The Blue Fairy Book
pitied him, now fell in love with him.
When her father perceived they had this good liking for each other
he proposed a match between them, to which both parties cheerfully
consented, and the Lord Mayor, Court of Aldermen, Sheriffs, the Company
of Stationers, the Royal Academy of Arts, and a number of eminent
merchants attended the ceremony, and were elegantly treated at an
entertainment made for that purpose.
History further relates that they lived very happy, had several
children, and died at a good old age. Mr. Whittington served as Sheriff
of London and was three times Lord Mayor. In the last year of his
mayoralty he entertained King Henry V and his Queen, after his
conquest of France, upon which occasion the King, in consideration of
Whittington’s merit, said: “Never had prince such a subject”; which
being told to Whittington at the table, he replied: “Never had subject
such a king.” His Majesty, out of respect to his good character,
conferred the honor of knighthood on him soon after.
Sir Richard many years before his death constantly fed a great number
of poor citizens, built a church and a college to it, with a yearly
allowance for poor scholars, and near it erected a hospital.
He also built Newgate for criminals, and gave liberally to St.
Bartholomew’s Hospital and other public charities.
THE WONDERFUL SHEEP
Once upon a time--in the days when the fairies lived--there was a king
who had three daughters, who were all young, and clever, and beautiful;
but the youngest of the three, who was called Miranda, was the prettiest
and the most beloved.
The King, her father, gave her more dresses and jewels in a month than
he gave the others in a year; but she was so generous that she shared
everything with her sisters, and they were all as happy and as fond of
one another as they could be.
Now, the King had some quarrelsome neighbors, who, tired of leaving him
in peace, began to make war upon him so fiercely that he feared he would
be altogether beaten if he did not make an effort to defend himself.
So he collected a great army and set off to fight them, leaving the
Princesses with their governess in a castle where news of the war was
brought every day--sometimes that the King had taken a town, or won a
battle, and, at last, that he had altogether overcome his enemies and
chased them out of his kingdom, and was coming back to the castle as
quickly as possible, to see his dear little Miranda whom he loved so
much.
The three Princesses put on dresses of satin, which they had had made
on purpose for this great occasion, one green, one blue, and the third
white; their jewels were the same colors. The eldest wore emeralds, the
second turquoises, and the youngest diamonds, and thus adorned they
went to meet the King, singing verses which they had composed about his
victories.
When he saw them all so beautiful and so gay he embraced them tenderly,
but gave Miranda more kisses than either of the others.
Presently a splendid banquet was served, and the King and his daughters
sat down to it, and as he always thought that there was some special
meaning in everything, he said to the eldest:
“Tell me why you have chosen a green dress.”
“Sire,” she answered, “having heard of your victories I thought that
green would signify my joy and the hope of your speedy return.”
“That is a very good answer,” said the King; “and you, my daughter,” he
continued, “why did you take a blue dress?”
“Sire,” said the Princess, “to show that we constantly hoped for your
success, and that the sight of you is as welcome to me as the sky with
its most beautiful stars.”
“Why,” said the King, “your wise answers astonish me, and you, Miranda.
What made you dress yourself all in white?
“Because, sire,” she answered, “white suits me better than anything
else.”
“What!” said the King angrily, “was that all you thought of, vain
child?”
“I thought you would be pleased with me,” said the Princess; “that was
all.”
The King, who loved her, was satisfied with this, and even pretended to
be pleased that she had not told him all her reasons at first.
“And now,” said he, “as I have supped well, and it is not time yet to go
to bed, tell me what you dreamed last night.”
The eldest said she had dreamed that he brought her a dress, and the
precious stones and gold embroidery on it were brighter than the sun.
The dream of the second was that the King had brought her a spinning
wheel and a distaff, that she might spin him some shirts.
But the youngest said: “I dreamed that my second sister was to be
married, and on her wedding-day, you, father, held a golden ewer and
said: ‘Come, Miranda, and I will hold the water that you may dip your
hands in it.’”
The King was very angry indeed when he heard this dream, and frowned
horribly; indeed, he made such an ugly face that everyone knew how angry
he was, and he got up and went off to bed in a great hurry; but he could
not forget his daughter’s dream.
“Does the proud girl wish to make me her slave?” he said to himself. “I
am not surprised at her choosing to dress herself in white satin without
a thought of me. She does not think me worthy of her consideration! But
I will soon put an end to her pretensions!”
He rose in a fury, and although it was not yet daylight, he sent for the
Captain of his Bodyguard, and said to him:
“You have heard the Princess Miranda’s dream? I consider that it means
strange things against me, therefore I order you to take her away into
the forest and kill her, and, that I may be sure it is done, you must
bring me her heart and her tongue. If you attempt to deceive me you
shall be put to death!”
The Captain of the Guard was very much astonished when he heard this
barbarous order, but he did not dare to contradict the King for fear of
making him still more angry, or causing him to send someone else, so he
answered that he would fetch the Princess and do as the King had said.
