The first time we met Jeremy and Jemima’s Wicked Uncle Jeff we discovered that he not so much “wicked” as “irresponsible. Mum Dad decided that it would be better if he did not look after the children again. But when Dad forgot to book a holiday, the family went to stay with Uncle Jeff in his house by the sea. A little oversight by Jeff led to the children getting into heaps of trouble – and the their uncle getting into even more.

The character of the Wicked Uncle was inspired by our friends at the Wicked Uncle website

Read by Natasha. Duration 21.46. An original story by Bertie.

It was summer. Everyone was going away on holiday. Everyone, that is, except for Jeremy, Jemima and their parents. You see, Dad hadn’t booked a trip this year because he couldn’t decide where to go. Europe was so expensive. America was so far away. India was so hot. Oh dear. He couldn’t think of the perfect place that would be just right.

School had already broken up for the long vacation. The kids were growing bored. Mum was becoming irritable. And Dad was still studying the travel pages of the newspapers.

“Well there’s always England, ” Mum said one Sunday morning in July.

“England….” repeated Dad … as though he had never heard of the place, although he had lived their all his life. And then he added: “Doesn’t it always rain in England?”

At this mum lost her patience: “Well look out of the window? Does it seem like it’s raining to you?” she snapped. Because you see ,it had been hot and sunny every day for a month.

And Jeremy pleaded: “Dad we must go on holiday. We can’t stay in this dump all summer long.”

And Jemima began to sing:

“I do love to be beside the seaside. I do love to be beside the sea.”

Dad shook his head and muttered that it was probably too late to go on holiday to the English seaside, because everywhere would be booked up by now.

But Jeremy had an idea.

“I know. Uncle Jeff’s got a holiday house by the sea. Let’s go and stay with Uncle Jeff? Can we please ?”

“Oh NO! said mum. “Not with Uncle Jeff.”

And the thought of staying with his brother was enough to make Dad go up stares to his study and scour the internet for holiday cottages by the sea Unfortunately he was right. It was too late. Everything was booked up.

On the first of August, the tires of dad’s big blue estate car crunched up the driveway of Uncle Jeff’s country house by the sea.

“Wow” said Jeremy. “This isn’t a house. It’s a castle!”

“Don’t be silly, Jeremy,” said Jemima. “In the old days big houses had turrets to look nice, not because they were real castles.”

And although Uncle Jeff’s house wasn’t quite a castle, it was certainly large. His sports car was parked in front of the house. He kept a boat on a trailer in the garage And he had a few sheep to nibble the grass on the lawn. If you went round the back of the house, you could see the sea. And a rather noisy family of sea gulls was living in the turret that had so impressed Jeremy.

As the family clambered out of the car, Jeremy asked : “Dad why is Uncle Jeff so much richer than you? And Dad looked cross and muttered something about ill gotten gains.

And by then, the “The Wicked Uncle” himself – was standing on the steps leading up to the front door and calling out:

“Hello Gang !”

The kids both waved and called back “Hello Uncle Jeff !” but Dad couldn’t have looked more annoyed if a sea gull had just pooed on his head.

Uncle Jeff’s housekeeper showed the family to their rooms and then they all came down to the dining room for tea and scones.

Mum asked: “Well kids, what do you want do this holiday?” and Jeremy and Jemima chorused “Go to the beach !”

But Dad looked a bit fed up because he thought the beach was boring.

“I”ll tell you what,” said Uncle Jeff. “I’ll take the kids to the beach so that Mum and Dad can have some time together. They can take a lovely walk along the cliffs to the next village where there’s a great old pub. ”

And although Dad thought that the walk along the cliffs to the old pub did sound rather nice, he said: “It’s alright Jeff. We’ll look after the kids”.

Jeremy and Jemima loved everything to do with the beach: Digging sandcastles, eating ice cream, playing volleyball, diving into the waves, and snoozing in the sun. Mum and Dad both wore big floppy hats, put on sun cream, and read big fat paper back books.

In the evenings they went into town and walked along the water front where they bought fish and ships. The town was an old port built on the mouth of a wide river leading out to sea. There was always something interesting to look at, as the water was always busy with yachts and fishing boats, and the car ferry sailing to and fro.

On Thursday evening there was something rather different to look at. A sleek white yacht the size of a ship had pulled into port. It was so big that it made the other yachts look like toys. Its name painted on the side was “Anastasia II”. Everyone was impressed, and none less than Jeremy.

“I bet its owner is even richer than Uncle Jeff,” he said.

“Yes, I wonder who owns it,” said Mum.

And later that evening, when they asked Uncle Jeff about the yacht, he promised to speak to his his friend who new all the gossip about the port.

The routine of beach during the day and stroll during the evening continued, but when Dad had read to the end of his book, he began to think how nice it would be to take that walk along the cliffs to the pub. And when he mentioned the idea to Mum, even she said:

“Yes it would be nice to have a break from the kids.”

Dad pondered: “I don’t suppose they could come to any harm on the beach with Uncle Jeff”

And mum agreed:

“No I don’t suppose they could.”

The next day they gave Uncle Jeff his instructions for looking after the kids. They must wear hats and sun lotion. They mustn’t swim too far out to sea. They mustn’t have more than one ice cream each. They mustn’t shriek and make too much noise. And Jeff said:

“Right-oh. Got ya.”

Which didn’t make mum feel at all reassured.

But Uncle Jeff did make sure that the kids wore hats and sun lotion. And he only them bought two ice creams each. And for a while, he did watch them while they were swimming. He even bought them a little inflatable boat, so that they could have some fun floating on it and jumping on and off into the waves.

But the thing that made the day more interesting than other days on the beach was that the Russian yacht had moved. It was sitting anchored out at sea not that far away from the beach. When a helicopter took off from the deck, Jeff took out his binoculars and let Jeremy look through them.

“Wow that’s amazing” said Jeremy.

Uncle Jeff said that the owner of the ship was called Sergei Manovich and that he was one of the richest men in Russia – in fact he was richer than some countries.

“Wow he must be really wicked,” said Jeremy. And Uncle Jeff agreed that he probably was.

Uncle Jeff watched the kids play all morning, but in the afternoon he decided that it would probably be alright if he allowed himself a short nap. “After all, they are good kids really,” he said to himself. “And they can’t come to much harm on the beach.”

Jeremy and Jemima were playing Pirates with the little boat. At first they didn’t go more than a few yards from the beach, but gradually the waves and their game took them a little further out. They were still among the swimmers and the wind surfers, but Jemima said:

“Jeremy : I think we ought to go back in,” and they both leant over the boat and started to paddle with their hands. But instead of returning to the beach, the current pulled them further out. First Jemima and then Jeremy started to wave and call out “Uncle Jeff! Uncle Jeff!” but he was fast asleep and didn’t see or hear them.

Soon they were really quite a long way out. “Oh no. I think we are in trouble,” said Jemima. And even Jeremy felt frightened.

They were so far out now that they were closer to the Russian ship than the shore. Jemima could see a sailor on the deck as he leant against the side and watched the beach. She waved frantically to him and called “Help Help” and after a while the sailor waved back.

“He thinks your just saying hello” said Jeremy. But fortunately the sailor was smarter than that, because very soon after the yacht started lower a life raft down the side. “Thank Goodness, We’re saved” said Jemima. But when Jeremy and Jemima stood up in their little boat, it tipped over and both of them fell into the sea. A sailor dived off the life raft and swam over to help them. It was a bit of a struggle, but both children were hauled spluttering and shaking up onto the raft. One of the sailors said in a foreign accent:

“Well kids. Would you like a ride back to the beach, or would you like to see on board our ship first?”

Jemima said: “Back to the beach please”.

But Jeremy said: “Oh can we see the ship? Please please can we see the ship”.

Back on the beach, Uncle Jeff sat up slowly and scanned the shore for a sight of the children. He couldn’t see them anywhere, but he said to himself:

“I expect they’ve gone to buy another ice cream.” Then he rummaged in his bag and took out his binoculars to another look at the Russian yacht. He noticed a life boat being winched up the side. He focused in closer and saw two small children in the boat.

“Funny. They look a bit like Jeremy and Jemima,” he said to himself. And then he noticed their little dingy capsized near by. “They are Jeremy and Jemima” he said. “Oh no. I’m going to be in a heap of trouble for this.”

And he ran down to the sea and started to swim out towards the yacht as fast as he could. He was a powerful swimmer, and he soon reached the yacht. He started to climb up the anchor chain. This was no easy thing to do, but Jeff was no ordinary uncle.

On board the ship, two young ladies wearing sun glasses, hats, and bikinis took charge of Jeremy and Jemima. They showed them the swimming pool, the gymnasium, the beauty salon, the cinema, and the helicopter pad.

“It’s like a floating palace,” said Jeremy. And one of the women said, “Yes, it is exactly like a palace.”

“Excuse me. Are you Russian?” asked Jemima.

The lady whose name was Chiara laughed and saidL “No. I am from Italy and my friend Julia is from Brazil, but the owner is Russian and the crew are from Ukraine.”

And at about that same time, at the other end of the ship, two Ukrainian sailors were amazed to find Uncle Jeff clambering on board from the top of the anchor chain.

“Hi. I’m looking for my niece and nephew,” said Uncle Jeff, as he jumped onto the deck. But the sailors did not understand him. Instead, they tried to grab hold of him.

“Oi. That’s not a nice welcome,” said Uncle Jeff and threw a punch at one of the sailors. This was a rather silly thing to do. The second sailor hit over the head with something heavy and Uncle Jeff fell unconscious on the deck. The sailors dragged him down into the hold and locked him inside a sea container.

Jeremy and Jemima were sitting by the swimming pool and sipping milk shakes. “I think we should go back to the beach now if you don’t mind,” said Jemima. “Our Uncle Jeff will be worried about us.” And Chiara said, “Yes I will go and ask the sailors who rescued you,” and she went off to look for them.

Up in the bridge of the ship, the two sailors who had found Uncle Jeff reported to the captain.

“So we have a British spy, ” said the captain. “We shall put out to sea and get rid of him before the boss gets back.”

Soon after that, Jeremy and Jemima noticed that the ship was starting to move. Jemima ran up to a sailor and said “You can’t go out to sea. You’ve got to take us back to the beach first.” But the sailor didn’t understand what she was saying, and besides, he was busy.

Jeremy ran off to look for Chiara and Julia, but he couldn’t find them anywhere. Eventually he bumped into Jemima who was also looking for help.

“Oh no,” she said. “I think we’ve been kidnapped.

“Perhaps they are going to take us to Russia,” Jeremy said sadly.

But the ship did not go very far out to sea before it stopped and weighed anchor again. A group of sailors gathered on the deck and two of them held a long piece of wood. They started to tie it to the railing so that it stuck out over the edge of the boat. It was a bridge to nowhere.

When Jeremy saw this, he grew very frightened. “Do you know what?” he said. “They are pirates. And I think they are going to make us walk the plank.”

“Don’t be so silly,” said Jemima. “Why would they want do do that?” But Jeremy whispered,

” Hide !” and both of them slipped inside the door to the beauty salon.

Ten minutes later Jeremy cautiously looked out of the porthole to see what was going on. He saw that two sailors were gripping a man by his arms. His hands were tied behind his back. They were dragging him towards the plank.

“Jemima. Come and see this,” said Jeremy. “They’ve got a prisoner and they are going to make him walk the plank.:

“Oh stop being stupid,” said Jemima, But she was curious enough to come to take a look through the porthole.”

“Oh my goodness me!” she said. “That’s Uncle Jeff !”

And both the children rushed out onto the deck.

“Stop ! Stop !” cried Jemima. And Jeremy ran up to Uncle Jeff and threw his arms out to hug his legs.

“Kids, Am I glad to see you,” said Uncle Jeff. ” You won’t believe this. These guys were about to make me walk plank.”

The sailors seemed confused and one of them went to talk to the captain. A little the helicopter landed on the ship and the Russian owner climbed out, bowing his head under the rotor blades.

The sailors seemed confused and one of them went to talk to the captain. A little the helicopter landed on the ship and, Sergei Manovich, the Russian owner, climbed out, bowing his head under the rotor blades. Chiara and Julia were up on the helipad to meet him with kisses and hugs. They pointed to Jeff and the children, and he gave them a friendly wave.

A little later, the children were splashing in the pool. Uncle Jeff was chatting to Sergei while Julia and Chiara sunned themselves. Towards evening, a life boat took the visitors back to the shore.

As they drove back to the house, Uncle Jeff said: “I don’t think we need tell mum and dad about t

his little adventure, do you?” And Jemima said,

“No. And we won’t tell them that you bought us two ice creams either.”nspn

If you have been following our stories about Gladys, you’ll know that her three sisters are in a girl band – but although Gladys is younger, and not a performing member, she is the brains behind the band. In the last episode, Laura, who is the lead singer, has walked out. Gladys has promised their manger, Arny, that she will persuade her to return soon so that they can continue working hard to get to the top.

After Laura walked out of the band, it was almost as if she had left the family too. She still lived with her sisters and their dad in the same house, but she came in out very quickly and spent a lot of time on her own in her room. Music that was louder and stranger than before blared out from under her door. Ever since she had met Ming, her new boyfriend, her taste had changed a good deal. She listened to what she called “real” music. Many of bands she liked were “unsigned”, which meant they didn’t yet have contracts with recording companies and you could download their music off the web for free. Often they sounded like they were playing in an echoing garage, and in some cases, they probably were. Her favourite came from Newcastle and was called The Droopies. Their lead singer was a girl, and Gladys had to admit that she had a beautiful voice that soared over the thrashing guitar cords – but she couldn’t catch more than an odd word from the lyrics.

Laura was plugged into her iPod while she ate her breakfast standing up by the toaster. Although she still travelled to school with the others, she didn’t join in their conversations. Often she would strut out in front of her sisters as they walked along the pavement. She wore a look of strong concentration on her face. Gladys thought she looked to old and too beautiful to be wearing school uniform, and no doubt Laura thought so too.

In a way, it was a relief for Gladys to put the chiX’s ambitions on hold. She no longer felt tired, because they didn’t have to to get up at 6 Am for rehearsals. She had time to catch up on her school project. She started reading books again. Her sisters were less weary and less grumpy too. Even Sam started being quite nice to her.

But it also seemed that everything was a little bit, well, hanging in the air. The chiX had split, but Gladys had promised Arny their manager that they would soon be back together again. Whenever she thought about Arny, she felt guilty, because he had believed in Gladys and the chiX and she didn’t want to let him down.

One Friday evening she went to see Laura in her room to talk to her about it:

“Look Laura, don’t you see? we owe it to Arny to get back together.”

Laura was busy looking in the mirror and applying her smudgy eye shadow before going out with Ming. She said:

“Don’t bother about Arny. He’s a businessman. He was planning to rip us off one day anyway.”

Gladys thought that was unfair, because Arny had only helped them. But she knew her sister, and understood that there was no point in trying to persuade her to do anything. She thought that she ought to ring Arny and say that she was sorry, there was no chance of the chiX getting back together – but some how she couldn’t quite bring herself to make the call.

On Saturday evening, Gladys, Mandy and Sam watched a talent contest on Television. It seemed like the biggest show on TV at the moment – but the girls thought that most of the acts weren’t bad – they were just boring. When a singer came on, Sam commented:

“Core, she hasn’t even shaved her armpits”.

and Mandy said:

“I really think the chiX could have made it.”

“Sure” said Sam, “We were much better than anyone on this show.”

“No we weren’t,” said Gladys. “Because we didn’t stick at it.”

And they turned off the television because it was all too depressing. Gladys and Sam went to bed early. Only Mandy stayed up until Laura got home.

On Sunday morning, when Gladys was doing her homework, Mandy knocked on her door softly and came in.

“Guess what,” she whispered. “Laura came home in a right temper last night. She was banging around the kitchen. I think she’s split up with Ming.’

And Gladys said:

“Well he lasted longer than most. They’ve been going out for almost five weeks.”

And although Laura didn’t say anything about it, they could tell from her mood than Ming hand dumped her, because when she dumped her boyfriends she was usually in the best of tempers, but now she looked not sad, but furious, and she even shouted at Dad, which nobody ever did, because Dad was one of easiest-going Dads that you could imagine.

The next weekend Laura went out on her own, and when she came back she plugged her iPod onto Dad’s stereo in the living room so that her sisters could hear it play. This was quite unusual, because normally she listened to music on her own.

It was a very thin sound: mostly drums and base with the occasional guitar cord. Then a girl’s voice sang:

“I’m me, I got to be, oh so free, because you see, I’m only me, so don’t go telling nothing to me.

Occasionally her voice was turned into a chorus so it sounded like several people singing at once, but the lyrics repeated over and over again.

The girls recognised the voice. It was Laura’s. When the track finished the girls were silent. Eventually Laura said:

“Alright, I know it’s pants. Don’t tell me what I know. I’m not stupid.”

And she went up to her room.

On Monday, when Gladys came out of School, Arnold Lane was waiting for her in his limousine. He opened the door and said,

“Hop in Gladdy. I’ll give you a lift home:

Gladys asked him to wait. She rang her Dad to say that Arnie was giving her a lift – only her dad didn’t answer, so she called Mandy instead because she understood that was really important that somebody always knew what she was doing and who she was with.

When she had told Mandy that she was getting a lift with Arny, she got into his car.
It was huge in the back – almost like a living room. He had a opened a little fridge and said,

“Well girl, what can I offer you ? Something Fizzy? Cola? Tropical Smoothie more your style?

“Yes please,” said Gladys.

“How’s Sister Solo getting on?” he asked. Gladys was used to his strange way of talking. She understood that he meant Laura.

“Terrible,” she said.

“Thought so. Well see if this gets her running and skipping back. I’ve entered the chiX for the first round of the Eurovision song contest. You girls are going to be on TV in six week’s time. So you’d better get practicing.”

“Oh dear,” said Gladys. “I don’t think Laura will like that. She’s into indie music these days.”

Arny chuckled. “No body’s acutely into Euro pop. Well perhaps they are in Bratislava, I don’t know because I’ve not been there. But no body’s into it here. But everyone loves it all the same. Tell her it’s all in the spirit of Post Modern Irony.”

“Post what did you ma call it?”

“Ok. Well don’t tell her that. Tell her it’s so un-cool that it’s super, ultra cool. She’ll get it. ”

And Gladys thought that Laura probably wouldn’t get it, but she promised Arny that she would tell her that all the same.”

The final part of our story of Eric and Enid combines romance and adventure in equal measures. The Knight Prince and his Princess set out across Dartmoor on a quest – but a quest for what? Neither of them seems to know. The perfect happiness of their fairytale marriage has already given way to quarreling, and Eric seems more interested in his hurt pride than fighting off imminent danger.

You can catch up with the earlier parts of our long but exciting story from the time of King Arthur.

The Marriage of Eric and Enide
The Quest of Eric and Enide

Our Sources are Chretien de Troyes, The Mabinogion, The Idylls of the King by Tennyson (from which we quote).

Read by Natasha. Version By Bertie. Duration 25.40

Eric and Enide rode up and down over the moorland in silence. After a while the mist and the drizzle began to lift, but it was no clearer to Enide where they were going or why. Eventually she thought to her self:

“This is too ridiculous. He must tell me what this is all about”.

And so she spoke to her husband. He did not reply. She thought that perhaps he could not hear her because his armour covered his ears. She lent over and tapped him on the helmet. His visor was up above his face, but the look in his clear blue eyes was distant and uninterested in her.

“My Lord,” she said. “You told me that we are going on a quest. But may I ask just one question: a quest for what?”

But Eric did not tell her. Instead he said in a weary voice: “I ask only this. Ride on ahead and do not say a word to me. What ever may happen, whatever you may see or hear, do not speak to me. ”

And having said that, he clamped the visor of his helmet down over his face.

Enide was not sure if she was more hurt or angered by this response, but she hurried ahead on her pony until she was some way further down the track. Although she was tired and sad, she kept a sharp lookout for any signs of life or jepordy. She had heard tales of the strange beings that appeared on the moors: pixies, ghosts, headless horsemen, wild hounds, and robbers. And soon she realised that her intuition of danger was right – for she saw three knights watching them from the brow of the hill. They started to ride down the slope towards them: they looked far from friendly for they were coming at quite a pace and they held lances in their hands. She turned round to look for her husband – but he was riding far behind and did not seem to have noticed the knights.

“I must warn him,” she said to herself. “He told me not to speak, but this is a matter of life and death.”

And she kicked her heals into her pony to hurry down the track towards Eric as she called out: “My Lord ! My Lord ! We’re under attack!” But Eric did not respond.

When she reached him she said frantically : “Don’t you see those three knights – soon they will be upon us”

“So? What do you want me to do about it?” he asked. “Don’t you recall ? I’ve gone soft and effeminate.”

“Oh what are you saying?”

“Your words, not mine, darling.”

She calmed herself and tried to reason with her husband one more time:

“If you insist on arguing then very soon you will be dead and your wife will be taken prisoner by bandits. Is that what you really want?”

And with a grunt, Eric lifted up his lance and spurred his horse on to meet the attackers. One robber-knight rode out in front of the others; Eric drove his lance into his shield, and thrust him off his horse. He stabbed the second bandit the side so that he too fell from his mount. The third turned and fled, but Eric pursued the robber and caught up with him. They clashed sword to sword and very soon Eric killed his opponent. He gathered the loose horse and rode back to collect the mounts of the two other robbers.

“You can walk,” he said to them. “And be glad that you picked on an effeminate knight, or you might have finished up still worse.” The defeated robbers looked baffled by this statement. And as they left, Eric ordered Enide not to speak another word, even if the devil himself was coming to attack them.

And so they rode on. And when they reached the top of a hill, Enide looked down towards a river and she saw some men hurrying to hide in some trees by the track. She was sure that they were robbers and that they were setting an ambush for them. She felt alarmed and confused. Eric had told her not to speak – and yet she must warn him that they were in danger. She remembered that at her wedding she had promised to love honour and obey.

“I do love him,” she said to herself. “But if he’s being pig-headed, how can I honour and obey him? Of course I must warn him or we will both die.”

And so she did warn him. And he was furious.

“Did I not order you to keep silent?” he asked. “I give you but one command, and this is how you keep it!”

“My Lord, you did indeed tell me not to speak, but it is very hard when I see danger up ahead.”

“Oh faithless woman,” he muttered. And he spurred his horse onto the brow of the hill. Looking down from there he saw the clump of trees and bushes where the robbers lay in wait, and he charged down towards them. He disappeared into the trees and Enide wondered if that would be her last sight of her husband still alive. She heard the clashing of swords and shields, the whinnying of horses, and the cries of men. Ten minutes later Eric emerged from the trees leading five horses with empty saddles.

And when husband and wife met up again, neither said a word, although Eric seemed to be in better spirits – for no one could doubt his strength and valour after a victory over five men.

That night, Enide stayed awake to keep watch for wolves or robbers. While she sat by camp fire she looked at her sleeping husband, his broad shoulders, his huge arms and his thick neck, and she thought to herself.

“He is certainly brave and strong. And he is often kind and noble. But he was born a prince and has never had anything but praise all his life. Perhaps it is not surprising that there are times when he behaves like a spoiled child.”

When the sun rose, they saw that they had camped on the edge of a farm. Soon a boy came across them. He was carrying some food for the farm workers’ lunch. He hailed Eric and said:

“Good sir. I see that you and your lady are of noble stock. Let me take you to my master, for he loves to know when people of note are passing through. He will receive you in his palace and you shall stay in comfort and the best food and drink will restore you.”

Eric and Enide both gladly accepted the invitation. That day they rested on comfortable beds and in the evening they joined the Lord of the Manor for a dinner of roast venison.

And when Enide saw her host, she recognised him straight away. His name was Earl Limours, and two years before he had stayed in her father’s house, and had asked for her hand in marriage. Her father rejected him. He thought his manners were too smooth, and he didn’t trust Limours to take good care of his daughter.

Neither Enide or Limours said a word to show that they knew each other – and Enide was afraid that her husband would be jealous if he learned their history.

All evening Limours drank and jested a good deal, for he liked good company. And Eric also drank freely from the wine, though he barely glanced in the direction of his wife. Limours looked her way a good deal though.

When Eric was out of the room, he sat next to her and said:

Enide, my early and my only love,
Enide, the loss of whom hath turned me wild–
What chance is this? how is it I see you here?
Make me a little happier: let me know it:
Owe you me nothing for a life half-lost?

And, Enid, you and he, I see with joy,
Ye sit apart, you do not speak to him,
You come with no attendance, page or maid,
To serve you–doth he love you as of old?
For, call it lovers’ quarrels, yet I know
Though men may bicker with the things they love,
They would not make them laughable in all eyes,
Not while they loved them; and your wretched dress,
A wretched insult on you, dumbly speaks
Your story, that this man loves you no more.
Your beauty is no beauty to him now.

(Tennyson)

And as he spoke, Enide saw cunning in Limours’ eyes. She remembered that her father had not trusted this man’s charm. She sat silently, and he whispered to her:

“Come. I will set you free. Say the word and my men will fall upon your cruel husband while he is unarmed and unsuspecting. Then we shall at last be man and wife, as it was meant to be. ”

And Enide was greatly afraid that one of Limours men would stab Eric in the back before the evening was out. She could see no chance to warn him before they were alone together. And so she answered craftily:

“No. It will be bad luck to kill a guest at dinner. And although he is unarmed, yet he will put up a fierce fight. Better wait until dawn, and kill him while sleeps.”

And Limours agreed that Enide’s plan was the safest and the best. When everyone was ready for bed, he bowed deeply to Eric and wished him the soundest of sleeps. And after Eric and Enide had gone up to their room, he boasted to his men that the lady did not love her careless husband, and had only eyes for him, her first true love.

Enide let her husband sleep a few hours, but she herself did not dare rest. While it was till dark she awoke him and told him what Limours had said and how she had tricked him to win a little time. And Eric thought to himself.

“So she does love me after all. Or at least, she prefers me to Limours.”

The couple slipped out the palace before dawn. But soon after sun rise, Enide thought she could hear the sound of hooves behind them. She turned saw a cloud of dust bristling with the points of lances. Limours and a large number of his men were after them.

She spoke to Eric: “My Lord. Look back. We are not out of danger yet,” and this time her husband did not scold her for speaking . He turned his horse and charged towards their pursuers. Enide thought to herself:

“Even he cannot defeat an army. Surely this time he will be killed and Limours will force me to become his wife. No. I would rather kill myself than marry that charm merchant.”

Limours rode out in front of his men and was the first to meet Eric. They clashed against one another’s shields with lances, and both fell to the ground. Soon they were back on their feet. Limours swung at Eric with his sword, but Eric ducked under it and cut his opponent on the leg between the joints of his armour. When Limours men saw their master fall, three of them came for Eric. They were on horse back and he was on foot. It was only a matter of moments before Eric would surely be dealt a death blow. But the wounded Limours called out.

“Men stop. Leave him be. My head was hot with wine and passion. I behaved ignobly to a guest. Let this knight go on his way with his fair lady, for that is how it should be. ”

And Enide thought that it was only by a miracle that her husband had survived this encounter. What she did not know was that Eric had been wounded, and beneath his armour, he was bleeding The sun shone down hotly, and the strength of his muscles was evaperating.

Eric was already wondering how much longer he could go on, when they both heard some piteous cries up ahead in some woods. He understood right away that it was the voice of a woman who was in great distress.

“Wait here,” he said to Enide, “I must go and help.”

And as he rode on ahead, Enide thought how if anything terrible happened to him, people would say that her husband died while coming to the aid, not of her, but another woman.

Eric found the young damsel – and she told him how she and her fiance had had been set upon by a giant, and now the cruel beast was dragging him away to his lair – whether to eat him or to demand a ransom from his father, she did not know.

“I will return the young man safely to you – or die in the trying,” said Eric. And as he rode on, he thought that it might be the latter. Not far ahead he caught up with the abductor: he was truly a giant – barely able to walk under the trees he was so tall. He was dragging his prisoner along the ground like a sledge.

Eric called out: “Ogre. Let him go.”

And the giant snarled. “Make me. ”

As Eric rode up to him, the giant grabbed his foot and yanked him off his horse. The huge beast brought his his club down onto Eric and dealt him a terrible blow. It was if a boulder had rolled off a cliff onto his his head. But perhaps by chance, Eric tripped the giant, and the beast fell onto the point of Eric’s sword. Eric thrust upwards. The creature belloed like an earthquake and staggered around before thundering onto the ground. Eric was so weak that he was barely able to pick himself up and help the young man onto his horse. In a semi-conscious daze he led him back down the path to reunite the lad with his maiden. When Eric finally got back to the place where Enide was waiting for him, he was blacking out and seeing only stars in front of his eyes. He fell off his horse with a great crash of his armour.

Enide untied his helmet and saw the wound in his head. She had nothing to wash it with, but her tears. And she felt that his body was frightfully cold.

“Oh no, dear husband, do not leave me,” she said. And despair came over her.

At noon, a huge red bearded knight found Enide weeping over the body of her husband. Her grief and tears did not detract from her beauty. He thought to himself.

“Here’s the damsel for me. And I am here just in time. This morning she belonged to this pile of limbs that is lying on the road. By this evening she will be mine.”

And he stepped down from his horse and tried to comfort the beautiful young woman, saying that he would take her back to his castle for protection, and that he was the most powerful man around these parts. His name was Earl Doorm.

Enide refused to leave her husband : but Earl Doorm told his servant to fetch a cart to carry the body back with them.

When they reached Doorm’s castle, Eric’s massive limbs were stretched out on the table of the main hall. Enide sat long hours by his side weeping and saying name.

And her words reached into the mind the Eric. For he was not dead, merely in a deep state of unconsciousness. The sound of his wife’s voice brought him back from the brink of death. His first clear thought was:

“I love her… and she loves me.”

But Earl Doorm was growing impatient with Enide. He strutted up and down the hall until at last he pulled her away from Eric’s body and shook her:

“Tears will not bring him back.. Weep no more. The priest is on his way. First we shall have a funeral, and then a wedding straight after.”

“No, No, ” cried Enide, “I shall always love my Lord Eric. I shall never love another man so long as I live.”

And Eric heard these words but his eyes remained closed.

“Foolish woman! ” cried Earl Doorm. “Don’t you see? You are mine now.”

“Yours?” she said in amazement. “Never!”

“You shall be my wife within the hour. And you will learn to obey me even sooner, ” cried Doorm, and with that he struck her on the face.

Eric rolled off the table onto his feet and punched the Earl. Doorm staggered backwards, as much shocked as hurt, and Eric’s second blow laid him out flat.

They were surrounded by the Earl’s guards who looked on in amazement thinking that Eric was a ghost. One of them called out:

“The dead knight is risen.

Another said:

“It’s the devil himself”

And third cried:

“It’s the apocolyse!”

Eric led Enide by the hand into the courtyard where they found a scene of complete panic with soldiers and servants running this way and that from the specter of the dead knight.

Only a young serving maid kept hold of her senses. She did not believe in such nonsense as ghosts, and she hated the Earl with all her heart. She fetched a horse for Eric and Enide and wished them God’s speed.

Enide climbed up behind Eric, clasped her arms around him, and once more they rode away.
And they kept on riding over the hills until they met a knight.

“What is your name?” called the stranger. “Are you friend or foe?”

But Eric did not reply because he was still too feable to speak.

“Tell me your name” called the knight again. “Or I shall challenge you.”

And Enide realised that if Eric did not reply, the other might take him for a robber. She called out:

“His name is Eric, Prince of Devon. He is grievously wounded. And what is your name?”

