can be sure she was glad to find that she looked like herself once more. But after that, Sunbeam never tried to stay up late. Chapter 2 Zephyr loved Sunbeam and wanted to marry her, but she longed to see the world, and told him he must wait until she had made a trip around it. Zephyr coaxed and begged her to stay at home, but nothing he could say would change her mind, for she was determined to take the journey. So she called the servants and ordered them to harness two of her largest handsomest and swiftest bumblebees to her rose-leaf carriage. Then, dressed in a lovely yellow gown made of butterfly's feathers, she stepped into her carriage, waved her hand, and with a loud buzzing noise, away flew her black and yellow team. The fairies watched her, straining their eyes, till she disappeared over the treetops, and then they all cried and felt so badly that they nearly wept their eyes out. Oh, what will become of our beautiful Sunbeam? they cried. Will she ever come back to us? I will go after her, said Zephyr, bring me my swift hornet. So he mounted his black steed, and with the fierce buzzing the hornet started off. He soon overtook Sunbeam, for his hornet could fly much faster than her bumblebees, and he was almost up to her rose-leaf carriage when she drove her tired bumblebees into a lovely red clover field. She had never seen red clover before, as they do not grow in the forest, and the side was a great treat to her, as well as to the tired and hungry bumblebees. She unfastened them from the carriage to let them eat all the honey they wanted, and they just ate and ate until they tumbled off the clover blossoms to the ground. They were so full. Now what shall I do? cried Sunbeam. I can't get my bumblebees to go, and she tugged at them and coaxed and scolded, but it was no use. They were fast asleep. Poor Sunbeam sat down on a cloverleaf, and felt so tired and sorry that she cried until she too fell asleep. Chapter 3 When Zephyr lighted from his black hornet, he found Sunbeam asleep on the cloverleaf, and not having the heart to awaken her, he bent over her and kissed her cheek, and then went round to the opposite side of the clover blossom, where he would be entirely hidden when she opened her eyes. Just then a dew drop that hanged directly over Sunbeam's head was shaken, and it fell right on her face, and so nearly drowned her that she awoke with a start to find herself alone. Zephyr kept as quiet as he could for some time, but his poor little Sunbeam was crying so hard that he finally came out of his hiding place and said, My dear Sunbeam, I'm here to take you home. At first she was so glad to see him that she almost fell off the cloverleaf right on the bumblebees, but Zephyr caught her in his arms. Please, can't you wake up my bumblebees? She sobbed. I will try, said Zephyr, but you do not need them, for you can ride behind me on the hornet. No, no, I must go on my journey, she said, and seeing her determined to have her own way, he tried to wake the drowsy bumblebees. He shook them and pounded them with a long grass, and grew all out of breath shouting at them, but they would not open their eyes. He sat down to rest himself, and as he was wondering what he could do next, he too fell asleep. By and by the bees awoke of their own accord, so Sunbeam harnessed them and started off again, for she knew that Zephyr would ride his favorite hornet after her before she could get far away. Soon she saw a beautiful white field and guided her bumblebees into it. This field was also all clover, only it was white clover. It stretched away off ever so far, till Sunbeam could not see the end of it. The air was sweet with perfume, so that she entirely forgot the unhappy time in the red clover. Suddenly the bees started so swiftly that she became frightened, and in spite of all her efforts to stop them, they flew faster and faster, until she could see nothing but a dim white mass all around her. Then, with a thump, they struck a hard-bored fence, and fell to the ground, and poor little Sunbeam was thrown from her rose-leave carriage and nearly stunned by the fall. When she could open her eyes, she saw that the poor bumblebees were dead, and then she knew that her journey was at an end, and that perhaps she could never get home again. Chapter 4 While Sunbeam was sitting among the white clover, sobbing as though her heart would break, she heard a strange noise. It was different from any noise she had ever heard before. It grew louder and louder, and poor little Sunbeam became very much frightened. Just as fast as she could, she climbed up the slippery stem of a white clover, and tiptoed across the top of the blossom and looked. And what do you think she saw, something big and wide coming towards her? Sometimes it would come straight towards her, and then it would fall down, and all the clover would be crumbled. Then Sunbeam heard a big voice say, Come, baby, dear. Baby thought Sunbeam. That is not a baby. That is a giant, more than a hundred, hundred times as big as a fairy. Sunbeam was so frightened that she climbed down from the clover blossom and ran as fast as she could. Then she fell down and tore her pretty yellow dress on a blade of grass. That made her cry again, for it was her prettiest dress, all made of butterfly's wings. Poor Sunbeam thought, oh, if Zephyr would only come, and she began to call, Zephyr, Zephyr. Luckily, Zephyr was not very far away, and when he heard her call, it was not very long before he discovered her