Part 1

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Bow, wow, wow, whose dog art thou? Little Tom Tinker’s dog, bow, wow, wow!]

Bed-Time Stories

A COLLECTION In Verse and In Prose

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ILLUSTRATED

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY CHICAGO :: AKRON, OHIO :: NEW YORK

MADE IN U. S. A.

COPYRIGHT 1914 BY THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING CO.

[Illustration: The Froggie who would sing]

“Croak! Croak! Croak!” sang the frog one fine summer evening.

“Really,” he thought, “I have a very fine voice,” and the fishes putting their heads out of the water thought so too. But fishes have no voice at all, so perhaps that was why they thought the singing of the frog so wonderful. Then, too, he was their next-door neighbor, and the doings of next-door neighbors are sometimes thought more wonderful than the doings of persons at a distance—though at other times it may be just the other way about.

Froggie was very proud of his voice, and as he knew the fishes were proud of it too, he thought he would be sure to charm the world with his singing. So he set off across the fields and sang to the little field-mouse and the mole.

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But the field-mouse thought her own shrill note far finer than Froggie’s coarse croaking, and did not pay much attention to him—in fact her attention was very much taken up with a beautiful nest she had made of grass, to keep her little ones warm and dry; while blind mole did not even put his head above the ground to hear the singing, he was so busy burrowing tunnels and making his wonderful fortress.

Froggie left them in disgust, and journeyed on till he came to a garden.

“Surely,” he thought, “in this beautiful place my singing will be welcome.”

But no one paid any attention to Froggie there; the bees were too busy gathering nectar and pollen from the flowers to make honey and bee bread, to feed the young bees at home in the hive.

The summer was going fast and they knew they had also to get in store for the winter, so they had no time to pay attention even to the finest singing; while the bumble bee was buzzing away as fast as he could to get back to his nest on some mossy bank.

The butterflies had only a little while to live; and perhaps the only thing they were thinking about, besides sipping some sweet juices from the flowers, was where to find a nice leaf on which to lay some eggs, so that when the little caterpillars were hatched they should have something to eat. The caterpillar was just spending his life eating as much as he could, so that he could turn into a beautiful moth by and by, and fly about in the evening.

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The snail was going along very slowly, it is true, but as quickly as he could, only thinking of finding some safe spot where a thrush could not find him and break open his shell and eat him up. As for the spider, his one care was to catch a passing fly or daddy-long-legs and make a good meal.

Even the flowers themselves did not pay any attention to poor Froggie. Their own bright colors, they thought, were finer than any singing. Besides, they were wondering whether the sunshine would last long enough to ripen their seeds, so that they could come up again as flowers next year.

So in the evening Froggie hopped all the way back to his native pond, where he found a brown bird singing a most beautiful song. It was the nightingale.

“Really,” thought Froggie, “I am no singer after all!”

But one of the little fishes who saw his disappointment still thinks he has a wonderful voice.

IT’S RAINING, IT’S POURING

It’s raining, it’s pouring; I can’t go outdoors; But I don’t mind so much for, you see, Up here in the window It’s comfy and warm, And the rain sprites call greetings to me.

[Illustration: The Rain Sprites Call Greetings to Me]

THE WIND’S FROLIC

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“Now for a frolic, a jolly good frolic,” The mischievous wind said in play, “I’m tired of staying at home in the clouds, I’m out for a frolic to-day. ”Ah! There are some girls and some boys on their way To school at the end of the lane, I’ll just give a puff, send their hats all astray, Then be off round the corner again.

“Now, wasn’t that fun! How they laughed to be sure! Do you see those fine apples up there? I’ll shake them all down, Then when school time is o’er They’ll be plenty for all, and to spare.

“Hurrah! Hip! Hurrah! Now for mother at home, She’s been washing all day, so I’ll see If I can dry her clothes with a few lively puffs, Then I’m sure very happy she’ll be.