“I am Kay, a knight of King Arthur,” replied the other. “And the name of Prince Eric is held in great esteem by myself and all the knights of the Round Table. Now pray, follow me.”

King Arthur was camped not more than a mile away. When he heard that Prince Eric had arrived and was seriously wounded, he brought him to rest in his own tent. Serving maids washed Eric’s wounds with a healing ointment concocted by the wizard Merlin. He rested for three days, and all the time Enide stayed by his side. For a long while he did not speak. When at last he opened his eyes he said:

“We have found the object of our quest.”

“And what is that my dear?” asked Enide. And he replied softly:

“Love.”

In the first part of this story, Enide married Eric, a Knight of King Arthur’s Round Table. Now she begins her life with her ideal knight. She has dreamed that they will live “happily ever after” – but unlike most stories that end at this point, we go on and see if Eric and Enide really do live happily ever after.

For Enide’s lament we include some line’s from Tenyson’s poem The Idylls of the King. (The Marriage of Geraint).

Kindly sponsored by AudibleKids. Our book recommendation is “The Cat That Walked by Himself”.

Read by Natasha. Version by Bertie. Duration 16.40

While Enide was still living with her father in proud poverty, she had a dream. She could see a candle-lit chapel deep inside a stone castle.

A knight and a young maiden in a simple white dress knelt, heads bowed, before the alter. The knight wore a silk tunic over his broad shoulders. On his heels were golden spurs. His face was not entirely clear to her, but the bride was Enide.

It was a private, almost secret wedding, with only three or four of her husband-to-be’s closest comrades in attendance. The priest asked if she promised to love, honour and obey her knight, and she cast down her eyes and said softly, “I do”.

In her dream, she could feel joy filling in her heart at the certain knowledge that she would live happily ever after in the arms of her strong protector.

And it happened in life almost as in the dream – but it all happened so very fast. One day, a handsome knight did come to her father’s house. There had been others before him, like Cameron the Bent Nose and Ferris the Iron Fist. Their manners were rough, and they called her father “vassal” which meant “slave.” The worst had been Parkin the Small. When Enide brought him his beer, he leered at her with his yellow eyes. He said to her father:

“Your daughter’s a pretty one. I’ll give you two gold coins for her.” Her father ordered Enide to stay at the Convent until Parkin was gone.

But the latest knight was different. He treated her father, an old soldier, with great courtesy, and asked him all about the battles he taken part in. He praised the food and the drink, and happily ate the wood pigeon that her father had shot with his bow and arrow, and which Enide had plucked and prepared, before roasting it over the fire.

The next day the Knight fought in a tournament as the champion of Enide’s beauty. Then she rode behind him on his horse to Cardigan where King Arthur was holding court. That very evening they wed inside the castle chapel.

Her dream had come true. She was Lady Enide, wife of Sir Eric. And now she was beginning the rest of her life – only, she hadn’t dreamed about what would happen next. The castle and the court were so strange. She might as well have been in a far away country where she knew not one word of the language. She had no idea what was expected of her: when to curtsy, when hold out her hand to be kissed, when to stay back in the shadows.

Fortunately there was always something going on at court to distract her. There was a tournament in which all the Knights of the Round Table took part and fought each other. Enide sat next to Queen Guinevere to watch the knights on their the broad war-horses, the brightly painted shields, the fluttering banners, the ladies in beautiful dresses, the dust, and the blood. The tournament was a chaotic melee, quite frankly it was a brawl, in which knight fought knight almost at random. There was Sir Gallahad swinging at Sir Lancelot with a ball and chain. The ball demolished Lancelot’s shield into splinters, but fortunately did no damage to his skull before he could ride off. Queen Guinevere fanned herself with relief.

Enide’s eyes did not dare to leave her husband. When anyone came against him, she felt cold with terror on his behalf. But Eric’s lance propelled many an attacker from the saddle of his horse. When at last he himself was dragged to the ground, he stood up and bashed his opponent over the helmet with the flat side of his sword. Enide thought he was the strongest and bravest knight in the world, and quite possibly, she was right.

The king declared that Eric was the outright winner. And suddenly, Enide realised that everyone’s eyes were directed to her as his lady. Her cheeks flushed – and that made her all the more radiant. Eric rode up before her, and held in the reigns of his lively horse. Enide sat and gazed at her her ideal knight. Guniever elbowed her in the side and said, “Stand up dear and hold out your hand to your husband”. She extended her hand, and Eric kissed it. The whole court cheered:

Eric and Enide, Eric and Enide, Hurrah !

That evening, Eric and Enide sat together before the fire. The serving maid filled their silver goblets with sparkling wine from the vineyards of Devon. And Eric said to her in a quite confidential voice.

“I have spent five years here in Wales, in the service of King Arthur. I have fought in twelve battles and more tournaments than I can count. That was all fine when I was alone, but this castle is no place for a delicate young girl. Very soon, my beauty, I shall take you away from this rough life – back to my father’s Devonshire kingdom. There you will find things are more comfortable.”

“Your father is a king?’

“Yes, my princess, he is King – second only in wealth and power to King Arthur.”

On the morning of their leaving, Queen Guinevere embraced Enide and wished her the same happiness that she had found as Arthur’s Queen. Arthur presented Eric with sword and scabbard studded with precious stones. To Enide he gave six chests filled with dressed gorgeously embroidered dresses a bed covers.

Prince Eric and Princess Enide rode with forty knights and forty paiges and serving girls. Their journey to Devon took five days, but as they approached the Eric’s home, word reached his old father that his son was on his way back from his service to King Arthur, and that he was bringing with him a bride of radiant beauty. The King said:

“My prayers are answered. Thanks be to God that I have lived long enough to see Eric’s safe return.”

He ordered that the way be prepared for them. The hooves of Eric’s and Enide’s horses trod over silks and tapestries strewn over the road. As they passed through the city, clouds of blossom rained down on them from high windows. The church bells rang out. Doves were released from towers. The people marveled at the finest couple they had ever laid eyes on.

The only creature who didn’t seem to approve was a large dog who ran behind Endide’s pony and barked at the top of his voice. The pony took fright and kicked back with its hind hoof – but instead of hitting the dog he kicked an old man who was standing in the crowd. Eric jumped down from his saddle. The Prince helped the old man to his feet and asked him if any bones had been broken. Enide almost cried because her husband was so good.

Inside the keep of the castle, the King and Eric’s six younger brothers and sisters all embraced him in turns. The youngest sister, whose name was Ethel the fair, took Enide by the arm and told her:

“I thought that Eric would never a find a beauty to match his own good looks, but now I see you I see that he has indeed found a worthy match.”

Now Enide began the life of a princess. Every day a duke or an ambassador or family member, brought her a new present. But it was her husband who out did all the others in his generosity. She had jewels, dresses, perfumes, ingenious toys, dogs, hamsters, sweet singing birds. In the evening there were dances, music and games. In the morning, she lay by Eric’s side until they rose at noon. In the afternoon there were walks through beautiful gardens, bathing in the spa, and gentle pony rides across the hills. But the sweetness of all these pleasures was that Eric was always at her service.

He was indeed her ideal knight. But he was so perfect that it was, perhaps, well, just a little bit frustrating at times. She tested his patience. When they were due to go out riding she kept him waiting for an hour while she dressed. Another time she told him to go back an change because his gray tunic did not suit him. But not once did she provoke a single scowl or reproach from him. Yes, perhaps he was too perfect. He never wanted to leave her side. When there was a tournament, he did not take part himself, but equipped his ten finest knights to fight in his place, and instead spent the time with her. He rarely went hunting. He did not go looking for dragons to slay. All his thoughts were of love, not war.

And people began to talk. Enide heard it first from the servant who was preparing her headdress. She asked her what Eric had been like when he was a boy: “Oh quite different my lady,” she replied. “Before he married he was much more interested in manly things like swords and javelins. Now it seems that he only has thoughts for you my lady.”

Some how this answer did not quite please Enide. She wondered if it was a good thing that her husband should be entirely devoted to her. She spoke to Eric’s sister who said that yes, she too had heard talk of how her brother had given up the life of a Knight. The people were comparing him to Paris, the Trojan Prince, who lay all day with Helen while the war raged around the walls of Troy. Even his brothers were growing impatient with him. These words greatly trouble Enide, though at first she made no mention of her worries to her husband.

At last one summer morning, as Enide lay by her sleeping husband’s side, she began to weep and lament softly:

Am I the cause, I the poor cause that men
Reproach you, saying all your force is gone?
I am the cause, because I dare not speak
And tell him what I think and what they say.
And yet I hate that he should linger here;
I cannot love my lord and not his name.
And yet not dare to tell him what I think,
And how men slur him, saying all his force
Is melted into mere effeminacy?
O me, I fear that I am no true wife.’ (Tenyson)

And as she wept, her tears fell onto Eric’s chest and face and awoke him. But his head was still fogged by sleep. He half heard her words and the understood only gist of what she said. And in this state of semi-awakedness he felt angry and betrayed that his wife should reproach him for growing soft and weak. Why, if it was not for him, she would still be a poor girl with a single white dress ! He had made her a princess and his future queen, and this was all the thanks he received ! Right through his body he felt a sharp pang that hurt far more than any wound he had received in combat.

He hurled his huge body out of the bed and turned and spoke to her in rage:

“Why you think I grow soft do you ! You long for a life of battles and hard blows do you ! Well make yourself ready, for we are setting out on a quest, you and I, and you shall learn the true meaning of your foolish words !”

An hour later, Eric was dressed in full armour on his war-horse. Under his arm he held a long sturdy lance. Enide sat on her pony. In her heart, she deeply regretted her words : “Oh why did I speak so?” she asked herself. “I had every happiness, and now I have lost it all through my foolishness.”

Eric and Enide rode out onto the moors . At first light rain fell down from the sky as softly as Enide’s tears. And then the air became filled with mist and she could hardly see the ground in front of her pony’s feet. Eric and Enide rode on, pursuing their quest. But a quest for what? Enide had no idea what her husband sought or what dangers and challenges they would meet on the way. But she knew that they had left their life of pleasure behind them.

And that’s the second part of our story. I’ll be back soon with the next installment, in which we will find out what happened next in Eric and Enide’s journey through life.

In the meantime we there are loads more stories at Storynory.com – so drop by soon and listen to some.

The hero of this story is one of King Arthur’s brightest and boldest knights. The heroine is a beautiful girl who is so poor that she only owns one dress. It’s a story of action that celebrates courage and chivalry in which knights fight one another to prove by force that their maiden is the fairest of all. It’s a concept that might seem a little illogical today. The sequel, the Quest of Eric and Enide (to be published soon) will take a different point of view.

Read by Natasha. Duration 27 minutes. Version by Bertie following Chrétien de Troyes.

At dawn, on Easter Day, King Arthur stood on the battlements of his Castle at Cardigan in Wales. As he smelt the spring air, he recalled an ancient tradition known as the White Stag.

According to custom, on Easter Monday the king and his knights would go hunting, and who ever killed a white stag would win the right to kiss the fairest maiden at the court. The custom had fallen out of use, but Arthur thought to himself that is was right and proper for a great king to uphold tradition.

After chapel, the Knights of the Round Table gathered in the main hall of the castle. King Arthur announced that he would revive the custom of the White Stag. All were pleased to hear this news except for one – and he was Sir Gawain. Gawain was the most courtly and wisest knight of the round table, and none other, apart from the wizard Merlin himself was more trusted, or held in greater esteem, by the king. He spoke quietly to Arthur, so that none other could hear:

“Sire. No good will come from this hunt. He who kills the White Stag must kiss the fairest maiden at the court. But there are 500 beautiful maidens here. Each one is the favourite of some bold knight. Every knight will contend that his maiden is fairest and most noble, and will take grave insult if another is chosen. There will be quarrels and bloodshed.”

But although Arthur saw the wisdom of Sir Gawain’s words, he replied:

“I have spoken my intention. And a king’s words cannot be unspoken.”

The following morning, at daybreak, the knights rose from their beds. They dressed in light tunics, mounted their hunting horses, and set off for the forrest carrying their bows and arrows. Queen Guinevere followed behind them on a white pony. A young maiden, the daughter of a princess, rode by her side.

One of the knights, looked back and saw the Queen and her maiden following at some distance. He turned round his horse can cantered back towards them. He was young and handsome, and finely dressed in a fur-lined cloak, and a tunic of silk that had been woven in Constantinople. His spurs were made of gold, and his only weapon was a sword. His name was Sir. Eric.

Eric spoke to the queen saying that, if it pleased her, he would be glad to ride along with her. And Queen Guinevere thanked the young knight for his company, adding that she could have none better. Then they rode straight on to the forrest.

Those out in front, were already chasing the stag. Some blew horns. Others fired arrows. The dogs barked. There was the risk of an accident, with so many with arrows flying through the air, and Sir. Eric advised the Queen and her maiden to hold back for a while in a clearing.

While they were waiting, they saw an knight coming through the woods. He was fully armoured with a shield over his shoulder and a lance in his hand. Riding behind him was a beautiful maiden, while riding out in front of him, was a dwarf with a whip in his hand.

Queen Guinevere was very curious about this new arrival, and she sent her maiden to ride over and fetch him to her. The maiden rode ahead towards the knight, and the dwarf came to meet her. She spoke to him in a haughty voice:

“Let me pass, little man. I wish to speak to that knight.” But the dwarf blocked her way. When she tried to ride past him, he struck her on the arm with his whip. She cried out with pain, and rode back quickly to the queen. Guinevere was quite astonished that anyone would be so bad mannered as to wound a young maiden with a whip.

“What shall I do?” she asked Sir. Eric. And he told her to never mind, for he would go and talk to the knight. He rode up ahead, and found that his way too was blocked the dwarf.

“Let me pass, you odious little man who would strike a lady,” he said. But the dwarf replied.

“Be gone. You have no business with my master.”

When Eric tried to ride past, the dwarf struck him over the ear with his whip. The wound stung bitterly. Eric was furious. He was sorely tempted to draw his sword and use it on the dwarf, but he held back, for the knight was fully armed, and Eric himself had no shield and was wearing nothing but his silk tunic. He could not protect himself against the lance of the knight. He decided to retreat. And he was wise to do so.

He rode back to the Queen.

“My lady,” he said. “I was unarmed and could not seek avenge against the knight. My weapons and armour were far away. But now I must rid myself of this shame, or increase it. I will follow the knight at some distance. At the first opportunity, I will borrow some armour and challenge him. Either he or I will pay for this insult with blood.”

And the Queen was sorry that the fine young man must risk his life on account of her honour, and she prayed that God might protect him from evil.

Meanwhile, King Arthur had killed the White Stag with his arrow. The hunting party returned to the castle and later that day the ladies and knights of the court gathered in the hall. All were talking about the choice that Arthur had to make. Who would he pick as the fairest maiden at court? Everyone knew that it would not be an easy choice. There were several knights who swore that they would challenge and fight the king if he did not choose their favourite.

Arthur held a private council with Sir Gawain and Queen Guinevere. Gawain looked grave and said he did not see how to avoid a challenge to the king, for many knights believed it was a matter of honour to defend their favourite’s beauty at the point of a sword or lance.

The queen was still upset on account of the incident in the forrest. She pleaded:

“My Lord. There is one noble knight who is not among us at court. He is Sir Eric, and he risking his life and reputation on account of my honour. I pray, let us postpone the question of the fairest maiden until either he returns, or we hear more unfortunate news of his fate.”

And Gawain agreed that it would be wise to wait a day or two to give time for the knights hot tempers to cool. Arthur listened to this advice, and he announced to the court that it would be unfitting to celebrate the feast of the White Stag until they had received news of Eric and his fate.

Meanwhile, Eric was following the knight, the dwarf and the maiden, to see where they might go. Towards late afternoon, they came to a walled town. He followed them through the gates, and saw that the people recognised the knight and his strange company, and that many came out to greet him. But nobody welcomed Eric, because none knew him.

The inns of the town were full of fine knights and their ladies, and Eric had trouble finding lodgings. Eventually, he saw an old soldier sitting on the steps of his house. He was poorly dressed, but he strongly build and had a fine set of whiskers. Eric stopped to ask him if he knew of any lodgings that were not yet full, and the knight said:

“Why you must stay with me. What I lack in luxury, I can make up for in hospitality.” Eric liked the old man, and gladly agreed. He dismounted, and the soldier called for his daughter come and take their visitor’s horse to the stable. The young maiden came out. She was wearing nothing but a shift and simple white dress, because they were the only clothes she had. When she saw the handsome young visitor, she blushed a little. Eric was astonished at her beauty. He thought that she was more beautiful than the most beautiful day. He would happily have gazed at her, but soon she was gone with his horse.

Later that evening, after a good dinner, Eric sat with his host by the fire. He asked him why was it that his daughter, who was so beautiful, wore nothing but a simple white dress. The solider replied:

“Noble sir. Poverty treats an old soldier unkindly. I cannot afford to buy her clothes to match her beauty. Even dressed as she is, she does not lack for offers of marriage. I have refused several lords and knights who wished for her hand, for I am waiting for a still better offer. But believe me when I say, her beauty is not her only virtue. Her heart is noble and wise as well. I know no greater happiness than when she is by my side.”

As much as it pleased Eric to hear about the young girl, he recalled that he had come here on a serious business. He asked his host if he knew anything of the knight who rode with a dwarf and a beautiful young maiden, and the old soldier told him everything that he needed to know. Every year, the town offered the prize of a fine hunting hawk to the most beautiful maiden. Andy Knight who claimed that his damsel was the fairest, must joust in a tournament. The victor had the right to give the hawk to his love.

For the past two years, the knight seen by Eric had crushed all who challenged him. His maiden had won the prize. He fought so fiercely, that this year, no knight would dare to come against him, and his maiden would once again be declared the most beautiful girl in town.

Eric replied immediately:

“I have a bitter quarrel with this Knight. I wish to challenge him for the hunting hawk. Good soldier, I ask you this favour. Allow me to be the champion of your daughter’s beauty. I will gladly fight on her behalf.”

The host could see that Eric was of noble spirit, and he replied that he would be honoured for him to fight on behalf of his daughter. And then Eric asked the solider if he knew of anyone who could lend him a suit of armour – he did not care if it was old or new.

“Why I still keep a fine suit of armour !” declared the soldier. And he took Eric upstairs to show it to him.

The next morning, at day break, the young maiden helped Eric into his armour. She tied the iron protectors to his legs. She dressed him in the tunic of chain mail. She polished the helmet before placing it on his head. Finally, she buckled his sword to his waist. Then she fetched his horse. Eric put his foot in stirrup and swung up onto it. She handed him the shield and the strong lance. Then the maiden mounted her father’s gray pony. She was still wearing her plain white dress, but even so she attracted many an admiring gaze from the people of the town. Eric rode in front of her, holding his lance upright, and sitting with perfect posture in his saddle.

All the people marveled. “Who is this knight?’ they said to one another. “We have not seen him before. His maiden is surely very beautiful, but he must be a brave knight indeed to fight for her this day.”

But when his opponent led his dwarf and his maiden through the streets, all knew him. Some people cheered him, others came out and greeted him and wished him well. When too many people crowded in the way, the dwarf threatened them with his whip, and they soon let them through.

When they came onto the jousting field, the knight took his maiden to the place where the hunting hawk was sitting on its perch. He untied it, and held it up high on his arm. He said to to the maiden out loud so others could hear:

“Take this prize, for it is rightly yours. No damsel on this field exceeds you in beauty.”

But before she could take it, Eric rode up and called out:

“Damsel ! Hold back ! Take some other bird, for you have no right to this one !”

The knight was furious at this interruption, and he turned to face Eric.

“How dare you come between my beautiful girl and her prize!” he said. And Eric replied.

“This bird belongs to my maiden, for none can compare to her in beauty, not the even the sun nor the moon. And furthermore, her heart exceeds all others in wisdom and nobility.”

And the other said:

“It is madness that makes you say so. You will pay dearly for your foolish words.”

But Eric was not troubled by his threats and was more than ready to joust with the knight. The two men rode their horses in opposite directions, and then turned and faced each other for the charge. Then they spurred their horses towards each other at great speed. Each aimed their lances at the other. Both struck. And both fell backwards off their mounts onto the ground.

The knights sprang to their feet and drew their swords. They traded heavy blows, splitting shields and breaking helmets. Eric tripped, and while he was still rising back up onto his feet, his opponent swung his sword down on him, meaning to split his helmet open, but Fortune protected Eric, and although the sword broke off a piece of his helmet off the side, it missed his skull and Eric survived the attack. A moment or two later, he glanced over to where the maidens were standing, and he saw that both were weeping with fear for their heroes.

Both knights matched each other in ferocity, skill and strength. The battle went on for two hours, after which the other knight called out to Eric.

“We both grow weary. We do no justice to our selves or our maidens. Let us rest and then renew our fight with full strength.”

And Eric agreed to stand back and rest. As he stood learning on his sword, he saw his girl in the white dress kneeling and praying piteously on his account. He recalled how his opponent had insulted his queen, her maiden, and himself. He grew angry once again as he thought of the arrogant knight who was without honour or chivalry. Then he called out:

“Enough of this resting. Let us finish this sooner rather than later.”

And the other replied:

“Since you are in a hurry, prepare now to die.”

And both renewed their attack. But this time Eric had the better of the fight. He gave the knight such a blow on his helmet that he was stunned. And he followed that three other blows. Now his opponent was lying half conscious on the ground. Eric pulled off his helmet and would have finished him off there and then had not the other cried out:

“Have mercy !”

And Eric held back his final cut. He said sternly,

“Wretch ! Since you plead for mercy I will not kill you, but you must acknowledge for all to hear that I have defeated you utterly and that my damsel is the most beautiful woman under the sun.”

The other hesitated, either because he was proud and stubborn, or because he weak and short of breath. Eric once again held up his sword and the knight called out:

“Good Knight, hold back for you have defeated me utterly and your damsel if the most beautiful woman under the sun.”

At this, Eric stayed his sword. And the other knight asked:

“But pray, tell me your name and why you hate me so, for to my knowledge, I have not seen you before this day and have done you no harm or dishonour.” And Eric replied,

“I am Eric, a Knight of the Round Table. Yesterday in the forrest, you allowed your dwarf to strike the handmaiden of my Queen Guinevere, and then to strike me, though I was unarmed. Now you are my prisoner. I command to swear an oath that you will do my bidding: Mount your horse and ride directly to the Cardigan where King Arthur is holding court. Kneel before Queen Guinevere, tell her that I am safe, that I have defeated you, and accept whatever punishment she made judge fit for you.”

And the other, whose name was Yder, son of Nut, agreed to Eric’s terms and rode off with his dwarf and his maiden, taking the road for the Castle at Cardigan.

Then Eric presented the hunting hawk to his maiden in the white dress saying:

“Take this prize for your beauty inspired my victory. Truly, there is no face more lovely, no smile more lively, no human form more divine, than yours.”

And all agreed that she had rightly won the prize for beauty. That evening, the Lord of the Town invited Eric and his maiden to dine at his palace, but Eric refused saying that he must honour his host by staying at his house. And the Lord ordered his servants to bring a great quantity of fine food and wine to the soldier’s house, and that night many knights and ladies feasted under his roof.

Eric sat proudly by the young girl, who still wore her simple white dress, and yet outshone all the other ladies and maidens. When he had a chance, Eric spoke to her father and asked for her hand in marriage, which he gladly granted. Then Eric told him that his own father was a king, second only in riches and glory to King Arthur, and that he would make sure that the soldier and his wife were well looked after.

In the morning, he mounted his horse, and the maiden, whose name as Enide, sat behind him, her arms wrapped her knight, holding him over his heart. They rode full of joy to Cardigan, lingering only for kisses on the way.

Meanwhile that other knight had arrived with his dwarf and his maiden at Cardigan. The sentries on the battlements had recognised him from far off, and soon word reached Guinevere that the strange knight who had insulted her was heading for the castle. As he drew nearer, it became clear that he had been in a fight and was in a bad way. Guinevere wondered what news he brought. Was he coming to boast of how he defeated and killed her champion? Or was he coming as Eric’s prisoner, to beg for mercy.

He rode through the gates of the castle, and asked for an audience with the queen. Barely able to walk he came up to her thrown and knelt before her. He begged her pardon and her mercy. After consulting with Sir. Gawain, she granted him her forgiveness on one condition – that he serve King Arthur as his knight. He readily agreed

A day later Eric and Enide arrived at Cardigan. There was great rejoicing. The Queen embraced the young girl, and when she saw that she was dressed in a simple white dress, she gave her a beautiful dress of her own. It was of green and gold, and Enide looked even more resplendent and beautiful. Directly afterwards, Eric and Enide were married in the chapel. That evening there was a magnificent feast in celebration. At the hight of the festivities, King Arthur called all to order and announced that he had reached his decision about the fairest maiden. He would bestow his kiss on Enide. She came before him, and the king kissed her gently and properly. He promised to love her as a friend.

All agreed that King Arthur had made the right choice, and not one knight came forth to challenge him.

And that’s the story of the Marriage of Eric and Enide. But their tale does not end with their wedding. I will be back soon with a second story about Eric and Enide, which will tell you what happened after they were married. And Bertie asked me to tell you that and early version of this story was written as a poem in old French, by Chretien do Troyes. There are is also a welsh version in the Welsh collection of tales the Mabinogion, but in that version they are known as Geraint and Enid.

Sadie is a beautiful black swan who lives on the pond with Prince Bertie the Frog. She finds a crown and puts it on her elegant head. Prince Boris sees her, and believes that she is a princess who has been turned into a swan – in the same way that Prince Bertie was turned into a frog.

Kindly sponsored by AccuQuote

Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 14.53

As a rule, the pondlife loves children. This is because children often come down to the pond with pellets of stale bread which they throw into the water. The bread can be quite hard, and it hurts if it hits you on the head, but when it’s wet, it quickly turns soft and soggy and is quite delicious and tummy-filling if you are a duck or a swan.

One summer’s day, the Royal Nanny wheeled a push-chair from the palace, down the garden path to the pond. The little girl sitting in the chair wore a golden crown on top of her curly head. Her name was Princess Poppy.

When they arrived, Nanny released the little princess from her the straps of her push-chair and gave her a bag of the day-before-?yesterday’s bread. All the ducks and geese could spot a crumb from a mile away, and they were soon flapping and squawking in front of the princess, and racing and pecking each other. Sadie, the solitary black swan, sat aloof from the unseemly squabble, and admired the crown on the little princess’s head.

“Oh my,” said Sadie out loud to no one in particular, “I am so pleased to live on a Royal pond. The people who come here are such a cut above !”

Princess Poppy began to toddle along the edge of the pond, The Royal Nanny followed close behind her, tapping on her her mobile phone as she went. The princess clambered up onto a little pier that led out into the water.

The nanny was texting

CU @ 8 by the bike sheds

And she did not notice when the princess’s little foot trod on some duck weed. Prince Bertie the frog saw this and he croaked:

“Ah-oh !”

Because he knew that the weed was very slippery.

And then, oh dear, she did slip on the weed, and then:

Splash !

Princess Poppy was in the water. She couldn’t swim and she just went straight down to the bottom like a bomb. The water wasn’t deep, but it went over the princess’s head.

Bertie dived in after her but he was just a frog, and all he could do was say:

“Hold your breath little princess!”

The nanny, still holding her mobile phone, jumped into the water, and in a few seconds she had pulled the princess up off the bottom of the pond and placed her on the pier.

The princess said.

“Look Nanny, I’m all wet.”

And Nanny burst into tears because she knew it was her fault. She was so upset, that she didn’t notice that her mobile phone had stopped working.

Or that the princess had left her crown on the bottom of the pond.

The first creatures to find the crown were the tadpoles. It looked so big to them that they thought it was a golden palace and that its points were towers. They swam in and out of it singing:

“I’m the king of the castle, and you’re the dirty rascal.”

Then Colin the carp scooped the crown onto his head and tried it for size.

“Now I’m just as important as that snooty His Royal Highness Prince Bertie the Frog,” he said.

But after a while, his head began to hurt, and so he stopped wearing the crown.

Little Tim the Tadpole said: “Bertie, why don’t you put the crown on? After all, you’re the only true prince in this pond.”

Unfortunately, Bertie couldn’t wear the crown, because although it was size 1 and a half, just big enough for a small child, it was still too heavy for a frog.

But it did fit just perfectly onto the elegant head of Sadie the Swan.

Soon, she was swanning around the pond like a true princess. All the ducklings and goslings gazed at her in admiration.

In a dark corner of the pond, Colin the carp muttered: “It’s bad enough putting up with a frog who thinks he’s a prince, but there’s nothing so annoying as a swan who’s got airs and graces.”

And as it happened, Sadie was already wondering if in fact she was a true princess.

“Bertie,” she said as she admired her own reflection, “Do you think it’s at all possible that the Wicked Queen turned me into a swan, just like she turned you into a frog?’

And Bertie did not want to disappoint Sadie, so he replied, “Well, Maybe….”

Later that day, Prince Boris came down to the pond. He set up a little chair on the end of the pier, took out a rod, and cast a fishing line into the water. Bertie warned all the fish to stay away from his hook, even though there was a fat tempting worm on it.

Prince Boris had flowing blond locks of hair. Bertie always considered that he looked like a girl, but the girls all thought he was extremely handsome. And Sadie agreed with them. She glided over to the pier, and placed herself where he could not fail to notice her.

Boris looked at her in amazement. He had never seen a swan with a crown on her head before, but he had heard tales of beautiful princesses turned into
swans.

“Why,” he said, “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever set eyes upon.”

And Sadie fluttered her feathers with pleasure at the compliment.

“You black beauty,” he went on. “Could it be…. could it be that you are a princess? – a beautiful African princess. Why, I’m sure you must be. The wicked queen is always turning people into pondlife. It’s even rumoured that she converted that snotty Prince Bertie into a slug or a toad. He’s certainly not been seen or heard of since she got angry with him. Now listen carefully my darling princess swan. This is the longest day of the year. Tonight, at sunset, I will come down to the pond, kiss your beautiful red beak, and turn you back into a princess. Wait for me my lovely. But now I must hurry and buy a diamond ring for our engagement. Till tonight, Adieu! Adieu! ”

On hearing these words, Sadie almost swooned with excitement.

“Don’t listen to him,” said Bertie, “Boris is a well known love-rat. He always cheated at football. He bullied small princelings. He copied my homework. He tried to pinch princess Beatrice off me. He has no honour. He’ll stop at nothing. Sadie, you must listen to me, you can do so much better than Boris !”

But Sadie didn’t listen to Bertie because she had been swept off her wings and was already dreaming of her royal wedding to Prince Boris the Brave.

That evening Sadie was waiting for her prince. She sat in the middle of the pond with her crown glinting red and gold in the dying rays of the sun.

Boris came down to the pond, sat down by the bank, and pulled on some enormous green goloshers that went up above his knees. Then he started to wade into the the water towards Sadie. But just as he got near, Colin the carp swam under his foot and tripped him up. Boris fell over into the water and emerged spluttering and with green slime in his blond hair. Bertie laughed, but Sadie did not hear him. She wanted to say,

“Darling, do not worry, for I will love you for ever and day, slime and all”

And Boris stumbled towards her. She gently closed her eyes.

“Now, ” she thought, “Now I will be restored to my true self. Princess Sadie”.

He held her head in his hands and kissed her red beak.

And nothing happened.

So he kissed her again.