and placed her behind him on the hornet. Together they flew swiftly over the fields and rivers till they reached their own woods. The fairies were so happy over Sunbeam's return that they sang and danced and began to prepare a great banquet on the largest oak leaf they could find. Chapter 5 First, however, they all formed into line, and with twelve lovely little fairy maidens, leading the way, went to chuck in the pulpit, who married Zephyr and Sunbeam. Sunbeam had on a sweet little dress made of daisy petals, and Zephyr had the cunningest black velvet suit made from a bumblebee's coat. After the wedding they marched back to where the dinner was spread on the oak leaf. After dinner, the fairies called so loudly for a speech from Zephyr, that at last he climbed up on a chestnut and began to speak. What he said was very funny, and a red squirrel came out from a tree overhead to see why the fairies were laughing so hard and so merrily. The little red squirrel was very glad to have a chance to see the fairies, for usually when they heard him coming, they always hid. But now Zephyr's speech was so funny, that they didn't hear the red squirrel at all. The red squirrel thought, oh, I wish the fairies would invite me to their party. He saw one little fairy next to Sunbeam, who had lovely velvety eyes, and he thought she was the dearest little thing he had ever seen. It was Trixie, Sunbeam's dearest friend, the naughtiest, most mischievous little fairy in the world. Sunbeam adored Trixie, because Trixie could think of so many funny things to do. When the red squirrel saw Trixie, he thought he simply must go to the party. He began to laugh and chutter too, and ran out on a limb directly over their heads, so he could listen better to the speech. Here he got to laughing so heartily, that he lost his balance and fell right up the limb, which frightened the fairies so much, that they ran and hid away under the leaves. The little red squirrel cannot find them now, and neither can you nor I. End of Sunbeam and Zephyr by Jay Randolph-Brown With soft green grass here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach trees that in the springtime broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. How happy we are here, they cried to each other. One day the giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish Ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over, he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden. What are you doing here? He cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away. My own garden is my own garden, said the giant. Anyone can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it, but myself. So he built a high wall all around it and put up a notice board. Trespassers will be prosecuted. He was a very selfish giant. The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander around the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. How happy we were there, they said to each other. Then the spring came, and all over the country were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the selfish giant it was still winter. The birds did not care to sing in it, as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice board it was so sorry for the children that it sped back into the ground and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the snow and the frost. Spring has forgotten this garden, they cried, so we will live here all year round. The snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the north wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furrows, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney pots down. This is a delightful spot, he said. We must ask the hail on a visit. So the hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle, till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice. I cannot understand why the spring is so late and coming, said the selfish giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden. I hope there will be change in the weather. But the spring never came, nor the summer. The autumn gave golden fruit every garden, but to the giant's garden she gave none. He is too selfish, she said. So it was always winter there, and the north wind, and the hail, and the frost, and the snow danced about through the trees. One morning the giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the king's musicians passing by. It was really only a little linen singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the hail stopped dancing over his head, and the north wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. I believe the spring has come at last, said the giant, and he jumped out of bed and looked out. What did he see? He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child, and the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children's heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene. Only in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all around it crying bitterly. The poor tree was still covered with frost and snow, and the north wind was blowing and roaring above it. Climb up little boy, said the tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could, but the boy was too tiny. And the giant's heart melted as he looked out. How selfish I have been, he said. Now I know why the spring would not come here. I will put that little boy on top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children's playground forever and ever. He was really very sorry for