“Now, I’ll just give a blow through the wood over there, Fill the sails of the ship on the sea, And with just one big puff, make it all a bit rough, Then at home in two seconds I’ll be.”

Marie L. Johnson.

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PIP, POP, AND PEPPER

Pip, Pop, and Pepper were three little roly-poly pups. One morning Bruno, their mother, left them fast asleep in her snug, warm kennel and went for a walk.

Presently little Maggie came tripping along all ready for fun and mischief, and when she reached the kennel she stooped down and peeped inside.

“Oh, you darlings!” she cried when she saw the puppies. “Come along with me and we’ll have some fun!”

She dragged poor Pip, Pop, and Pepper out of the kennel and put them in her apron. The puppies didn’t like it at all. They blinked their sleepy eyes and gave little frightened squeaks, and wondered wherever in the world they could be going.

“Now, I think you shall walk,” said Maggie. And she sat down, and the puppies rolled out of her apron on to the ground.

They picked themselves up, so glad to be free, and before Maggie could stop them off they ran, each a different way!

“Come back, come back!” she cried, and raced after Pip.

But Pip didn’t mean to be caught again just yet! He scampered in amongst some bushes, and dodged Maggie in and out for a long, long time, until at last he was so tired that he allowed her to pick him up.

“And now, where are the other two?” said Maggie. Oh, where indeed!

Pop ran into a chicken coop. And when Mrs. Hen came up with her fluffy babes she found a funny little furry creature fast asleep in her house.

She was very angry. She clucked, and flapped her wings, and was just beginning to peck poor Pop when Maggie ran up and pulled him out.

Then Maggie heard a terrible noise. And looking round she saw poor Pepper surrounded by Puss and her three little kits with their backs up, hissing and miaouing with all their might.

“Bow-wow-wow-wow!” Off flew Puss and her kits, and scrambled up a tree. The next moment Bruno came bounding up, and oh, wasn’t Maggie glad to give Pip, Pop, and Pepper back into their mother’s charge!

THE SNOW MAN

On a winter’s night, when the moon was bright, And the snow lay thick on the ground, A little snow-elf came out by himself, And took a good look around.

And next, we made a large round ball And fixed for it a head, We gave him stones for eyes, and made His mouth with paper, red.

A piece of wood did for a nose, We stuck it in all right; Then placed the old hat on his head, Oh dear! He was a sight!

What fun we had that day! We boys With holly trimmed his hat, And then with snow we pelted him, Until he grew quite fat.

We called him “Punch,” and laughed until It made the teardrops start. What games we had! Alas, next day, He died of “Melted Heart.”

Marie L. Johnson.

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WHEN THE OLD WOMAN MOVED FROM THE SHOE

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There was once a little goblin woman who had six sons. They were very ugly little boys with brown, wizened faces, and eyes as black as sloes. They had very big heads, and though they were so fat, their legs were so thin you wouldn’t believe!

Now, the little goblin woman thought the world of her six little sons, and she had given them all pretty flower names—Clover, Buttercup, Sorrel, Bluebell, Cowslip, and Dandelion.

The little goblin woman was very poor, but the way she managed was something wonderful! She and her little family lived in a hollow tree, with a little garden round it. There were three floors inside and a little string ladder connected the rooms. The first floor was a kitchen. It was ever so clean and cosy, and it was here that the family had meals, and sat in the cold winter evenings round the little twig fire, listening to the wind and rain outside.

The next floor was a bedroom, and the top floor was the drawing-room. Its walls were decorated with colored leaves, and it was here that visitors were received.

Well, one cold, rainy evening the whole family was sitting round the kitchen fire drinking broth, when the little goblin woman said, “Dandelion, it’s your turn to fetch the water to-night, dearie.”

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“Yes, Mum,” said Dandelion; and taking his last drink of broth he ran to wash his acorn cup and put it away.

“You do make lovely broth, Mum,” said Clover, smacking his lips.