And still nothing happened.

“Oh Bother” he said, and tried one last time. But still Sadie was a Swan.

“Ah, terribly sorry,” said Boris, “But it seems that you aren’t a princess after all. Just a silly old swan. Well I’m just glad nobody saw this little moonlight escapade.”

And with that, he turned around and started to wade back to the pond.

“Oh Sadie,” said Bertie, as he tried to comfort her, “I did try to warn you…. ” but Sadie was disconsolate, which means more than just a bit sad. She didn’t reply. She cast the crown off her head into the water before sliding off to hide in the rushes.

“It’s all right for that rat Boris,” she said to herself, “None of his friends saw him fall face down in the pond. But all the pond life know what a fool I was made to look. Oh the Shame of it ! I will never livae this down.”

And for two days she stayed put. Bertie brought her the tastiest slime on the pond, and the best bits of bread from Princess Poppy, but nothing would comfort her.

Until, that is, three days later a handsome black swan came swooping in to land on the pond with a great …swooooooosh !

Sadie poked her head out of the rushes to see who the new arrival was.

“Ah,’ she said, “He looks rather nice. I think I’ll pop over and be the first to welcome him to our pond.’

And I’m glad to say that very soon she had forgotten all about Prince Boris.

But Colin the carp kept the crown standing outside his home in the rocks on the bottom of the pond, just to show that he was the most important fish in the water.

We continue our story about a girl called Gladys and her three older sisters who are in a girl band called the chiX. You can catch up with the earlier stories here.

The chiX have to get up at 6 am every morning to practice. They are becoming tired and grumpy, and Laura has a new influence in her life. It’s becoming hard to hold the band together .

Read by Natasha. Written by Bertie. Duration 11.13.

The day after their first concert, the girls were in a much better mood. As they were going on the bus to the shopping centre, Laura commented:

“I think we were alright really.’

“Not bad for our first gig,” agreed Sam.

Gladys felt cross, because the girls hadn’t been saying that the night before. Then they had claimed that it had been a disaster and it was all her fault. Mandy saw her frown:

“Cheer up Gladdy. We’re sorry we gave you the grots yesterday. You did a great job.”

“Yeah, we were just stressed out with ourselves really,” added Laura, “Because we set such high standards for the chiX. We only want to give the public our best.’

And Gladys felt better because she wanted the chiX to give their best too. In fact, when they arrived at the shopping centre, the girls were feeling much happier, as if they already had a light sprinkling of star-dust. They treated themselves to posh ice creams in tubs. They sat on a bench to eat them, and a couple of guys came along with ice creams too, and sat near by. They both wore mod hair cuts with long sideboards.

Mandy whispered, “Hey, didn’t we meet those dudes at Em’s Party last week?” and Laura nodded, because they had.

One of them came over and said, “Hello again. Remember us? I know this is a bit sudden like, but I’ve got two tickets to see The Snouts tonight. My friend here is otherwise engaged. I wondered if one of you girls would do me the honour?”

Sam said, “Sure I’ll come with you,” but his eyes were looking out from under his fringe straight at Laura. She checked her mobile phone, as if she hadn’t heard him, before saying, “Alright. But I’m only coming for the music. We’re a musicians you see. I’ve got a professional interest.”

“Alright,” he said. And they agreed to meet that evening.

The next day Laura said the concert was “great” and that the chiX could learn a lot from The Snouts.

On Monday, the chiX manager, Arny, called up Gladys and said that the girls had made a good start, but the hard work was only beginning. They needed to build up an act with more songs in it, and to do as many gigs as possible to get “broken in.” As the chiX were back at school, they had to get up at six in the morning for rehearsals. The last time they had seen such an early hour was when they were flying to Ibitha – and then they had got to the airport late and missed the plane.

Gladys sat up late writing songs, and then woke up early to get the girls out of bed. It was a very tired and grumpy girl band that met the backing musicians at 7.30 in the rehearsal room.

By the end of the week they were able to dance and sing to two new songs almost without thinking. But their mood was terrible.

On Saturday Laura went shopping on her own. When she came back she showed the girls her new outfit. She had bought new skinny jeans and an off the shoulder t-shirt with a large hipster belt.

“Core, check out the indie chick,” said Sam.

“Well if the chiX are serious we can’t go around looking like a bunch of chavs, ” said Laura. “We need style.” And that night she went out to another concert with the same guy as before. His name was Ming.

The following Monday, when Gladys tried to wake up the girls, they went on strike and refused to get up. Gladys had to ring Arny and apologise.

“I think we’re pushing them too hard,” she said. And Arny agreed to give them Tuesday off as well. But he told her that they had to make to the rehearsal on Wednesday because a journalist was coming to see them.

Gladys felt tiered and bit low too. She began to wonder, even if the chiX did make it, would it be worth while. She sat down and began to write a song.

Hoow were we supposed to know

Our dreams were made of silver lining?

Finding out, was meant to be

That this is where are sun is shining

Holding on and living strong

This is where we belong

On Wednesday Gladys felt much better but Laura still looked tiered at the rehearsal. Then Gladys realised that she had changed her make-up and had a dark smokey eyeliner look. And she had also tasseled her hair. The girls read Gladdy’s new song. Normally they didn’t comment much, but this time Laura said:

“I don’t think we should be doing this girly kind of stuff Gladdy.”

And Gladys asked her what she meant.

“Well I mean, this girl band thing is a kind of naff. Can’t you come up with something original and different?”

“You mean to impress Ming?” asked Gladys.

“What’s Ming got to do with anything? I mean like, we want people to take us seriously don’t we? We don’t want to be another fizzy pop and bubble gum group do we? Like, the chiX are better than that aren’t they?”

Gladys felt totally frustrated. She looked around the room at the empty tea mugs, the electric cables strewn all over the floor, and the bored looking backing musicians. She thought that she should be just getting up out of bed and cleaning her teeth at this time. She recalled that she was behind with her school project. She hadn’t had time to read a book for weeks. She wondered if it was all worth while.

Mandy said, “Come on. It’s a bit early for a heavy discussion.”

And Sam said, “I thought we were a girl band”

And Gladys said: “Exactly. Don’t try to be something you’re not.”

“Well you’re not a true artist,” said Laura. And she picked up her bag and stomped towards the door of the rehearsal room. Before going out she turned round and said: “In case you have’t realised yet, I quit” and she slammed the door.

The girls were stunned. The backing musicians were smirking. Eventually Gladys said, “We’ll talk her round. Come on, let’s go through the song. ” And they did their best. But it wasn’t the same without Laura.

They forgot all about the journalist. They didn’t know that he had met Laura in the corridor. They only knew about the article the following Monday when Arny rang Gladys and asked, “What’s all this nonsense about the chiX splitting?” And he read out the article to Gladys.

chiX Split

Newbie Girlband the chiX has split almost before starting. Heavily touted by top manger Arnold Layne, the chiX seemed set to for a mega-bucks record signing. Lead singer Laura Cooper said, “I have left the chiX after creative differences with my younger sister Gladys. It was fun while it lasted. Now I just want to get on with my solo career.”

“Are you cross?” asked Gladys.

“Not really” said Arnie. “All publicity is good publicity. A short piece at the bottom of Page 25 is not bad for a band that’s only done one gig. Now get Laura back in the band, and we’ll start all over next week.”

And Gladys thought that might work well in the tabloids, but even in reality, would Laura come back? And did she want her to?

Mum and Dad are going away for a romantic weekend, and “Wicked” Uncle Jeff is left in charge of the children. The children have homework to do, but Uncle Jeff thinks that is far too boring. He has other ideas, and a misadventure follows.

The idea for this story was inspired by our friends at Wicked Uncle, a website that helps Wicked Uncles remember the birthdays of their nephews and nieces.

Read by Natasha. Duration 16.46.

It was mum and Dad’s Crystal Anniversary, which meant that they had been married for 15 years. To celebrate, Dad was taking Mum away for a long weekend to a secret, romantic location. The children, Jeremy and Jemima, were going to stay with aunty Jane. Only aunty Jane was a bit scatterbrained, and she forgot all about her promise to look after her sister’s children, and she also arranged to go away that weekend. And so she couldn’t look after the kids after all.

“Well I suppose I could ask Jeff,” said Dad.

“Oh no, anybody but Jeff,” said Mum.

But as it turned out, there was nobody else but Jeff to be found at such short notice.

Jeff was Dad’s brother. The children hadn’t seen him since they were very small, and mum called him their “wicked uncle” because he always forgot their birthdays. Sometimes he sent cards and a ten pound note – but always at completely the wrong time of year.

“I bet he is awfully wicked,” said Jemima, “because Mum really really doesn’t like him at all. I think he went to prison”

“Or perhaps he was a pirate?” said Jeremy hopefully.

But when Jemima asked Dad if Uncle Jeff had been to prison, Dad said that No he hadn’t, at least, not as far as he knew. But he didn’t say it like he was surprised she had asked. I mean, if somebody asked you if somebody you knew had been to prison, you might at least try to sound a bit surprised. But Dad didn’t.

Uncle Jeff arrived late on Friday night, and in the morning, when Jeremy looked out of the window he saw a red sports car parked in the drive next to Dad’s big blue estate car. A taxi came very early to pick up Mum and Dad and take them to the airport. Later, Jemima and Jeremy got up and made their own breakfast, but Jeremy didn’t eat his at the kitchen table like he was supposed to. Instead, still in his pajamas, he took toast and jam into the living room and switched on the television.

“You know that Mum doesn’t let us watch TV on Saturday mornings,” said Jemima. “because they only show rubbish.”

“Well mum isn’t here. She’s enjoying a weekend of freedom from the us,” said Jeremy.

“I bet Uncle Jeff will tick you off,” said Jemima.

At about bout ten o’clock, Uncle Jeff came into the living room just as an army of tanks was being destroyed by robots from the Planet Zeeton.

“Bang ! Pehow ! Poook!” said Uncle Jeff, like a lot of guns and explosives going off. Jeremy looked up at him in amazement. Dad never said anything like that.

“Scuse me kids,” said Uncle Jeff. “I need a cup of strong black coffee before I can face the world – Now where’ the kitchen? Oh, I’m your Uncle Jeff by the way,” and he disappeared down the corridor. A little later, he returned and asked, “Well what are we going to do today?”

“Homework,” said Jemima.

And Uncle Jeff said, “Bor-ing. What’s the world coming to? Don’t kids these days get up to any mischief? ”

“Let’s go and buy some computer games” suggested Jeremy.

“Could do,” said Uncle Jeff thoughtfully. “But I had something a bit more outdoors in mind. Come on. Get dressed and I’ll take you on a surprise treat.”

A little later, they all got into Dad’s estate car. Jeremy was supposed to be strapped into a child seat for safety, but he asked cheekily, “Can I drive?” and Uncle Jeff said, “Well alright, but only on the driveway.” Jemima protested that her little brother didn’t know how to drive a car, but Uncle Jeff said that it was never too early to learn, and he let Jeremy sit on his lap and hold the steering wheel. But Just as Jeff was starting the engine, Jeremy moved the gear stick, and the car leapt forward with a great crunching noise. There was a burning smell and smoke started to come out of the bonnet.

“Whoops, there goes the clutch,” said Uncle Jeff. “I don’t think Dennis is going to be too pleased. Perhaps we wont mention this little incident to your dad. We’ll just let him think that your mother broke the car. Well, what shall we do now?”

“Can we go in your sports car?” asked Jeremy?

“Well, so long as I drive,” said Uncle Jeff. And they all got out and went over to Uncle Jeff’s car. It was rather cramped on the back seat, even for the children, and there certainly wasn’t room for Jeremy’s safety seat. He reversed out of the drive at quite a pace, and soon was roaring down their street so that all of their neighbours must have heard them. Then Uncle Jeff turned on some loud music and opened the sun roof. His style of driving was not at all like Dad’s. He zipped in and out of traffic and shot through lights just as they were turning from orange to red. Jemima thought he an irresponsible driver, but she didn’t say anything because that wouldn’t be polite. Jeremy said, “Can we go faster Uncle Jeff?” And Uncle Jeff put his foot on the pedal and they went even faster. He took them out of the town, and down a duel carriage way into the countryside. Eventually he turned up what looked like a farm track. A sign read, “Clay Pigeon Shooting’.

When they stopped and got out of the car, Uncle Jeff opened up the little boot and took a long leather pouch. Jeremy realised that there was a gun inside. “Oh, can I hold it?” he asked. And Uncle Jeff said “Maybe.”

Clay Pigeons aren’t real pigeons, but disks that are shot out of a machine and fly through the air. If you are shooting you try to smash the disk. But it’s extremely difficult to hit a moving target, and requires lots of skill.

Uncle Jeff made sure that Jeremy and Jemima were kitted out with ear protectors because gun-fire is really loud and can make you deaf. They also had to wear goggles in case a bit of clay flew into their eyes.

They stood in a field and when Uncle Jeff called “pull” a clay pigeon flew out of a kind of bunker. Uncle Jeff smoothly followed the target with his gun and squeezed the trigger. There was a loud bang and the smell of gun powder in the air. He missed. But he called out “pull” again and another target flew through the air. This time he hit it and the clay smashed into pieces.

“Can I have a go?, Can I have a go?” begged Jeremy.

And Uncle Jeff showed him how to hold the shotgun broken open at the middle so that it couldn’t go off by accident. And then he showed him how to hold it in firing position so that its kick wouldn’t hurt his shoulder. The shot gun was almost as big as Jeremy, but he thought that holding it was the coolest thing ever.

“Pull” he shouted, and a pigeon flew through the air. He followed it and squeezed the trigger. The gun went “Boom” and it jumped as if it had a life of its own. Jeremy missed by a mile. But he was very excited, and as soon as Uncle jeff had loaded a new cartridge into the barrel, he called “Pull” again and another pigeon flew through the air and he missed one more time. In fact, however many times he tried, Jeremy couldn’t hit the target.

And then Jemima had a go. And do you know what? She was really good at shooting. She smashed the target about four or five times.

Even Uncle Jeff was impressed, “Better than doing homework, eh?” he said as they squished back into his car. Jeremy and Jemima thanked their uncle for their treat.

“It was really wicked,” said Jeremy.

“Well it was fun.” said Jemima. “But I don’t think you should have taken us clay pigeon shooting without asking mum first.”

“How Do you know I didn’t her?” said Uncle Jeff.

“Because she would almost certainly have have said ‘no’” said Jemima. “And by the way, please drive more slowly and carefully. There are children in the back you are the responsible adult.”

Uncle Jeff slowed down and promised to drive carefully. And Jemima felt better because she realised that safety was even more important than being polite or worrying about causing offense.

When they got back to town, Uncle Jeff took them to a Turkish Kebab restaurant for lunch, and Jeremy tried hot chili sauce which burned his mouth. He had to eat loads of ice cream afterwards to cool off.

But when they got back to the house, Uncle Jeff searched in vein through his pockets for the front door key. And then he realized that he must have got it mixed up with his own from home. They were locked out.

“Is there a way in the back?” he asked. And they tried the side gate and found that it was open.
The French doors at the back of the house were firmly closed. But there was a window open just above the extension had been added to the back of the house only last year.

“It’s a pity. I think I’m too heavy to climb onto that roof” said Uncle Jeff.

“But I can,” said Jeremy. And since there was no other way into the house, Uncle Jeff agreed to lift Jeremy up onto the roof of the porch. He started to scramble up towards the window. But when he got to it, he found that the window was stuck and he couldn’t get it open any more. But there was a higher window that was fully open, and Jeremy thought that he might be able to climb up to that one by getting up onto the garden wall.

“Oh no” called out Uncle Jeff when he saw what Jeremy was trying to do. “That’s too dangerous”.

But Jeremy didn’t listen. He was on the top of the garden wall and now he was trying to stretch across to the high window. But the stretch was too far and he didn’t make it. He fell down to the roof of the porch. The extension to the house hadn’t been made very well by the builders and Jeremy went straight through the roof of the sun room. He landed on top of Mum’s tomato plant.

“Oh,” said Jeremy.

“Oh dear,” said Jeff.

“I don’t think mum’s going to be pleased,” said Jemima.

A nosy neighbour saw what had happened and called the police: He told them:

“There’s a boy who’s just got in through the roof, and man holding what can only be a gun. Then there’s a lass too. She looks really mean.”

“What makes you say it’s a gun sir?” asked the policeman.

“Well I was in the army for fifteen years and I think I know what a gun looks like,” said the neighbour.

It wasn’t often that people with guns tried to break into houses in that area. In fact, Jeremy and Jemima lived on one of the sleepiest and most peaceful streets you could imagine. But the police officer who took the call decided to send an armed response unit just to be on the safe side.

It took Jeremy a few minutes to get over the shock of falling through the roof. He wasn’t badly hurt, but he had cut and bruised himself and he earth in his hair and looked quite a sight. The police car screeched up the drive just as he was letting Uncle Jeff and Jemima in through the front door.

“Armed Police Officers, Freeze !” shouted the policeman.

And Uncle Jeff said, “Don’t shoot. I’ve got a license for this gun.”

Uncle Jeff, Jemima and Jeremy spent the rest of the day at the police station. Jemima and Jeremy were allowed to sit in the waiting room with a policeman and a policewoman sitting on either side of them. They weren’t allowed to talk to each other. Uncle Jeff was taken down to the cells before being interviewed. He gave them his brother’s mobile phone number, but since Mum and Dad were in Paris on a romantic weekend, they had both turned their mobile phones off for the day. It was 10 O’Clock at night before they managed to persuade the police that they weren’t a gang of criminals and could go home.

On Sunday, they all got up rather late.

“Well what shall we do?” asked Uncle Jeff.

“Homework” said Jemima. And Jeremy agreed that they both needed to do their homework. After that, Jemima asked Jeff if they could make a carrot cake, and they got one of mum’s recipe books out and they all did the mixing and baking. The result wasn’t too bad. Then they went out and bought some flowers from the stall for mum and dad. Then they read books and went to bed at seven o clock.

“Well, ” said Uncle Jeff to himself as he watched the football match on TV. “I think a Wicked Uncle has an important role to play in the upbringing of every child. They won’t forget this weekend in a hurry. I’ve set the kids a great example of how NOT to behave. ”

And he had. But funnily enough, Mum and Dad never asked him to look after the kids for the weekend again.

This story from Japan shows us that we should respect the old – even an old monkey. It’s about a dancing monkey who has served his master faithfully all his life. Now he is too old to dance, his master wants to get rid of him. The monkey consults an wise old wild boar, who hatches a plan to remind the master of his monkey’s faithful service.

The plot of this story resembles Old Sultan by the Brothers Grimm from Germany – suggesting that there is something universal about a good plot.

Read by Natasha. Duration 7.13. Sponsored by AudibleKids

Long, long ago, there lived in the province of Shinshin in Japan, a
traveling monkey-man, who earned his living by taking round a monkey
and showing off the animal’s tricks.

One evening the man came home in a very bad temper and told his wife
to send for the butcher the next morning.

The wife was amazed and asked her husband:

“Why do you wish me to send for the butcher?”

“It’s no use taking that monkey round any longer, he’s too old and
forgets his tricks. and now he won’t dance properly. I must now sell him to the butcher and make what money out of him I can. There is nothing else to be done.”

The woman felt very sorry for the poor little animal, and pleaded
for her husband to spare the monkey, but her pleading was all in
vain, the man was determined to sell him to the butcher.

Now the monkey was in the next room and overheard ever word of the
conversation. He soon understood that he was to be killed, and he
said to himself:

“I never knew my master was so cruel and heartless. I have served him faithfully

for years, and instead of allowing me to end my days comfortably and
in peace, he is going to let me be cut up by the butcher, and my
poor body is to be roasted and stewed and eaten? Woe is me! What am
I to do. Ah! a bright thought has struck me! There is, I know, a
wild boar living in the forest near by. I have often heard tell of
his wisdom. Perhaps if I go to him and tell him abut the trouble I am in
he will give me his advice.. I will go and try.”

There was no time to lose. The monkey slipped out of the house and
ran as quickly as he could to the forest to find the boar. The boar
was at home, and the monkey began his tale of woe at once.

“Good Mr. Boar, I have heard of your excellent wisdom. I am in great
trouble, you alone can help me. I have grown old in the service of
my master, and because I cannot dance properly now he intends to
sell me to the butcher. What do you advise me to do? I know how
clever you are!”

The boar was pleased at the flattery and determined to help the
monkey. He thought for a little while and then said:

“Hasn’t your master a baby?”

“Oh, yes,” said the monkey, “he has one infant son.”

“Doesn’t he lie by the door in the morning when your mistress begins
the work of the day? Well, I will come round early and when I see my
opportunity I will seize the child and run off with it.”

“What then?” said the monkey.

“Why the mother will be in a tremendous scare, and before your
master and mistress know what to do, you must run after me and
rescue the child and take it home safely to its parents, and you
will see that when the butcher comes they won’t have the heart to
sell you.”

The monkey thanked the boar many times and then went home. He did
not sleep much that night, as you may imagine, for thinking of the
the following day when the butcher was due to come to the house. His life depended on whether the boar’s plan succeeded or
not. He was the first up, waiting anxiously for what was to happen.
It seemed to him a very long time before his master’s wife began to
move about and open the shutters to let in the light of day. Then
all happened as the boar had planned. The mother placed her child
near the porch as usual while she tidied up the house and got her
breakfast ready.

The child was crooning happily in the morning sunlight, dabbing on
the mats at the play of light and shadow. Suddenly there was a noise
in the porch and a loud cry from the child. The mother ran out from
the kitchen to the spot, only just in time to see the boar
disappearing through the gate with her child in its clutch. She
flung out her hands with a loud cry of despair and rushed into the
inner room where her husband was still sleeping soundly.

He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, and crossly demanded what his
wife was making all that noise about. By the time that the man was
awake and they both got outside the gate, the
boar had got well away, but they saw the monkey running after the
thief as hard as his legs would carry him.

Both the man and wife were amazed to see the monkey chasing the thief. And when he bought the baby back safely to them, they could not stop crying with joy and gratitude.

“There!” said the wife. “This is the animal you want to kill–if the
monkey hadn’t been here we should have lost our child forever.”

“You are right, wife,” said the man as he carried the
child into the house. “You may send the butcher back when he comes,
and now let us us all have a good breakfast and the monkey too.”

When the butcher arrived he was sent away with an order for some
meat for the evening dinner, and the monkey was petted and
lived the rest of his days in peace.

Our girl band, the chiX have a new manager – and he starts to work them hard. They have to get up early and rehearse every day for a week to get ready for their first big concert. Gladys, the youngest sister, and the brains of the family is always in touch with Arny the Manager and making things happen – but when the chiX aren’t happy, they blame Gladys.

You can catch the earlier episodes of the chiX here (latest stories at the top, earliest down the page).

Read by Natasha. Duration 14.45. Story by Bertie.

The chiX new manager was called Arny Layne and he liked to chomp cigars and talk about all the singers who had become “monster rich” just because of him. He started to ring their house quite often. The first time he called, Sam picked up the phone:

“Yeah,” she said.

“Arnold Lane here. Get me the Song Sister will you darling.”

“Which sis would that be bro?” asked Sam. “We’re all song sisters here.”

“What’s her name. Gladdy, the girl with the golden brain. That’s the one. Give Sister Glad a shout for me will you now my love?”

Sam couldn’t think for the life of her why the manager would want to speak to her younger sister, but he did talk to her for quite a while. She could hear Gladys saying, “Yes, that would probably be fine…. . Right…. We’ll be on for that. Cool. Thanks Arny.”

And when the elder sisters demanded to know exactly what they would be “on for” Gladdys replied, “The chiX are going to start gigging.” And she was surprised about how suprised her sisters looked. Sam said: “You mean like singing… live… in front of an audience”.

Gladys said yes, that’s what being in a band was all about. For the first time, she was relieved that she wasn’t actually a performing member of the band. She could see that Sam had stage fright, and she realised that it would be quite scary to perform in front of a real audience.

“Well cheers for telling us about it,” said Laura. “When you and Arny have finished planning our futures just let us know, because I might be washing my hair that .”

“Well it’s sing or die,” said Gladys. “Because if you can’t do this you might as well give up now.”

And the girls knew that she was right.

For the next few weeks, Arny was often on the phone asking for Gladys. In fact, after a while he sent her a mobile phone so that he could catch her during playtime at school. It was against the school rules to use a phone, and Gladys had to go into the bike sheds so as not to get caught.

Arny said that normally a new band would “play the circuit” which meant pubs and clubs in London. But as the girls were so young, the circuit might not do for them. So Arny booked the girls into a big charity event were bands would be playing to raise money for good causes. It was going to be in a posh hotel in London, and the girls would have to do just one song, and make it a good one.

It was half term at school. Arny booked a rehearsal room. On Monday, the chiX had to be there at 9AM because the room was cheaper in the mornings. Gladys was up at quarter to seven. She tried to get her sisters out of bed, but it wasn’t easy. They got to the rehearsal at 11.15.

When they came into the room, they saw their backing musicians sitting around drinking mugs of tea.

“Core, they really made an effort,” said Laura. She meant that only one of four men had bothered to get shaved.

Gladys handed out song sheets to the musicians. They picked up their instruments, and they got the tune almost right away. They were playing together right on the beat. They were professionals you see.

But the sisters found it really hard to sing in tune.

“Core, my voice is a bit croaky this morning,” said Laura.

“I can’t hear myself,” complained Mandy – because it really wasn’t that easy singing along to a live band.

After a while they weren’t sounding too bad, but when they tried dancing they went completely out of tune again.

“Well what are you smirking at?” said Laura to the Drummer, “If you think it’s so easy, you come up hear and try to sing and dance at the same time.”

The drummer didn’t reply. He just did a little role on his drums, and Laura felt better because she had told somebody off.

At 12.00 they had to pack up and leave the rehearsal room because it had been booked by brass band. That evening Arny rang to give Gladys a big ticking off for not getting the girls there on time. She promised to try harder the next day.

On Tuesday, they managed to get there by ten past ten, but most of the morning was taken up trying on costumes. The designer decided to dress them in shimmering silver to contrast with their sun tans.

On Wednesday the choreographer showed them a new dance routine.

On Thursday they had to practice singing and dancing at the same time again.

And on Friday they tried dancing and singing while wearing high platform shoes. Arny came to see them. His verdict was :

“Lovely Jubly.”

On Saturday afternoon they took the train up to London to get ready for that evening’s Big Gig. The girls were cross with Gladys because she hadn’t arranged a stretch limo for them.

Sam said: “Look at the state of this carriage. How are we supposed to work up star quality when have to sit ankle deep in yesterday’s newspapers, half-eaten sandwiches, and coffee cups?”

Gladys replied that artists have to stay in touch with The People no matter how big stars they become.

The four girls squeezed into a black cab at Waterloo station. On the way to the hotel, Arny called on Gladys’s mobile: “Where are you?” he asked crossly. “Almost there,” replied Gladys.

The journey to the hotel cost £12 which Gladys paid out of her pocket money.

When the girls arrived in the banqueting room, a boy band was practicing its act. The lead singer had shiny blond hair and big blue eyes with long lashes. Laura said: “Core he’s so pretty he should be in the chiX.”

“Yeah, they’re so useless they’ll make us look good,” added Sam.

Arny was looking at his watch. “Well glad you made it girls,” he said. “Cos a top talent spotter from the recording company is going to be here to night, and he’s on the look out for young acts.”

“Great,” said Gladys.

But the girls weren’t at all pleased. In the dressing room Mandy said to Gladys: “Don’t you think it’s a little early for the recording companies to be watching us? This is our first time in public.”

“Yeah Glady,” said Laura. “I feel really stressed out now.”

Gladys tried to explain that she hadn’t arranged for the record company to come and see them, but because she was the one who was in touch with Arny, the girls thought it was all her fault.

“Thanks Gladdy,” said Sam, “You’ve probably ruined our big chance.”

It was time for the chiX and to do a sound test, when they ran through their song on stage and the sound engineer made sure that the microphones and amplifiers were all set at the right levels. Laura complained that she couldn’t hear herself, Sam said that the drummer was being too fancy with his rolls, and Mandy accused the lead guitarist of showing off. Gladys knew that they were being difficult because they were nervous.

Then they got changed into their silver costumes and platform shoes. And the make-up artist came round and did their faces. And the stylist arranged their hair. And for the first time the girls began to feel just a little bit like stars. Then they waited. And they waited. And then the guests start to arrive, and the evening was under way.

The boy band was due on just before them. They were called “The Throbinsons”, which all the girls thought was a really naff name. Mandy knocked on their dressing room door and wished them luck. The lead singer kissed her on the cheek, but she was too embarrassed to tell the other girls about that. When she got back she said that they didn’t look quite so perfect close up, and that they were clammy and had spots just like ordinary boys.

But the audience liked them. They could hear people whooping while they were singing their song about their broken hearted love for a brown-eyed girl. At the end of the song the cheering and applause was so loud thatthe boys went back for a brief encore of their chorus.

The boys success just felt the girls feel more nervous.

“I bet the record label signs them and not us,”said Sam. “And it’s all your fault Gladys. You should have made sure that the band on before us was really, really bad.”

Gladys watched the chiX from the side of the stage while they performed. She thought they were pretty good. If you knew their act really well, you might have noticed one or two tiny little slips with the dance steps, but on the whole they were great. The audience gave them lots of applause, though perhaps not quite so much as they had given the boys. Arny texted her to say “Nice One” and Gladys felt really proud of her sisters.

But when the chiX came back of the stage they were in a terrible mood.

“We were awful,” said Laura

“Totally stank,” said Mandy.

“Pants,” said Sam

“No you weren’t you were great,” said Gladys.

But the girls were furious with her. It was all her fault. She should have got them a limo to the hotel. She should have given them more time to rehearse on the day. She should have got them better backing musicians. She should have made sure they were on after a really bad act. And she should have made sure that there wasn’t a talent scout from the record label within a million miles of their very first performance because they might only ever get one chance to show him what they could really do.

Gladys fought back the tears. She knew they were being unfair, but she was too upset to answer back. She went out into the corridor. By the stage door she met Arny. He was talking to a man she didn’t know.

“Gladdy, Meet Josh from Big Records,” said Arny. “And Josh, meet Gladys, my right hand girl, and the brains behind the chiX.

“You look like you’ve been crying,” said Josh. “I hope they were tears of joy.”

But Gladys said that the girls were blaming her because they messed up their act.

“Well I’ve seen worse,” said Josh.

“And what about the Boy Band?” asked Gladys

“Oh, don’t make me puke” said Josh. “Come off it. The Throbinsons. Don’t they realise how naff that name is. Now the chiX. That kind of suits you. Cool name.”

“I thought of it,” said Gladys. And she felt more cheerful. Then Josh gave her his card and said to call him next time the chiX were doing a gig. He wanted to follow their progress.

Arny called a mini-cab to take the girls all the way back home to Teddington. It wasn’t a stretch limo, but it did have leather seats. When they came through the door to their house, Dad met them and asked how the Big Gig had gone.

“Great,” said Mandy.

“That’s my girls,” said Dad.

And they all went to straight to bed, because although they had only been on stage for three and half minutes, they all felt incredibly tiered.

The story of a tiny, tiny little girl, and her journey through nature. Hans Christian Andersen wrote this delicate story in 1835. Like many of his tales, it’s about the courage and survival against the odds of somebody quite small and rather different.

If you like this story, you will probably enjoy The Ugly Ducking too.

Read by Natasha.  Duration 32.22   Version from Andrew Lang’s Yellow Fairy Book.