what he had done. So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him, they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the giant coming, and the giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand and put him up into the tree. And the tree at once broke into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the giant's neck and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the spring. It is now your garden, little children, said the giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were going to market at 12 o'clock, they found the giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen. All day long they played, and in the evening they came to bid the giant goodbye. But where is your little companion, he said, the boy I put into the tree. The giant loved him the best because he had kissed him. We don't know, answered the children, he has gone away. You must tell him to be sure to come here tomorrow, said the giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before, and the giant felt very sad. Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the giant, but the little boy whom the giant loved was never seen again. The giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and he often spoke of him. How I would like to see him, he used to say. Years went over, and the giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about anymore, so he sat in a huge armchair and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. I have many beautiful flowers, he said, but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all. One winter morning, he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the winter now, but he knew that it was merely the spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting. Suddenly, he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden, was a tree, quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved. Downstairs ran the giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close, his face grew red with anger, and he said, Who hath did to wound thee? For on the palms of the child were the prince of two nails, and the prince of two nails were on the little feet. Who hath did to wound thee? cried the giant. Tell me that I might take my big sword and slay him. Nay, answered the child, but these are the wounds of love. Who art thou? said the giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child. And the child smiled on the giant and said to him, You let me play once in your garden. Today you shall come with me to my garden, which is paradise. And when the children ran in their afternoon, they found the giant laying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms. End of the Selfish Giant by Oscar Wilde Rid by Anna Pinto The Tale of Mrs. Tingdee Winkle by Beatrix Potter This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org read by Chad Horner. Once upon a time, there was a little girl called Lizzie, who lived at a farm called Little Town. She was a good little girl, only she was always losing her pocket handker chips. One day, Little Lizzie came into the farm yard, crying, Oh, she did cry so. I've lost my pocket hankin, three hankins and a penny. Have you seen them? Tabby Kitten. The kitten went on washing her white paws, so Lizzie asked a speckled hen. Sally Henny Penny, have you found three pocket hankins? But the speckled hen ran into a barn, clucking. I go barefoot, barefoot, barefoot. And then Lizzie asked Cog Robin, sitting on a twig. Cog Robin looked sideways at Lizzie, with his bright black eye, and he flew over a stile and away. Lizzie climbed upon the stile and looked up at the hill behind Little Town, a hill that goes up, up into the clouds as though it had no top, and the great way up the hillside, she thought, she saw some white things spread upon the grass. Lizzie scrambled up the hill as fast as her stout legs would carry her. She ran along a steep pathway up and up, until Little Town was right away down below. She could have dropped a pebble down the chimney. Presently she came to a spring, bubbling out from the hillside. Someone had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water, but the water was already running over, for the can was no bigger than an egg cup, and where the sand upon the path was wet, there were foot marks of a very small person, Lizzie ran on and on. The path ended under a big rock. The grass was short and green, and there were clothes, props cut from bracken stems, with lines of plated brushes, and a heap of tiny clothespins, but no pocket hanger sheets, but there was something else, a door, straight into the hill, and inside it someone was singing, Lily white and clean o, with little frills between o, smooth and hot, red rusty spot, never hear be seen o. Lizzie knocked once, twice and interrupted the song. A little frightened voice called out, who's that? Lizzie opened the door, and what do you think there was inside the hill? A nice clean kitchen, with a flagged floor and wooden beams, just like any other farm kitchen. Only the ceiling was so low that Lizzie's head nearly touched it, and the pots and pans were small, and so was everything there. There was a nice hot, singy smell, and at the table, with an iron in her hand, stood a very stout short person, staring anxiously at Lizzie. Her print gown was tucked up, and she was wearing a large apron, over her striped pedico. Her little black nose went sniffle, sniffle, sniffle, and her eyes went twinkle twinkle, and