They never come back the tale to tell, So no one knows what each befell. But if they can stay In that Land for aye, Where the sun ever shines and the sky is blue, I do not blame them for longing to fly Over the trees and up so high; And when mine goes I will not boo-hoo,-- Will you? THE GREEN CAP [Illustration] THE GREEN CAP Once upon a time in the far East, where people live upon rice and tea, a little old woman dwelt all alone in a tiny hut on the edge of the forest. The little old woman was very, very poor; but she was a brave soul, and so long as there was a little tea in her little teapot, a little rice in her little rice bucket, and a little water in her well she would smile a little smile and say, “Oh, I have enough, and that is all which any one needs in this world. I am doing very well indeed.” But there came an evil time for the poor little old woman. There was a drought in the land, and all the wells ran dry. There was a famine, and no more rice nor tea were to be had for love or money. One night the little old woman went about to get her evening meal and she was very, very hungry. First she went to draw a dipper of water from the well. But when she peered down into the well she saw that it was almost dry. “Alack!” she cried, “when I have used this last dipper of water there will be none left for to-morrow. After that I must go dry. And how long can I live so?” Slowly and sadly she went back to the house and took her little rice bucket down from the shelf on the wall. But when she opened it she saw only a few grains of rice scantily covering the bottom of the bucket. “Alack!” she cried, “when I have taken out the handful for my supper there will be no more left for to-morrow. After that I must go hungry. And how long can I live so?” She shook her head mournfully and went to her little teapot, which hung before the fire. But when she took off the cover thereof she cried again, “Alack and alas! Now even my tea is gone, and whatever shall I do? There is but a drop in the pot, and when I have eaten my supper there will be none left for the morrow. After that I must go thirsty. But so I cannot live. Day after to-morrow I shall die!” And the poor little old woman shed a tear which almost fell into the teapot to salt the last drop of tea which remained there. Now she sat down to her scanty supper and hesitated to take the first mouthful, for it would so soon be gone. She gave a sigh and a groan as she lifted the little teapot to pour out the last drop of tea, for the little old woman loved her tea best of all. Just at that moment there came a knock on the door, a low-down knock such as a very little child might reach to give. “Tap--tap!” “Come in!” said the little old woman, and she set down the teapot carefully.