There was once a woman who wanted to have quite a tiny, little child, but she did not know where to get one from. So one day she went to an old Witch and said to her: ‘I should so much like to have a tiny, little child; can you tell me where I can get one?’

‘Oh, we have just got one ready!’ said the Witch. ‘Here is a barley-corn for you, but it’s not the kind the farmer sows in his field, or feeds the cocks and hens with, I can tell you. Put it in a flower-pot, and then you will see something happen.’

‘Oh, thank you!’ said the woman, and gave the Witch a shilling, for that was what it cost. Then she went home and planted the barley-corn; immediately there grew out of it a large and beautiful flower, which looked like a tulip, but the petals were tightly closed as if it were still only a bud.

‘What a beautiful flower!’ exclaimed the woman, and she kissed the red and yellow petals; but as she kissed them the flower burst open. It was a real tulip, such as one can see any day; but in the middle of the blossom, on the green velvety petals, sat a little girl, quite tiny, trim, and pretty. She was scarcely half a thumb in height; so they called her Thumbelina. An elegant polished walnut-shell served Thumbelina as a cradle, the blue petals of a violet were her mattress, and a rose-leaf her coverlid. There she lay at night, but in the day-time she used to play about on the table; here the woman had put a bowl, surrounded by a ring of flowers, with their stalks in water, in the middle of which floated a great tulip pedal, and on this Thumbelina sat, and sailed from one side of the bowl to the other, rowing herself with two white horse-hairs for oars. It was such a pretty sight! She could sing, too, with a voice more soft and sweet than had ever been heard before.

One night, when she was lying in her pretty little bed, an old toad crept in through a broken pane in the window. She was very ugly, clumsy, and clammy; she hopped on to the table where Thumbelina lay asleep under the red rose-leaf.

‘This would make a beautiful wife for my son,’ said the toad, taking up the walnut-shell, with Thumbelina inside, and hopping with it through the window into the garden.

There flowed a great wide stream, with slippery and marshy banks; here the toad lived with her son. Ugh! how ugly and clammy he was, just like his mother! ‘Croak, croak, croak!’ was all he could say when he saw the pretty little girl in the walnut- shell.

‘Don’t talk so load, or you’ll wake her,’ said the old toad. ‘She might escape us even now; she is as light as a feather. We will put her at once on a broad water-lily leaf in the stream. That will be quite an island for her; she is so small and light. She can’t run away from us there, whilst we are preparing the guest-chamber under the marsh where she shall live.’

Outside in the brook grew many water-lilies, with broad green leaves, which looked as if they were swimming about on the water.

The leaf farthest away was the largest, and to this the old toad swam with Thumbelina in her walnut-shell.

The tiny Thumbelina woke up very early in the morning, and when she saw where she was she began to cry bitterly; for on every side of the great green leaf was water, and she could not get to the land.

The old toad was down under the marsh, decorating her room with rushes and yellow marigold leaves, to make it very grand for her new daughter-in-law; then she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf where Thumbelina lay. She wanted to fetch the pretty cradle to put it into her room before Thumbelina herself came there. The old toad bowed low in the water before her, and said: ‘Here is my son; you shall marry him, and live in great magnificence down under the marsh.’

‘Croak, croak, croak!’ was all that the son could say. Then they took the neat little cradle and swam away with it; but Thumbelina sat alone on the great green leaf and wept, for she did not want to live with the clammy toad, or marry her ugly son. The little fishes swimming about under the water had seen the toad quite plainly, and heard what she had said; so they put up their heads to see the little girl. When they saw her, they thought her so pretty that they were very sorry she should go down with the ugly toad to live. No; that must not happen. They assembled in the water round the green stalk which supported the leaf on which she was sitting, and nibbled the stem in two. Away floated the leaf down the stream, bearing Thumbelina far beyond the reach of the toad.

On she sailed past several towns, and the little birds sitting in the bushes saw her, and sang, ‘What a pretty little girl!’ The leaf floated farther and farther away; thus Thumbelina left her native land.

A beautiful little white butterfly fluttered above her, and at last settled on the leaf. Thumbelina pleased him, and she, too, was delighted, for now the toads could not reach her, and it was so beautiful where she was travelling; the sun shone on the water and made it sparkle like the brightest silver. She took off her sash, and tied one end round the butterfly; the other end she fastened to the leaf, so that now it glided along with her faster than ever.

A great chaffinch came flying past; he caught sight of Thumbelina, and in a moment had put his arms round her slender waist, and had flown off with her to a tree. The green leaf floated away down the stream, and the butterfly with it, for he was fastened to the leaf and could not get loose from it. Oh, dear! how terrified poor little Thumbelina was when the chaffinch flew off with her to the tree! But she was especially distressed on the beautiful white butterfly’s account, as she had tied him fast, so that if he could not get away he must starve to death. But the chaffinch did not trouble himself about that; he sat down with her on a large green leaf, gave her the honey out of the flowers to eat, and told her that she was very pretty, although she wasn’t in the least like a chaffinch. Later on, all the other chaffinchs who lived in the same tree came to pay calls; they examined Thumbelina closely, and remarked,  How very miserable!’

‘She has no feelers!’ cried another.

‘How ugly she is!’ said all the lady chafers–and yet Thumbelina was really very pretty.

The chaffinch who had stolen her knew this very well; but when he heard all the ladies saying she was ugly, he began to think so too, and would not keep her; she might go wherever she liked. So he flew down from the tree with her and put her on a daisy. There she sat and wept, because she was so ugly that the chaffinch would have nothing to do with her; and yet she was the most beautiful creature imaginable, so soft and delicate, like the loveliest rose-leaf.

The whole summer poor little Thumbelina lived alone in the great wood. She plaited a bed for herself of blades of grass, and hung it up under a clover-leaf, so that she was protected from the rain; she gathered honey from the flowers for food, and drank the dew on the leaves every morning. Thus the summer and autumn passed, but then came winter–the long, cold winter. All the birds who had sung so sweetly about her had flown away; the trees shed their leaves, the flowers died; the great clover-leaf under which she had lived curled up, and nothing remained of it but the withered stalk. She was terribly cold, for her clothes were ragged, and she herself was so small and thin. Poor little Thumbelina! she would surely be frozen to death. It began to snow, and every snow-flake that fell on her was to her as a whole shovelful thrown on one of us, for we are so big, and she was only an inch high. She wrapt herself round in a dead leaf, but it was torn in the middle and gave her no warmth; she was trembling with cold.

Just outside the wood where she was now living lay a great corn-field. But the corn had been gone a long time; only the dry, bare stubble was left standing in the frozen ground. This made a forest for her to wander about in. All at once she came across the door of a field-mouse, who had a little hole under a corn-stalk. There the mouse lived warm and snug, with a store-room full of corn, a splendid kitchen and dining-room. Poor little Thumbelina went up to the door and begged for a little piece of barley, for she had not had anything to eat for the last two days.

‘Poor little creature!’ said the field-mouse, for she was a kind- hearted old thing at the bottom. ‘Come into my warm room and have some dinner with me.’

As Thumbelina pleased her, she said: ‘As far as I am concerned you may spend the winter with me; but you must keep my room clean and tidy, and tell me stories, for I like that very much.’

And Thumbelina did all that the kind old field-mouse asked, and did it remarkably well too.

‘Now I am expecting a visitor,’ said the field-mouse; ‘my neighbour comes to call on me once a week. He is in better circumstances than I am, has great, big rooms, and wears a fine black-velvet coat. If you could only marry him, you would be well provided for. But he is blind. You must tell him all the prettiest stories you know.’

But Thumbelina did not trouble her head about him, for he was only a mole. He came and paid them a visit in his black-velvet coat.

‘He is so rich and so accomplished,’ the field-mouse told her.

‘His house is twenty times larger than mine; he possesses great knowledge, but he cannot bear the sun and the beautiful flowers, and speaks slightingly of them, for he has never seen them.’

Thumbelina had to sing to him, so she sang ‘Lady-bird, lady- bird, fly away home!’ and other songs so prettily that the mole fell in love with her; but he did not say anything, he was a very cautious man. A short time before he had dug a long passage through the ground from his own house to that of his neighbour; in this he gave the field-mouse and Thumbelina permission to walk as often as they liked. But he begged them not to be afraid of the dead bird that lay in the passage: it was a real bird with beak and feathers, and must have died a little time ago, and now laid buried just where he had made his tunnel. The mole took a piece of rotten wood in his mouth, for that glows like fire in the dark, and went in front, lighting them through the long dark passage. When they came to the place where the dead bird lay, the mole put his broad nose against the ceiling and pushed a hole through, so that the daylight could shine down. In the middle of the path lay a dead swallow, his pretty wings pressed close to his sides, his claws and head drawn under his feathers; the poor bird had evidently died of cold. Thumbelina was very sorry, for she was very fond of all little birds; they had sung and twittered so beautifully to her all through the summer. But the mole kicked him with his bandy legs and said:

‘Now he can’t sing any more! It must be very miserable to be a little bird! I’m thankful that none of my little children are; birds always starve in winter.’

‘Yes, you speak like a sensible man,’ said the field-mouse. ‘What has a bird, in spite of all his singing, in the winter-time? He must starve and freeze, and that must be very pleasant for him, I must say!’

Thumbelina did not say anything; but when the other two had passed on she bent down to the bird, brushed aside the feathers from his head, and kissed his closed eyes gently. ‘Perhaps it was he that sang to me so prettily in the summer,’ she thought. ‘How much pleasure he did give me, dear little bird!’

The mole closed up the hole again which let in the light, and then escorted the ladies home. But Thumbelina could not sleep that night; so she got out of bed, and plaited a great big blanket of straw, and carried it off, and spread it over the dead bird, and piled upon it thistle-down as soft as cotton-wool, which she had found in the field-mouse’s room, so that the poor little thing should lie warmly buried.

‘Farewell, pretty little bird!’ she said. ‘Farewell, and thank you for your beautiful songs in the summer, when the trees were green, and the sun shone down warmly on us!’ Then she laid her head against the bird’s heart. But the bird was not dead: he had been frozen, but now that she had warmed him, he was coming to life again.

In autumn the swallows fly away to foreign lands; but there are some who are late in starting, and then they get so cold that they drop down as if dead, and the snow comes and covers them over.

Thumbelina trembled, she was so frightened; for the bird was very large in comparison with herself–only an inch high. But she took courage, piled up the down more closely over the poor swallow, fetched her own coverlid and laid it over his head.

Next night she crept out again to him. There he was alive, but very weak; he could only open his eyes for a moment and look at Thumbelina, who was standing in front of him with a piece of rotten wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern.

‘Thank you, pretty little child!’ said the swallow to her. ‘I am so beautifully warm! Soon I shall regain my strength, and then I shall be able to fly out again into the warm sunshine.’

‘Oh!’ she said, ‘it is very cold outside; it is snowing and freezing! stay in your warm bed; I will take care of you!’

Then she brought him water in a petal, which he drank, after which he related to her how he had torn one of his wings on a bramble, so that he could not fly as fast as the other swallows, who had flown far away to warmer lands. So at last he had dropped down exhausted, and then he could remember no more. The whole winter he remained down there, and Thumbelina looked after him and nursed him tenderly. Neither the mole nor the field-mouse learnt anything of this, for they could not bear the poor swallow.

When the spring came, and the sun warmed the earth again, the swallow said farewell to Thumbelina, who opened the hole in the roof for him which the mole had made. The sun shone brightly down upon her, and the swallow asked her if she would go with him; she could sit upon his back. Thumbelina wanted very much to fly far away into the green wood, but she knew that the old field-mouse would be sad if she ran away. ‘No, I mustn’t come!’ she said.

‘Farewell, dear good little girl!’ said the swallow, and flew off into the sunshine. Thumbelina gazed after him with the tears standing in her eyes, for she was very fond of the swallow.

‘Tweet, tweet!’ sang the bird, and flew into the green wood. Thumbelina was very unhappy. She was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine. The corn which had been sowed in the field over the field-mouse’s home grew up high into the air, and made a thick forest for the poor little girl, who was only an inch high.

‘Now you are to be a bride, Thumbelina!’ said the field-mouse, ‘for our neighbour has proposed for you! What a piece of fortune for a poor child like you! Now you must set to work at your linen for your dowry, for nothing must be lacking if you are to become the wife of our neighbour, the mole!’

Thumbelina had to spin all day long, and every evening the mole visited her, and told her that when the summer was over the sun would not shine so hot; now it was burning the earth as hard as a stone. Yes, when the summer had passed, they would keep the wedding.

But she was not at all pleased about it, for she did not like the stupid mole. Every morning when the sun was rising, and every evening when it was setting, she would steal out of the house-door, and when the breeze parted the ears of corn so that she could see the blue sky through them, she thought how bright and beautiful it must be outside, and longed to see her dear swallow again. But he never came; no doubt he had flown away far into the great green wood.

By the autumn Thumbelina had finished the dowry.

‘In four weeks you will be married!’ said the field-mouse; ‘don’t be obstinate, or I shall bite you with my sharp white teeth! You will get a fine husband! The King himself has not such a velvet coat. His store-room and cellar are full, and you should be thankful for that.’

Well, the wedding-day arrived. The mole had come to fetch Thumbelina to live with him deep down under the ground, never to come out into the warm sun again, for that was what he didn’t like. The poor little girl was very sad; for now she must say good-bye to the beautiful sun.

‘Farewell, bright sun!’ she cried, stretching out her arms towards it, and taking another step outside the house; for now the corn had been reaped, and only the dry stubble was left standing. ‘Farewell, farewell!’ she said, and put her arms round a little red flower that grew there. ‘Give my love to the dear swallow when you see him!’

‘Tweet, tweet!’ sounded in her ear all at once. She looked up. There was the swallow flying past! As soon as he saw Thumbelina, he was very glad. She told him how unwilling she was to marry the ugly mole, as then she had to live underground where the sun never shone, and she could not help bursting into tears.

‘The cold winter is coming now,’ said the swallow. ‘I must fly away to warmer lands: will you come with me? You can sit on my back, and we will fly far away from the ugly mole and his dark house, over the mountains, to the warm countries where the sun shines more brightly than here, where it is always summer, and there are always beautiful flowers. Do come with me, dear little Thumbelina, who saved my life when I lay frozen in the dark tunnel!’

‘Yes, I will go with you,’ said Thumbelina, and got on the swallow’s back, with her feet on one of his outstretched wings. Up he flew into the air, over woods and seas, over the great mountains where the snow is always lying. And if she was cold she crept under his warm feathers, only keeping her little head out to admire all the beautiful things in the world beneath. At last they came to warm lands; there the sun was brighter, the sky seemed twice as high, and in the hedges hung the finest green and purple grapes; in the woods grew oranges and lemons: the air was scented with myrtle and mint, and on the roads were pretty little children running about and playing with great gorgeous butterflies. But the swallow flew on farther, and it became more and more beautiful. Under the most splendid green trees besides a blue lake stood a glittering white-marble castle. Vines hung about the high pillars; there were many swallows’ nests, and in one of these lived the swallow who was carrying Thumbelina.

‘Here is my house!’ said he. ‘But it won’t do for you to live with me; I am not tidy enough to please you. Find a home for yourself in one of the lovely flowers that grow down there; now I will set you down, and you can do whatever you like.’

‘That will be splendid!’ said she, clapping her little hands.

There lay a great white marble column which had fallen to the ground and broken into three pieces, but between these grew the most beautiful white flowers. The swallow flew down with Thumbelina, and set her upon one of the broad leaves. But there, to her astonishment, she found a tiny little man sitting in the middle of the flower, as white and transparent as if he were made of glass; he had the prettiest golden crown on his head, and the most beautiful wings on his shoulders; he himself was no bigger than Thumbelina. He was the spirit of the flower. In each blossom there dwelt a tiny man or woman; but this one was the King over the others.

‘How handsome he is!’ whispered Thumbelina to the swallow.

The little Prince was very much frightened at the swallow, for in comparison with one so tiny as himself he seemed a giant. But when he saw Thumbelina, he was delighted, for she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. So he took his golden crown from off his head and put it on hers, asking her her name, and if she would be his wife, and then she would be Queen of all the flowers. Yes! he was a different kind of husband to the son of the toad and the mole with the black-velvet coat. So she said ‘Yes’ to the noble Prince. And out of each flower came a lady and gentleman, each so tiny and pretty that it was a pleasure to see them. Each brought Thumbelina a present, but the best of all was a beautiful pair of wings which were fastened on to her back, and now she too could fly from flower to flower. They all wished her joy, and the swallow sat above in his nest and sang the wedding march, and that he did as well as he could; but he was sad, because he was very fond of Thumbelina and did not want to be separated from her.

‘You shall not be called Thumbelina!’ said the spirit of the flower to her; ‘that is an ugly name, and you are much too pretty for that. We will call you May Blossom.’

‘Farewell, farewell!’ said the little swallow with a heavy heart, and flew away to farther lands, far, far away, right back to Denmark. There he had a little nest above a window, where his wife lived, who can tell fairy-stories. ‘Tweet, tweet!’ he sang to her. And that is the way we learnt the whole story.

This exciting story from Japan features a battle between a warrior and a giant centipede. The rewards for bravery in this story are not riches or the hand of a beautiful princess, but a plentiful supply of food. And by the end of the story you will know how the warrior gained his unusual title of “My Lord Bag of Rice.”

Told by Natasha. Duration 19.12

Long, long ago there lived, in Japan a brave warrior known to all as
Tawara Toda, or “My Lord Bag of Rice, ” and there is a very interesting
story of how he received this unusual name.

One day he went out in search of adventures. He buckled on
his two swords, took his huge bow, much taller than himself, in his
hand, and slinging his quiver on his back, started out. He had not
gone far when he came to the bridge of Seta-no-Karashi spanning one
end of a beautiful Lake. No sooner had he set foot on the
bridge than he saw lying right across his path a huge serpent-
dragon. Its body was so big that it looked like the trunk of a large
pine tree and it took up the whole width of the bridge. One of its
huge claws rested on the wall of one side of the bridge, while
its tail lay right against the other. The monster seemed to be
asleep, and as it breathed, fire and smoke came out of its nostrils.

At first the warrior could not help feeling revolted at the sight of
this horrible reptile lying in his path, for he must either turn
back or walk right over its body. He was a brave man, however, and
putting aside all fear went forward. Crunch, crunch! he
stepped now on the dragon’s body, now between its coils, and without
even one glance backward he went on his way.

He had only gone a few steps when he heard someone calling him from
behind. On turning back he was much surprised to see that the
monster dragon had entirely disappeared and in its place was a
strange-looking man, who was bowing most ceremoniously to the
ground. His red hair streamed over his shoulders and he wore a crown
in the shape of a dragon’s head, and his sea-green dress was patterned
with shells.

The warrior knew at once that this was no
ordinary mortal and he wondered at what had happened.
Where had the dragon gone in such a short space of time? Or had it
transformed itself into this man, and what did the whole thing mean?
While these thoughts passed through his mind he had come up to the
man on the bridge and now spoke to him:

“Was it you that called me just now?”

“Yes, it was I,” answered the man: “I have an earnest request to
make to you. Do you think you can grant it to me?”

“If it is in my power to do so I will,” answered the warrior, “but
first tell me who you are?”

“I am the Dragon King of the Lake, and my home is in these waters
just under this bridge.”

“And what is it you have to ask of me!” said the warrior

“I want you to kill my mortal enemy the centipede, who lives on the
mountain beyond,” said the Dragon King as he pointed to a high peak on the
opposite shore of the lake.

“I have lived now for many years in this lake and I have a large
family of children and grand-children. For some time past we have
lived in terror, for a monster centipede has discovered our home,
and night after night it comes and carries off one of my family. I
am powerless to save them. If it goes on much longer like this, not
only shall I lose all my children, but I myself must fall a victim
to the monster. I am, therefore, very unhappy, and in my extreme need I
determined to ask the help of a human being. For many days with this
in mind I have waited on the bridge in the shape of the horrible
serpent-dragon that you saw, in the hope that some strong brave man
would come along. But all who came this way, as soon as they saw me
were terrified and ran away as fast as they could. You are the first
man I have found able to look at me without fear, so I knew at once
that you were a man of great courage. I beg you to have pity upon
me. Will you not help me and kill my enemy the centipede?”

The warrior felt very sorry for the Dragon King on hearing his story,
and readily promised to do what he could to help him. He
asked where the centipede lived, so that he might attack the
creature at once. The Dragon King replied that its home was on the
mountain Mikami, but that as it came every night at a certain hour
to the palace of the lake, it would be better to wait till then. So
the warrior went to the palace of the Dragon King, under the
bridge. Strange to say, as he followed his host downwards the waters
parted to let them pass, and his clothes did not even feel damp as
he passed through. Never had he seen anything so
beautiful as this palace built of white marble beneath the lake. He
had often heard of the Sea King’s palace at the bottom of the sea,
where all the servants were salt-water fishes, but
here was a magnificent building in the heart of Lake Biwa. The
dainty goldfishes, red carp, and silvery trout, waited upon the
Dragon King and his guest.

The warrior was astonished at the feast that was spread for him. The
dishes were crystallized lotus leaves and flowers, and the
chopsticks were of the rarest ebony. As soon as they sat down, the
sliding doors opened and ten lovely goldfish dancers came out, and
behind them followed ten red-carp musicians with the koto and the
samisen. Thus the hours flew by till midnight, and the beautiful
music and dancing had banished all thoughts of the centipede. The
Dragon King was about to pledge the warrior in a fresh cup of wine
when the palace was suddenly shaken by a tramp, tramp! as if a
mighty army had begun to march not far away.

The warrior and his host both rose to their feet and rushed to the
balcony, and they saw on the opposite mountain two great
balls of glowing fire coming nearer and nearer. The Dragon King
was trembling with fear.

“The centipede! The centipede! Those two balls of fire are its eyes.
It is coming for its prey! Now is the time to kill it.”

The warrior looked where his host pointed, and, in the dim light of the
starlit evening, behind the two balls of fire he saw the long body
of an enormous centipede winding round the mountains, and the light
in its hundred feet glowed like so many distant lanterns moving
slowly towards the shore.

He showed not the least sign of fear. He tried to calm the
Dragon King.

“Don’t be afraid. I shall surely kill the centipede. Just bring me
my bow and arrows.”

The Dragon King did as he was bid, and the warrior noticed that he
had only three arrows left in his quiver. He took the bow, and
fitting an arrow to the notch, took careful aim and let fly.

The arrow hit the centipede right in the middle of its head, but
it glanced off it harmless and fell to the ground.

The warrior took his second arrow, fitted it to the notch
of the bow and let fly. Again the arrow hit the mark, it struck the
centipede right in the middle of its head, only to glance off and
fall to the ground. The centipede was invulnerable to weapons! When
the Dragon King saw that even this brave warrior’s arrows were
powerless to kill the centipede, he lost heart and began to tremble
with fear.

The warrior saw that he had now only one arrow left in his quiver,
and if this one failed he could not kill the centipede. He looked
across the waters. The huge reptile had wound its horrid body seven
times round the mountain and would soon come down to the lake.
Nearer and nearer gleamed fireballs of eyes, and the light of its
hundred feet began to throw reflections in the still waters of the
lake.

Then suddenly the warrior remembered that he had heard that human
saliva was deadly to centipedes. But this was no ordinary centipede.
This was so monstrous that even to think of such a creature made one
creep with horror. He determined to try his last chance. So
taking his last arrow and first putting the end of it in his mouth,
he fitted the notch to his bow, took careful aim once more and let
fly.

This time the arrow again hit the centipede right in the middle of
its head, but instead of glancing off harmlessly as before, it
struck home and sunk into the creature. Then with a convulsive shudder
the serpentine body stopped moving, and the fiery light of its great
eyes and hundred feet darkened to a dull glare like the sunset of a
stormy day, and then went out in blackness. A great darkness now
overspread the heavens, the thunder rolled and the lightning
flashed, and the wind roared in fury, and it seemed as if the world
were coming to an end. The Dragon King and his children and
retainers all crouched in different parts of the palace, frightened
to death, for the building was shaken to its foundation. At last the
dreadful night was over. Day dawned beautiful and clear. The
centipede was gone from the mountain.

Then the warrior called to the Dragon King to come out with him on the
balcony, for the centipede was dead and he had nothing more to fear.

All the inhabitants of the palace came out with joy, and
he pointed to the lake. There lay the body of the dead
centipede floating on the water, which was dyed red with its blood.

The gratitude of the Dragon King knew no bounds. The whole family
came and bowed down before the warrior, calling him their preserver
and the bravest warrior in all Japan.

Another feast was prepared, more sumptuous than the first. All kinds
of fish, prepared in every imaginable way, raw, stewed, boiled and
roasted, served on coral trays and crystal dishes, were put before
him, and the wine was the best that he had ever tasted in his
life. To add to the beauty of everything the sun shone brightly, the
lake glittered like a liquid diamond, and the palace was a thousand
times more beautiful by day than by night.

His host tried to persuade the warrior to stay a few days, but
he insisted on going home, saying that he had now finished
what he had come to do, and must return. The Dragon King and his
family were all very sorry to have him leave so soon, but since he
would go they begged him to accept a few small presents (so they
said) in token of their gratitude to him for delivering them forever
from their horrible enemy the centipede.

As the warrior stood in the porch taking leave, a train of fish was
suddenly transformed into a retinue of men, all wearing ceremonial
robes and dragon’s crowns on their heads to show that they were
servants of the great Dragon King. The presents that they carried
were as follows:

First, a large bronze bell.
Second, a bag of rice.
Third, a roll of silk.
Fourth, a cooking pot.
Fifth, a bell.

The warrior did not want to accept all these presents, but as the
Dragon King insisted, he could not well refuse.

The Dragon King himself accompanied the warrior as far as the
bridge, and then took leave of him with many bows and good wishes,
leaving the procession of servants to accompany Hidesato to his
house with the presents.

The warrior’s household and servants had been very much concerned
when they found that he did not return the night before, but they
finally concluded that he had been kept by the violent storm and had
taken shelter somewhere. When the servants on the watch for his
return caught sight of him they called to every one that he was
approaching, and the whole household turned out to meet him,
wondering much what the retinue of men, bearing presents and
banners, that followed him, could mean.

As soon as the Dragon King’s retainers had put down the presents
they vanished, and the warrior told all that had happened to him.

The presents which he had received from the grateful Dragon King
were found to be of magic power. The bell only was ordinary, and as
the warrior had no use for it he presented it to the temple near by,
where it was hung up, to boom out the hour of day over the
surrounding neighborhood.

But as for he single bag of rice, however much was taken from it day after day
for the meals of the warrior and his whole family, it never grew less–
the supply in the bag was inexhaustible.

The roll of silk, too, never grew shorter, though time after time
long pieces were cut off to make the warrior a new suit of clothes
to go to Court in at the New Year.

The cooking pot was wonderful, too. No matter what was put into it,
it cooked deliciously whatever was wanted without any firing–truly
a very economical saucepan.

The fame of the warrior’s fortune spread far and wide, and as there was
no need for him to spend money on rice or silk or firing, he became
very rich and prosperous, and was henceforth known as My Lord Bag of
Rice.

This story about a fox and a wolf, might be better called “The vixen and the wolf” because the fox is very feminine, while the wolf is definitely a he-wolf. Both are very hungry, and the wolf is set on eating the fox.

This story by Antonio de Trueba (1821-1889) is set in his native Basque country in Northern Spain. The English translation is from the Orange Fairy Book of Andrew Lang.

Read by Natasha. Duration 18.27.

At the foot of some high mountains there was, once upon a time, a small
village, and a little way off two roads met, one of them going to the
east and the other to the west.  The villagers were quiet, hard-working
folk, who toiled in the fields all day, and in the evening set out for
home when the bell began to ring in the little church.  In the summer
mornings they led out their flocks to pasture, and were happy and
contented from sunrise to sunset.

One summer night, when a round full moon shone down upon the white
road, a great wolf came trotting round the corner.

‘I positively must get a good meal before I go back to my den,’ he said
to himself; ‘it is nearly a week since I have tasted anything but
scraps, though perhaps no one would think it to look at my figure!  Of
course there are plenty of rabbits and hares in the mountains; but
indeed one needs to be a greyhound to catch them, and I am not so young
as I was!  If I could only dine off that fox I saw a fortnight ago,
curled up into a delicious hairy ball, I should ask nothing better; I
would have eaten her then, but unluckily her husband was lying beside
her, and one knows that foxes, great and small, run like the wind.
Really it seems as if there was not a living creature left for me to
prey upon but a wolf, and, as the proverb says: “One wolf does not bite
another.” However, let us see what this village can produce.  I am as
hungry as a schoolmaster.’

Now, while these thoughts were running through the mind of the wolf,
the very fox he had been thinking of was galloping along the other road.

‘The whole of this day I have listened to those village hens clucking
till I could bear it no longer,’ murmured she as she bounded along,
hardly seeming to touch the ground.  ‘When you are fond of fowls and
eggs it is the sweetest of all music.  As sure as there is a sun in
heaven I will have some of them this night, for I have grown so thin
that my very bones rattle, and my poor babies are crying for food.’
And as she spoke she reached a little plot of grass, where the two
roads joined, and flung herself under a tree to take a little rest, and
to settle her plans.  At this moment the wolf came up.

At the sight of the fox lying within his grasp his mouth began to
water, but his joy was somewhat checked when he noticed how thin she
was.  The fox’s quick ears heard the sound of his paws, though they
were soft as velvet, and turning her head she said politely:

‘Is that you, neighbour?  What a strange place to meet in!  I hope you
are quite well?’

‘Quite well as regards my health,’ answered the wolf, whose eye
glistened greedily, ‘at least, as well as one can be when one is very
hungry.  But what is the matter with you?  A fortnight ago you were as
plump as heart could wish!’

‘I have been ill–very ill,’ replied the fox, ‘and what you say is
quite true.  A worm is fat in comparison with me.’

‘He is.  Still, you are good enough for me; for “to the hungry no bread
is hard.”‘

‘Oh, you are always joking!  I’m sure you are not half as hungry as I!’

‘That we shall soon see,’ cried the wolf, opening his huge mouth and
crouching for a spring.

‘What are you doing?’ exclaimed the fox, stepping backwards.

‘What am I doing?  What I am going to do is to make my supper off you,
in less time than a cock takes to crow.’

‘Well, I suppose you must have your joke,’ answered the fox lightly,
but never removing her eye from the wolf, who replied with a snarl
which showed all his teeth:

‘I don’t want to joke, but to eat!’

‘But surely a person of your talents must perceive that you might eat
me to the very last morsel and never know that you had swallowed
anything at all!’

‘In this world the cleverest people are always the hungriest,’ replied
the wolf.

‘Ah! how true that is; but–’

‘I can’t stop to listen to your “buts” and “yets,”‘ broke in the wolf
rudely; ‘let us get to the point, and the point is that I want to eat
you and not talk to you.’

‘Have you no pity for a poor mother?’ asked the fox, putting her tail
to her eyes, but peeping slily out of them all the same.

‘I am dying of hunger,’ answered the wolf, doggedly; ‘and you know,’ he
added with a grin, ‘that charity begins at home.’

‘Quite so,’ replied the fox; ‘it would be unreasonable of me to object
to your satisfying your appetite at my expense.  But if the fox resigns
herself to the sacrifice, the mother offers you one last request.’

‘Then be quick and don’t waste my time, for I can’t wait much longer.
What is it you want?’