underneath her cap, where Lizzie had yellow curls, that little person had prickles. Who are you, said Lizzie? Have you seen my pocket hankins? The little person made a bob curtsy. Oh yes, if you please him. My name is Mrs. Tingy Twinkle. Oh yes, if you please him. I'm an excellent clear stature, and she took something out of a closed basket, and spread it on the ironing blanket. What's that thing, said Lizzie? That's not my pocket hankin. Oh no, if you please him. That's a little scarlet waistcoat, belonging to Cog Robin, and she ironed it and folded it, and put it on one side. Then she took something else off a clothes horse. That isn't my penny, said Lizzie. Oh no, if you please him. That's a damask tablecloth, belonging to Jenny Wren. Look how it stained with current wine. It's very bad to wash, said Mrs. Tingy Winkle. Mrs. Tingy Winkle's nose went sniffle, sniffle, sniffle, and her eyes went twinkle twinkle, and she fetched another hot iron from the fire. There's one of my pocket hankins, cried Lizzie, and there's my penny. Mrs. Tingy Winkle ironed it, and goffered it, and shook out the frills. Oh that is lovely, said Lizzie. And what are those long yellow things, with fingers like gloves? Oh that's a pair of stockings, belonging to Sally Hennie Penny. Look how she's worn the heels out, with scratching in the yard. She'll very soon go barefoot, said Mrs. Tingy Winkle. Why, there's another hankersniff, but it isn't mine, it's red. Oh no, if you please him, that one belongs to old Mrs. Rabbit. And it did, so smell of onions. I've had to wash it separately, I can't get out the smell. There's another one of mine, said Lizzie. What are those funny little white things, that's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kinn. I only have to iron them. She washes them herself. There's my last pocket hankin, said Lizzie. And what are you dipping into, the basin of starch? Their little diggy shirt fronts, belonging to Tom Tipmouse. Most terrible tickler, said Mrs. Tingy Winkle. Now I've finished my ironing, I'm going to air some clothes. What are these dare soft fluffy things, said Lizzie. Oh those are willy coats, belonging to the little lambs at Skellgill. Will their jackets take off? Asked Lizzie. Oh yes, if you please him. Look at the sheep mark on the shoulder, and here's one marked for Gatesgarth, and three that come from Littletown. They're always marked at washing, said Mrs. Tingy Winkle. And she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes, small brown coats of mice, and one velvety black, mull-skin waistcoat, and a red tailcoat, with no tail belonging to Squirrel, nutkin, and a very much shrunk blue jacket, belonging to Peter Rabbit. And a petticoat, not marked, that had gone lost in the washing, and at last the basket was empty. Then Mrs. Tingy Winkle made tea, a cup for herself and a cup for Lizzie. They sat before the fire on a bench, and looked sideways, at one another. Mrs. Tingy Winkle's hand, holding the tea cup, was very very brown, and very very wrinkly, with the soup suds. And all through her gown, and her cap there was hairpins, sticking wrong end out, so that Lizzie didn't like, to sit too near her. When they had finished tea, they tied up the clothes in bundles, and Lizzie's pocket hankerchiefs, were folded up inside her clean penny, and fastened with a silver safety pin. And then, they made up the fire with turf, and came out, and locked the door, and hid the key under the door cell. Then, away down the hill, trotted Lizzie and Mrs. Tingy Winkle, with the bundles of clothes. All the way down the path, little animals came out, of the fern to meet them. The very first that they met, were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny. And she gave them, their nice clean clothes, and all the little animals and birds, were so very much obliged, to dear Mrs. Tingy Winkle. So that, at the bottom of the hill, when they came to the stile, there was nothing left to carry, except Lizzie's one little bundle. Lizzie scrabbled up the stile, with the bundle in her hand, and then she turned to say, good night. And to thank the washerwoman, but what a very odd thing, Mrs. Tingy Winkle, had not waited either for things, or for the washing bill. She was running, running, running up the hill, and where was her, white frilled cap, and her shawl, and her gown, and her petticoat, and how small she had grown, and how brown, and covered with prickles. Why, Mrs. Tingy Winkle, was nothing but a hedgehog. Now some people say, that little Lizzie, have been asleep upon the stile, but then how could she, have found three clean pocket hankins, and a penny, pinned with a silver safety pin. And besides, I have seen that door, into the bag, of the hill, called capbells. And besides, I am very well acquainted, with dear Mrs. Tingy Winkle, and of the tale of Mrs. Tingy Winkle, like Beatrix Potter. The Weird Witch of the Willow Herb by Evelyn Sharp. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings, are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Weird Witch of the Willow Herb The Weird Witch of the Willow Herb, lived in a pink cottage, on the top of a hill. She was merry and beautiful, and wise and kind, and she was all dressed in pink and green, and she had great eyes, that were sometimes filled with laughter, and sometimes filled with tears. And her round soft mouth, looked as though it had done nothing but smile, for hundreds and hundreds of years. Her pink cottage, was the most charming place in the world to live in. The walls were made, of the flower of the Willow Herb, and the roof was made of the green leaves, and the floors were made of the white down, and all the little lettuce windows were cobwebs, spun by the spiders who live in Fairyland, and make the windows for the Fairy Queen's own palace. And no one but a wimp or a fairy, could have said how long the Weird Witch of the Willow Herb, had been living in her cottage, on the top of the hill. Now anyone might think, that this wonderful witch was so sweet, and so wise, that all sorts of people would be coming, all day long, to ask her to help them. For of course, that is what a witch is for. But this particular witch, who lived in her pink cottage on the top of the hill, had not been living there all that time for nothing. If I did not keep a few spells, lying about at the bottom of the hill, I should never have a moment's peace, chuckled the witch of the Willow Herb, and that is why most of the people, who came to ask her for spells, never got so far as the pink cottage at all, for they found what they wanted at the bottom of the hill, and no doubt, that saved everybody a great deal of trouble. Poor people, said the weird witch, with her voice full of kindness, why should I make them climb up all this way, just to see me? Sometimes, however, it did happen, that somebody got to the top of the hill, or else it is clear, that this story would never have been written. For one day, as the witch sat on the doorstep of her pink cottage, looking out over the world with her great eyes, that saw everything, the little Princess Winsome, came running up the white path, that twisted round and round, and up and up until it reached the cottage at the top, and she did not stop running until she stood in front of the weird witch herself. She looked as though she must have come a long way in a great hurry, for she had lost one of her shoes on the way, and there was quite an important scratch on her dimpled chin, but of course, it is difficult to walk sedately when one is going to call on a witch. I am Princess Winsome, she announced, as soon as she had breathed enough to speak, to be sure you are, smiled the weird witch, who knew that before, and you have run away from home because, because I want to find the bravest boy in the world, interrupted the Princess, who never liked to let anybody else do the talking. Are they all cowards in your country then? asked the witch. Oh no, answered Princess Winsome. The boys in my country are so brave that it is no fun playing with them. They stop all the games by fighting about nothing at all, and it's dreadfully dull when you're a girl, isn't it? Perhaps it is, smiled the witch. Then why are you looking for the bravest boy of all? Ah, said the little Princess wisely, the bravest boy of all would never fight unless there was a reason, you see, and so we should have lots of time to play. But how am I to find him? The only way to find him is to let him find you, said the weird witch, and the best thing I can do for you is to shut you up in the middle of an enchanted forest, where no one but the bravest boy in the world would ever come to find anyone. Now make haste, or you won't get there in time. And the Princess, with the scratch on her chin, must certainly have made haste, for she had quite disappeared by the time the witch's next visitor came up the winding white path, and that happened the very next minute. This time it was a boy who came along, a tall, strong, jolly-looking boy with his hands in his pockets and his cap at the back of his head, whistling a strange wild tune that was made up of all the songs of all the birds in the air, so that as he whistled it, every bird for miles round stopped to listen. I am Kit the Coward, he said, pulling off his cap to the witch. To be sure you are, smiled the weird witch, who knew that, too. And you have run away from home because the other boys called you a coward, and you want to show them that you are as brave as they are, only you won't fight without a reason. Isn't that it? Course it is, answered Kit, who liked to have his talking done for him. But how shall I find something worth fighting about? That is not difficult, said the weird witch. All you have to do is go to the court of King Hurley-Burley and ask him to give you something brave to do. The king is always going to war about something, so you will soon have as much fighting as you want. Now be off with you, or else someone else will get there before you. All right, said Kit, which is the way? Any way you like, laughed the weird witch. But in what direction, asked Kit, it doesn't matter, laughed the weird witch. So Kit made her another bow and marched away again down the hillside, whistling the same tune as before, and all the birds of the air came flying along when they heard it, and they flew in front of him to show him the way, and he followed them over meadows and streams and orchards and cornfields, until they brought him to the walls of King Hurley-Burley's city, and they would not have left him then, if he had not pointed out to them, most politely, that although it was very obliging of them to have come so far with him, he would find it a little inconvenient to travel any further with so many companions. So they flew away again, and Kit marched into the city and up to the gates of the king's palace. I have come to fight for the king, said Kit, when the guards came out and asked him what he wanted, and he looked such a fine