Ella screamed and shrieked. She caught hold of some rushes, but the tail was so heavy that she could not drag herself out. “You shall have one wish—two wishes!” sang out Mother Grindle from the tree. “Oh! if I were only on shore!” cried Ella. And sure enough she found herself standing on the brink, dripping with water, but safe. She ran into the house as fast as ever she could go. She was put to bed at once in hot blankets. “How you are to lie with that tail on, I can’t imagine,” said her mother. However, in she got, arranging it as best she might, and so tired was she after all she had gone through, that she fell asleep and never woke till the next morning. She got up and dressed, but alas! alas! she had rolled about in the night, and the beautiful feathers were all broken and torn and matted together; they hung like so many limp rags, and, do what she would, she could not make them hang properly. She went into the orchard, hoping that the sun and wind might freshen them up; but though she spent some time in taking out the tangles, the effect was horrid, and she looked more draggle-tailed than words can say. The peahens peeped over the fence and tittered. At this moment a Prince came riding by, and saw her walking in the orchard. “Heavens! What an absurd sight!” he exclaimed, as he rode on. Ella sat down on the grass and cried bitterly. “You may have one wish—one wish!” sang out the witch from the tree. “Oh! take away this dreadful thing,” sobbed Ella. And before you could turn round it was gone. Then Mother Grindle began to sing again very cheerfully. But Ella was not cheerful—far from it. “You may have one wish more—one wish more,” sang the witch. But Ella has not made up her mind what to ask for yet. One cannot be too careful. THE PELICAN In the land of Egypt, where the Nile runs and the palm-trees grow and the great Sphynx sits alone in the Desert, there lived a young man who kept a jeweller’s shop in a crowded street. He was tall and grave, and he wore a yellow kaftan which clothed him from head to heel. In the afternoon, when the street was full, he would sit in front of his shop looking at the people, and sometimes exchanging a word with the passers-by. It chanced that, as he sat in his accustomed place one day, there passed a countryman carrying under his arm a young Pelican, which he had caught on the river. He held it very roughly, and a crowd of boys followed behind jeering at the strange, half-fledged creature, and sometimes pulling its tail or its legs and laughing when it opened its mouth in terror. Now the young man was angry that the bird should be so used, for he had read many books and thought many thoughts, and he knew that birds and beasts had feelings like other people. He pitied the poor frightened Pelican, and as one of the boys passed, he gave him a great cuff which nearly knocked him over.