‘You must know,’ said the fox, ‘that in this village there is a rich
man who makes in the summer enough cheeses to last him for the whole
year, and keeps them in an old well, now dry, in his courtyard.  By the
well hang two buckets on a pole that were used, in former days, to draw
up water.  For many nights I have crept down to the palace, and have
lowered myself in the bucket, bringing home with me enough cheese to
feed the children.  All I beg of you is to come with me, and, instead
of hunting chickens and such things, I will make a good meal off cheese
before I die.’

‘But the cheeses may be all finished by now?’

‘If you were only to see the quantities of them!’ laughed the fox.
‘And even if they were finished, there would always be ME to eat.’

‘Well, I will come.  Lead the way, but I warn you that if you try to
escape or play any tricks you are reckoning without your host– that is
to say, without my legs, which are as long as yours!’

All was silent in the village, and not a light was to be seen but that
of the moon, which shone bright and clear in the sky.  The wolf and the
fox crept softly along, when suddenly they stopped and looked at each
other; a savoury smell of frying bacon reached their noses, and reached
the noses of the sleeping dogs, who began to bark greedily.

‘Is it safe to go on, think you?’ asked the wolf in a whisper.  And the
fox shook her head.

‘Not while the dogs are barking,’ said she; ’someone might come out to
see if anything was the matter.’  And she signed to the wolf to curl
himself up in the shadow beside her.

In about half an hour the dogs grew tired of barking, or perhaps the
bacon was eaten up and there was no smell to excite them.  Then the
wolf and the fox jumped up, and hastened to the foot of the wall.

‘I am lighter than he is,’ thought the fox to herself, ‘and perhaps if
I make haste I can get a start, and jump over the wall on the other
side before he manages to spring over this one.’  And she quickened her
pace.  But if the wolf could not run he could jump, and with one bound
he was beside his companion.

‘What were you going to do, comrade?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ replied the fox, much vexed at the failure of her plan.

‘I think if I were to take a bit out of your haunch you would jump
better,’ said the wolf, giving a snap at her as he spoke.  The fox drew
back uneasily.

‘Be careful, or I shall scream,’ she snarled.  And the wolf,
understanding all that might happen if the fox carried out her threat,
gave a signal to his companion to leap on the wall, where he
immediately followed her.

Once on the top they crouched down and looked about them.  Not a
creature was to be seen in the courtyard, and in the furthest corner
from the house stood the well, with its two buckets suspended from a
pole, just as the fox had described it.  The two thieves dragged
themselves noiselessly along the wall till they were opposite the well,
and by stretching out her neck as far as it would go the fox was able
to make out that there was only very little water in the bottom, but
just enough to reflect the moon, big, and round and yellow.

‘How lucky!’ cried she to the wolf.  ‘There is a huge cheese about the
size of a mill wheel.  Look! look! did you ever see anything so
beautiful!’

‘Never!’ answered the wolf, peering over in his turn, his eyes
glistening greedily, for he imagined that the moon’s reflection in the
water was really a cheese.

‘And now, unbeliever, what have you to say?’ and the fox laughed gently.

‘That you are a woman–I mean a fox–of your word,’ replied the wolf.

‘Well, then, go down in that bucket and eat your fill,’ said the fox.

‘Oh, is that your game?’ asked the wolf, with a grin.  ‘No! no!  The
person who goes down in the bucket will be you!  And if you don’t go
down your head will go without you!’

‘Of course I will go down, with the greatest pleasure,’ answered the
fox, who had expected the wolf’s reply.

‘And be sure you don’t eat all the cheese, or it will be the worse for
you,’ continued the wolf.  But the fox looked up at him with tears in
her eyes.

‘Farewell, suspicious one!’ she said sadly.  And climbed into the
bucket.

In an instant she had reached the bottom of the well, and found that
the water was not deep enough to cover her legs.

‘Why, it is larger and richer than I thought,’ cried she, turning
towards the wolf, who was leaning over the wall of the well.

‘Then be quick and bring it up,’ commanded the wolf.

‘How can I, when it weighs more than I do?’ asked the fox.

‘If it is so heavy bring it in two bits, of course,’ said he.

‘But I have no knife,’ answered the fox.  ‘You will have to come down
yourself, and we will carry it up between us.’

‘And how am I to come down?’ inquired the wolf.

‘Oh, you are really very stupid!  Get into the other bucket that is
nearly over your head.’

The wolf looked up, and saw the bucket hanging there, and with some
difficulty he climbed into it.  As he weighed at least four times as
much as the fox the bucket went down with a jerk, and the other bucket,
in which the fox was seated, came to the surface.

As soon as he understood what was happening, the wolf began to speak
like an angry wolf, but was a little comforted when he remembered that
the cheese still remained to him.

‘But where is the cheese?’ he asked of the fox, who in her turn was
leaning over the parapet watching his proceedings with a smile.

‘The cheese?’ answered the fox; ‘why I am taking it home to my babies,
who are too young to get food for themselves.’

‘Ah, traitor!’ cried the wolf, howling with rage.  But the fox was not
there to hear this insult, for she had gone off to a neighbouring
fowl-house, where she had noticed some fat young chickens the day
before.

‘Perhaps I did treat him rather badly,’ she said to herself.  ‘But it
seems getting cloudy, and if there should be heavy rain the other
bucket will fill and sink to the bottom, and his will go up–at least
it may!’

[From Cuentos Populares, por Antonio de Trueba.]

This is the third part of our story about girl called Gladys and her three older sisters who are in a girl-band called the chiX. If you heard Part One and Part Two you’ll know that Gladys isn’t in the band because she’s too young, but actually she’s the brainy sister, and she writes the songs.

In this episode, Gladys has some a important things to say – but nobody is listening – and she starts to wonder if she might as well be a ghost-girl.

Read by Natasha. Duration 16.14. By Bertie.

It was Saturday afternoon, and Gladys’s three older sisters were just finishing their breakfast.

“What shall we do for the rest of the day?” asked Sam in a half-asleep voice.

“You mean what’s left of it,” said Gladys who had been up for hours, but her sisters didn’t seem to hear her.

An hour later, when they had finished getting dressed and putting on their make-up, the girls went out of the front door and started to shamble along the pavement towards the bus stop. Gladys came too, not because she dying to go with them, but because she was too young to be left in the house alone. Well that’s what their Dad said anyway. They hadn’t decided where to go, but they took the bus into the shopping centre just out of habit. There, they wondered along looking through windows at designer gear, and making comments about some of the other shoppers like: ‘Core, he thinks he’s a dude,” and “She looks she just got out of bed,” which Gladys thought was a bit rich, considering how long her sisters had been awake.

They ended up in a new store called The Place. It was a sort of warehouse with cheep copies of expensive designer clothes. Mandy, Laura and Sam were in fashion heaven.
Gladys thought that one top with a hoodie looked much like another. She was listening to the piped music and wondering if she could write better songs than the ones they were playing. The shop had its own in-house radio station with its own DJ, and Gladys thought she recognised his voice. Yes, she was sure of it. It was Kevin, the engineer who had recorded their first demo song in the studio.

“Hey girls, do you know who that is?” she asked, but none of her sisters took any notice of her.

Then the shop DJ said, “And don’t forget, The Place is where you heard them first. They’re cute, they’re hot, they’re all shiny and new – they are The chiX !!!. And he began to play in the song which he had recorded for them.

[We play in the chiX song]

Gladys started to jump up and down. “Hey, Listen, Listen”….. she said. But the girls were engrossed in t-shirts and trousers. Then suddenly Mandy came out of her fashion dream and said:

“Hey whad-do-ya-know, that’s us.”

and Laura said :

“We’ve made it.”

And Sam said

“Yeaaaah !!!!!”

And Gladys said, “I was trying to tell you, It’s Kevin. He’s working as the DJ for the shop.”

But the girls weren’t interested in what Gladys said. They were too busy grooving around and lip-sinking the words. Some of the other shoppers were staring at them – but that only made the girls go for it even more – because this was their first live performance before an audience.

“You see, that’s our song,” said Gladys to the bemused shop assistant, a young girl on her Saturday job: ” I wrote it and they sung it.” But the girl just carried on folding the jeans that the shoppers had taken off the hangers, and then left strewn all over the place.

The girls tripped out of the shops still singing, and they danced all the way back to the bus stop, and kept on dancing until the Number 11 arrived. People thought that they were well, just a bit bonkers, but the girls didn’t care because they were so happy. And their good mood lasted all weekend.

On Monday during school lunch, Gladys told her best friends Ethel and Judith all about what had happened. And when she had finished, Ethel said: “So your sisters really think they’re famous? I know. Let’s play a joke on them. We’ll start sending them fan mail. ”

And although Gladys didn’t think the idea was that funny, Judith thought it was hilarious, and she and Ethel spent the rest of the lunch break writing letters like.

“Dear ChiX we were out shopping for our undies in The Place and we heard your song. Now we really love you and will always buy all your records. ” They wrote 20 of them, and Ethel said that her mum had loads of second class stamps left over from Christmas, and she would post one a day for the next 20 days.

The next day, the first letter arrived. Sam opened it and she screamed,

“Oh Yeah, A-hu. .. We got fan mail !”

And Laura said, “Ged off it…. Hey it’s true.”

And Mandy said, “Now things are getting serious.”

And Gladys said,

“It’s just some kids playing a silly joke on you,” but nobody seemed to hear her. So she thought to herself, “Well let them think they’ve got fans if that makes them happy.” But she did begin to wonder if anyone ever heard a word she said.

The next day, as she was leaving school, she found herself walking down the corridor next to Peter Peterson. She began to tell him the story about her sisters making a record and how they heard played in the shop and now they were convinced that they were big stars. Peter Peterson nodded as she spoke. His blue eyes kept pointing forward and he didn’t turn to look at her. He was quite tall for his age, and very good looking. In fact, he could have been a star himself. Just after they had gone through the door of the school he caught site of Jemma James, and said, “Hey Jemma, are you coming to my birthday party?” And Gladys realised that he hadn’t been listening to a word she had said.

That evening, after she had done her homework, she stayed sitting at her desk and started to write the words to a song. They went:

Always, when I’m near you
You don’t see me
Because I’m a ghost girl
See-through !

Sometimes, when I hear you,
You don’t hear me
Because I’m a ghost girl
It’s true!

Often, when I touch you,
you don’t feel me
because I’m a ghost girl
For you !

That’s as far as she got with the lyrics that evening, but she thought they might make a full song one day, and she put them back into her drawer.

The fan mail continued to arrive, and her sisters weren’t quite so excited any more when the post arrived. Some post got left on the side table for days. One evening dad opened a large buff envelope, took out the letter and said,

“You better take a look at this Mandy. It’s a long boring letter addressed to you.”

And Mandy looked at the contents and saw that the document inside was entitled : “Draft Contract.’ And then she began to read the letter, and when she had finished she said very calmly :

“A tip top manager heard our demo. He things we’re the bee’s knees and he wants to sign us up pronto.”

And Laura said,

“Like, you mean he wants to be the chiX manager and everything.’

and Mandy said

“Yeah. Like he’s best mates with all the recording companies. He thinks he can get us a record deal and take us to number one!”

And the three older sisters started hugging and kissing each other and jumping up and down and crying with joy. But Gladys picked up the contract and said to Dad: “Don’t you think we ought to get a lawyer to read this?” and Dad said, “You’re not in trouble with the law are you Gladdy?” And Gladys thought that she had better take the contract to her room and read it because nobody else was going to. It took her a long time to understand it properly because there were lots of long and unusual words that she had to look up in dictionary and on the internet, but when she got to the end she had found several things that she thought were more than a bit dodgy like:

“This agreement is binding for a term of 99 years” which she thought was an awfully long time, and “90 per cent of all the royalties shall retained by the manager.” Gladys looked up “royalties” and saw that it mean the money that the chiX might make from their records. She thought that 90 per cent – or 90 out of ever 100 pounds – was rather a lot for the manager to keep.

She went down stairs and said. “This contract is all a con.”   She didn’t really expect anybody to hear her, but Sam did, and she said : “You’re just saying that because your jealous and you want to spoil the  only good thing that ever happened to this family.”  And Gladys sighed and went to bed.

The chiX went to see the manager a week later.  At his office, the walls to the reception room were covered in gold disks.   On the side table there was a gold bust of the man himself smoking a big fat cigar.   Gladys had to wait in this room while the girls went into the meeting room to see him.

The manager told them how his friend Kevin the sound engineer did some talent spotting for him.  He had sent him the chiX demo and their photograph and he thought that they had a chance of making it – so long as they had the right manager.

“Now I’m not saying that the manager has to be me, but I am saying it could be me,  and I don’t want to sound like I’m boasting, but there’s nobody better than me, so girls here’s where you sign.”

And they all signed.

And the manager took a magnifying glass out of his drawer and inspected their signatures.

“And where’s the song writer?” he asked.

“The who writer?” asked Laura?

“The song sister,” he said.  “What’s her name?   Gladys.  Here it’s on the the lyrics.”   And he show her a scrap of paper that Kevin had sent him.  It was the Lyrics to their song and at the bottom it was signed with Gladys’s name.

The girls were a bit embarrassed to show their little sister to the big swanky manager.  After all, not only was she practically a baby, but she wore glasses and had braces on her teeth.  But they had no choice but to call her in.   Gladys climbed up onto a swivel chair.  The manager said, “Now love, sign here.”  And Gladys said:

“Shan’t.”

And Sam said,

“You’d better, or we’ll kill you.”

and Laura said

“Sign or we’ll never forgive you for the rest of our lives”

And Gladys began to cry.  The manager’s assistant had to shoo the girls back out into the waiting room.   While they were outside, the manager called Kevin  and asked him about the little girl with braces and a pony tales.

“Yes, she’s the brains,”  said Kevin.   “The others are the lookers, but they don’t know much about singing or music or anything much really.  They just look = well fantastic – but the little one with the braces and the pony tales – don’t be fooled by her looks – she’s the real talent.”

In the waiting room, Laura and Sam were saying that they  didn’t need Gladys because they could easily find another song writer.

“Yes, you’re out, ” said Sam.  “You were never in the band anyway, but now you’re even more out than before. ”

And Mandy said:

“Well if Gladys is out, I’m out.  Because after all, she is our sister and we’re family.  We’d better stop fighting and stick together or we’ll get nowhere.”

And at first Gladys didn’t actually hear what Mandy had said.  It was only when Mandy sat down next to her and asked her to show her what was wrong with the contract that she began to understand that somebody was actually listening to her.

And when the girls went back into the room Mandy said to the Manager.

“Gladys will sign, but only if we keep 90 per cent and you keep 10.”

And the manager said:  “How about about 80-20?”

And Gladys said:

“Done. But we won’t sign until our lawyer has read the small print.”

This is another slightly crazy chocolate story and is the companion to The Monkey Who Loved Chocolate. It continues our Zoo Stories series featuring Theo the Monkey – though you have to be patient and wait a bit for Theo to enter the stage.

Read by Natasha. Duration 19.20 minutes. Story by Bertie.

It was Shrove Tuesday, otherwise known as pancake day. The City Mayor was sitting up in bed eating his breakfast: – a big pile of pancakes with black caviar and sour cream, washed down with champaign. Black caviar, in case you don’t know, is an extremely rare and expensive food – with each spoon full you eat a thousand little beady black eggs of a mighty river fish called the Sturgeon. If you tried it, you might not even like it, but the City Mayor loved caviar as much as some people love chocolate. Indeed, he was quite content, apart from the fact that he would have to give something up for the 6 weeks known as Lent which come after pancake day and run up until Easter. He pondered this, and decided to give up beetroot, because he never liked it anyway. As he took another silver-spoonful of caviar, his mobile phone rang. How he hated it when people called him while he was still at breakfast ! He was about to throw his phone out of the window when he noticed that the call was coming from the Chief Of Police.

“Oh dear,” thought the Mayor. “He probably wants to miss our card game. He always claims he’s busy fighting crime, but I know he just doesn’t like losing.”

And so he reluctantly flipped open his phone.

“His honour the mayor speaking,” he said in a weary voice.

“Good morning, Horace,” said the police chief. “I hope I didn’t wake you up,”

“No, no,” huffed the Mayor. “I’ve been at my desk since dawn, this great city of ours never sleeps.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have have to miss tonight’s card game. I’ve a serious crime to solve. A kidnapping.”

The Mayor smiled to himself. Another one of his excuses, he thought. But after he had wished the Police Chief better luck with his case than with cards, he closed his phone and reached for the remote control to turn on his television set to catch the news.

A red banner flashed across the bottom of the screen: “Breaking News: Kidnapping” : it said. And the Mayor thought to himself that it must be somebody important that had got him or herself kidnapped. And it was. The reporter who was standing outside some large factory gates wore her most serious face: She was saying:

“A ransom note was sent this morning to the head of the Yummy Chocolate Factory demanding 100 million pounds for the safe return of one the most loved and respected creatures who has ever hopped across the planet. ”

And the Mayor understood that it wasn’t a person, but an animal who had been kidnapped. But what sort of animal could it be that was worth 100 million pounds? Even a champion race horse was scarcely worth such a fortune? Perhaps some old aristocratic lady with more money than sense had lost her favourite pussy cat? But why was the note sent to the head of the Chocolate Factory? He’d just have to keep listening to that reporter on the 24 Hour News Service.

“And joining me now is The President and CEO of the Yummy Chocolate Factory, Sir Percival Yummy. Sir. Percival, Easter is just around the corner. How will the Chocolate Factory cope without the services of the Easter Bunny?”

“I’m afraid the situation is very grave,” said Sir Percival. “Without the aid of the Easter Bunny, it’s simply impossible to deliver chocolate eggs to all the Children of the world all in one night. It’s a bit like Christmas without Santa Clause… it’s, it’s .. .unthinkable.”

And the Mayor thought that Sir. Percival was about to cry. The reporter did not seem to notice this.

“So will you pay the 100 million pound ransom? ” she pressed him.

“No we will not,” he replied steadfastly. “It is the policy of the Yummy Chocolate Factory never to pay ransom money under any circumstances. That would simply encourage more kidnapping.”

It took a moment for the seriousness of the situation to sink into the mayor’s brain. When it did, he leapt out of bed faster than he had done for years and ran down to his office, still in his pajamas. He turned on his computer and saw hundreds of emails downloading into his in-box. Many were from anxious parents, teachers and nannies with subjects like,

“Help, my kids are going hysterical and won’t stop crying…”

And then there was another email from the chief gardener entitled:

“So, shall we cancel the Easter Egg Hunt?”

The Easter Egg hunt took place very year in the grounds of the Mayor’s House. The Easter Bunny hid eggs behind the flowers and in the bushes, and children from all over the city came and searched for them. It was one of the most popular events of the year, and showed the mayor as a politician with a heart, who cared for families and children. It won him lots of votes.

By now he was starting to grow angry. He picked up his red telephone and shouted “Get me the chief of police !” and a minute later he was again talking to his friend:

“You blithering idiot !” he cried. “Why haven’t you found that bunny yet ?”

The chief of police was used to his old friend’s swings of mood, and he replied calmly: “Horace, rest assured that the finest crime fighting unit in the land is on the case, and at this very moment is rounding up the usual suspects.”

And at the top of the police chief’s list was a name which we have come across before: it belonged to somebody who was known to go quite berserk at the merest sniff of chocolate. He lived in the city zoo, he was a monkey, and his name was Theo. If you’ve heard the story called “The Monkey Who Loved Chocolate” you will know that Theo once ate some chocolate and went completely bananas. He went on the rampage stealing chocolate all over the place. It was coming up to Easter and there was almost no chocolate left for the children of the City, but Theo calmed down eventually, and promised to be good.

His hairy face was currently staring out of the police chief’s computer screen. Normally his round brown eyes were cheeky but cute, but at the time his police photograph had been taken, he was startled by the flash and looked like a completely crazy ape.

“Ooh, he looks like a bad’un,” said a woman police officer who was passing by.

“No worries, ” said the Police Chief. “We’ll soon have him behind bars.”

But of course Theo was already living behind bars in the zoo. And much to his surprise and delight, that morning he had found a Chocolate egg in his bed of straw, and he had gobbled it up and was now swinging across the roof of the cage screeching

“Ooo Ooo, Ah Ah Aha ! ”

When the police came to arrest him, his face was covered in brown chocolate, and that made him look especially guilty. The police sergeant said: “There he is. That’s the bunny snatcher – and constable, put on your white gloves and pick up all that chocolate-smudged silver foil – that’s evidence that is .”

Mr. Grabber, who was the zoo keeper in charge of the monkeys, tried and catch Theo, but it wasn’t easy because he kept swinging around the bars.

Wile this was all happening, a police dog got chatting to a bull dog whose name was Titanic. Titanic was a squat, muscular, squash-faced animal, and not the brightest canine who ever lived. His owner was Mr. Grabber, and where ever Mr. Grabber went, Titanic went too.

“Perhaps I should have been a police dog, ” said Titanic, “because I’m really good at catching things. Only yesterday, I saw a white rabbit sneaking into the monkeys’ cage and chatting to that there Theo. When he came out, I chased him into a corner by the visitor’s toilets, and I would have gobbled him up, only Mr. Grabber came along and popped him into a bag, and now he’s keeping him in a hutch behind the Llamas’ enclosure. There’s something very unusual about that rabbit, because he smells, not like he’s supposed to, but like chocolate. I hope we have him for dinner tonight, because I’d really like to try what he tastes like. ”

And when the police dog heard this, he understood that they had come to arrest an innocent monkey. Because it wasn’t Theo who had kidnapped the Easter Bunny, but Mr. Grabber and his bull dog.

Eventually, when the police threatened to shoot him with a dart that would make him go to sleep, Theo decided to come quietly. He was put under arrest, hand-cuffed, loaded into the police van, and driven away at high speed with the blue light flashing and the siren going “De De De De De De.”

When they got to the police station Theo was led into a cage. But unlike the cage at the zoo, this one was small, dark, and not very nice – because it was a police cell.

Theo screeched “Help,let me out. I’ve been framed !” But the police officers could not understand. All they heard was “EEK Ahha Ahha ! ”

An hour later the Mayor was standing on the lawn outside his office and talking to the reporter from the 24 Hour News station. He looked into the TV camera and said: “I am delighted to tell you that I have successfully guided our City through this grave crisis and the situation is now under control. The villain who committed this terrible crime is behind bars, and tomorrow he will be tried and found guilty and then I will personally throw away the key to his prison cell.”

“But Mayor, ” said the reporter, “any news of the missing bunny?”

“No more time for questions, duty calls” said the Mayor, and he turned round and went back to his office.

The hours went by, and Theo began to feel very sad and lonely, and a bit frightened. A policeman brought him some bread and water and offered him a chance to make one phone call. But Theo didn’t have anyone to call. And then a lawyer came to see him, and they went up to an interview room where a police officer turned on a tape recorder and said : “You have a right to remain silent, and any thing you say may be taken down and used in a court of law as evidence against you.” And Theo said

“Oooh, ah ah ah.”

And then they took him back to his cell.

It was a few hours later, as Theo tried to sleep, that he heard the jangling of keys. He buried his head in the pillow and pretended not to notice. Then a gruff voice said:

“Come on, wake up. It’s time we sprung you out of here.” He opened his eyes and saw that it was a police dog with keys in his mouth. In a jiffy, Theo had spring up, reached through the bars for the keys, and climbed up to get the lock open. Monkeys are highly intelligent primates you see, and it’s not at all difficult for them to do such things.

“Put on this blue coat, ” said the dog. It was a sort of jacket that police dogs sometimes wear. The word “Police” was written on the back. Theo put it on.

“Now try and act like a police dog,” said the dog. But as they walked together through the busy part of the station, a policeman said “I didn’t know we were using monkeys on the force,” and another policeman said, “I expect that they climb in through windows and catch criminals by surprise.” Still, nobody stopped them, and soon they were out on the street and running down the road.

On the corner, they paused for breath, and the dog explained what he had heard about Mr. Grabber kidnapping the Easter Bunny. “I might have known it, ” said Theo. “He’s a REAL villain, is that Mr. Grabber.”

But the important thing was that Theo knew where the Easter Bunny was being kept prisoner – at the back of the llama pen. He caught a 49 bus straight back to the zoo, and soon was able to find his old friend and release him from his hutch.

I don’t need to tell you how glad the bunny was to be let free, not least because it was his busiest time of year and he had so much work to do before Easter. He would have just loved to go straight to the police station and tell them all about Mr. Grabber, but he couldn’t do that, because, well he was a bunny you see. So he ran back straight to his secret hide away to catch up on sorting out his Easter Eggs.

The next morning the Mayor sat up in bed and turned on his television set to see if there had been any developments over night in the case of the missing bunny. A red banner flashed across the screen saying:

Breaking News. Monkey Escapes.

And the reporter was saying

“The chief suspect in the case of the missing Easter Bunny has escaped from police custody.”

The mayor rushed down to his office and was about to pick up his red phone and demand the immediate sacking of the chief of police when he noticed a little envelope on his desk. The envelope was sealed with with wax and imprinted with a secret sign – a sign which very few people know and recognise, but fortunately the Mayor was one of them. It was the seal of the Easter Bunny, and every year he used it to communicate with the Mayor and to arrange the annual easter egg hunt.

“That’s strange,” said they mayor. And he fumbled open the envelope. Inside he found a card and on the card was written the following words.

“Dear Mayor. The Monkey is Innocent. Yours Sincerely, The Easter Bunny.”

Text Copyright Hugh Fraser 2009.

This pair of poems by Lord Alfred Tennyson sound like they are echoing through the underwater chambers of the ocean.

We have already quoted The Mermaid in our story Bertie and the Mermaid and we thought it was so nice, it would be a shame not to hear the rest of it.

The Merman.

1

Who would be
A merman bold,
Sitting alone,
Singing alone
Under the sea,
With a crown of gold,
On a throne?

2

I would be a merman bold;
I would sit and sing the whole of the day;
I would fill the sea-halls with a voice of power;
But at night I would roam abroad and play
With the mermaids in and out of the rocks,
Dressing their hair with the white sea-flower;
And holding them back by their flowing locks
I would kiss them often under the sea,
And kiss them again till they kiss’d me
Laughingly, laughingly;
And then we would wander away, away
To the pale-green sea-groves straight and high,
Chasing each other merrily.

Oh! what a happy life were mine
Under the hollow-hung ocean green!
Soft are the moss-beds under the sea;
We would live merrily, merrily.

THE MERMAID

1

Who would be
A mermaid fair,
Singing alone,
Combing her hair
Under the sea,
In a golden curl
With a comb of pearl,
On a throne?

2

I would be a mermaid fair;
I would sing to myself the whole of the day;
With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair;
And still as I comb’d I would sing and say,
“Who is it loves me? who loves not me?”
I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall,
Low adown, low adown,
From under my starry sea-bud crown
Low adown and around,
And I should look like a fountain of gold
Springing alone
With a shrill inner sound,
Over the throne
In the midst of the hall;
Till that great sea-snake under the sea
From his coiled sleeps in the central deeps
Would slowly trail himself sevenfold
Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the gate
With his large calm eyes for the love of me.
And all the mermen under the sea
Would feel their immortality
Die in their hearts for the love of me.

3

But at night I would wander away, away,
I would fling on each side my low-flowing locks,
And lightly vault from the throne and play
With the mermen in and out of the rocks;
We would run to and fro, and hide and seek,
On the broad sea-wolds in the crimson shells,
Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea.
But if any came near I would call, and shriek,
And adown the steep like a wave I would leap
From the diamond-ledges that jut from the dells;
For I would not be kiss’d by all who would list,
Of the bold merry mermen under the sea;
They would sue me, and woo me, and flatter me,
In the purple twilights under the sea;
But the king of them all would carry me,
Woo me, and win me, and marry me,
In the branching jaspers under the sea;
Then all the dry pied things that be
In the hueless mosses under the sea
Would curl round my silver feet silently,
All looking up for the love of me.
And if I should carol aloud, from aloft
All things that are forked, and horned, and soft
Would lean out from the hollow sphere of the sea,
All looking down for the love of me.

This story from the 1001 nights tells of hidden treasure and magical powers. It will remind you a little of Aladdin or Ali Baba, but it’s more serious. The Blind Beggar of Baghdad is a warning about how greed can drive you mad.

The has some basis in fact. Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid was a true-life ruler of Baghdad. The Dervishes were holy men and sources of wisdom, medicine, and poetry. As for the blind beggar of the story, it’s hard to say whether he really lived or not – but many like him did !

Read by Natasha. Duration 24.28

The Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid sat in his palace, wondering if there was anything left in the world that could possibly give him a few hours’ amusement, when Giafar the grand-vizir, his old and tried friend, suddenly appeared before him. Bowing low, he waited, as was his duty, till his master spoke, but Haroun-al-Raschid merely turned his head and looked at him, and sank back into his former weary posture.

Now Giafar had something of importance to say to the Caliph, and had no intention of being put off by mere silence, so with another low bow in front of the throne, he began to speak.

“Commander of the Faithful,” said he, “May I remind your Highness of your plan to observe how justice is done and order is kept throughout the city? For this is the day you have set apart to devote to this aim. Perhaps in fulfilling this duty, you may find some distraction from the melancholy to which, as I see to my sorry, you are prey.”

“You are right,” returned the Caliph, “I had forgotten all about it. Go and change your coat, and I will change mine.”

A few moments later they both re-entered the hall, disguised as foreign merchants, and passed through a secret door, out into the open country. Here they turned towards the Euphrates, and crossing the river in a small boat, walked through that part of the town which lay along the further bank, without seeing anything to call for their interference. Much pleased with the peace and order of the city, the Caliph and his vizir made their way to a bridge, which led straight back to the palace, and had already crossed it, when they were stopped by an old and blind man, who begged for alms.

The Caliph gave him a piece of money, and was passing on, but the blind man seized his hand, and held him fast.

“Charitable person,” he said, “whoever you may be grant me yet another prayer. Strike me, I beg you, one blow. I have deserved it richly, and even a more severe penalty.”

The Caliph, much surprised at this request, replied gently: “My good man, that which you ask is impossible. Of what use would my alms be if I treated you so ill?” And as he spoke he began to loosen the grasp of the blind beggar.

“My lord,” answered the man, “pardon my boldness and my persistence. Take back your money, or give me the blow which I crave. and if you knew all, you would feel that the punishment is not a tenth part of what I deserve.”

Moved by these words, and perhaps still more by the fact that he had other business to attend to, the Caliph yielded, and struck him lightly on the shoulder. Then he continued his road, followed by the blessing of the blind man. When they were out of earshot, he said to the vizir, “There must be something very odd to make that man act so–I should like to find out what is the reason. Go back to him; tell him who I am, and order him to come without fail to the palace to-morrow, after the hour of evening prayer.”

The next day, after evening prayer, the Caliph entered the hall, and was followed by the vizir bringing with him the two men of whom we have spoken, and a third, with whom we have nothing to do. They all bowed themselves low before the throne and then the Caliph bade them rise, and ask the blind man his name.

“Baba-Abdalla, your Highness,” said he.

“Baba-Abdalla,” returned the Caliph, “your way of asking alms yesterday seemed to me so strange, that I almost commanded you then and there to cease from causing such a public scandal. But I have sent for you to inquire what was your motive in making such a curious vow. When I know the reason I shall be able to judge whether you can be permitted to continue to practice it, for I cannot help thinking that it sets a very bad example to others. Tell me therefore the whole truth, and conceal nothing.”

