“People,” he said, “I am Hokey Pokey, and I have come from a far land to rule over you. Your Dragon have I slain, and now I am your king; and if you will always do exactly what I tell you to do, you will have no further trouble.” So the people threw up their caps and cried, “Long live Hokey Pokey!” and they always did exactly as he told them, and had no further trouble. And Hokey Pokey sent for his three brothers, and made them Chief Butcher, Chief Baker, and Chief Candlestick-maker of his kingdom. But to his father he sent a large cudgel made of pure gold, with these words engraved on it: “Now you cannot complain that I have given you nothing!” THE AMBITIOUS ROCKING-HORSE. THERE was once a rocking-horse, but he did not want to be a rocking-horse. He wanted to be a trotter. He went to a jockey and asked him if he would like to buy a trotter. “Where is your trotter?” asked the jockey. “Me’s him!” said the rocking-horse. That was all the grammar he knew. “Oh!” said the jockey. “You are the trotter, eh?” “Yes,” said the rocking-horse. “What will you give me for myself?” “A bushel of shavings,” said the jockey. The rocking-horse thought that was better than nothing, so he sold himself. Then the jockey took him to another jockey who was blind, and told him (the blind jockey) that this was the Sky-born Snorter of the Sarsaparillas, and that he could trot two miles in a minute. So the blind jockey bought him, and paid ten thousand dollars for him. [Illustration: “‘Me’s him,’ said the rocking-horse.”] There was a race the next day, and the blind jockey took the Sky-born Snorter to the race-course, and started him with the other horses. The other horses trotted away round the course, but the Sky-born Snorter stayed just where he was, and rocked: and when the other horses came round the turn, there he was waiting for them at the judge’s stand. So he won the race; and the judge gave the prize, which was a white buffalo, to the blind jockey. The jockey put the Sky-born Snorter in the stable, and then went to get his white buffalo; and while he was gone, the other jockeys came into the stable to see the new horse. “Why, he’s a rocking-horse!” said one of them. “Hush!” said the Sky-born Snorter. “Yes, I am a rocking-horse, but don’t tell my master. He doesn’t know it, and he paid ten thousand dollars for me.” “Whom did he pay it to?” asked the jockeys. “To the other jockey, who bought me from myself,” replied the Snorter. “Oh! and what did _he_ give for you?” “A bushel of shavings,” said the Snorter. “Ah!” said one of the jockeys. “A bushel of shavings, eh? Now, how would you like to have those shavings turned into gold?” “Very much indeed!” cried the Sky-born. “Well,” said the jockey, “bring them here, and we will change them for you.” So the rocking-horse went and fetched the shavings, and the jockeys set fire to them. The flames shot up, bright and yellow.