strong fellow that they took a minute once to the king. You have come in the very nick of time, said King Hurley-Burley. For the commander-in-chief of the royal forces has overslept himself so often that I had him beheaded this morning before he was awake. The army is in consequence without a head, as well as the commander-in-chief, so if you will become their general and invade the country of my neighbor, King Topsy-Turvy, I shall be much obliged to you. Why have I got to invade the country of King Topsy-Turvy, demanded Kit? The king pushed his crown on one side, which he always did when he felt puzzled. Now you've come to mention it, he said. I believe there was a reason, but for the life of me, I can't remember what it was. However, the reason is of no importance. Oh yes, it is, interrupted Kit. I can't possibly fight without a reason, you know. Well, that's awkward, said King Hurley-Burley. Perhaps the army will know. And he sent a message round to the barracks to ask the soldiers why they were going to war. But although the soldiers were all ready to begin fighting, they had not the least idea what the war was about. So the king's crown became more crooked than before. Won't it do a few invent a reason? He asked Kit, for he could not help thinking how nice it would be to stay at home while his soldiers were being led to war by someone else. Oh, you may marry the Princess Winsome if you come back victorious, he added as an afterthought. But Kit only shook his head. He had never heard of the Princess Winsome and he was not going to fight anybody without a very good reason for it. Then King Hurley-Burley had a brilliant idea. We'll go and declare a war on the enemy to begin with, he said, and perhaps they will remember the reason. There was certainly no harm in declaring war, so Kit rode off at once on one of the king's fastest horses, and arrived the next morning at the court of King Topsy-Turvy, just as his majesty was sitting down to breakfast. I have come from King Hurley-Burley to declare war, said Kit, who always went straight to the point. What for? asked King Topsy-Turvy. I don't know, said Kit. That's what I want you to tell me. The king ate two eggs before he replied. Well, he said presently, I believe I said that Hurley-Burley was a shocking old muddler. I suppose that's it. All right, when do you want to begin? I don't want to begin at all, answered Kit. Why did you say he was a muddler? No, just to make conversation, said King Topsy-Turvy, helping himself to marmalade. Then you don't really think he is an old muddler? Asked Kit. Dear me, no, said King Topsy-Turvy. I never think. Then write that down on a piece of paper, and there needn't be a war at all, cried Kit. The king stroked his beard. Perhaps they're needn't, he agreed. But I never write. I do, though, said Kit, who had learned to write while all the other boys were making catapults. You've only got to sign your name here. King Topsy-Turvy stopped eating his breakfast just long enough to sign the beautiful apology Kit had written on a sheet of note paper. And then Kit jumped on his horse again and rode back to the palace of King Hurley-Burley. Well, said His Majesty, did you discover the reason? There wasn't a reason, and there isn't going to be a war, answered Kit, and he held out the beautifully written apology from King Topsy-Turvy. What? cried His Majesty in alarm. Do you mean to say you've stopped the war? Of course I have, said Kit, and I've come back victorious, as you see. Didn't you say something about a princess? But, stammered the King, how am I to appease the army? The army has set its heart on a war. So had I, answered Kit, sadly, but I can never find anything worth fighting about. Meanwhile, where's the princess? You've not won the princess, said King Hurley-Burley, who is now thoroughly cross. I believe you are a miserable coward. That is what the other boys say, answered Kit, smiling. It is not my fault that there is nothing to fight about. Will you please send for the princess? The princess has run away from home, so I can't send for her, said the King irritably. She is shut up in an enchanted forest and surrounded with wild beasts and magic spells and giants. It is not at all a nice place for a princess to be in, but how am I to get her away? Why, exclaimed Kit, laughing, here is something for your army to do. Let it go and rescue the princess. Nothing would induce the army to go near the place, explained the King sorrowfully. The army is too much afraid of being bewitched. Hurrah! shouted Kit, laughing more than ever. At last I have found something brave to do. I will go and rescue the princess. So Kit the coward started out on his travels once more, and no sooner did he get outside the city gates than he began to whistle his wonderful tune, and down swept all the birds of the air in hundreds, and they flew in front of him as before, and led him to the very edge of the enchanted forest. There they left him, for no one can help anybody to go through an enchanted forest, and Kit knew fast enough that he must find the princess by himself. He was not a bit afraid, though, and he plunged straight into the wood without looking back. He had not taken two steps before he had completely lost himself. The trees were so thick overhead that not a streak of sunshine was able to get through, and the forest was so full of wild beasts that it was impossible to walk five yards without tumbling over a lion or a bear. But this did not frighten Kit at