I was born, Commander of the Faithful, in Baghdad, and was left an orphan while I was yet a very young man, for my parents died within a few days of each other. I had inherited from them a small fortune, which I worked hard night and day to increase, till at last I found myself the owner of eighty camels. These I hired out to traveling merchants, whom I frequently accompanied on their various journeys, and always returned with large profits.

One day I was coming back from Balsora, whither I had taken a supply of goods, intended for India, and halted at noon in a lonely place, which promised rich pasture for my camels. I was resting in the shade under a tree, when a dervish, going on foot towards Balsora, sat down beside me, and I inquired whence he had come and to what place he was going. We soon made friends, and after we had asked each other the usual questions, we produced the food we had with us, and satisfied our hunger.

While we were eating, the dervish happened to mention that in a spot only a little way off from where we were sitting, there was hidden a treasure so great that if my eighty camels were loaded till they could carry no more, the hiding place would seem as full as if it had never been touched.

At this news I became almost beside myself with joy and greed, and I flung my arms round the neck of the dervish, exclaiming: “Good dervish, I see plainly that the riches of this world are nothing to you, therefore of what use is the knowledge of this treasure to you? Alone and on foot, you could carry away a mere handful. But tell me where it is, and I will load my eighty camels with it, and give you one of them as a token of my gratitude.”

The dervish saw quite well what was passing in my mind, but he did not show what he thought of my proposal.

“My brother,” he answered quietly, “you know as well as I do, that you are behaving unjustly. Before I reveal to you the secret of the treasure, you must swear that, after we have loaded the camels with as much as they can carry, you will give half to me, and let us go our own ways. I think you will see that this is fair, for if you present me with forty camels, I on my side will give you the means of buying a thousand more.”

I could not of course deny that what the dervish said was perfectly reasonable, but, in spite of that, the thought that the dervish would be as rich as I was unbearable to me. Still there was no use in discussing the matter, and I had to accept his conditions or bewail to the end of my life the loss of immense wealth. So I collected my camels and we set out together under the guidance of the dervish. After walking some time, we reached what looked like a valley, but with such a narrow entrance that my camels could only pass one by one. The little valley, or open space, was shut up by two mountains, whose sides were formed of straight cliffs, which no human being could climb.

When we were exactly between these mountains the dervish stopped.

“Make your camels lie down in this open space,” he said, “so that we can easily load them; then we will go to the treasure.”

I did what I was bid, and rejoined the dervish, whom I found trying to kindle a fire out of some dry wood. As soon as it was alight, he threw on it a handful of perfumes, and said a few words that I did not understand, and immediately a thick column of smoke rose high into the air. He separated the smoke into two columns, and then I saw a rock, which stood like a pillar between the two mountains, slowly open, and a splendid palace appear within.

But, Commander of the Faithful, the love of gold had taken such possession of my heart, that I could not even stop to examine the riches, but fell upon the first pile of gold within my reach and began to heap it into a sack that I had brought with me.

The dervish likewise set to work, but I soon noticed that he confined himself to collecting precious stones, and I felt I should be wise to follow his example. At length the camels were loaded with as much as they could carry, and nothing remained but to seal up the treasure, and go our ways.

Before, however, this was done, however, the dervish went up to a great golden vase, beautifully chased, and took from it a small wooden box, which he hid in the bosom of his dress, merely saying that it contained a special kind of ointment. Then he once more lit the fire, threw on the perfume, and murmured the unknown spell, and the rock closed.

The next thing was to divide the camels, and to load them with the treasure. The demon of envy filled my soul. “What does a dervish want with riches like that?” I said to myself. “He alone has the secret of the treasure, and can always get as much as he wants.”

“My brother,” I exclaimed, as soon as I could speak, “almost at the moment of our leave-taking, a reflection occurred to me, which is perhaps new to you. You are a dervish by profession, and live a very quiet life, only caring to do good, and careless of the things of this world. You do not realise the burden that you lay upon yourself, when you gather into your hands such great wealth, besides the fact that no one, who is not accustomed to camels from his birth, can ever manage the stubborn beasts. If you are wise, you will not encumber yourself with more than thirty, and you will find those trouble enough.”

“You are right,” replied the dervish, who understood me quite well. “I confess I had not thought about it. Choose any ten you like, and drive them before you.”

I selected ten of the best camels. I had got what I wanted, but I had found the dervish so easy to deal with, that I rather regretted I had not asked for ten more. I looked back. He had only gone a few paces, and I called after him.

“My brother,” I said, “I am unwilling to part from you without pointing out what I think you scarcely grasp, that large experience of camel-driving is necessary to anybody who intends to keep together a troop of thirty. In your own interest, I feel sure you would be much happier if you entrusted ten more of them to me, for with my practice it is all one to me if I take two or a hundred.”

As before, the dervish made no difficulties, and I drove off my ten camels in triumph, only leaving him with twenty for his share. I had now sixty, and anyone might have imagined that I should be content.

But, Commander of the Faithful, there is a proverb that says, “the more one has, the more one wants.” So it was with me. I could not rest as long as one solitary camel remained to the dervish; and returning to him I redoubled my prayers and embraces, and promises of eternal gratitude, till the last twenty were in my hands.

“Make a good use of them, my brother,” said the holy man. “Remember riches sometimes have wings if we keep them for ourselves, and the poor are at our gates expressly that we may help them.”

My eyes were so blinded by gold, that I paid no heed to his wise counsel, and only looked about for something else to grasp. Suddenly I remembered the little box of ointment that the dervish had hidden, and which most likely contained a treasure more precious than all the rest. Giving him one last embrace, I observed accidentally, “What are you going to do with that little box of ointment? It seems hardly worth taking with you; you might as well let me have it. And really, a dervish who has given up the world has no need of ointment!”

Oh, if he had only refused my request! But then, supposing he had, I should have got possession of it by force, so great was the madness that had laid hold upon me. However, far from refusing it, the dervish at once held it out, saying gracefully, “Take it, my friend, and if there is anything else I can do to make you happy you must let me know.”

Directly the box was in my hands I wrenched off the cover. “As you are so kind,” I said, “tell me, I pray you, what are the virtues of this ointment?”

“They are most curious and interesting,” replied the dervish. “If you apply a little of it to your left eye you will behold in an instant all the treasures hidden in the bowels of the earth. But beware lest you touch your right eye with it, or your sight will be destroyed for ever.”

His words excited my curiosity to the highest pitch. “Make trial on me, I implore you,” I cried, holding out the box to the dervish. “You will know how to do it better than I! I am burning with impatience to test its charms.”

The dervish took the box I had extended to him, and, bidding me shut my left eye, touched it gently with the ointment. When I opened it again I saw spread out, as it were before me, treasures of every kind and without number. But as all this time I had been obliged to keep my right eye closed, which was very fatiguing, I begged the dervish to apply the ointment to that eye also.

“If you insist upon it I will do it,” answered the dervish, “but you must remember what I told you just now–that if it touches your right eye you will become blind on the spot.”

Unluckily, in spite of my having proved the truth of the dervish’s words in so many instances, I was firmly convinced that he was now keeping concealed from me some hidden and precious virtue of the ointment. So I turned a deaf ear to all he said.

“My brother,” I replied smiling, “I see you are joking. It is not natural that the same ointment should have two such exactly opposite effects.”

“It is true all the same,” answered the dervish, “and it would be well for you if you believed my word.”

But I would not believe, and, dazzled by the greed of avarice, I thought that if one eye could show me riches, the other might teach me how to get possession of them. And I continued to press the dervish to anoint my right eye, but this he resolutely declined to do.

“After having conferred such benefits on you,” said he, “I am loth indeed to work you such evil. Think what it is to be blind, and do not force me to do what you will repent as long as you live.”

It was of no use. “My brother,” I said firmly, “pray say no more, but do what I ask. You have most generously responded to my wishes up to this time, do not spoil my recollection of you for a thing of such little consequence. Let what will happen I take it on my own head, and will never reproach you.”

“Since you are determined upon it,” he answered with a sigh, “there is no use talking,” and taking the ointment he laid some on my right eye, which was tight shut. When I tried to open it heavy clouds of darkness floated before me. I was as blind as you see me now!

“Miserable dervish!” I shrieked, “so it is true after all! Into what a bottomless pit has my lust after gold plunged me. Ah, now that my eyes are closed they are really opened. I know that all my sufferings are caused by myself alone! But, good brother, you, who are so kind and charitable, and know the secrets of such vast learning, have you nothing that will give me back my sight?”

“Unhappy man,” replied the dervish, “it is not my fault that this has befallen you, but it is a just punishment. The blindness of your heart has wrought the blindness of your body. Yes, I have secrets; that you have seen in the short time that we have known each other. But I have none that will give you back your sight. You have proved yourself unworthy of the riches that were given you. Now they have passed into my hands, whence they will flow into the hands of others less greedy and ungrateful than you.”

The dervish said no more and left me, speechless with shame and confusion, and so wretched that I stood rooted to the spot, while he collected the eighty camels and proceeded on his way to Balsora. I should soon have been dead of hunger and misery if some merchants had not come along the track the following day and kindly brought me back to Bagdad.

From a rich man I had in one moment become a beggar.

This, Commander of the Faithful, is my story.

When the blind man had ended the Caliph addressed him: “Baba-Abdalla, truly your sin is great, but you have suffered enough. Henceforth repent in private, for I will see that enough money is given you day by day for all your wants.”

At these words Baba-Abdalla flung himself at the Caliph’s feet, and prayed that honour and happiness might be his portion for ever.

And that was the story of the Blind Beggar of Baghdad. I do hope that you enjoyed it.

This traditional story from Turkey is not quite as scary as its title, but it is certainly a little darker than some of our tales. It is a powerful fable about a man who boasted too much, and was cured of his pride by a brush with death.

Bertie would like to than Adem from Turkey for suggesting this story. Adem works in a primary school in a small village, and he and the students in his class are Storynory listeners.

Read by Natasha. Adapted by Bertie. Duration 11.10

There was once a great warrior called Dede Korkut. He and his men swept across the earth conquering lands far and wide, and as his power and wealth grew, so did his pride. He began to believe that he was invincible, and perhaps even immortal. After one particularly great victory in battle, he held a feast in his palace for seven days and seven nights on end. And on the seventh night he called for the music and dancing to cease, and he made the following speech.

“Men. We have conquered all before us. There is no force on earth that can hold us back. We are the greatest army that has ever lived and fought. I challenge all creation to stand and fight us, and still we shall prevail, so long as I, Dede Korkut, am your leader. ”

And when the leader had finished speaking, there was cheering and uproar throughout the palace and the celebrations continued among great merriment and rejoicing.

But God was also listening to the proud speech of Dede Korkut. And He was displeased at his arrogance and boasting. And so God ordered Az’rail, his Angel of Death, to visit Dede Korkut and to take his soul.

Az’rail flew into the palace and stood on the table in front of where Dede Korkut was feasting. The leader looked up at the intruder and said:

“Dark Warrior, who are you to stand before me so insolently?”

And Az’rail replied: “I am not one to answer questions from the likes of you, for I am here to punish your arrogance and boasting”.

Dede Korkut was far from used to hearing such defiance and rude words directed at him. He was filled with rage and jumped up onto the table meaning to cut off the head of the dark stranger. But before he could do so, Az’rail changed into the from of a bird and flew out of the window.

Dede Korkut rushed to the stables and ordered his horse to be saddled immediately. Soon he was charging out of the palace in pursuit of the angel. First he saw him in the moonlight standing on the highest tower of the palace, then he too saw him take off with a wing span far greater than any bird he had seen before. He charged after him, firing arrows and hurling javelins into the sky, but none came near the dark bird. He pursued him out of the city and into the forest. Deeper and deeper into the forest he went, following the terrible screeches and cries of the bird, when suddenly the angle appeared before him.

“At last you’re mine ” Dede Korkut, meaning to run him through with his lance. ”

“No, you are mine,” said the figure before him. “For I am Azra’il the Angel of Death and I have come for your soul. You boasted that you were immortal and invincible. Now the moment of your death has come, oh arrogant one.”

At these words, Dede Korkut he threw himself on the ground before the angel and said.

“Now that I look death in the face, I understand the arrogance of my life. But I beseech you, kind Angel, spare me. Give back to me the remaining years of my youth and strength, and I swear that through my words and my deeds I will prove that I have learned my lesson. ”

And the Angel replied: “I do not decide such things. I am but a messenger from the Almighty. ”

And Dede Korkut cried out: “Then get out of my way and stop wasting my time. ” And he fell on the ground and began to pray to God”

“Forgive my boasting oh Lord of All Creation and give me another chance”.

And God heard his words and was pleased, and He ordered the Angel to spare Dede Korkut his life, on condition that he could find another who was ready of his own free will to give up his own life for that of Dede Korkut’s.

Dede Korkut rode back to the palace a changed man. He felt sure that all he had to do was to ask his father to take his place in death, for he was an old man, and had never refused his son anything. But when he came before his father and gave him his request, his father replied.

“My son. I have struggled all my life so that I can enjoy my old age. I am sorry, but I am not ready to die in your place.”

And Dede Kokut was surprised and disappointed, but he thought that surely his mother would not refuse him anything. But when he asked her she said”

“Oh my son ! I have already given my life to you many times, when I gave birth to you, when I fed you with my own milk, when I took care of you. Now the rest of my life belongs at your father’s side, as company for his old age”.

And the young warrior was disappointed and distraught. He returned to his chamber and prepared to die. But when his young and beautiful wife saw him, she asked what troubled him and he said:

“Beloved. The Angel of Death is about to take my life unless I can find someone willing to die in my place. And yet it seems that even my parents, who previously have never refused me anything are not willing to do this for me. And so I have no escape. I must bid you farewell for I am about to die.”

And when she heard these words his wife replied.

“Look no further. Why did you not ask me? I love you so much that I will gladly give what even your own father and mother have refused. Take my life so that yours can be spared.”

And when the warrior heard those of true and unblenching love, tears came to his eyes. He fell on his knees and prayed to God again saying”

“Great Lord. Forgive me. Take my life and spare that of my wife, for she has faced death more calmly and bravely than I.”

And God was again pleased to hear those words, and he decided to spare both Dede Korkut and his wife, and they lived a long and blessed life and there was peace and prosperity throughout his lands.

And God wrote on the palms of the Angel of Death, in letters of light.

“In the Name of god, Most Merciful and Beneficent” and he ordered the angel that when ever he must take the soul of one of the faithful, he must show to him those letters so that his soul might come out of his body and return to its maker.

This is a rather puzzling story; puzzling in the sense that it has three tricky riddles in it. It’s also about a rather unusual dragon who has a human grandmother who is even trickier than he is, but who has a kinder heart. The story was originally by the Brothers Grimm and also appeared in the Yellow Fairy Book of Andrew Lang. We’ve slightly adapted the riddles drawing on the famous riddle of the Sphinx from Oedipus Rex and a couple of old rhyming riddles which we hope you will find fun.

Read by Natasha. Duration 14.61. Sponsored by AudibleKids

There was once a great war, and the King had a great many soldiers, but he gave them so little pay that they could not live upon it. Then three of them decided to run away from the army.

One of them said to the others, ‘If we are caught, we shall be hanged on the gallows; how shall we set about it?’ The other said, ‘Do you see that large cornfield there? If we were to hide ourselves in that, no one could find us. The army cannot come into it, and to-morrow it is to march on.’

They crept into the corn, but the army did not march on, but remained encamped close around them. They sat for two days and two nights in the corn, and grew so hungry that they nearly died; but if they were to venture out, it was certain death.

They said at last, ‘What use was it our deserting from the army? We must die here miserably.’

Whilst they were speaking a fiery dragon came flying through the air. It hovered near them, and asked why they were hidden there.

They answered, ‘We are three soldiers, and have deserted because our pay was so small. Now if we remain here we shall die of hunger, and if we move out we shall be strung up on the gallows.’

‘If you will serve me for seven years,’ said the dragon, I will lead you through the midst of the army so that no one shall catch you.’ ‘We have no choice, and must take your offer,’ said they. Then the dragon seized them in his claws, took them through the air over the army, and set them down on the earth a long way from it.

He gave them a little whip, saying, ‘Whip and slash with this, and as much money as you want will jump up before you. You can then live as great lords, keep horses, and drive about in carriages. But after seven years you are mine.’ Then he put a book before them, which he made all three of them sign. ‘I will then give you three riddles,’ he said; ‘if you guess them, you shall be free and out of my power.’ The dragon then flew away, and they journeyed on with their little whip. They had as much money as they wanted, wore grand clothes, and made their way into the world. Wherever they went they lived in merrymaking and splendour, drove about with horses and carriages, ate and drank, but did nothing wrong.

The time passed quickly away, and when the seven years were nearly ended two of them grew terribly anxious and frightened, but the third made light of it, saying, ‘Don’t be afraid, brothers, I wasn’t born yesterday; I will guess the riddles.’

They went into a field, sat down, and the two pulled long faces. An old woman passed by, and asked them why they were so sad. ‘Alas! what have you to do with it? You cannot help us.’ ‘Who knows?’ she answered.

Then they told her that they had become the servants of the Dragon for seven long years, and how he had given them money as plentifully as blackberries; but as they had signed their names they were his, unless when the seven years had passed they could guess a riddle. The old woman said, ‘If you would help yourselves, one of you must go into the wood, and there he will come upon a tumble-down building of rocks which looks like a little house. He must go in, and there he will find help.’

The two melancholy ones thought, ‘That won’t save us!’ and they remained where they were. But the third and merry one jumped up and went into the wood till he found the rock hut. In the hut sat a very old woman, who was the Dragon’s grandmother. She asked him how he came, and what was his business there. He told her all that happened, and because she was pleased with him she took compassion on him, and said she would help him.

She lifted up a large stone which lay over the cellar, saying, ‘Hide yourself there; you can hear all that is spoken in this room. Only sit still and don’t stir. When the Dragon comes, I will ask him what the riddle is, for he tells me everything; then listen carefully what he answers.’

At midnight the Dragon flew in, and asked for his supper. His grandmother laid the table, and brought out food and drink till he was satisfied, and they ate and drank together. Then in the course of the conversation she asked him what he had done in the day, and how many souls he had conquered.

‘I haven’t had much luck to-day,’ he said, ‘but I have a tight hold on three soldiers.’

‘Indeed! three soldiers!’ said she. ‘Who cannot escape you?’

‘They are mine,’ answered the Dragon scornfully, ‘for I shall only give them three riddles which they will never be able to guess.’

‘What sort of a riddles are it?’ she asked.

“The first is like this,” said the dragon, “What goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and on three legs in the evening?”

The old lady looked quite baffled and said: “Tell me my fiery grandchild. What does go on four legs in the morning, on two legs and noon, and on three legs in the evening?”

“Why?” laughed the dragon. “A person does. He crawls on all fours as a baby, walks on two legs as an adult, and walks with two legs and a stick in old age.”

‘And the old lady exclaimed “Noone else has riddles as cunning as yours. They are unlikely to guess the answer to that one for sure. But if they do, what is your second riddle?”.

And the dragon replied that his second riddle was just as devious and even prettier for it was in the form of a rhyme that went like this:

Though of great age,
I’m kept in a cage,
Having a long tail and one ear,
My mouth it is round,
And when joys do abound,
O, then I sing wonderful clear.
What am I?

“Can’t you guess the answer? Why I am a bell of course DONG! ” said the Dragon.

The old lady shook her head in wonderment at her grandson’s ingenuity. “Oh you are quite the most cunning dragon who ever lived and breathed fire !” she exclaimed. And what do you have for your final and most difficult riddle?”

“oh just some simple arithmetic” said the dragon.

As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives,
Every wife had seven sacks,
Every sack had seven cats,
Every cat had seven kits -
Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,
How many were going to St. Ives?

And as the old lady could not answer he said “Only one was going to St. Ives. All the others were going the other way ! HA ! The souls of the three soldiers are mine for sure” And then the dragon ate his supper of hot coals and soup made from boiling oil and went to bed.

When the Dragon was soundly asleep, his old grandmother pulled up the stone and let out the soldier.

‘Did you pay attention to everything?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I know enough, and can help myself splendidly.’

Then he went by another way through the window secretly, and in all haste back to his comrades. He told them how the Dragon had been outwitted by his grandmother, and how he had heard from his own lips the answer to the riddles.

Then they were all delighted and in high spirits, took out their whip, and cracked so much money that it came jumping up from the ground. When the seven years had quite gone, the fiendish dragon came to the soldiers with his book, and, pointing at the signatures, said, And now you must answer my riddles or your souls shall be mine for all eternity. What goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs and noon, and on three legs in the evening?”

And first soldier replied, “A person.”

The Dragon was much annoyed, and hummed and hawed a good deal, and asked the next riddle.

Though of great age,
I’m kept in a cage,
Having a long tail and one ear,
My mouth it is round,
And when joys do abound,
O, then I sing wonderful clear.
What am I?

“A bell” said the second soldier.

The Dragon-made a face, and growled again three times, ‘Hum, hum, hum,’ and said to the third, ‘

As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives,
Every wife had seven sacks,
Every sack had seven cats,
Every cat had seven kits -
Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,
How many were going to St. Ives?

“Only One” replied the third soldier.

Then the Dragon flew away with a loud shriek, and had no more power over them. But the three soldiers took the little whip, whipped as much money as they wanted, and lived happily to their lives end.

This little known, but charming story by the Brothers Grimm is about a servant who learns to understand the speech of animals. He travels the world and does favours to creatures along the way. And then, when he needs help to win the hand of a princess, they come to his aid.

Read by Natasha. Duration 14 Minutes.

A long time ago there lived a king who was famed for his wisdom through
all the land. Nothing was hidden from him, and it seemed as if news of
the most secret things was brought to him through the air. But he had
a strange custom; every day after dinner, when the table was cleared,
and no one else was present, a trusty servant had to bring him one more
dish. It was covered, however, and even the servant did not know what
was in it, neither did anyone know, for the King never took off the
cover to eat of it until he was quite alone.

This had gone on for a long time, when one day the servant, who took
away the dish, was overcome with such curiosity that he could not help
carrying the dish into his room. When he had carefully locked the door,
he lifted up the cover, and saw a white snake lying on the dish. But
when he saw it he could not deny himself the pleasure of tasting it,
so he cut off a little bit and put it into his mouth. No sooner had it
touched his tongue than he heard a strange whispering of little voices
outside his window. He went and listened, and then noticed that it was
the sparrows who were chattering together, and telling one another of
all kinds of things which they had seen in the fields and woods. Eating
the snake had given him power of understanding the language of animals.

Now it so happened that on this very day the Queen lost her most beautiful
ring, and suspicion of having stolen it fell upon this trusty servant,
who was allowed to go everywhere. The King ordered the man to be brought
before him, and threatened with angry words that unless he could before
the morrow point out the thief, he himself should be looked upon as guilty
and executed. In vain he declared his innocence.

In his trouble and fear he went down into the courtyard and though long and hard.
Now some ducks weresitting together quietly by a brook and taking their rest; and, whilst
they were making their feathers smooth with their bills, they were
having a confidentia conversation together. The servant stood by and
listened. They were telling one another of all the places where they had
been waddling about all the morning, and what good food they had found,
and one said in a pitiful tone, “Something lies heavy on my stomach;
as I was eating in haste I swallowed a ring which lay under the Queen’s
window.” The servant at once seized her, carried her to
the kitchen, and said to the cook, “Here is a fine duck; roast her for dinner.”
“Yes,” said the cook, and weighed her in his hand; “she has spared
no trouble to fatten herself, and has been waiting to be roasted long
enough.” And as he prepared the duck for dinner, he found the ring inside.

The servant could now easily prove his innocence; and the King, to make
amends for the wrong, allowed him to ask a favor, and promised him the
best place in the court that he could wish for. The servant refused
everything, and only asked for a horse and some money for traveling,
as he had a mind to see the world and go about a little.

When his request was granted he set out on his way, and one day came
to a pond, where he saw three fishes caught in the reeds and gasping
for water. Now, though it is said that fishes are dumb, he heard them
complaining that they must perish so miserably, and, as he had a kind
heart, he got off his horse and put the three prisoners back into the
water. They quivered with delight, put out their heads, and cried to him,
“We will remember you and repay you for saving us!”

He rode on, and after a while it seemed to him that he heard a voice
in the sand at his feet. He listened, and heard an ant-king complain,
“Why cannot folks, with their clumsy beasts, keep off our bodies? That
stupid horse, with his heavy hoofs, has been treading down my people
without mercy!” So he turned on to a side path and the ant-king cried
out to him, “We will remember you—one good turn deserves another!”

The path led him into a wood, and here he saw two old ravens standing by
their nest, and throwing out their young ones. “Out with you, you idle,
good-for-nothing creatures!” cried they; “we cannot find food for you
any longer; you are big enough, and can provide for yourselves.” But the
poor young ravens lay upon the ground, flapping their wings, and crying,
“Oh, what helpless chicks we are! We must shift for ourselves, and yet
we cannot fly! What can we do, but lie here and starve?” So the good
young fellow climbed down, and gave them his own food which he had
been carrying for his lunch.
Then they came hopping up to it, satisfied their hunger,
and cried, “We will remember you—one good turn deserves another!”

And when he had gone on a long way further, he
came to a large city. There was a great noise and crowd in the streets,
and a man rode up on horseback, crying aloud, “The King’s daughter
wants a husband; but whoever sues for her hand must perform a hard task,
and if he does not succeed he will forfeit his life.” Many had already
made the attempt, but in vain; nevertheless when the youth saw the King’s
daughter he was so overcome by her great beauty that he forgot all danger,
went before the King, and declared himself a suitor.

So he was led out to the sea, and a gold ring was thrown into it, in his
sight; then the King ordered him to fetch this ring up from the bottom of
the sea, and added, “If you come up again without it you will be thrown in
again and again until you perish amid the waves.” All the people grieved
for the handsome youth; then they went away, leaving him alone by the sea.

He stood on the shore and considered what he should do, when suddenly
he saw three fishes come swimming towards him, and they were the very
fishes whose lives he had saved. The one in the middle held a mussel in
its mouth, which it laid on the shore at the youth’s feet, and when he
had taken it up and opened it, there lay the gold ring in the shell. Full
of joy he took it to the King, and expected that he would grant him the
promised reward.

But when the proud princess saw that he was not her equal in birth,
she scorned him, and required him first to perform another task. She
went down into the garden and strewed with her own hands ten sacks-full
of millet-seed on the grass; then she said, “To-morrow morning before
sunrise these must be picked up, and not a single grain be wanting.”

The youth sat down in the garden and considered how it might be possible
to perform this task, but he could think of nothing, and there he sat
sorrowfully awaiting the break of day, when he should be led to death. But
as soon as the first rays of the sun shone into the garden he saw all the
ten sacks standing side by side, quite full, and not a single grain was
missing. The ant-king had come in the night with thousands and thousands
of ants, and the grateful creatures had by great industry picked up all
the millet-seed and gathered them into the sacks.

Presently the King’s daughter herself came down into the garden,
and was amazed to see that the young man had done the task she had
given him. But she could not yet conquer her proud heart, and said,
“Although he has performed both the tasks, he shall not be my husband
until he has brought me an apple from the Tree of Life.”

The youth did not know where the Tree of Life stood, but he set out,
and would have gone on for ever, as long as his legs would carry him,
though he had no hope of finding it. After he had wandered through three
kingdoms, he came one evening to a wood, and lay down under a tree to
sleep. But he heard a rustling in the branches, and a golden apple fell
into his hand. At the same time three ravens flew down to him, perched
themselves upon his knee, and said, “We are the three young ravens
whom you saved from starving; when we had grown big, and heard that you
were seeking the Golden Apple, we flew over the sea to the end of the
world, where the Tree of Life stands, and have brought you the apple.”
The youth, full of joy, set out homewards, and took the Golden Apple to
the King’s beautiful daughter, who had no more excuses left to make. They
cut the Apple of Life in two and ate it together; and then her heart
became full of love for him, and they lived in undisturbed happiness to
a great age.

St. David is the patron Saint. of Wales and is day falls on March 1st, when Welsh people celebrate by wearing leeks and daffodils – two of the symbols of Wales. The Welsh Dragon is another symbol.

David was born in Wales around the year 500 and there are loads of legends about him. Some are a bit fantastical – and very few people these days would believe these stories as history – but they give a flavour of how respected he was by the Welsh people – and indeed by all of the Britons.

If you listen to this story, you will learn something about Natasha.

You might also be interested in our other saints stories:

• St. Valentine – 14th March
• St. Patrick - 28th March
• St. George – 23rd April

Read by Natasha. Duration 8.26.

David’s father was the King of Ceredigion, and some say that he was the nephew of the famous English King Arthur, whose knights sat around a round table. David’s mother was a poor but beautiful young woman, and the King did not look after her. When she was ready to give birth to David, she found that she was caught outside in a storm. The sky was filled with great flashes of lightening, and there were terrifying crashes of thunder. Hail and rain was coming down everywhere, except on the spot where she got herself ready to deliver the child. All around her was dry and lit by the sun.

David was baptized by by a blind monk. Some of the water from the font splahsed onto his eyes, and immediately he could see.

When David grew up, he became a monk, and he travelled around Wales and England. He founded monasteries and churches including the famous Abbey at Glastonbury where it is said that King Arthur is buried. You can still see the beautiful ruins of the Abbey to this day.

David told his followers to be vegetarians and of course, they ate a lot of leeks which grow very well in Wales. The monks who joined him had to give up much more. They didn’t use animals for farming – and they even pulled ploughs themselves instead of using oxen. They weren’t allowed to own any possessions, and if one of them said “MY book” he had to do a penitence, which is a kind of punishment.

Despite his tough ways, St. David became very popular – perhaps because he had the gift of working miracles. For instance, when his neighbors land was drying up, he stuck his staff into the earth and a spring sprung out of the ground. A local ruler became very jealous of his popularity, and his wife told him to send slaves with sticks to beat David and his Monks – but as they came to attack the monks, their arms lost all their strength, and all they could do was to hurl filthy insults at them. When they returned home, they found that all their cattle had died. They returned to the monks and asked forgiveness, and this time when they went back. all their cattle had come back to life.

Other time, some of St. David’s monks turned against him, and decided to poison his food. But a friend of his in Ireland foresaw this in a dream and he sent St. Scuthyn to warn him. There were no ships ready, to carry Scuthyn across the Irish sea to Wales, but he waded into the water and a Sea Monster picked him up on his back and carried him across. When he arrived he warned St. David that his cook had put some deadly poison into his bread. At dinner time, St. David broke the bread into three pieces. He gave one piece to a dog, and another to a crow. Both immediately died. Then he blessed the third piece and ate himself. Everyone watching thought that he would surely die too. But he was perfectly alright.

His most famous miracle happened at a great religious meeting. There was a vast crowd of people in the audience, and none of the Bishops who spoke could make themselves heard – except for David. The ground beneath him rose up into a hill so that he stood high up above the crowd, and a dove landed on his shoulder. His voice rang out as clear as a trumpet. St. David is often pictured speaking with a dove on his shoulder.

David became Bishop not just of the Welsh, but of all the Britons. At that time, the Britons often had to fight off Saxon invaders from Europe. Before one great battle, St. David told the army of the Britons to wear leeks in their hats as a kind of uniform. They won the battle, and ever since Leeks have been a welsh symbol. To remember the victory, Welsh soldiers eat raw leeks on the eve of St. David’s day.

