That edict so frightened the imposters that they quickly fled, and only those few who were actually in want dared to present themselves before the King.
And lo! The task that had seemed too great for one day was performed in a few hours, and when all the needy had been provided for but one of the royal coffers had been opened, and that was scarcely empty!
“What think you, Borland?” asked the Prince, anxiously, “have we done aright?”
“I have learned, Your Majesty,” answered the tutor, “that there is a great difference between those who beg and those who suffer for lack of bread. For, while all who needed aid were in truth beggars, not all the beggars needed aid; and hereafter I shall only give alms to those I know to be honestly in want.”
“It is wisely said, my friend,” returned the Prince, “and I feel I was wrong to doubt the wisdom of my father’s councilors. Go, Borland, and ask the King if he will graciously attend me here.”
The King arrived and bowed smilingly before the Prince whom he had set to reign in his own place, and at once the boy arose and presented his sire with the scepter and crown, saying,
“Forgive me, oh my King, that I presumed to doubt the wisdom of your rule. For, though the sun has not yet set, I feel that I am all unworthy to sit in your place, and so I willingly resign my power to your more skillful hands. And the coffers which I, in my ignorance, had determined to empty for the benefit of those unworthy, are still nearly full, and more than enough remains for the expenses of the carnival. Therefore forgive me, my father, and let me learn wisdom in the future from the justness of your rule.”
Thus ended the reign of Prince Lilimond as King, and not till many years later did he again ascend the throne upon the death of his father.
And really there was not much suffering in the kingdom at any time, as it was a prosperous country and well governed; for, if you look for beggars in any land you will find many, but if you look only for the deserving poor there are less, and these all the more worthy of succor.
I wish all those in power were as kind-hearted as little Prince Lilimond, and as ready to help the needy, for then there would be more light hearts in the world, since it is “better to give than to receive.”
Tom, the Piper’s Son
Tom, Tom, the piper’s son,
Stole a pig and away he run;
The pig was eat and Tom was beat
And Tom ran crying down the street.
There was not a worse vagabond in Shrewsbury than old Barney the piper. He never did any work except to play the pipes, and he played so badly that few pennies ever found their way into his pouch. It was whispered around that old Barney was not very honest, but he was so sly and cautious that no one had ever caught him in the act of stealing, although a good many things had been missed after they had fallen into the old man’s way.
Barney had one son, named Tom; and they lived all alone in a little hut away at the end of the village street, for Tom’s mother had died when he was a baby. You may not suppose that Tom was a very good boy, since he had such a queer father; but neither was he very bad, and the worst fault he had was in obeying his father’s wishes when Barney wanted him to steal a chicken for their supper or a pot of potatoes for their breakfast. Tom did not like to steal, but he had no one to teach him to be honest, and so, under his father’s guidance, he fell into bad ways.
One morning
Tom, Tom, the piper’s son,
Was hungry when the day begun;
He wanted a bun and asked for one,
But soon found out that there were none.
“What shall we do?” he asked his father
“Go hungry,” replied Barney, “unless you want to take my pipes and play in the village. Perhaps they will give you a penny.”
“No,” answered Tom, shaking his head; “no one will give me a penny for playing; but Farmer Bowser might give me a penny to stop playing, if I went to his house. He did last week, you know.”
“You ‘d better try it,” said his father; “it ‘s mighty uncomfortable to be hungry.”
So Tom took his father’s pipes and walked over the hill to Farmer
Bowser’s house; for you must know that
Tom, Tom, the piper’s son,
Learned to play when he was young;
But the only tune that he could play
Was “Over the hills and far away.”
And he played this one tune as badly as his father himself played, so that the people were annoyed when they heard him, and often begged him to stop.
When he came to Farmer Bowser’s house, Tom started up the pipes and began to play with all his might. The farmer was in his woodshed, sawing wood, so he did not hear the pipes; and the farmer’s wife was deaf, and could not hear them. But a little pig that had strayed around in front of the house heard the noise, and ran away in great fear to the pigsty.
Then, as Tom saw the playing did no good, he thought he would sing also, and therefore he began bawling, at the top of his voice,
”Over the hills, not a great ways off,
The woodchuck died with the whooping-cough!”
The farmer had stopped sawing to rest, just then; and when he heard the singing he rushed out of the shed, and chased Tom away with a big stick of wood. The boy went back to his father, and said, sorrowfully, for he was more hungry than before,
“The farmer gave me nothing but a scolding; but there was a very nice pig running around the yard.”
“How big was it?” asked Barney.
“Oh, just about big enough to make a nice dinner for you and me.”
The piper slowly shook his head;
”‘T is long since I on pig have fed,
And though I feel it ‘s wrong to steal,
Roast pig is very nice,” he said.
Tom knew very well what he meant by that, so he laid down the pipes, and went back to the farmer’s house.
When he came near he heard the farmer again sawing wood in the woodshed, and so he went softly up to the pig-sty and reached over and grabbed the little pig by the ears. The pig squealed, of course, but the farmer was making so much noise himself that he did not hear it, and in a minute Tom had the pig tucked under his arm and was running back home with it.