all, for he had learned to talk the language of the woods all the time that the other boys were knocking one another on the head, and so he soon made friends with every animal in the forest, and they told him the best places to find apples and nuts and blackberries, and the bees brought him the very best honey they could make, and he grew so happy and so contented that he quite forgot he was enchanted and could not escape if he wanted to. But it is impossible to be happy for long when one is bewitched, and one day Kit found himself in a part of the forest that was more horrible and more frightening than any dark passage that was ever invented on the way to any nursery. It was not only dark, but it was strangely silent as well, and a curious feeling of gloom and unhappiness suddenly crept over Kit. If it had been a nice sort of silence, the sort we find when we get away from the other boys and girls into a place where it is quiet enough to hear the real sounds of the air, Kit would still have been quite happy. But here there was nothing to be heard at all, not even the brushing of the leaves, nor the blooming of the flowers, nor the growing of the grass. But the most frightening thing of all was when he clapped his hands together and stamped as hard as he could on the ground, for not a sound did he make, and when he tried to speak, he found he could only whisper, and when he burst out laughing, he made no more noise than if he'd been smiling. Still he kept his wits about him, for of course there was the princess to be rescued, and at last he thought of trying to whistle. At first he could not make a note sound in the stillness, but he went on trying until the wonderful tune he had learned long ago from the birds themselves began to echo once more through the silent forest. He did not get an answer at once, for really nice birds cannot be expected to go out of their way to a place where there is no sunshine, and the flowers cannot enter into conversation with them. But after a while a very fat blackbird, who certainly had impudence enough for anything, came hopping along from branch to branch until he landed on Kit's shoulder, and with him came sunshine and sound and merriment into the very heart of the melancholy forest. For none of these things are ever far off when a blackbird is near. Kit gave a shot of joy and hastened after the blackbird, who was hopping along the ground in front of him, and the next minute he found himself standing in a blaze of sunlight in front of a high stone wall. Beyond to the wall he could see the tall towers of a great castle, but he did not trouble himself much about the other side of the wall, for on the top of it, with the sunshine pouring all over her, sat the most charming little girl he'd ever seen. She'd lost one of her shoes, and there was the faintest sign of a scratch on her round dimpled chin, and her long black hair flowed round her shoulders in a way that some people might have called untidy. But Kit was sure, directly he saw her, that she had come straight out of Fairyland, and he was too amazed even to make her a bow. Dear me, what are you doing here? asked the girl in a tone of great surprise. Kit took a step nearer the wall and pulled off his cap. Her voice reminded him that, although she belonged to Fairyland, she was still a little girl, and would expect him to remember his manners. I've come to rescue the princess, he said. Can you tell me where she is? She lives in the castle over there, answered the girl. What are you going to do when you've rescued her? Well, I suppose I shall ask her to marry me, said Kit. Do you think she will? Ah, she replied gravely. That depends on whether you have my permission. Tell me who you are to begin with. I'm Kit the coward, he said simply, and he stared when she broke into the merriest peel of laughter imaginable. What nonsense, she cried, if you were a coward, you would never have got here at all. Is that true? asked Kit eagerly. Then do you think the princess will marry me? The girl looked down at him for a moment with her untidy little head on one side. Then she bent and held out her two hands to him. I think, perhaps, the princess will, she said softly. If you will help me down from this enormous high wall, we will go and ask her. So Kit lifted her down from the wall, which was quite an easy matter, for it was in reality no higher than he was, and the little girl was certainly the lightest weight he had ever held in his arms. What are you looking for? he asked when he had set her on the ground, for she was kneeling down and turning over the dry leaves in a most distressed manner. I'm looking for my crown, of course, she said with a pout. It tumbled off my head just before you came, and I was too frightened to jump all that long way to find it. Here it is, said Kit, and he picked up the little glittering crown and set it gently on the top of her beautiful rumpled hair. Then he started back in surprise. You are the princess, he shouted. Of course I am, laughed Princess Winsome, putting her hand in his. I knew that all the time. Shall we go home now? Kit did not reply immediately, for no one can do two things at once, and it took him quite a long time to kiss the small soft hand that lay in his own big one. And as for going home, when they did start they did not get very far, for it must not be forgotten that they were still in an enchanted forest, and it is easier to get into an enchanted forest than to get out of it again. However, as