St. David lived to be more than 100 years old, and as he was dying, the Monastery in which he lay filled with angels. His last words were ‘Gwnewch y pethau bychain mewn bywyd’ which means Do the Little Things in Life, and to this day, it’s a common saying in Wales.

And those are some of the stories about St. David. I do hope you enjoyed them – and that they gave you a little flavour of wales 1,500 years ago. We have other Saint’s stories on Storynory.com, including those of St. George, St. Patrick, and St. Valentine. For now, from me, Natasha

This is a story about Katie who is an ordinary girl apart from one thing – she’s a witch. (More Katie stories are here).

One year at school, Katie’s form teacher was especially moody and grumpy. When Valentine’s Day was coming up, Katie and her friend Isis hatched a plan to make her teacher fall in love so that she would be “dancing on air” and in a good mood.

But Katie discovers that True Love must come from the heart, not from a magic spell.

And if you like Valentine’s stories try

• St. Valentine
• Bertie Valentine.

Read by Natasha. Duration 17 Minutes. Story by Bertie.

Katie went to a nice school where most of the teachers were kind, but some of them were quite strict, and all of them could be moody and grumpy at times, just like anyone else can be. Unfortunately, Katie’s form teacher was more grumpy and more moody than most, and more often. She was the only teacher in the whole school who the children hadn’t given a nick name to. For instance, Mr. Philpots was known as Potty, which seemed to suit him quite well. Mrs. Woodruff was called dandruff, and Miss. Tidy was called Untidy because she was.

Katie’s teacher was called Miss. Vile. That was her real name. So she didn’t have a nickname, because quite frankly, she didn’t need one.

“Katie ! ” she said on morning, “This homework looks like it was done in about five minutes. You know that you are meant to spend at least half an hour on it. You will stay in at playtime and do it again. ”

“Katie ! ” she said another time, “Those tights are not regulation school uniform. I will call your mother, she must take you home, and you must change them.”

“And Katie ! ” she said yet another time, “Stop muttering to yourself. You know that magic spells are against the school rules.”

When anybody misbehaved Miss. Vile wrote their names up on a board called “The Wall of Shame”. Everyone’s name was on it, except for Samantha’s and Matthew’s, because they were both goody-two-shoes who never did anything wrong. But Katie’s name was written on The Wall of Shame more than anybody else’s. In fact, it was written right at the top of the board in large red letters with ten exclamation marks after it.

Katie didn’t feel ashamed. But she did feel cross because it wasn’t fair.

It was the end of January. Katie’s form was learning about the Chinese New Year, and how each year is named after an animal. Miss Vile asked Katie what was her Chinese symbol, and she said that she was born in the Year of the Cat, and then Miss Vile told her that that was impossible, because there wasn’t a Year of  the Cat, and Katie said.

“It’s possible for me because I’m a witch, and all witches are born in the Year of the Cat.”

And the whole class laughed, but Isis said, “That’s right Miss. Vile. Katie’s different because she is a witch.”

“What utter clap-trap!” exclaimed Miss Vile. “I’ve told you before not to talk nonsense about magic and witches. You will  go and see the head teacher right now ! Both of YOU ! And take this note with you to explain all about your naughtiness !”

And while Katie and Isis were waiting to see the head teacher, they both felt very sad and wondered what they could do about Miss. Vile.

“Couldn’t you turn her into a toad or something?” asked Isis. But Katie shook her head. If Miss vile suddenly turned up to school one day as a toad, everyone would know who was to blame, and Katie would be in a huge heap of trouble. She might even get expelled for turning a teacher into a toad.

And then the Head Teacher called Katie and Isis into her study. She read the note, and shook her head. But she wasn’t too cross, because she knew all about Katie.

“I know that you are a bit different, ” she said to Katie, “and that you can do all sorts of magic spells, but it’s best not to mention it to anybody, OK? Somethings are best kept a secret. Now go back to your lessons both of you. ”

Katie and Isis didn’t see much point in hurrying back to the class, and so they both sat in the cloak room and talked over the problem of Miss. Vile.

“Well if you can’t turn her into something horrid, maybe you can turn her into something nice,” said Isis.

And Katie thought about this. But she couldn’t imagine Miss Vile being anything nice, and  she thought that the magic wouldn’t work.

“I’ve got it ! ” said Isis. “It will be Valentine’s Day soon. Why don’t you make her fall in love ! Grown-ups are always in a happy mood when they are in love, and she’ll be nice and kind to us.”

Katie thought that was a brilliant idea, because Witches know all sorts of magic spells for making people fall in love. But there was only one question. Who with?

“Why with Potty of course, ” said Isis, “He hasn’t got a wife. Why don’t you make him send her flowers and chocolate, and then she’ll be dancing on air.”

Katie and Isis both had a fit of giggles, and when they got back to class everyone wondered why they were both looking so happy after a visit to the Head Teacher’s study.

At home that evening, Katie opened up her mother’s book of spells and turned the pages to “L” for Love. There were loads and loads of spells, but some of them were a bit impractical. For instance, if she followed one spell she would need to get hold of some big toe nail clippings from Mr. Philpots and a loch of hair from Miss. Vile. That didn’t sound very easy. For another spell, she need some mandrake’s root from the magic grocery shop, and mandrake’s root was very expensive. And then she found a spell that just required pictures of the two people who were to fall in love, and that was easy because she had a photograph of the whole school from the end of summer term. It was a shame that she had to cut it up with a pair of scissors, but it was in a good cause.

On February the 14th, which as everyone knows is Valentine’s day, Miss. Vile came into class looking quite different. Isis said afterward that she looked like she was lightly tripping on air.

When they saw her, Katie and Isis both felt sure that she had found a box of chocolates, a bunch of red roses and a card next to her locker in the staff room.

“Miss Vile. I’m really sorry, but I didn’t have time to do my home work last night.”

The whole class went silent and you could have heard a drawing pin drop. But Miss Vile said,

“Never mind Katie. It wasn’t very important anyway.”

And every one gasped.

And then Katie said:

“Actually, I was just joking. I did do it really !”

And Miss. Vile smiled and said. “Ah yes, that’s a funny joke. You got me there.”

And everyone was totally amazed. I mean like gobsmacked. And Katie smiled to herself. She knew that her spell had worked.

But what Katie didn’t know was that Miss. Vile had not just received one box of chocolates, and one bunch of flowers that morning. No. She had received two of each ! And two Valentine’s Day cards. No wonder she was in such a good mood.

That evening, Isis and her mum were out shopping in town, and Isis saw Potty and Miss. Vile standing outside a restaurant window and looking at the menu. And Isis said to her mum:

“Look ! How romantic ! Our teachers are going out for a candle-lit dinner on St. Valentine’s day !”

And her mum thought that Isis was getting very grown up to make a remark like that.

But what neither of them could hear what Mr. Philpots was saying to Miss. Vile. His words were.

“My oh my. Just look at the price of steak and chips at this place. Let’s find somewhere cheaper.”

But because Miss. Vile was in love, she didn’t think that her dear Potty was stingy. No, she thought how clever he was to be careful money, and what a good husband he would make.

For the rest of term, Miss. Vile was a sweet as could be, but when the children came back for the summer term, they were in for a big disappointment.

Her first words were:

“The first person who so much as whispers will be picking up litter after school for the rest of term.”

And Katie and Isis both knew that she Miss. Vile must have fallen out of love.

Katie was disappointed because it seemed that her spell had not worked entirely as it was supposed to. And so she asked her mother whether the love spell using pictures was any good. She was careful to explain that it wasn’t for her, but for somebody else. And her mother said:

“Love spells work, but only for a while. It’s only True Love that lasts for ever, not magic love. True Love must come from the heart.”

And when Katie heard that, she understood that it wasn’t her fault that the spell hadn’t lasted. And when she told Isis about this they both felt a bit down. But at least they only had one more term with Miss Vile – and after the summer holidays they would have a new form teacher.

And Miss Vile was her old grumpy moody self for the next five weeks. But when after the half term holiday, everyone had a pleasant surprise. She was back to being lovely and carefree.

“Katie, did you put another spell on her?” asked Isis.  But Katie hadn’t.  No what had happened was that Mr. Cotton had worked up the courage to ask Miss. Vile to go to the opera with him.   Mr.  Cotton had two nicknames.  One was ” Socks” as in “cotton socks” and the other was “Mr. Rotten.”  But the second name was unfair, but because Mr. Cotton was the sweetest and kindest teacher in the whole school.  And now Mr. Cotton and Miss Vile had found their  True Love.

Text Copyright Hugh Fraser 2009.

Aesop’s famous story has worked it’s way into the English Language. The dictionary says that to cry wolf is to ” ask for help when you do not need it, with the result that no one believes you when help is necessary.”

In this Storynory version the boy is now an old man, and he looks back on the joke that went badly wrong and landed him with a reputation for silly pranks. It’s a real shorty – but we hope you will enjoy it – and we think it’s quite moving.

Read by Natasha. Duration 6.07

When I was a lad, my father used to send me out to the fields each day to watch over his sheep. Hey-how, there are worse jobs than sitting out in the fresh air all day, but it was boring work for a lad. I longed to be running around with my friends, playing ball, or making boyish mischief.

“Can’t the sheep look after themselves?” I asked my father. “After all, they know how to bleat and much grass, and there isn’t much else that they do.”

But father said it was important work. And most of importantly of all, I must keep my eyes pealed for the wolf, in case he came sneaking into the fields and grabbed on of the spring lambs.

And so I couldn’t even go to sleep. I had to sit and keep a sharp look-out. And a few weeks of this, I got so bored that began to wish that the wolf would show up and give me something to do.

And then I got thinking to myself. Let’s liven things up a bit, I thought. Let’s play a trick on the villagers. And so I got up an ran as fast as I could into the village shouting at the top of my voice:

“Wolf ! Wolf WOOOOOOOOLF !”

And the villagers grabbed sticks, rolling pins, and pitch-folks and came running up to the field to case away the world.

But when they got there, all was peaceful. The lambs were frolicking as usual, quite unmolested.

And I laughed

“Ha ha Fooled you all ! ”

But none of the villagers laughed with me. Some of them grumbled and and the blacksmith became quite angry and shouted at me. But he was just a bad sport who couldn’t see the funny side of my joke.

And so a week later I did the same thing again, only this time I put on an even better act. I daubed red paint on my arm, and pretended that the wolf had bitten me. This fooled even the blacksmith, who was on his guard after the last trick I had played.

And when they all arrived breathless in the field I again called out

“Ha Ha ! Fooled YOU! ”

And this time quite a few of the villagers were angry with me, and I got quite an ear wigging from the blacksmith, the teacher, and the iron-monger. When I got home, my father was furious and told me that I had a stupid sense of humour. But I thought it was funny. And so did my friends.

About a week after that, I was sitting up on the hill watching my father’s sheep as usual. It was getting on for evening, and the sun was setting behind the forrest. I would have to spend the night out there, and oh, how lonely and bored was I. Then all of a sudden the sheep dogs started to bark and the flock was running around and bleating like they had all gone made. Only they hadn’t. There was a wolf among the sheep and he had seized a lamb.

“Wolf ! Wolf ! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLF !” I called out and I ran into the village to get help.

But nobody came. Not one villager. They carried on doing whatever they were doing. Eating supper, drinking ale, or finishing off their work for the day.

‘But please,” I said to the blacksmith, “This time it’s true. There really is a wolf.”

And he just shrugged his shoulders.

You see nobody believes a liar, even when he’s speaking the truth.

And that’s why you should never cry wolf unless you really mean it.

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Hello this is Natahsa, and I’m dropping by with a famous fable by Aesop.

Have you ever heard the expression, To Cry Wolf? Do you know what it means? Well even if you do, you should listen to this tale, because it will tell you how it came about.

It’s told by an old man, who remembers the biggest lesson of his life, the one that got him branded for ever more as The Boy Who Cried Wolf.

When I was a lad, my father used to send me out to the fields each day to watch over his sheep. Hey-how, there are worse jobs than sitting out in the fresh air all day, but it was boring work for a lad. I longed to be running around with my friends, playing ball, or making boyish mischief.

“Can’t the sheep look after themselves?” I asked my father. “After all, they know how to bleat and much grass, and there isn’t much else that they do.”

But father said it was important work. And most of importantly of all, I must keep my eyes pealed for the wolf, in case he came sneaking into the fields and grabbed on of the spring lambs.

And so I couldn’t even go to sleep. I had to sit and keep a sharp look-out. And a few weeks of this, I got so bored that began to wish that the wolf would show up and give me something to do.

And then I got thinking to myself. Let’s liven things up a bit, I thought. Let’s play a trick on the villagers. And so I got up an ran as fast as I could into the village shouting at the top of my voice:

“Wolf ! Wolf WOOOOOOOOLF !”

And the villagers grabbed sticks, rolling pins, and pitch-folks and came running up to the field to case away the world.

But when they got there, all was peaceful. The lambs were frolicking as usual, quite unmolested.

And I laughed

“Ha ha Fooled you all ! ”

But none of the villagers laughed with me. Some of them grumbled and and the blacksmith became quite angry and shouted at me. But he was just a bad sport who couldn’t see the funny side of my joke.

And so a week later I did the same thing again, only this time I put on an even better act. I daubed red paint on my arm, and pretended that the wolf had bitten me. This fooled even the blacksmith, who was on his guard after the last trick I had played.

And when they all arrived breathless in the field I again called out

“Ha Ha ! Fooled YOU! ”

And this time quite a few of the villagers were angry with me, and I got quite an ear wigging from the blacksmith, the teacher, and the iron-monger. When I got home, my father was furious and told me that I had a stupid sense of humour. But I thought it was funny. And so did my friends.

About a week after that, I was sitting up on the hill watching my father’s sheep as usual. It was getting on for evening, and the sun was setting behind the forrest. I would have to spend the night out there, and oh, how lonely and bored was I. Then all of a sudden the sheep dogs started to bark and the flock was running around and bleating like they had all gone made. Only they hadn’t. There was a wolf among the sheep and he had seized a lamb.

“Wolf ! Wolf ! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLF !” I called out and I ran into the village to get help.

But nobody came. Not one villager. They carried on doing whatever they were doing. Eating supper, drinking ale, or finishing off their work for the day.

‘But please,” I said to the blacksmith, “This time it’s true. There really is a wolf.”

And he just shrugged his shoulders.

You see nobody believes a liar, even when he’s speaking the truth.

And that’s why you should never cry wolf unless you really mean it.

The final part of the Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen.

The Sea Witch helps The Little Mermaid become human so that she can visit her prince – but she extracts a terrible price. The Little Mermaid must give up her lovely voice. If the Prince marries another, she will die. But she loves him so much that she is ready to make the sacrifice.

The ending is NOT the “Disney” version. And by the end, perhaps you will agree that it is not always wise to give up everything for love – but it is still one of the most beautiful and touching fairy tales ever written.

Part One is here.
Part Two is here.

Read by Natasha. Duration 29 Minutes.

“I know what you want,” said the sea witch; “it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish’s tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have an immortal soul.” And then the witch laughed so loud and disgustingly, that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground, and lay there wriggling about. “You are but just in time,” said the witch; “for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you.”

“Yes, I will,” said the little princess in a trembling voice, as she thought of the prince and the immortal soul.

“But think again,” said the witch; “for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father’s palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves.”

“I will do it,” said the little mermaid, and she became pale as death.

“But I must be paid also,” said the witch, “and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword.”

“But if you take away my voice,” said the little mermaid, “what is left for me?”

“Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man’s heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught.”

“It shall be,” said the little mermaid.

Then the witch placed her cauldron on the fire, to prepare the magic draught.

“Cleanliness is a good thing,” said she, scouring the vessel with snakes, which she had tied together in a large knot; then she pricked herself in the breast, and let the black blood drop into it. The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible shapes that no one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw something else into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound was like the weeping of a crocodile. When at last the magic draught was ready, it looked like the clearest water. “There it is for you,” said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid’s tongue, so that she became dumb, and would never again speak or sing. “If the polypi should seize hold of you as you return through the wood,” said the witch, “throw over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers will be torn into a thousand pieces.” But the little mermaid had no occasion to do this, for the polypi sprang back in terror when they caught sight of the glittering draught, which shone in her hand like a twinkling star.

So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh, and between the rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father’s palace the torches in the ballroom were extinguished, and all within asleep; but she did not venture to go in to them, for now she was dumb and going to leave them forever, she felt as if her heart would break. She stole into the garden, took a flower from the flower-beds of each of her sisters, kissed her hand a thousand times towards the palace, and then rose up through the dark blue waters. The sun had not risen when she came in sight of the prince’s palace, and approached the beautiful marble steps, but the moon shone clear and bright. Then the little mermaid drank the magic draught, and it seemed as if a two-edged sword went through her delicate body: she fell into a swoon, and lay like one dead. When the sun arose and shone over the sea, she recovered, and felt a sharp pain; but just before her stood the handsome young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so earnestly that she cast down her own, and then became aware that her fish’s tail was gone, and that she had as pretty a pair of white legs and tiny feet as any little maiden could have; but she had no clothes, so she wrapped herself in her long, thick hair. The prince asked her who she was, and where she came from, and she looked at him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes; but she could not speak. Every step she took was as the witch had said it would be, she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives; but she bore it willingly, and stepped as lightly by the prince’s side as a soap-bubble, so that he and all who saw her wondered at her graceful-swaying movements. She was very soon arrayed in costly robes of silk and muslin, and was the most beautiful creature in the palace; but she was dumb, and could neither speak nor sing.

Beautiful female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward and sang before the prince and his royal parents: one sang better than all the others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her. This was great sorrow to the little mermaid; she knew how much more sweetly she herself could sing once, and she thought, “Oh if he could only know that! I have given away my voice forever, to be with him.”

The slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances, to the sound of beautiful music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely white arms, stood on the tips of her toes, and glided over the floor, and danced as no one yet had been able to dance. At each moment her beauty became more revealed, and her expressive eyes appealed more directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. Every one was enchanted, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling; and she danced again quite readily, to please him, though each time her foot touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.

The prince said she should remain with him always, and she received permission to sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion. He had a page’s dress made for her, that she might accompany him on horseback. They rode together through the sweet-scented woods, where the green boughs touched their shoulders, and the little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince to the tops of high mountains; and although her tender feet bled so that even her steps were marked, she only laughed, and followed him till they could see the clouds beneath them looking like a flock of birds travelling to distant lands. While at the prince’s palace, and when all the household were asleep, she would go and sit on the broad marble steps; for it eased her burning feet to bathe them in the cold sea-water; and then she thought of all those below in the deep.

Once during the night her sisters came up arm-in-arm, singing sorrowfully, as they floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and then they recognized her, and told her how she had grieved them. After that, they came to the same place every night; and once she saw in the distance her old grandmother, who had not been to the surface of the sea for many years, and the old Sea King, her father, with his crown on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her, but they did not venture so near the land as her sisters did.

As the days passed, she loved the prince more fondly, and he loved her as he would love a little child, but it never came into his head to make her his wife; yet, unless he married her, she could not receive an immortal soul; and, on the morning after his marriage with another, she would dissolve into the foam of the sea.

“Do you not love me the best of them all?” the eyes of the little mermaid seemed to say, when he took her in his arms, and kissed her fair forehead.

“Yes, you are dear to me,” said the prince; “for you have the best heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple, where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but twice, and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are like her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She belongs to the holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me instead of her; and we will never part.”

“Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life,” thought the little mermaid. “I carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands: I sat beneath the foam, and watched till the human beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves better than he loves me;” and the mermaid sighed deeply, but she could not shed tears. “He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple, therefore she will never return to the world. They will meet no more: while I am by his side, and see him every day. I will take care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his sake.”

Very soon it was said that the prince must marry, and that the beautiful daughter of a neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine ship was being fitted out. Although the prince gave out that he merely intended to pay a visit to the king, it was generally supposed that he really went to see his daughter. A great company were to go with him. The little mermaid smiled, and shook her head. She knew the prince’s thoughts better than any of the others.

“I must travel,” he had said to her; “I must see this beautiful princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose a bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling, with those expressive eyes.” And then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her long waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of human happiness and an immortal soul. “You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child,” said he, as they stood on the deck of the noble ship which was to carry them to the country of the neighboring king. And then he told her of storm and of calm, of strange fishes in the deep beneath them, and of what the divers had seen there; and she smiled at his descriptions, for she knew better than any one what wonders were at the bottom of the sea.

In the moonlight, when all on board were asleep, excepting the man at the helm, who was steering, she sat on the deck, gazing down through the clear water. She thought she could distinguish her father’s castle, and upon it her aged grandmother, with the silver crown on her head, looking through the rushing tide at the keel of the vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves, and gazed at her mournfully, wringing their white hands. She beckoned to them, and smiled, and wanted to tell them how happy and well off she was; but the cabin-boy approached, and when her sisters dived down he thought it was only the foam of the sea which he saw.

The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful town belonging to the king whom the prince was going to visit. The church bells were ringing, and from the high towers sounded a flourish of trumpets; and soldiers, with flying colors and glittering bayonets, lined the rocks through which they passed. Every day was a festival; balls and entertainments followed one another.

But the princess had not yet appeared. People said that she was being brought up and educated in a religious house, where she was learning every royal virtue. At last she came. Then the little mermaid, who was very anxious to see whether she was really beautiful, was obliged to acknowledge that she had never seen a more perfect vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately fair, and beneath her long dark eye-lashes her laughing blue eyes shone with truth and purity.

“It was you,” said the prince, “who saved my life when I lay dead on the beach,” and he folded his blushing bride in his arms. “Oh, I am too happy,” said he to the little mermaid; “my fondest hopes are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness; for your devotion to me is great and sincere.”

The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were already broken. His wedding morning would bring death to her, and she would change into the foam of the sea. All the church bells rung, and the heralds rode about the town proclaiming the betrothal. Perfumed oil was burning in costly silver lamps on every altar. The priests waved the censers, while the bride and bridegroom joined their hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid, dressed in silk and gold, held up the bride’s train; but her ears heard nothing of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy ceremony; she thought of the night of death which was coming to her, and of all she had lost in the world. On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board ship; cannons were roaring, flags waving, and in the centre of the ship a costly tent of purple and gold had been erected. It contained elegant couches, for the reception of the bridal pair during the night. The ship, with swelling sails and a favorable wind, glided away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea. When it grew dark a number of colored lamps were lit, and the sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could not help thinking of her first rising out of the sea, when she had seen similar festivities and joys; and she joined in the dance, poised herself in the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey, and all present cheered her with wonder. She had never danced so elegantly before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart. She knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince, for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she would breathe the same air with him, or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea; an eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her: she had no soul and now she could never win one. All was joy and gayety on board ship till long after midnight; she laughed and danced with the rest, while the thoughts of death were in her heart. The prince kissed his beautiful bride, while she played with his raven hair, till they went arm-in-arm to rest in the splendid tent. Then all became still on board the ship; the helmsman, alone awake, stood at the helm. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of the vessel, and looked towards the east for the first blush of morning, for that first ray of dawn that would bring her death. She saw her sisters rising out of the flood: they were as pale as herself; but their long beautiful hair waved no more in the wind, and had been cut off.

“We have given our hair to the witch,” said they, “to obtain help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish’s tail, and you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch’s scissors. Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die.” And then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank down beneath the waves.

The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent, and beheld the fair bride with her head resting on the prince’s breast. She bent down and kissed his fair brow, then looked at the sky on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam. The sun rose above the waves, and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did not feel as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun, and all around her floated hundreds of transparent beautiful beings; she could see through them the white sails of the ship, and the red clouds in the sky; their speech was melodious, but too ethereal to be heard by mortal ears, as they were also unseen by mortal eyes. The little mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs, and that she continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam. “Where am I?” asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, as the voice of those who were with her; no earthly music could imitate it.

“Among the daughters of the air,” answered one of them. “A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul.”

The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes towards the sun, and felt them, for the first time, filling with tears. On the ship, in which she had left the prince, there were life and noise; she saw him and his beautiful bride searching for her; sorrowfully they gazed at the pearly foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of her bride, and fanned the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the air to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether.

“After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom of heaven,” said she. “And we may even get there sooner,” whispered one of her companions.

In the second part of this classic tale by Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid saves a young prince from drowning – but he never has a chance to see that he owes his life to her. The Little Mermaid speaks to her grandmother, who tells her that human beings have short lives on earth, but possess immortal souls. Mermaids on the other hand, can live for 300 years, but then they turn to nothing. The only way a mermaid can become gain a soul is for a human being to love her. The Little Mermaid decides to risk all for her prince.

The Music is Pachelbel’s Canon. Part one is here

Read by Natasha. Duration 28 Minutes.

At last she reached her fifteenth year. “Well, now, you are grown up,” said the old dowager, her grandmother; “so you must let me adorn you like your other sisters;” and she placed a wreath of white lilies in her hair, and every flower leaf was half a pearl. Then the old lady ordered eight great oysters to attach themselves to the tail of the princess to show her high rank.

“But they hurt me so,” said the little mermaid.

“Pride must suffer pain,” replied the old lady. Oh, how gladly she would have shaken off all this grandeur, and laid aside the heavy wreath! The red flowers in her own garden would have suited her much better, but she could not help herself: so she said, “Farewell,” and rose as lightly as a bubble to the surface of the water. The sun had just set as she raised her head above the waves; but the clouds were tinted with crimson and gold, and through the glimmering twilight beamed the evening star in all its beauty. The sea was calm, and the air mild and fresh. A large ship, with three masts, lay becalmed on the water, with only one sail set; for not a breeze stiffed, and the sailors sat idle on deck or amongst the rigging. There was music and song on board; and, as darkness came on, a hundred colored lanterns were lighted, as if the flags of all nations waved in the air. The little mermaid swam close to the cabin windows; and now and then, as the waves lifted her up, she could look in through clear glass window-panes, and see a number of well-dressed people within. Among them was a young prince, the most beautiful of all, with large black eyes; he was sixteen years of age, and his birthday was being kept with much rejoicing. The sailors were dancing on deck, but when the prince came out of the cabin, more than a hundred rockets rose in the air, making it as bright as day. The little mermaid was so startled that she dived under water; and when she again stretched out her head, it appeared as if all the stars of heaven were falling around her, she had never seen such fireworks before. Great suns spurted fire about, splendid fireflies flew into the blue air, and everything was reflected in the clear, calm sea beneath. The ship itself was so brightly illuminated that all the people, and even the smallest rope, could be distinctly and plainly seen. And how handsome the young prince looked, as he pressed the hands of all present and smiled at them, while the music resounded through the clear night air.

It was very late; yet the little mermaid could not take her eyes from the ship, or from the beautiful prince. The colored lanterns had been extinguished, no more rockets rose in the air, and the cannon had ceased firing; but the sea became restless, and a moaning, grumbling sound could be heard beneath the waves: still the little mermaid remained by the cabin window, rocking up and down on the water, which enabled her to look in. After a while, the sails were quickly unfurled, and the noble ship continued her passage; but soon the waves rose higher, heavy clouds darkened the sky, and lightning appeared in the distance. A dreadful storm was approaching; once more the sails were reefed, and the great ship pursued her flying course over the raging sea. The waves rose mountains high, as if they would have overtopped the mast; but the ship dived like a swan between them, and then rose again on their lofty, foaming crests. To the little mermaid this appeared pleasant sport; not so to the sailors. At length the ship groaned and creaked; the thick planks gave way under the lashing of the sea as it broke over the deck; the mainmast snapped asunder like a reed; the ship lay over on her side; and the water rushed in. The little mermaid now perceived that the crew were in danger; even she herself was obliged to be careful to avoid the beams and planks of the wreck which lay scattered on the water. At one moment it was so pitch dark that she could not see a single object, but a flash of lightning revealed the whole scene; she could see every one who had been on board excepting the prince; when the ship parted, she had seen him sink into the deep waves, and she was glad, for she thought he would now be with her; and then she remembered that human beings could not live in the water, so that when he got down to her father’s palace he would be quite dead. But he must not die. So she swam about among the beams and planks which strewed the surface of the sea, forgetting that they could crush her to pieces. Then she dived deeply under the dark waters, rising and falling with the waves, till at length she managed to reach the young prince, who was fast losing the power of swimming in that stormy sea. His limbs were failing him, his beautiful eyes were closed, and he would have died had not the little mermaid come to his assistance. She held his head above the water, and let the waves drift them where they would.

In the morning the storm had ceased; but of the ship not a single fragment could be seen. The sun rose up red and glowing from the water, and its beams brought back the hue of health to the prince’s cheeks; but his eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed his high, smooth forehead, and stroked back his wet hair; he seemed to her like the marble statue in her little garden, and she kissed him again, and wished that he might live. Presently they came in sight of land; she saw lofty blue mountains, on which the white snow rested as if a flock of swans were lying upon them. Near the coast were beautiful green forests, and close by stood a large building, whether a church or a convent she could not tell. Orange and citron trees grew in the garden, and before the door stood lofty palms. The sea here formed a little bay, in which the water was quite still, but very deep; so she swam with the handsome prince to the beach, which was covered with fine, white sand, and there she laid him in the warm sunshine, taking care to raise his head higher than his body. Then bells sounded in the large white building, and a number of young girls came into the garden. The little mermaid swam out farther from the shore and placed herself between some high rocks that rose out of the water; then she covered her head and neck with the foam of the sea so that her little face might not be seen, and watched to see what would become of the poor prince. She did not wait long before she saw a young girl approach the spot where he lay. She seemed frightened at first, but only for a moment; then she fetched a number of people, and the mermaid saw that the prince came to life again, and smiled upon those who stood round him. But to her he sent no smile; he knew not that she had saved him. This made her very unhappy, and when he was led away into the great building, she dived down sorrowfully into the water, and returned to her father’s castle. She had always been silent and thoughtful, and now she was more so than ever. Her sisters asked her what she had seen during her first visit to the surface of the water; but she would tell them nothing. Many an evening and morning did she rise to the place where she had left the prince. She saw the fruits in the garden ripen till they were gathered, the snow on the tops of the mountains melt away; but she never saw the prince, and therefore she returned home, always more sorrowful than before. It was her only comfort to sit in her own little garden, and fling her arm round the beautiful marble statue which was like the prince; but she gave up tending her flowers, and they grew in wild confusion over the paths, twining their long leaves and stems round the branches of the trees, so that the whole place became dark and gloomy. At length she could bear it no longer, and told one of her sisters all about it. Then the others heard the secret, and very soon it became known to two mermaids whose intimate friend happened to know who the prince was. She had also seen the festival on board ship, and she told them where the prince came from, and where his palace stood.