The piper was very glad to see the pig, and said to Tom,
“You are a good son, and the pig is very nice and fat. We shall have a dinner fit for a king.”
It was not long before the piper had the pig killed and cut into pieces and boiling in the pot. Only the tail was left out, for Tom wanted to make a whistle of it, and as there was plenty to eat besides the tail his father let him have it.
The piper and his son had a fine dinner that day, and so great was their hunger that the little pig was all eaten up at one meal!
Then Barney lay down to sleep, and Tom sat on a bench outside the door and began to make a whistle out of the pig’s tail with his pocket-knife.
Now Farmer Bowser, when he had finished sawing the wood, found it was time to feed the pig, so he took a pail of meal and went to the pigsty. But when he came to the sty there was no pig to be seen, and he searched all round the place for a good hour without finding it.
“Piggy, piggy, piggy!” he called, but no piggy came, and then he knew his pig had been stolen. He was very angry, indeed, for the pig was a great pet, and he had wanted to keep it till it grew very big.
So he put on his coat and buckled a strap around his waist, and went down to the village to see if he could find out who had stolen his pig.
Up and down the street he went, and in and out the lanes, but no traces of the pig could he find anywhere. And that was no great wonder, for the pig was eaten by that time and its bones picked clean.
Finally the farmer came to the end of the street where the piper lived in his little hut, and there he saw Tom sitting on a bench and blowing on a whistle made from a pig’s tail.
“Where did you get that tail?” asked the farmer.
“I found it,” s
aid naughty Tom, beginning to be frightened.
“Let me see it,” demanded the farmer; and when he had looked at it carefully he cried out,
“This tail belonged to my little pig, for I know very well the curl at the end of it! Tell me, you rascal, where is the pig?”
Then Tom fell in a tremble, for he knew his wickedness was discovered.
“The pig is eat, your honor,” he answered.
The farmer said never a word, but his face grew black with anger, and, unbuckling the strap that was about his waist, he waved it around his head, and whack! came the strap over Tom’s back.
“Ow, ow!” cried the boy, and started to run down the street.
Whack! whack! fell the strap over his shoulder, for the farmer followed at his heels half-way down the street, nor did he spare the strap until he had give Tom a good beating. And Tom was so scared that he never stopped running until he came to the end of the village, and he bawled lustily the whole way and cried out at every step as if the farmer was still a his back.
It was dark before he came back to his home, and his father was still asleep; so Tom crept into the hut and went to bed. But he had received a good lesson and never after that could the old piper induce him to steal.
When Tom showed by his actions his intention of being honest he soon got a job of work to do, and before long he was able to earn a living more easily, and a great deal more honestly, than when he stole the pig to get a dinner and suffered a severe beating as a punishment.
Tom, Tom, the piper’s son
Now with stealing pigs was done,
He ‘d work all day instead of play,
And dined on tart and currant bun.
Humpty Dumpty
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King’s horses
And all the King’s men
Cannot put Humpty together again.
At the very top of the hay-mow in the barn, the Speckled Hen had made her nest, and each day for twelve days she had laid in it a pretty white egg. The Speckled Hen had made her nest in this out-of-the-way place so that no one would come to disturb her, as it was her intention to sit upon the eggs until they were hatched into chickens.
Each day, as she laid her eggs, she would cackle to herself; saying, “This will in time be a beautiful chick, with soft, fluffy down all over its body and bright little eyes that will look at the world in amazement. It will be one of my children, and I shall love it dearly.”
She named each egg, as she laid it, by the name she should call it when a chick, the first one being “Cluckety-Cluck,” and the next “Cadaw-Cut,” and so on; and when she came to the twelfth egg she called it “Humpty Dumpty.”
This twelfth egg was remarkably big and white and of a very pretty shape, and as the nest was now so full she laid it quite near the edge. And then the Speckled Hen, after looking proudly at her work, went off to the barnyard, clucking joyfully, in search of something to eat.
When she had gone, Cluckety-Cluck, who was in the middle of the nest and the oldest egg of all, called out, angrily,
“It ‘s getting crowded in this nest; move up there, some of you fellows!” And then he gave CadawCut, who was above him, a kick.
“I can’t move unless the others do; they ‘re crowding me down!” said Cadaw-Cut; and he kicked the egg next above him. And so they continued kicking one another and rolling around in the nest until one kicked Humpty Dumpty, and as he lay on the edge of the nest he was kicked out and rolled down the hay-mow until he came to a stop near the very bottom.
Humpty did not like this very well, but he was a bright egg for one so young, and after he had recovered from his shaking up he began to look about to see where he was. The barn door was open, and he caught a glimpse of trees and hedges, and green grass with a silvery brook running through it. And he saw the waving grain and the tasselled maize and the sunshine flooding it all.
The scene was very enticing to the young egg, and Humpty at once resolved to see something of this great world before going back to the nest.
He began to make his way carefully through the hay, and was getting along fairly well when he heard a voice say,
“Where are you going?”
Humpty looked around and found he was beside a pretty little nest in which was one brown egg.
“Did you speak?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied the brown egg; “I asked where you were going.”
“Who are you?” enquired Humpty; “do you belong in our nest?”