they had everything in the world to talk about, they would probably have been most annoyed if they had found their way instead of losing it. So they just went on losing it as happily as possible, until they could not walk another step, because an immense giant was occupying the whole of the roadway. There he sat, smoking a great pipe that looked like a chimney pot that wanted sweeping. And when the princess saw him, she was so frightened that she hit herself behind Kit, and peeped under his arm to see what was going to happen. Hello, said the giant, in a huge voice that made the grass stand on end with fright, just as it does after a whorefrost. What's this? You are running away with the princess. To be sure I am, said Kit, and if you don't let me pass, I shall have to kill you. Oh dear, sighed the giant, raising a wind that made the trees shiver for miles around. They all say that, and there's no peace for a poor giant nowadays. When I was a boy, the prince was always put under a spell as well as the princess. However, I suppose I must make an end of you if you are determined to fight. And he laid down his pipe and rose most unwillingly to his feet. Kit laughed out loud with gladness, for at last he had found a good reason for a fight, and no one would be able to call him a coward anymore. But before there was time to strike a single blow, the giant gave a loud howl of alarm, took to his heels, and in another moment was completely out of sight. Kit turned in amazement to his little princess, and then he saw what had frightened the giant, for all the animals of the forest, all the lions and the tigers, and the bears and the wolves, stood there and rose, waiting to help him. So there is no doubt that the giant would have been killed by somebody if he had not run away. Isn't it wonderful, said the little princess in a whisper. But Kit covered his face with his hands. It's no use, he said in a disappointed tone. The other boys will never believe that I am not a coward. Princess Winsome came and pulled his hands away and laughed softly. I think you're the bravest boy in the world, she said. Of course he is, chuckled a voice somewhere near. How stupid some people are, to be sure. And there sat the weird witch under a tree, all in her pink and green gown, with her great eyes brim full of fun and nonsense. And as the boy and girl stood hand in hand before her, and caught the glance of her beautiful witch's eyes, all sorts of muddles fell out of their heads, and they began to understand everything that had been puzzling them for years and years and years. That only shows what a witch can do when she is the right sort of witch. Dear little princess, cried Kit, it doesn't matter whether the other boys believe me or not, so long as you know I'm not a coward. Besides, added Princess Winsome, we are not going to try to make anybody believe anything. I think we'll stay here instead, forever and ever and always. Very good idea, smiled the weird witch of the Willow Herb, as she nodded at them both, always remain enchanted if you can. So they had the nicest and funniest wedding possible on the spot, and there was no time wasted in sending out invitations for all the guests were already waiting there and rose, with the exception of the singing birds, and Kit very soon summoned them by whistling a few notes of his wonderful tune. The princess laid her own wedding breakfast under the trees, and the wedding guests helped her by bringing her everything that was nice to eat in the forest, such as roasted chestnuts and preserved fruits and truffles and barley sugar cane, and lots of dew drops and honey drops and pear drops. And the weird witch completed the feast by turning a piece of rock that nobody wanted into a wedding cake, and everyone will agree that it is better for a rock to turn into a wedding cake than for a wedding cake to turn into a rock. And all the flowers came with their own accord and arranged themselves on the table, which they certainly did much more prettily than anybody else could have done it for them. And when the wedding was over, they just walked away again, instead of stopping until they were dead, which of course is what they would have done at any other wedding. And although the bride had lost her other shoe by the time she was ready to be married, and although her beautiful hair was more untidy than ever, and her crown had tumbled off again and had to be brought to her by an obliging lion, Kit never noticed any of these things, and only felt quite certain that he was marrying somebody who had come right out of Fairyland and was not an ordinary princess at all. No doubt it was because he was in an enchanted forest that he made such a mistake, and no doubt it is because he has never been disenchanted since that he is making the same mistake to this day. As for the weird witch of the willow herb, she went back to her pink cottage on the top of the hill, so as to be ready to make the next person happy who came up the white winding path. But before she went, she took care that all the singing birds should fly back to Kit's home and tell the other boys how brave he had been, which they did with the greatest pleasure imaginable. It is said that the story became slightly exaggerated, but when we know how much one little bird can tell, it is not difficult to imagine the kind of story that could be told by hundreds and hundreds of little birds. End of The Weird Witch of the Willow Herb by Evelyn Sharp Read by Colleen McMahon