Children's stories; Fairy tales; Fantasy fiction; Wit and humor, Juvenile
And next morning there was a rustling and a swaying of the trees, and
the Blue Mountain came striding over the tall tree-tops, bending down
the forest as she came on colossal black legs and massive shoes with
monstrous ankle straps. Each shoe was big enough to have crushed a
hundred Tonys at one step. So he hid in his cave, and presently knew by
the shaking of the ground, like an earthquake, that the mountain had
sat down.
Then he came out. He was too near to see the mountain properly, but
he saw a great blue-fold of giant frock near him, and far above him
towered the blue heights of the giant-little-girl’s knees. On the
summit of these shone a vast white round—the great bread-and-milk basin.
Tony started to climb the blue-fold. It was stiff, starched—with giant
starch, I suppose—and it bore his weight easily. But it was a long
climb, and he drew a deep breath of thankfulness when he reached the
broad table-land of the giant-little-girl’s knees—and now the smooth
china roundness of the big basin was before him. He tried its polished
surface again and again, and always fell back baffled. Then he saw
that he might climb up the sleeve of the gigantic arm whose hand held
the basin. With his heart in his mouth he began the ascent, slowly
and carefully, holding the precious mug closely to his breast. His
breath came faster and faster as he went up and up, and at last stood
triumphantly on the edge of the great blue sleeve. From there to the
edge of the basin it was easy to crawl, and now at last he stood on
the giddy verge of the monstrous basin, and looked down at the lake of
milk with the rocks of bread in it, many feet below. The great height
made him giddy. He lost his footing, and still clasping the mug, he
fell headlong into the giant-bread-and-milk. The bread rocks were
fortunately soft. Tony picked himself up. He was wet, but no bones were
broken, and the mug—oh, joy! the mug was safe. Tony looked it over
anxiously as he sat on a rock, a sloppy and uncertain resting place.
There was only one small crack near the handle, and Tony was almost
sure that that had been there before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account