“Oh, no!” answered the brown egg; “my name is Coutchie-Coulou, and the
Black Bantam laid me about an hour ago.”
“Oh,” said Humpty proudly; “I belong to the Speckled Hen myself.”
“Do you, indeed!” returned Coutchie-Coulou. “I saw her go by a little while ago, and she ‘s much bigger than the Black Bantam.”
“Yes, and I ‘m much bigger than you,” replied Humpty. “But I ‘m going out to see the world, and if you like to go with me I ‘ll take good care of you.”
“Is n’t it dangerous for eggs to go about all by themselves?” asked
Coutchie, timidly.
“Perhaps so,” answered Humpty; “but it ‘s dangerous in the nest, too; my brothers might have smashed me with their kicking. However, if we are careful we can’t come to much harm; so come along, little one, and I ‘ll look after you.”
Coutchie-Coulou gave him her hand while he helped her out of the nest, and together they crept over the hay until they came to the barn floor. They made for the door at once, holding each other by the hand, and soon came to the threshold, which appeared very high to them.
“We must jump,” said Humpty.
“I ‘m afraid!” cried Coutchie-Coulou. “And I declare! there ‘s my mother’s voice clucking, she ‘s coming this way.”
“Then hurry!” said Humpty. “And do not tremble so or you will get yourself all mixed up; it does n’t improve eggs to shake them. We will jump but take care not to bump against me or you may break my shell. Now, — one, — two, — three!”
They held each other’s hand and jumped, alighting safely in the roadway. Then, fearing their mothers would see them, Humpty ran as fast as he could go until he and Coutchie were concealed beneath a rosebush in the garden.
“I ‘m afraid we ‘re bad eggs,” gasped Coutchie, who was somewhat out of breath.
“Oh, not at all,” replied Humpty; “we were laid only this morning, so we are quite fresh. But now, since we are in the world, we must start out in search of adventure. Here is a roadway beside us which will lead us somewhere or other; so come along, Coutchie-Coulou, and do not be afraid.”
The brown egg meekly gave him her hand, and together they trotted along the roadway until they came to a high stone wall, which had sharp spikes upon its top. It seemed to extend for a great distance, and the eggs stopped and looked at it curiously.
“I ‘d like to see what is behind that wall,” said Humpty, “but I do n’t think we shall be able to climb over it.”
“No, indeed,” answered the brown egg, “but just before us I see a little hole in the wall, near the ground; perhaps we can crawl through that.”
They ran to the hole and found it was just large enough to admit them. So they squeezed through very carefully, in order not to break themselves, and soon came to the other side.
They were now in a most beautiful garden, with trees and bright-hued flowers in abundance and pretty fountains that shot their merry sprays far into the air. In the center of the garden was a great palace, with bright golden turrets and domes, and many windows that glistened in the sunshine like the sparkle of diamonds.
Richly dressed courtiers and charming ladies strolled through the walks, and before the palace door were a dozen prancing horses, gaily caparisoned, awaiting their riders.
It was a scene brilliant enough to fascinate anyone, and the two eggs stood spellbound while their eyes feasted upon the unusual
sight.
“See!” whispered Coutchie-Coulou, “there are some birds swimming in the water yonder. Let us go and look at them, for we also may be birds someday.”
“True,” answered Humpty, “but we are just as likely to be omelets or angel’s-food. Still, we will have a look at the birds.”
So they started to cross the drive on their way to the pond, never noticing that the King and his courtiers had issued from the palace and were now coming down the drive riding upon their prancing steeds. Just as the eggs were in the middle of the drive the horses dashed by, and Humpty, greatly alarmed, ran as fast as he could for the grass.
Then he stopped and looked around, and behold! There was poor Coutchie-Coulou crushed into a shapeless mass by the hoof of one of the horses, and her golden heart was spreading itself slowly over the white gravel of the driveway!
Humpty sat down upon the grass and wept grievously, for the death of his companion was a great blow to him. And while he sobbed, a voice said to him,
“What is the matter, little egg?”
Humpty looked up, and saw a beautiful girl bending over him.
“One of the horses has stepped upon Coutchie-Coulou,” he said; “and now she is dead, and I have no friend in all the world.”
The girl laughed.
“Do not grieve,” she said, “for eggs are but short-lived creatures at best, and Coutchie-Coulou has at least died an honorable death and saved herself from being fried in a pan or boiled in her own shell. So cheer up, little egg, and I will be your friend — at least so long as you remain fresh. A stale egg I never could abide.”
“I was laid only this morning,” said Humpty, drying his tears, “so you need have no fear. But do not call me ‘little egg,’ for I am quite large, as eggs go, and I have a name of my own.”
“What is your name?” asked the Princess.
“It is Humpty Dumpty,” he answered, proudly. “And now, if you will really be my friend, pray show me about the grounds, and through the palace; and take care I am not crushed.”
So the Princess took Humpty in her arms and walked with him all through the grounds, letting him see the fountains and the golden fish that swam in their waters, the beds of lilies and roses, and the pools where the swans floated. Then she took him into the palace, and showed him all the gorgeous rooms, including the King’s own bed-chamber and the room where stood the great ivory throne.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 821