“Not half!” cried the other five little goblins all together.

“That’s right,” said the little goblin woman. “Good-bye, Dandelion lovie; don’t be gone all night.”

“Good-bye, Mum,” cried Dandelion, nearly hugging the little woman’s head off; and away he ran with the wooden bucket over his head.

He had not gone far through the forest when he heard a sound of crying. So he took the bucket from over his head and looked about. Then it was that he saw a great big shoe standing in a puddle, and it was from this shoe that the sound of crying came. Dandelion crept nearer, and, looking through a little hole in the heel, was just in time to see an old woman smacking a wee girl about his own size.

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“Hi!” cried Dandelion, “stop that!”

In her astonishment the old woman stopped, and the little girl scuttled into the toe of the shoe.

“May I come in?” said Dandelion, and without waiting for an answer he scrambled through the hole and dropped into the shoe. The old woman looked at him for a minute very angrily, then burst into tears.

“Oh, the little wretches!” she cried; “they do lead me a life! Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear! I’ve got so many children I don’t know what to do!”

“How many?” asked Dandelion.

“FIVE, if you’ll believe me!” cried the little dame; “and them always getting into mischief.”

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“There’s six of us,” said Dandelion.

“Oh, your poor ma!” cried the old woman with uplifted hands and upturned eyes.

“She likes it,” said Dandelion.

“Don’t tell me!” cried the old woman. “I know what children are—always disobedient. Why this very night E. and D. walked through the puddle a-purpose.”

“Who did?” asked Dandelion, thinking he had not heard aright.

“E. and D., my dear,” answered the little woman. “I calls ’em by the letters of the alphabet. It saves the trouble of thinking o’ names. I called my eldest Arabella—Aida—Alice; but when they come so quick letters was good enough.

“Now, C.,” she broke off, “back to bed at once with you or I’ll whip you again and you shan’t have any broth to-morrow.”

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Dandelion turned quickly and saw five little tear-stained faces peeping at him from the toe of the shoe.

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “if you didn’t whip ’em, they’d do as they were told.”

The old dame looked at him in astonishment.

“And perhaps the broth isn’t so nice as what Mum makes,” added Dandelion. “They couldn’t cry if they had a cup of her broth.”

“Dear me!” cried the old woman; “what next!”

“You come and see my Mum,” said Dandelion, “and have a talk to her. I’ll call for you when I’ve fetched the water.”

“Well, now,” said the old dame, “it ain’t often I goes on a little visit. It’ll be a change.” And she put on her bonnet.

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That night the old woman woke the children up and gave them each a kiss, which surprised them very much; but they were still more astonished when she gave them each some broth with bread.

“My dears,” she said, “you’re going to have bread in your broth every night. And I’ve got a new soup recipe in my pocket. What’s more, we’ve all been asked out to tea to-morrow, so I’m going to put your hair in curl-papers.”

“Oh, no, no!” screamed the children; “you’ll pull, and then we shall cry and you’ll beat us!”

“I ain’t going to beat you no more, my dears,” said the old woman, kissing them all again. “I’ve learnt a lesson.”

* * * * *

“Come in, my dear, come in!” cried Mrs. Goblin. “I’ve lit a fire in the drawing-room, so we can have a little talk while the children play in the kitchen. And now, my dear,” she added, when they were alone, “now you are here what’s to hinder you from stopping?”

The old woman was crying for joy. “But so many children!” she said presently.

“The more the merrier! We’ll all live together and be as happy as the night is short!”

And so they did.

A SONG OF SPRING

The sun’s shining bright, And the sky is blue, The birds are singing, And we sing too.

The primroses bloom, And the lambkins play; Oh! sing for the joy Of a glad spring day.

JOHNNY AND THE APPLES

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As Johnny was going to school one fine day, Some rosy-cheeked apples he saw o’er the way. Inviting they looked, so he climbed up the tree, And filled all his pockets. How naughty was he.

