“Think,” said the Fairy, lifting a warning finger, “think of the fine feasts and the dainties you might have. Think of the youth and strength. Would you give up all this for only me--who must share half the refreshment from your well, your bucket, and your teapot?” “That is enough,” said the old woman. “What do we need more? We can still offer a sup to any poor stranger who may come as you came to my door. Oh, dear child, if you will stay with me, that is all I ask!” “Well, then, let us sit down and have breakfast,” said the dear little girl, tossing her green cap into the fire. “Now I am a Fairy no longer, but your very own little girl-child. And here is a dipper of water--the only one left in the well. Here is a dish of rice--I used the last handful from the bucket. Here is just a tiny drop of tea in the teapot. Oh, Mother, I am so glad!” So they sat down to their frugal meal, and they laughed, and they laughed, and they laughed, they were so happy. CHILD OR FAIRY ’Tis good to be a Fairy-thing, And flit about on gauzy wing; To sleep in cradles made of flowers, Or play through all the joyous hours. For Fairies have no grief nor care, Happy they are, and always fair,-- I suppose. And yet ’tis better far to be A little human child like me, With lessons hard and tasks to do, And sometimes little troubles, too. For I have Mother’s tender kiss, And nothing is so good as this,-- Every one knows! KARL AND THE DRYAD [Illustration] KARL AND THE DRYAD There was once a lad named Karl who lived with his father and mother in a little village of the Flat Land. Karl was a big fellow, tall and yellow-haired. But all his strength was in his long, lean body. There was none in his poor head. Karl was the village simpleton. Poor Karl! His life was a sorry one. He was despised and jeered at by the whole village. The children followed and tormented him at every chance, because he could not learn at school; the grown folk were little kinder, but nudged one another and made jokes about him when he came to the market-place. Even the cur-dogs followed and barked at him, but they knew no better. They were cruel folk, those dwellers in the Flat Land. Karl’s own parents were the unkindest of all. They did not love their son nor pity his wretchedness, but were ashamed because he was so simple. They were angry, too, because in their poverty he could not help them earn a living. For there seemed little indeed that poor Karl could learn to do,--he was so very simple. His parents were continually telling him how useless he was in this workaday world.