When he went to her room they would hardly let him in, it was so early,
but he said that the King had sent for Miranda, and she got up quickly
and came out; a little black girl called Patypata held up her train, and
her pet monkey and her little dog ran after her. The monkey was called
Grabugeon, and the little dog Tintin.
The Captain of the Guard begged Miranda to come down into the garden
where the King was enjoying the fresh air, and when they got there, he
pretended to search for him, but as he was not to be found, he said:
“No doubt his Majesty has strolled into the forest,” and he opened the
little door that led to it and they went through.
By this time the daylight had begun to appear, and the Princess, looking
at her conductor, saw that he had tears in his eyes and seemed too sad
to speak.
“What is the matter?” she said in the kindest way. “You seem very
sorrowful.”
“Alas! Princess,” he answered, “who would not be sorrowful who was
ordered to do such a terrible thing as I am? The King has commanded me
to kill you here, and carry your heart and your tongue to him, and if I
disobey I shall lose my life.”
The poor Princess was terrified, she grew very pale and began to cry
softly.
Looking up at the Captain of the Guard with her beautiful eyes, she said
gently:
“Will you really have the heart to kill me? I have never done you any
harm, and have always spoken well of you to the King. If I had deserved
my father’s anger I would suffer without a murmur, but, alas! he is
unjust to complain of me, when I have always treated him with love and
respect.”
“Fear nothing, Princess,” said the Captain of the Guard. “I would far
rather die myself than hurt you; but even if I am killed you will not
be safe: we must find some way of making the King believe that you are
dead.”
“What can we do?” said Miranda; “unless you take him my heart and my
tongue he will never believe you.”
The Princess and the Captain of the Guard were talking so earnestly that
they did not think of Patypata, but she had overheard all they said, and
now came and threw herself at Miranda’s feet.
“Madam,” she said, “I offer you my life; let me be killed, I shall be
only too happy to die for such a kind mistress.”
“Why, Patypata,” cried the Princess, kissing her, “that would never do;
your life is as precious to me as my own, especially after such a proof
of your affection as you have just given me.”
“You are right, Princess,” said Grabugeon, coming forward, “to love such
a faithful slave as Patypata; she is of more use to you than I am, I
offer you my tongue and my heart most willingly, especially as I wish to
make a great name for myself in Goblin Land.”
“No, no, my little Grabugeon,” replied Miranda, “I cannot bear the
thought of taking your life.”
“Such a good little dog as I am,” cried Tintin, “could not think of
letting either of you die for his mistress. If anyone is to die for her
it must be me.”
And then began a great dispute between Patypata, Grabugeon, and Tintin,
and they came to high words, until at last Grabugeon, who was quicker
than the others, ran up to the very top of the nearest tree, and let
herself fall, head first, to the ground, and there she lay--quite dead!
The Princess was very sorry, but as Grabugeon was really dead, she
allowed the Captain of the Guard to take her tongue; but, alas! it
was such a little one--not bigger than the Princess’s thumb--that they
decided sorrowfully that it was of no use at all: the King would not
have been taken in by it for a moment!
“Alas! my little monkey,” cried the Princess, “I have lost you, and yet
I am no better off than I was before.”
“The honor of saving your life is to be mine,” interrupted Patypata,
and, before they could prevent her, she had picked up a knife and cut
her head off in an instant.
But when the Captain of the Guard would have taken her tongue it turned
out to be quite black, so that would not have deceived the King either.
“Am I not unlucky?” cried the poor Princess; “I lose everything I love,
and am none the better for it.”
“If you had accepted my offer,” said Tintin, “you would only have had me
to regret, and I should have had all your gratitude.”
Miranda kissed her little dog, crying so bitterly, that at last she
could bear it no longer, and turned away into the forest. When she
looked back the Captain of the Guard was gone, and she was alone, except
for Patypata, Grabugeon, and Tintin, who lay upon the ground. She could
not leave the place until she had buried them in a pretty little mossy
grave at the foot of a tree, and she wrote their names upon the bark of
the tree, and how they had all died to save her life. And then she began
to think where she could go for safety--for this forest was so close to
her father’s castle that she might be seen and recognized by the first
passer-by, and, besides that, it was full of lions and wolves, who would
have snapped up a princess just as soon as a stray chicken. So she began
to walk as fast as she could, but the forest was so large and the sun
was so hot that she nearly died of heat and terror and fatigue; look
which way she would there seemed to be no end to the forest, and she
was so frightened that she fancied every minute that she heard the King
running after her to kill her. You may imagine how miserable she was,
and how she cried as she went on, not knowing which path to follow, and
with the thorny bushes scratching her dreadfully and tearing her pretty
frock to pieces.
At last she heard the bleating of a sheep, and said to herself:
“No doubt there are shepherds here with their flocks; they will show me
the way to some village where I can live disguised as a peasant girl.
Alas! it is not always kings and princes who are the happiest people in