Fairy Prince and Other Stories Part 15

And a wagon! And a big iron safe! And fly-papers besides!--In all the world--what is the most beautifulest thing that you have ever seen?"

The Store-Keeping Man didn't have to worry about it at all. He never even swallowed. The instant he crossed his hands on his white linen stomach he _knew_!

"My Bank Book!" he said.

My Father laughed. "_Now_ you naughty children," said my Father, "I trust you'll be satisfied to proceed home with your eyes open!"

But my Mother said no matter how naughty we were we couldn't go home without buying pop-corn at the pop-corn stand!

So we had to tell the Pop-Corn Man all about it too! The Pop-Corn Man was very little. He looked like a Pirate. He had black eyes. He had gold rings through his ears. We loved him a good deal!

"In all the world--" we asked the Pop-Corn Man, "what is the most beautiful--est sight that you have ever seen?"

It took the Pop-Corn Man an awful long time to think! It took him so long that while he was thinking he filled our paper bags till they busted! It was a nice bustedness!

"The most beautifulest thing--in all zee world?" said the Pop-Corn Man.

"In all zee world? It was in my Italy! In such time as I was no more than one bambino I did see zee peac.o.c.k, zee great blue peac.o.c.k stride out through zee snow-storm of apple-blossoms! And dance to zee sun!"

"O--h," said Rosalee. "How pretty!"

"Pretty?" said the Pop-Corn Man. "It was to zee eyes one miracle of remembrances! Zee blue! Zee gold! Zee dazzle! Zee soft fall of zee apple-blossoms!--Though I live to be zee hundred! Though I go blind!

Though I go prison! Though my pop-corn all burn up! It fade not! Not never! That peac.o.c.k! That apple-blossom! That shiver!"

"Our supper will all burn up," said my Mother, "if you children don't open your eyes and run home! Already I _think_ I can smell scorched Ginger-bread!"

We children all opened our eyes and ran home!

My Mother laughed to see us fly!

My Father laughed a little!

We thought about the Peac.o.c.k as we ran! We thought quite a little about the Ginger-bread! We wished we had a Peac.o.c.k! We hoped we had a Ginger-bread!

Our Home looked nice. It was as though we hadn't seen it for a long while. It was as though we hadn't seen anything for a long while! The Garden didn't look like Just a Garden any more! It looked like a _Bower_! Carol's tame crow came hopping up the gravel walk! We hadn't remembered that he was so black! The sun through the kitchen window was real gold! There _was_ Ginger-bread!

"Oh dear--Oh dear--Oh _dear_!" said Rosalee. "In a world so full of beautiful things--however shall we choose what to tell the Blinded Lady?"

Carol ran to the desk. He took a pencil. He took a paper. He slashed the words down. He held it out for us to see.

"I know what I'm going to choose," said the words.

He took his pencil. He ran away.

Rosalee took her pencil. She ran away. Over her shoulder she called back something. What she called back was "Oh Goody! I know what _I'm_ going to choose!"

I took my Father's pencil. I ran away. I didn't run very far. I found a basket instead. It was a pretty basket. I made a nest for the White Kitten in case I should win it! I lined the nest with green moss. There was a lot of sunshine in the moss. And little blue flowers. I forgot to come home for supper. That's how I chose what I was going to write!

When we woke up the next morning we all felt very busy. It made the day seem funny.

It made every day that happened seem funny.

Every day somebody took somebody's pencil and ran away! My Mother couldn't find anything! Not children! Not pencils!

Rosalee took the Dictionary Book besides.

"Anybody'd think," said my Father, "that this was a Graduation Essay you were making instead of just a simple little word-picture for a Blinded Lady!"

"Word-picture?" said Rosalee. "What I'm trying to make is a Peac.o.c.k Feather Fan!"

"I wish there were three prizes instead of two!" said my Mother.

"Why?" said my Father.

Carol came and kicked his feet on the door. His hands were full of stones. He wanted a drink of water. All day long when he wasn't sitting under the old Larch Tree with a pencil in his mouth he was carrying stones! And kicking his feet on the door! And asking for a drink of water!

"Whatever in the world," said my Mother, "are you doing with all those stones?"

Carol nodded his head that I could tell.

"He's building something," I said. "Out behind the barn!--I don't know what it is!"

Carol dropped his stones. He took a piece of chalk. He knelt down on the kitchen floor. He wrote big white letters on the floor.

"It's an Ar--Rena," is what he wrote.

"An Arena?" said my Mother. "An _Arena_?" She looked quite sorry. "Oh Laddie!" she said. "I did so want you to win a prize!--_Couldn't_ you have kept your mind on it just a day or two longer?"

It was the longest week I ever knew! It got longer every day! Thursday was twice as long as Wednesday! I don't seem to remember about Friday!

But Sat.u.r.day came so early in the morning I wasn't even awake when my Mother called me!

We went to the Blinded Lady's house right after dinner. We couldn't wait any longer.

The Blinded Lady pretended she was surprised to see us.

"Mercy me!" she said. "What? Have these children come again? Muddy feet?

Chatter? And all?" She thumped her cane! She rocked her chair! She billowed her skirts!

We weren't frightened a bit! We sat on the edge of our chairs and laughed! And laughed!

There was a little white table spread with pink-frosted cookies! There were great crackly gla.s.ses of raspberry vinegar and ice! Old Mary had on a white ap.r.o.n!--That's why we laughed! We _knew_ we were expected!

My Father explained it to everybody.

"As long as Carol couldn't speak his piece," he said, "It didn't seem fair that any of the children should speak 'em! So the children have all written their pieces to read aloud and----"

"But as long as Carol wasn't able to read his aloud," cried my Mother, "it didn't seem fair that any of 'em should read theirs aloud! So the children's father is going to read 'em. And----"

"Without giving any clue of course," said my Father, "as to which child wrote which. So that you won't be unduly influenced at all--in any way by--gold-colored hair, for instance or--freckles----"