On the Tree Top Part 4

Versified by Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.

If you listen, children, I will tell The story of little Red Riding-hood: Such wonderful, wonderful things befell Her and her grandmother, old and good (So old she was never very well), Who lived in a cottage in a wood.

Little Red Riding-hood, every day, Whatever the weather, s.h.i.+ne or storm, To see her grandmother tripped away, With a scarlet hood to keep her warm, And a little mantle, soft and gay, And a basket of goodies on her arm.

A pat of b.u.t.ter, and cakes of cheese, Were stored in the napkin, nice and neat; As she danced along beneath the trees, As light as a shadow were her feet; And she hummed such tunes as the b.u.mble-bees Hum when the clover-tops are sweet.

But an ugly wolf by chance espied The child, and marked her for his prize.

"What are you carrying there?" he cried; "Is it some fresh-baked cakes and pies?"

And he walked along close by her side, And sniffed and rolled his hungry eyes.

"A basket of things for granny, it is,"

She answered brightly, without fear.

"Oh, I know her very well, sweet miss!

Two roads branch towards her cottage here; You go that way, and I'll go this.

See which will get there first, my dear!"

He fled to the cottage, swift and sly; Rapped softly, with a dreadful grin.

"Who's there?" asked granny. "Only I!"

Piping his voice up high and thin.

"Pull the string, and the latch will fly!"

Old granny said; and he went in.

He glared her over from foot to head; In a second more the thing was done!

He gobbled her up, and merely said, "She wasn't a very tender one!"

And then he jumped into the bed, And put her sack and night-cap on.

And he heard soft footsteps presently, And then on the door a timid rap; He knew Red Riding-hood was shy, So he answered faintly to the tap: "Pull the string and the latch will fly!"

She did: and granny, in her night-cap,

Lay covered almost up to her nose.

"Oh, granny dear!" she cried, "are you worse?"

"I'm all of a s.h.i.+ver, even to my toes!

Please won't you be my little nurse, And snug up tight here under the clothes?"

Red Riding-hood answered, "Yes," of course.

Her innocent head on the pillow laid, She spied great p.r.i.c.ked-up, hairy ears, And a fierce great mouth, wide open spread, And green eyes, filled with wicked leers; And all of a sudden she grew afraid; Yet she softly asked, in spite of her fears:

"Oh, granny! what makes your ears so big?"

"To hear you with! to hear you with!"

"Oh, granny! what make your eyes so big?"

"To see you with! to see you with!"

"Oh, granny! what makes your teeth so big?"

"To eat you with! to eat you with!"

And he sprang to swallow her up alive; But it chanced a woodman from the wood, Hearing her shriek, rushed, with his knife, And drenched the wolf in his own blood.

And in that way he saved the life Of pretty little Red Riding-hood.

[Color Plate:]

Hark, hark The dogs do bark Beggars are coming to town; Some in jags, Some in rags, And some in velvet gowns.

CINDERELLA.

Versified by Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.

Poor, pretty little thing she was, The sweetest-faced of girls, With eyes as blue as larkspurs, And a ma.s.s of tossing curls; But her step-mother had for her Only blows and bitter words, While she thought her own two ugly crows, The whitest of all birds.

She was the little household drudge, And wore a cotton gown, While the sisters, clad in silk and satin, Flaunted through the town.

When her work was done, her only place Was the chimney-corner bench.

For which one called her "Cinderella,"

The other, "Cinder-wench."

But years went on, and Cinderella Bloomed like a wild-wood rose, In spite of all her kitchen-work, And her common, dingy clothes; While the two step-sisters, year by year, Grew scrawnier and plainer; Two peac.o.c.ks, with their tails outspread, Were never any vainer.

One day they got a note, a pink, Sweet-scented, crested one, Which was an invitation To a ball, from the king's son.

Oh, then poor Cinderella Had to starch, and iron, and plait, And run of errands, frill and crimp, And ruffle, early and late.

And when the ball-night came at last, She helped to paint their faces, To lace their satin shoes, and deck Them up with flowers and laces; Then watched their coach roll grandly Out of sight; and, after that, She sat down by the chimney, In the cinders, with the cat,

And sobbed as if her heart would break.

Hot tears were on her lashes, Her little hands got black with soot, Her feet begrimed with ashes, When right before her, on the hearth, She knew not how nor why, A little odd old woman stood, And said, "Why do you cry?"

"It is so very lonely here,"

Poor Cinderella said, And sobbed again. The little odd Old woman bobbed her head, And laughed a merry kind of laugh, And whispered, "Is that all?

Wouldn't my little Cinderella Like to go to the ball?

"Run to the garden, then, and fetch A pumpkin, large and nice; Go to the pantry shelf, and from The mouse-traps get the mice; Rats you will find in the rat-trap; And, from the watering-pot, Or from under the big, flat garden stone, Six lizards must be got."

Nimble as crickets in the gra.s.s She ran, till it was done, And then G.o.d-mother stretched her wand And touched them every one.

The pumpkin changed into a coach, Which glittered as it rolled, And the mice became six horses, With harnesses of gold.

One rat a herald was, to blow A trumpet in advance, And the first blast that he sounded Made the horses plunge and prance; And the lizards were made footmen, Because they were so spry; And the old rat-coachman on the box Wore jeweled livery.

And then on Cinderella's dress The magic wand was laid, And straight the dingy gown became A glistening gold brocade.

The gems that shone upon her fingers Nothing could surpa.s.s; And on her dainty little feet Were slippers made of gla.s.s.

"Be sure you get back here, my dear, At twelve o'clock at night,"

G.o.dmother said, and in a twinkling She was out of sight.

When Cinderella reached the ball, And entered at the door, So beautiful a lady None had ever seen before.