He ate and he ate, till he felt a bad pain, Then said he would never steal apples again. The farmer came by with a stick in his hand, And said, “Master Johnny, do you understand

Those apples are mine? You are stealing them, so I must punish you for it ere I let you go.” So he whipped him and whipped him. Poor Johnny felt sore. Sighed he, “Oh, I never will steal apples more!”

That night, when the children came home from the school, They said, because Johnny had broken the rule By staying away without leave, he’d to stay At the foot of the class through the whole next day.

M. K.

MY KITTEN

Oh, my kitten, my kitten, And oh, my puppy, my dearie, I could play with you all day long And not be the least bit weary. My parasol keeps off the sun, The flowers are sweet on the air; There’s no other child in Japan So happy and free from care.

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AN APRIL SHOWER

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One day, little Simon Brownie said to his brothers, Joe and Sam, “I would give the world if I could grow. I wish I was a giant instead of a Brownie.”

“Ha! Ha!” laughed Joe.

“Ha! Ha!” laughed Sam. They thought it a fine joke.

“If you want to grow so much,” said Joe, “you must eat plenty of porridge.”

Next morning at breakfast, Simon, to his mother’s surprise, asked for a second helping of porridge. (As a rule he scarcely finished his first.) For a whole week he did this, but not a tiny, wee bit did he grow.

“Porridge is no use,” said Simon to Joe and Sam, “Can’t you think of something else?”

But his brothers shook their heads. Next day however they thought of “something else.”

Simon, tired out with play, had flung himself under a toad-stool for a nap.

“Let’s water him,” whispered naughty Joe to Sam, “the same as mother does the flowers—that will make him grow.”

And without wasting any more words, he ran home for his watering-can. Presently Simon awoke all in a hurry, thinking that an April shower was pouring down upon him. When he found out it was Joe who was watering him with his can, he was at first quite angry.

“Don’t be cross, Simon,” laughed Joe. “I only did it to make you grow!”

And Simon who knew how to take a joke, laughed too.

Since that day he has grown, not much bigger perhaps, but certainly wiser.

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My maid Mary minds the dairy, Makes the butter and cheese, Spins the linen, tends the garden, And keeps a hive of bees. You wonder why she works so much? She can’t be idle—Mary’s Dutch.

A BESIEGED BROWNIE

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“I’m going on a voyage of discovery,” said Mr. Brownie to his wife, one morning at breakfast. “You might pack me up a few sandwiches, my dear.”

Of course Mrs. Brownie, being a kind wife, said, “Yes, with pleasure.”

“Where are you going to, Daddy?” asked Bobby Brownie, who was rather a pert little fellow.

“I am going,” said his father in a very grand tone, “to discover the West Pole.”

“The West Pole!—Never heard of such a place! Where is it?” said Bobby.

“It is close to where the sun sets,” was the reply. “The exact spot is left for me to find out.”

And shortly after breakfast Mr. Brownie started forth.

He tramped a long, long distance until at last he came to a meadow near a farm-house. Here he saw—not the West Pole but a toad-stool which had sprung up in the night.

“Dear me,” said he, looking at it all round, “this seems very ancient.”

When he got on the top and was looking at it in wonder, the farmer’s geese came and had something to say to him.

“Who are you, when you’re at home?” they cried in goose language. “You think yourself a very fine fellow, no doubt!”

And there he sat, shaking like a leaf, besieged by the geese.

When at last he did reach home in safety—after the geese had been called to dinner—he had a wonderful story to tell.

“So you never discovered the West Pole, after all,” said Bobby.

“No,” replied Mr. Brownie, with great dignity, “but I discovered a toad-stool and that was better than nothing.”

And to this they all agreed.

THIS IS THE WAY THE FAIRIES RIDE

This is the way the fairies ride, In taxicabs with wings, In among the garden flowers, Sailing ’round in rings; And every one so happy that Each cab and driver sings.

