"Oh!" said the old man, "then I'll tumble off the ladder and break my neck." So he tumbled off the ladder and broke his neck; and when the old man broke his neck, the great walnut tree fell down with a crash and upset the old form and house, and the house falling knocked the window out, and the window knocked the door down, and the door upset the broom, and the broom upset the stool, and poor little Tatty Mouse was buried beneath the ruins. JACK AND THE BEANSTALK A long long time ago, when most of the world was young and folk did what they liked because all things were good, there lived a boy called Jack. His father was bed-ridden, and his mother, a good soul, was busy early morns and late eves planning and placing how to support her sick husband and her young son by selling the milk and butter which Milky-White, the beautiful cow, gave them without stint. For it was summer-time. But winter came on; the herbs of the fields took refuge from the frosts in the warm earth, and though his mother sent Jack to gather what fodder he could get in the hedgerows, he came back as often as not with a very empty sack; for Jack's eyes were so often full of wonder at all the things he saw that sometimes he forgot to work! So it came to pass that one morning Milky-White gave no milk at all--not one drain! Then the good hard-working mother threw her apron over her head and sobbed: "What shall we do? What shall we do?" Now Jack loved his mother; besides, he felt just a bit sneaky at being such a big boy and doing so little to help, so he said, "Cheer up! Cheer up! I'll go and get work somewhere." And he felt as he spoke as if he would work his fingers to the bone; but the good woman shook her head mournfully. "You've tried that before, Jack," she said, "and nobody would keep you. You are quite a good lad but your wits go a-wool-gathering. No, we must sell Milky-White and live on the money. It is no use crying over milk that is not here to spill!" You see, she was a wise as well as a hard-working woman, and Jack's spirits rose. "Just so," he cried. "We will sell Milky-White and be richer than ever. It's an ill wind that blows no one good. So, as it is market-day, I'll just take her there and we shall see what we shall see." "But--" began his mother. "But doesn't butter parsnips," laughed Jack. "Trust me to make a good bargain." So, as it was washing-day, and her sick husband was more ailing than usual, his mother let Jack set off to sell the cow. "Not less than ten pounds," she bawled after him as he turned the corner. Ten pounds, indeed! Jack had made up his mind to twenty! Twenty solid golden sovereigns! He was just settling what he should buy his mother as a fairing out of the money, when he saw a queer little old man on the road who called out, "Good-morning, Jack!"