More Tales in the Land of Nursery Rhyme Part 9

He a.s.sisted while the young lady was being dressed. She looked very beautiful, with a long train, and feathers in her hair, and a sheaf of lilies in her arms.

"Just like a fairy princess," thought Thomas.

She went downstairs. Thomas followed her. She got into her carriage.

Thomas, concealed by her train, crept in too.

"I thought Thomas got in with me," she said anxiously.

But Thomas hid himself under the seat. When they arrived at the door of the palace, she alighted, and Thomas got out after her.

The crowd was so occupied in gazing at the young lady's beauty that they never looked at Thomas at all.

This annoyed him. He was almost inclined to mew with vexation.

"Never mind," he consoled himself, "she, poor girl, has only this one chance of being looked at, but everyone will always be looking at me when I am King of England," so he refrained from mewing.

The young lady walked in through the folding doors. Thomas followed, still concealed by the folds of her train.

They went along what seemed to Thomas miles and miles of red carpet, and were finally ushered, through a great door, into a great room.

Thomas disengaged himself from the young lady's train and sniffed, just to show that he was quite at home.

That sniff was fatal, for he scented a mouse somewhere!

The room was hung with red and gold, and surrounded with glittering mirrors. There was a rustle of silks and satins. On every side were court lords and ladies dressed in all their gorgeous splendour. Fans fluttered, feathers nodded, diamonds sparkled in all directions. Over all floated a strain of delicious dreamy music. At the end of the long room, up six red-carpeted steps was the Queen's golden chair of state.

On it sat the Queen herself, smiling graciously. She was dressed in white and blazing with jewels, and she had a crown of gold upon her head.

It was Thomas' great opportunity! Who knows but that if he had walked sedately up to the Queen and asked her hand in marriage that she might not have consented, and then he might have turned into a Prince, and been King of England! Yes, it was certainly Thomas' opportunity.

That fatal sniff!

He never saw the splendid room. He never saw the beautiful ladies and the gorgeous dresses. Worse than all, he never saw the Queen herself at all. All thoughts of being a Prince had flown out of his head. As though he had been bewitched, he had only one idea.

There was a mouse somewhere!

He was no longer Thomas the Prince in Disguise, he was only Thomas "the good mouser."

He crept forward cautiously, sniffing as he went, and slid noiselessly up to the Queen's great chair. Yes, there was the mouse peeping out from behind one of the golden legs. Thomas sprang forward.

"What is that cat doing here?" called out the Queen. "Send him out of the room immediately."

A dozen hands were stretched forward to seize the unfortunate Thomas.

He saw the mouse run like a dart towards a hole in the wall. He dashed after it.

Then ensued such a hue and cry as never was seen. People rushed here, and rushed there, and stepped on each other's toes, and tore each other's gowns. Several ladies fainted, and everyone hurried in pursuit of Thomas.

He ran this way and that, and turned and twisted himself in every direction. At last he found himself near the door, and slipped out with the whole crowd after him. He ran and ran till he had outdistanced them all, and even then he still ran on from mere fright.

It was a very draggled and dishevelled Thomas that appeared next morning at the stable door of his old home in the country.

"Hm, I thought so," said the old stable cat when she at last recognised him. "Cat you were born, and cat you will remain all the rest of your days. King of England indeed!"

Thomas has no Private History now.

HEY, DIDDLE, DIDDLE!

"_Live merrily_"

Hey, diddle, diddle!

The Cat and the Fiddle, The Cow jumped over the moon.

The little Dog laughed to see such sport, And the Dish ran away with the Spoon.

Once upon a time in a large white farm-house upon an open moor there lived a Wizard.

As you know, wizards work very hard; and about once a year, usually towards the middle of March, they take a holiday--and then very extraordinary things happen.

One March night this particular Wizard set off upon his holiday as usual.

Before he went he looked round to see that everything was tidy and in its place. Yes, there was the Cat dozing in front of the fire. The Fiddle was standing upright in a corner of the room. The Dish was on the dresser and the Spoon in the basket. The little Dog was guarding the door outside. The Cow was lying by the cow-tub in the yard. All looked peaceful and in order.

So the Wizard put all his magic into his tall black hat, shut the door, and went out.

When he had pa.s.sed through the farmyard gate he locked and bolted it behind him. But the lock was very stiff, and in turning and pulling out the key, his black hat got pushed on one side, so that a little of the magic escaped, and filtered back through the keyhole.

The Wizard, without stopping to think what might happen, pulled his hat straight, and went off into the wide world to enjoy his holiday.

The little bit of magic floated slowly in through the farm-yard gate; over the Cow by the cow-tub; over the little Dog guarding the door; through the keyhole of the door; over the Cat dozing in front of the fire; into the corner where stood the Fiddle; into the basket where lay the Spoon; and finally rested on the Dish on the dresser shelf. The Dish yawned, steadied himself, slowly dismounted from the dresser, and balanced himself on the kitchen table.

"Spoon, my love," he said wearily.

"Yes, my sweet," answered the Spoon, tripping out of the basket on to the table beside him.

"I can make love as well as that, and better," said the Cow, poking her head through the kitchen window.

"Here we are again!" said the little Dog, bursting in through the door.

The Cat and Fiddle bowed and sc.r.a.ped to each other in the corner.

"Hey, diddle, diddle! The Dog has no manners," squeaked the Fiddle.

"No, indeed," said the Cat, politely.

"Spoon, my love," began the Dish again, "what a miserable life we lead.

Laid down to do the same old things over and over again. Though twice a day your elegant figure approaches mine, and I see myself reflected in your s.h.i.+ning countenance, yet have I never a chance of telling you how much I admire you. We have never any opportunity for amus.e.m.e.nt, or private conversation. Though you do occasionally sc.r.a.pe me, just to show me how much you love me. Yet, oh my Spoon, that is not enough. I am weary, oh my Spoon, of being laid on a dresser or a table. I loathe that my beautiful form should be covered with gravy or soapy water.

Oh, my Spoon, in these few hours that are before us, let us forget our miserable and monotonous existence. Let us show the world that we can twirl and spin with the best of them. Let us dance, my love, let us dance, and," he continued, pursing his lips, and lowering his voice to a whisper, "when the fun is at its highest, let us run away from here altogether, and get married and live happily ever after," and he twirled round on his edge, just to show what he could do.