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THE BROWNIES’ CHRISTMAS PUDDING

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Two Brownie men were Jack and Jock, Said one, “When Christmas comes, We’ll make a pudding for ourselves, And stuff it full of plums.”

And so they did—they mixed it well, ’Twas quite a bit of fun! They stirred it with a long, long pole, And soon their task was done.

They tied the pudding in a cloth, These little Brownie men, And then they put it in a pot, To boil till nearly ten.

But later on, I grieve to say, They both received a shock, They looked but found no pudding there Alas, for Jack and Jock!

’Twas gone, but where, they never knew, (And ne’er a Brownie knows,) It vanished like a lovely dream, As here the picture shows.

Two little lads, brimful of fun, With mischief in their eyes, Went fishing from a chimney top And stole away the prize.

MOON BABIES

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How it happened little Evie could not quite make out, but one minute she was lying in bed with her eyes wide open, and the next, she thought she was high up in the sky, sitting in the moon, with brother Robbie by her side.

“Pleased to see you, my little dears,” said the Lady Moon, “but how did you manage to get up so high?”

“I don’t know,” replied Evie. “I expect we climbed up on a moonbeam.”

“Well, now that you are here, I hope you will enjoy yourselves,” said the Lady Moon, next.

“We mean to,” answered Evie, and so said Robbie. He always agreed with his sister.

“Would you like to know our names, Lady Moon?” Evie put the question with the sweetest little smile.

“No,” said the Moon, “it doesn’t matter in the least to me what your names are. I shall call you Moon Babies.”

The sky now began to grow darker, and presently a bright, silvery star peeped out and shone right over the little ones’ heads. It was just after this that the moon babies grew sleepy.

“Those chicks will soon be in Dreamland,” said the Moon to the Star.

“No, we shan’t,” said Evie; “we are only making believe.”

But the Lady Moon knew better.

The next voice that little Evie heard in her ears was not that of either the Moon or the Star. It was Nursie’s good-morning as she drew up the blind to let in the sunshine.

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THE RUNAWAYS

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The Walnut and the Cobnut run As hard as they can go; But Mr. Cracker’s legs are long, And nuts are rather slow. He’ll catch and crack them very soon, But cracking doesn’t hurt; So p’raps we’ll eat their kernels, With an orange, for dessert.

F. L.

THE PRINCESS AND THE FAIRY

Once upon a time a little girl was standing at the window of a large and beautiful room. She was a Princess; she had a crown on her head, and she was dressed in the grandest clothes that could be bought, but she looked very cross.

Presently a Fairy flew in at the window, and sat down on the ledge. The Princess was not at all surprised, as there were a good many fairies about in those days, and she had seen several before.

“A penny for your thoughts,” said the Fairy.

“If you mean that you will give me a penny if I tell you what I am thinking about,” said the Princess, “I don’t want it. I have a purse full of sovereigns in the ivory cabinet where I keep my toys.”

“Oh, that must be nice,” said the Fairy; “how glad that child would be who lives in the cottage over the road if she had some of your money.”

The Princess looked quite interested at this. “How funny that you should say that,” she said; “I was just thinking about her when you came in. I do so wish that I were she.”

“Indeed!” said the Fairy.

“Yes,” said the Princess, “I watch her every day, and you can’t think what a fine time she has. She can run out to play in the street whenever she likes, and there is a dear baby for her to have games with. I mayn’t run about out of doors for fear of spoiling my clothes, and I have no one but grown-up people to keep me company. Then she sits on the door-step to eat her dinner, while I have to sit on a chair covered with red velvet, and have to be so careful not to spill anything, because the tablecloth is made of the finest damask. And nobody scolds her when she gets dirty, and she may kiss her mother whenever she likes. My mother says, ‘Don’t touch me now, Josephine; can’t you see that I have just been powdered?’ And there are lots and lots of other things that make me wish that I were that little girl. Couldn’t you make us change places?”