“Come, little sister,” said the other princesses; then they entwined their arms and rose up in a long row to the surface of the water, close by the spot where they knew the prince’s palace stood. It was built of bright yellow shining stone, with long flights of marble steps, one of which reached quite down to the sea. Splendid gilded cupolas rose over the roof, and between the pillars that surrounded the whole building stood life-like statues of marble. Through the clear crystal of the lofty windows could be seen noble rooms, with costly silk curtains and hangings of tapestry; while the walls were covered with beautiful paintings which were a pleasure to look at. In the centre of the largest saloon a fountain threw its sparkling jets high up into the glass cupola of the ceiling, through which the sun shone down upon the water and upon the beautiful plants growing round the basin of the fountain. Now that she knew where he lived, she spent many an evening and many a night on the water near the palace. She would swim much nearer the shore than any of the others ventured to do; indeed once she went quite up the narrow channel under the marble balcony, which threw a broad shadow on the water. Here she would sit and watch the young prince, who thought himself quite alone in the bright moonlight. She saw him many times of an evening sailing in a pleasant boat, with music playing and flags waving. She peeped out from among the green rushes, and if the wind caught her long silvery-white veil, those who saw it believed it to be a swan, spreading out its wings. On many a night, too, when the fishermen, with their torches, were out at sea, she heard them relate so many good things about the doings of the young prince, that she was glad she had saved his life when he had been tossed about half-dead on the waves. And she remembered that his head had rested on her bosom, and how heartily she had kissed him; but he knew nothing of all this, and could not even dream of her. She grew more and more fond of human beings, and wished more and more to be able to wander about with those whose world seemed to be so much larger than her own. They could fly over the sea in ships, and mount the high hills which were far above the clouds; and the lands they possessed, their woods and their fields, stretched far away beyond the reach of her sight. There was so much that she wished to know, and her sisters were unable to answer all her questions. Then she applied to her old grandmother, who knew all about the upper world, which she very rightly called the lands above the sea.

“If human beings are not drowned,” asked the little mermaid, “can they live forever? do they never die as we do here in the sea?”

“Yes,” replied the old lady, “they must also die, and their term of life is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live to three hundred years, but when we cease to exist here we only become the foam on the surface of the water, and we have not even a grave down here of those we love. We have not immortal souls, we shall never live again; but, like the green sea-weed, when once it has been cut off, we can never flourish more. Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul which lives forever, lives after the body has been turned to dust. It rises up through the clear, pure air beyond the glittering stars. As we rise out of the water, and behold all the land of the earth, so do they rise to unknown and glorious regions which we shall never see.”

“Why have not we an immortal soul?” asked the little mermaid mournfully; “I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars.”

“You must not think of that,” said the old woman; “we feel ourselves to be much happier and much better off than human beings.”

“So I shall die,” said the little mermaid, “and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”

“No,” said the old woman, “unless a man were to love you so much that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish’s tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better, and they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs, in order to be handsome.”

Then the little mermaid sighed, and looked sorrowfully at her fish’s tail. “Let us be happy,” said the old lady, “and dart and spring about during the three hundred years that we have to live, which is really quite long enough; after that we can rest ourselves all the better. This evening we are going to have a court ball.”

It is one of those splendid sights which we can never see on earth. The walls and the ceiling of the large ball-room were of thick, but transparent crystal. May hundreds of colossal shells, some of a deep red, others of a grass green, stood on each side in rows, with blue fire in them, which lighted up the whole saloon, and shone through the walls, so that the sea was also illuminated. Innumerable fishes, great and small, swam past the crystal walls; on some of them the scales glowed with a purple brilliancy, and on others they shone like silver and gold. Through the halls flowed a broad stream, and in it danced the mermen and the mermaids to the music of their own sweet singing. No one on earth has such a lovely voice as theirs. The little mermaid sang more sweetly than them all. The whole court applauded her with hands and tails; and for a moment her heart felt quite gay, for she knew she had the loveliest voice of any on earth or in the sea. But she soon thought again of the world above her, for she could not forget the charming prince, nor her sorrow that she had not an immortal soul like his; therefore she crept away silently out of her father’s palace, and while everything within was gladness and song, she sat in her own little garden sorrowful and alone. Then she heard the bugle sounding through the water, and thought- “He is certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes depend, and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture all for him, and to win an immortal soul, while my sisters are dancing in my father’s palace, I will go to the sea witch, of whom I have always been so much afraid, but she can give me counsel and help.”

And then the little mermaid went out from her garden, and took the road to the foaming whirlpools, behind which the sorceress lived. She had never been that way before: neither flowers nor grass grew there; nothing but bare, gray, sandy ground stretched out to the whirlpool, where the water, like foaming mill-wheels, whirled round everything that it seized, and cast it into the fathomless deep. Through the midst of these crushing whirlpools the little mermaid was obliged to pass, to reach the dominions of the sea witch; and also for a long distance the only road lay right across a quantity of warm, bubbling mire, called by the witch her turfmoor. Beyond this stood her house, in the centre of a strange forest, in which all the trees and flowers were polypi, half animals and half plants; they looked like serpents with a hundred heads growing out of the ground. The branches were long slimy arms, with fingers like flexible worms, moving limb after limb from the root to the top. All that could be reached in the sea they seized upon, and held fast, so that it never escaped from their clutches. The little mermaid was so alarmed at what she saw, that she stood still, and her heart beat with fear, and she was very nearly turning back; but she thought of the prince, and of the human soul for which she longed, and her courage returned. She fastened her long flowing hair round her head, so that the polypi might not seize hold of it. She laid her hands together across her bosom, and then she darted forward as a fish shoots through the water, between the supple arms and fingers of the ugly polypi, which were stretched out on each side of her. She saw that each held in its grasp something it had seized with its numerous little arms, as if they were iron bands. The white skeletons of human beings who had perished at sea, and had sunk down into the deep waters, skeletons of land animals, oars, rudders, and chests of ships were lying tightly grasped by their clinging arms; even a little mermaid, whom they had caught and strangled; and this seemed the most shocking of all to the little princess.

She now came to a space of marshy ground in the wood, where large, fat water-snakes were rolling in the mire, and showing their ugly, drab-colored bodies. In the midst of this spot stood a house, built with the bones of shipwrecked human beings. There sat the sea witch, allowing a toad to eat from her mouth, just as people sometimes feed a canary with a piece of sugar. She called the ugly water-snakes her little chickens, and allowed them to crawl all over her bosom.

This is  truly moving and beautiful story. You will be transported to the magical underworld gardens of the mermaids.  This famous tale is every bit as lovely as Hans Christian Andersen’s other masterpiece, The Snow Queen .

The Little Mermaid longs to experience the human world.   On her fifteenth birthday she is at last allowed to rise to the surface.  She saves a prince from drowning, and falls in love with him.

The first of three parts.

Told by Natasha. Duration  15.23

FAR out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects. We must not imagine that there is nothing at the bottom of the sea but bare yellow sand. No, indeed; the most singular flowers and plants grow there; the leaves and stems of which are so pliant, that the slightest agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had life. Fishes, both large and small, glide between the branches, as birds fly among the trees here upon land. In the deepest spot of all, stands the castle of the Sea King. Its walls are built of coral, and the long, gothic windows are of the clearest amber. The roof is formed of shells, that open and close as the water flows over them. Their appearance is very beautiful, for in each lies a glittering pearl, which would be fit for the diadem of a queen.

The Sea King had been a widower for many years, and his aged mother kept house for him. She was a very wise woman, and exceedingly proud of her high birth; on that account she wore twelve oysters on her tail; while others, also of high rank, were only allowed to wear six. She was, however, deserving of very great praise, especially for her care of the little sea-princesses, her grand-daughters. They were six beautiful children; but the youngest was the prettiest of them all; her skin was as clear and delicate as a rose-leaf, and her eyes as blue as the deepest sea; but, like all the others, she had no feet, and her body ended in a fish’s tail. All day long they played in the great halls of the castle, or among the living flowers that grew out of the walls. The large amber windows were open, and the fish swam in, just as the swallows fly into our houses when we open the windows, excepting that the fishes swam up to the princesses, ate out of their hands, and allowed themselves to be stroked. Outside the castle there was a beautiful garden, in which grew bright red and dark blue flowers, and blossoms like flames of fire; the fruit glittered like gold, and the leaves and stems waved to and fro continually. The earth itself was the finest sand, but blue as the flame of burning sulphur. Over everything lay a peculiar blue radiance, as if it were surrounded by the air from above, through which the blue sky shone, instead of the dark depths of the sea. In calm weather the sun could be seen, looking like a purple flower, with the light streaming from the calyx. Each of the young princesses had a little plot of ground in the garden, where she might dig and plant as she pleased. One arranged her flower-bed into the form of a whale; another thought it better to make hers like the figure of a little mermaid; but that of the youngest was round like the sun, and contained flowers as red as his rays at sunset. She was a strange child, quiet and thoughtful; and while her sisters would be delighted with the wonderful things which they obtained from the wrecks of vessels, she cared for nothing but her pretty red flowers, like the sun, excepting a beautiful marble statue. It was the representation of a handsome boy, carved out of pure white stone, which had fallen to the bottom of the sea from a wreck. She planted by the statue a rose-colored weeping willow. It grew splendidly, and very soon hung its fresh branches over the statue, almost down to the blue sands. The shadow had a violet tint, and waved to and fro like the branches; it seemed as if the crown of the tree and the root were at play, and trying to kiss each other. Nothing gave her so much pleasure as to hear about the world above the sea. She made her old grandmother tell her all she knew of the ships and of the towns, the people and the animals. To her it seemed most wonderful and beautiful to hear that the flowers of the land should have fragrance, and not those below the sea; that the trees of the forest should be green; and that the fishes among the trees could sing so sweetly, that it was quite a pleasure to hear them. Her grandmother called the little birds fishes, or she would not have understood her; for she had never seen birds.

“When you have reached your fifteenth year,” said the grand-mother, “you will have permission to rise up out of the sea, to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, while the great ships are sailing by; and then you will see both forests and towns.”

In the following year, one of the sisters would be fifteen: but as each was a year younger than the other, the youngest would have to wait five years before her turn came to rise up from the bottom of the ocean, and see the earth as we do. However, each promised to tell the others what she saw on her first visit, and what she thought the most beautiful; for their grandmother could not tell them enough; there were so many things on which they wanted information. None of them longed so much for her turn to come as the youngest, she who had the longest time to wait, and who was so quiet and thoughtful. Many nights she stood by the open window, looking up through the dark blue water, and watching the fish as they splashed about with their fins and tails. She could see the moon and stars shining faintly; but through the water they looked larger than they do to our eyes. When something like a black cloud passed between her and them, she knew that it was either a whale swimming over her head, or a ship full of human beings, who never imagined that a pretty little mermaid was standing beneath them, holding out her white hands towards the keel of their ship.

As soon as the eldest was fifteen, she was allowed to rise to the surface of the ocean. When she came back, she had hundreds of things to talk about; but the most beautiful, she said, was to lie in the moonlight, on a sandbank, in the quiet sea, near the coast, and to gaze on a large town nearby, where the lights were twinkling like hundreds of stars; to listen to the sounds of the music, the noise of carriages, and the voices of human beings, and then to hear the merry bells peal out from the church steeples; and because she could not go near to all those wonderful things, she longed for them more than ever. Oh, did not the youngest sister listen eagerly to all these descriptions? and afterwards, when she stood at the open window looking up through the dark blue water, she thought of the great city, with all its bustle and noise, and even fancied she could hear the sound of the church bells, down in the depths of the sea.

In another year the second sister received permission to rise to the surface of the water, and to swim about where she pleased. She rose just as the sun was setting, and this, she said, was the most beautiful sight of all. The whole sky looked like gold, while violet and rose-colored clouds, which she could not describe, floated over her; and, still more rapidly than the clouds, flew a large flock of wild swans towards the setting sun, looking like a long white veil across the sea. She also swam towards the sun; but it sunk into the waves, and the rosy tints faded from the clouds and from the sea.

The third sister’s turn followed; she was the boldest of them all, and she swam up a broad river that emptied itself into the sea. On the banks she saw green hills covered with beautiful vines; palaces and castles peeped out from amid the proud trees of the forest; she heard the birds singing, and the rays of the sun were so powerful that she was obliged often to dive down under the water to cool her burning face. In a narrow creek she found a whole troop of little human children, quite naked, and sporting about in the water; she wanted to play with them, but they fled in a great fright; and then a little black animal came to the water; it was a dog, but she did not know that, for she had never before seen one. This animal barked at her so terribly that she became frightened, and rushed back to the open sea. But she said she should never forget the beautiful forest, the green hills, and the pretty little children who could swim in the water, although they had not fish’s tails.

The fourth sister was more timid; she remained in the midst of the sea, but she said it was quite as beautiful there as nearer the land. She could see for so many miles around her, and the sky above looked like a bell of glass. She had seen the ships, but at such a great distance that they looked like sea-gulls. The dolphins sported in the waves, and the great whales spouted water from their nostrils till it seemed as if a hundred fountains were playing in every direction.

The fifth sister’s birthday occurred in the winter; so when her turn came, she saw what the others had not seen the first time they went up. The sea looked quite green, and large icebergs were floating about, each like a pearl, she said, but larger and loftier than the churches built by men. They were of the most singular shapes, and glittered like diamonds. She had seated herself upon one of the largest, and let the wind play with her long hair, and she remarked that all the ships sailed by rapidly, and steered as far away as they could from the iceberg, as if they were afraid of it. Towards evening, as the sun went down, dark clouds covered the sky, the thunder rolled and the lightning flashed, and the red light glowed on the icebergs as they rocked and tossed on the heaving sea. On all the ships the sails were reefed with fear and trembling, while she sat calmly on the floating iceberg, watching the blue lightning, as it darted its forked flashes into the sea.

When first the sisters had permission to rise to the surface, they were each delighted with the new and beautiful sights they saw; but now, as grown-up girls, they could go when they pleased, and they had become indifferent about it. They wished themselves back again in the water, and after a month had passed they said it was much more beautiful down below, and pleasanter to be at home. Yet often, in the evening hours, the five sisters would twine their arms round each other, and rise to the surface, in a row. They had more beautiful voices than any human being could have; and before the approach of a storm, and when they expected a ship would be lost, they swam before the vessel, and sang sweetly of the delights to be found in the depths of the sea, and begging the sailors not to fear if they sank to the bottom. But the sailors could not understand the song, they took it for the howling of the storm. And these things were never to be beautiful for them; for if the ship sank, the men were drowned, and their dead bodies alone reached the palace of the Sea King.

When the sisters rose, arm-in-arm, through the water in this way, their youngest sister would stand quite alone, looking after them, ready to cry, only that the mermaids have no tears, and therefore they suffer more. “Oh, were I but fifteen years old,” said she: “I know that I shall love the world up there, and all the people who live in it.”

At last she reached her fifteenth year. “Well, now, you are grown up,” said the old dowager, her grandmother; “so you must let me adorn you like your other sisters;” and she placed a wreath of white lilies in her hair, and every flower leaf was half a pearl. Then the old lady ordered eight great oysters to attach themselves to the tail of the princess to show her high rank.

“But they hurt me so,” said the little mermaid.

“Pride must suffer pain,” replied the old lady. Oh, how gladly she would have shaken off all this grandeur, and laid aside the heavy wreath! The red flowers in her own garden would have suited her much better, but she could not help herself: so she said, “Farewell,” and rose as lightly as a bubble to the surface of the water. The sun had just set as she raised her head above the waves; but the clouds were tinted with crimson and gold, and through the glimmering twilight beamed the evening star in all its beauty. The sea was calm, and the air mild and fresh. A large ship, with three masts, lay becalmed on the water, with only one sail set; for not a breeze stiffed, and the sailors sat idle on deck or amongst the rigging. There was music and song on board; and, as darkness came on, a hundred colored lanterns were lighted, as if the flags of all nations waved in the air. The little mermaid swam close to the cabin windows; and now and then, as the waves lifted her up, she could look in through clear glass window-panes, and see a number of well-dressed people within. Among them was a young prince, the most beautiful of all, with large black eyes; he was sixteen years of age, and his birthday was being kept with much rejoicing. The sailors were dancing on deck, but when the prince came out of the cabin, more than a hundred rockets rose in the air, making it as bright as day. The little mermaid was so startled that she dived under water; and when she again stretched out her head, it appeared as if all the stars of heaven were falling around her, she had never seen such fireworks before. Great suns spurted fire about, splendid fireflies flew into the blue air, and everything was reflected in the clear, calm sea beneath. The ship itself was so brightly illuminated that all the people, and even the smallest rope, could be distinctly and plainly seen. And how handsome the young prince looked, as he pressed the hands of all present and smiled at them, while the music resounded through the clear night air.

It was very late; yet the little mermaid could not take her eyes from the ship, or from the beautiful prince. The colored lanterns had been extinguished, no more rockets rose in the air, and the cannon had ceased firing; but the sea became restless, and a moaning, grumbling sound could be heard beneath the waves: still the little mermaid remained by the cabin window, rocking up and down on the water, which enabled her to look in. After a while, the sails were quickly unfurled, and the noble ship continued her passage; but soon the waves rose higher, heavy clouds darkened the sky, and lightning appeared in the distance. A dreadful storm was approaching; once more the sails were reefed, and the great ship pursued her flying course over the raging sea. The waves rose mountains high, as if they would have overtopped the mast; but the ship dived like a swan between them, and then rose again on their lofty, foaming crests. To the little mermaid this appeared pleasant sport; not so to the sailors. At length the ship groaned and creaked; the thick planks gave way under the lashing of the sea as it broke over the deck; the mainmast snapped asunder like a reed; the ship lay over on her side; and the water rushed in. The little mermaid now perceived that the crew were in danger; even she herself was obliged to be careful to avoid the beams and planks of the wreck which lay scattered on the water. At one moment it was so pitch dark that she could not see a single object, but a flash of lightning revealed the whole scene; she could see every one who had been on board excepting the prince; when the ship parted, she had seen him sink into the deep waves, and she was glad, for she thought he would now be with her; and then she remembered that human beings could not live in the water, so that when he got down to her father’s palace he would be quite dead. But he must not die. So she swam about among the beams and planks which strewed the surface of the sea, forgetting that they could crush her to pieces. Then she dived deeply under the dark waters, rising and falling with the waves, till at length she managed to reach the young prince, who was fast losing the power of swimming in that stormy sea. His limbs were failing him, his beautiful eyes were closed, and he would have died had not the little mermaid come to his assistance. She held his head above the water, and let the waves drift them where they would.

In the morning the storm had ceased; but of the ship not a single fragment could be seen. The sun rose up red and glowing from the water, and its beams brought back the hue of health to the prince’s cheeks; but his eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed his high, smooth forehead, and stroked back his wet hair; he seemed to her like the marble statue in her little garden, and she kissed him again, and wished that he might live. Presently they came in sight of land; she saw lofty blue mountains, on which the white snow rested as if a flock of swans were lying upon them. Near the coast were beautiful green forests, and close by stood a large building, whether a church or a convent she could not tell. Orange and citron trees grew in the garden, and before the door stood lofty palms. The sea here formed a little bay, in which the water was quite still, but very deep; so she swam with the handsome prince to the beach, which was covered with fine, white sand, and there she laid him in the warm sunshine, taking care to raise his head higher than his body. Then bells sounded in the large white building, and a number of young girls came into the garden. The little mermaid swam out farther from the shore and placed herself between some high rocks that rose out of the water; then she covered her head and neck with the foam of the sea so that her little face might not be seen, and watched to see what would become of the poor prince. She did not wait long before she saw a young girl approach the spot where he lay. She seemed frightened at first, but only for a moment; then she fetched a number of people, and the mermaid saw that the prince came to life again, and smiled upon those who stood round him. But to her he sent no smile; he knew not that she had saved him. This made her very unhappy, and when he was led away into the great building, she dived down sorrowfully into the water, and returned to her father’s castle. She had always been silent and thoughtful, and now she was more so than ever. Her sisters asked her what she had seen during her first visit to the surface of the water; but she would tell them nothing. Many an evening and morning did she rise to the place where she had left the prince. She saw the fruits in the garden ripen till they were gathered, the snow on the tops of the mountains melt away; but she never saw the prince, and therefore she returned home, always more sorrowful than before. It was her only comfort to sit in her own little garden, and fling her arm round the beautiful marble statue which was like the prince; but she gave up tending her flowers, and they grew in wild confusion over the paths, twining their long leaves and stems round the branches of the trees, so that the whole place became dark and gloomy. At length she could bear it no longer, and told one of her sisters all about it. Then the others heard the secret, and very soon it became known to two mermaids whose intimate friend happened to know who the prince was. She had also seen the festival on board ship, and she told them where the prince came from, and where his palace stood.

“Come, little sister,” said the other princesses; then they entwined their arms and rose up in a long row to the surface of the water, close by the spot where they knew the prince’s palace stood. It was built of bright yellow shining stone, with long flights of marble steps, one of which reached quite down to the sea. Splendid gilded cupolas rose over the roof, and between the pillars that surrounded the whole building stood life-like statues of marble. Through the clear crystal of the lofty windows could be seen noble rooms, with costly silk curtains and hangings of tapestry; while the walls were covered with beautiful paintings which were a pleasure to look at. In the centre of the largest saloon a fountain threw its sparkling jets high up into the glass cupola of the ceiling, through which the sun shone down upon the water and upon the beautiful plants growing round the basin of the fountain. Now that she knew where he lived, she spent many an evening and many a night on the water near the palace. She would swim much nearer the shore than any of the others ventured to do; indeed once she went quite up the narrow channel under the marble balcony, which threw a broad shadow on the water. Here she would sit and watch the young prince, who thought himself quite alone in the bright moonlight. She saw him many times of an evening sailing in a pleasant boat, with music playing and flags waving. She peeped out from among the green rushes, and if the wind caught her long silvery-white veil, those who saw it believed it to be a swan, spreading out its wings. On many a night, too, when the fishermen, with their torches, were out at sea, she heard them relate so many good things about the doings of the young prince, that she was glad she had saved his life when he had been tossed about half-dead on the waves. And she remembered that his head had rested on her bosom, and how heartily she had kissed him; but he knew nothing of all this, and could not even dream of her. She grew more and more fond of human beings, and wished more and more to be able to wander about with those whose world seemed to be so much larger than her own. They could fly over the sea in ships, and mount the high hills which were far above the clouds; and the lands they possessed, their woods and their fields, stretched far away beyond the reach of her sight. There was so much that she wished to know, and her sisters were unable to answer all her questions. Then she applied to her old grandmother, who knew all about the upper world, which she very rightly called the lands above the sea.

“If human beings are not drowned,” asked the little mermaid, “can they live forever? do they never die as we do here in the sea?”

“Yes,” replied the old lady, “they must also die, and their term of life is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live to three hundred years, but when we cease to exist here we only become the foam on the surface of the water, and we have not even a grave down here of those we love. We have not immortal souls, we shall never live again; but, like the green sea-weed, when once it has been cut off, we can never flourish more. Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul which lives forever, lives after the body has been turned to dust. It rises up through the clear, pure air beyond the glittering stars. As we rise out of the water, and behold all the land of the earth, so do they rise to unknown and glorious regions which we shall never see.”

“Why have not we an immortal soul?” asked the little mermaid mournfully; “I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars.”

“You must not think of that,” said the old woman; “we feel ourselves to be much happier and much better off than human beings.”

“So I shall die,” said the little mermaid, “and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”

“No,” said the old woman, “unless a man were to love you so much that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish’s tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better, and they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs, in order to be handsome.”

Then the little mermaid sighed, and looked sorrowfully at her fish’s tail. “Let us be happy,” said the old lady, “and dart and spring about during the three hundred years that we have to live, which is really quite long enough; after that we can rest ourselves all the better. This evening we are going to have a court ball.”

It is one of those splendid sights which we can never see on earth. The walls and the ceiling of the large ball-room were of thick, but transparent crystal. May hundreds of colossal shells, some of a deep red, others of a grass green, stood on each side in rows, with blue fire in them, which lighted up the whole saloon, and shone through the walls, so that the sea was also illuminated. Innumerable fishes, great and small, swam past the crystal walls; on some of them the scales glowed with a purple brilliancy, and on others they shone like silver and gold. Through the halls flowed a broad stream, and in it danced the mermen and the mermaids to the music of their own sweet singing. No one on earth has such a lovely voice as theirs. The little mermaid sang more sweetly than them all. The whole court applauded her with hands and tails; and for a moment her heart felt quite gay, for she knew she had the loveliest voice of any on earth or in the sea. But she soon thought again of the world above her, for she could not forget the charming prince, nor her sorrow that she had not an immortal soul like his; therefore she crept away silently out of her father’s palace, and while everything within was gladness and song, she sat in her own little garden sorrowful and alone. Then she heard the bugle sounding through the water, and thought- “He is certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes depend, and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture all for him, and to win an immortal soul, while my sisters are dancing in my father’s palace, I will go to the sea witch, of whom I have always been so much afraid, but she can give me counsel and help.”

And then the little mermaid went out from her garden, and took the road to the foaming whirlpools, behind which the sorceress lived. She had never been that way before: neither flowers nor grass grew there; nothing but bare, gray, sandy ground stretched out to the whirlpool, where the water, like foaming mill-wheels, whirled round everything that it seized, and cast it into the fathomless deep. Through the midst of these crushing whirlpools the little mermaid was obliged to pass, to reach the dominions of the sea witch; and also for a long distance the only road lay right across a quantity of warm, bubbling mire, called by the witch her turfmoor. Beyond this stood her house, in the centre of a strange forest, in which all the trees and flowers were polypi, half animals and half plants; they looked like serpents with a hundred heads growing out of the ground. The branches were long slimy arms, with fingers like flexible worms, moving limb after limb from the root to the top. All that could be reached in the sea they seized upon, and held fast, so that it never escaped from their clutches. The little mermaid was so alarmed at what she saw, that she stood still, and her heart beat with fear, and she was very nearly turning back; but she thought of the prince, and of the human soul for which she longed, and her courage returned. She fastened her long flowing hair round her head, so that the polypi might not seize hold of it. She laid her hands together across her bosom, and then she darted forward as a fish shoots through the water, between the supple arms and fingers of the ugly polypi, which were stretched out on each side of her. She saw that each held in its grasp something it had seized with its numerous little arms, as if they were iron bands. The white skeletons of human beings who had perished at sea, and had sunk down into the deep waters, skeletons of land animals, oars, rudders, and chests of ships were lying tightly grasped by their clinging arms; even a little mermaid, whom they had caught and strangled; and this seemed the most shocking of all to the little princess.

She now came to a space of marshy ground in the wood, where large, fat water-snakes were rolling in the mire, and showing their ugly, drab-colored bodies. In the midst of this spot stood a house, built with the bones of shipwrecked human beings. There sat the sea witch, allowing a toad to eat from her mouth, just as people sometimes feed a canary with a piece of sugar. She called the ugly water-snakes her little chickens, and allowed them to crawl all over her bosom.

“I know what you want,” said the sea witch; “it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish’s tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have an immortal soul.” And then the witch laughed so loud and disgustingly, that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground, and lay there wriggling about. “You are but just in time,” said the witch; “for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you.”

“Yes, I will,” said the little princess in a trembling voice, as she thought of the prince and the immortal soul.

“But think again,” said the witch; “for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father’s palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves.”

“I will do it,” said the little mermaid, and she became pale as death.

“But I must be paid also,” said the witch, “and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword.”

“But if you take away my voice,” said the little mermaid, “what is left for me?”

“Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man’s heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught.”

“It shall be,” said the little mermaid.

Then the witch placed her cauldron on the fire, to prepare the magic draught.

“Cleanliness is a good thing,” said she, scouring the vessel with snakes, which she had tied together in a large knot; then she pricked herself in the breast, and let the black blood drop into it. The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible shapes that no one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw something else into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound was like the weeping of a crocodile. When at last the magic draught was ready, it looked like the clearest water. “There it is for you,” said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid’s tongue, so that she became dumb, and would never again speak or sing. “If the polypi should seize hold of you as you return through the wood,” said the witch, “throw over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers will be torn into a thousand pieces.” But the little mermaid had no occasion to do this, for the polypi sprang back in terror when they caught sight of the glittering draught, which shone in her hand like a twinkling star.

So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh, and between the rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father’s palace the torches in the ballroom were extinguished, and all within asleep; but she did not venture to go in to them, for now she was dumb and going to leave them forever, she felt as if her heart would break. She stole into the garden, took a flower from the flower-beds of each of her sisters, kissed her hand a thousand times towards the palace, and then rose up through the dark blue waters. The sun had not risen when she came in sight of the prince’s palace, and approached the beautiful marble steps, but the moon shone clear and bright. Then the little mermaid drank the magic draught, and it seemed as if a two-edged sword went through her delicate body: she fell into a swoon, and lay like one dead. When the sun arose and shone over the sea, she recovered, and felt a sharp pain; but just before her stood the handsome young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so earnestly that she cast down her own, and then became aware that her fish’s tail was gone, and that she had as pretty a pair of white legs and tiny feet as any little maiden could have; but she had no clothes, so she wrapped herself in her long, thick hair. The prince asked her who she was, and where she came from, and she looked at him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes; but she could not speak. Every step she took was as the witch had said it would be, she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives; but she bore it willingly, and stepped as lightly by the prince’s side as a soap-bubble, so that he and all who saw her wondered at her graceful-swaying movements. She was very soon arrayed in costly robes of silk and muslin, and was the most beautiful creature in the palace; but she was dumb, and could neither speak nor sing.

Beautiful female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward and sang before the prince and his royal parents: one sang better than all the others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her. This was great sorrow to the little mermaid; she knew how much more sweetly she herself could sing once, and she thought, “Oh if he could only know that! I have given away my voice forever, to be with him.”

The slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances, to the sound of beautiful music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely white arms, stood on the tips of her toes, and glided over the floor, and danced as no one yet had been able to dance. At each moment her beauty became more revealed, and her expressive eyes appealed more directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. Every one was enchanted, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling; and she danced again quite readily, to please him, though each time her foot touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.

The prince said she should remain with him always, and she received permission to sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion. He had a page’s dress made for her, that she might accompany him on horseback. They rode together through the sweet-scented woods, where the green boughs touched their shoulders, and the little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince to the tops of high mountains; and although her tender feet bled so that even her steps were marked, she only laughed, and followed him till they could see the clouds beneath them looking like a flock of birds travelling to distant lands. While at the prince’s palace, and when all the household were asleep, she would go and sit on the broad marble steps; for it eased her burning feet to bathe them in the cold sea-water; and then she thought of all those below in the deep.

Once during the night her sisters came up arm-in-arm, singing sorrowfully, as they floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and then they recognized her, and told her how she had grieved them. After that, they came to the same place every night; and once she saw in the distance her old grandmother, who had not been to the surface of the sea for many years, and the old Sea King, her father, with his crown on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her, but they did not venture so near the land as her sisters did.

As the days passed, she loved the prince more fondly, and he loved her as he would love a little child, but it never came into his head to make her his wife; yet, unless he married her, she could not receive an immortal soul; and, on the morning after his marriage with another, she would dissolve into the foam of the sea.

“Do you not love me the best of them all?” the eyes of the little mermaid seemed to say, when he took her in his arms, and kissed her fair forehead.

“Yes, you are dear to me,” said the prince; “for you have the best heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple, where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but twice, and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are like her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She belongs to the holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me instead of her; and we will never part.”

“Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life,” thought the little mermaid. “I carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands: I sat beneath the foam, and watched till the human beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves better than he loves me;” and the mermaid sighed deeply, but she could not shed tears. “He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple, therefore she will never return to the world. They will meet no more: while I am by his side, and see him every day. I will take care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his sake.”

Very soon it was said that the prince must marry, and that the beautiful daughter of a neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine ship was being fitted out. Although the prince gave out that he merely intended to pay a visit to the king, it was generally supposed that he really went to see his daughter. A great company were to go with him. The little mermaid smiled, and shook her head. She knew the prince’s thoughts better than any of the others.

“I must travel,” he had said to her; “I must see this beautiful princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose a bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling, with those expressive eyes.” And then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her long waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of human happiness and an immortal soul. “You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child,” said he, as they stood on the deck of the noble ship which was to carry them to the country of the neighboring king. And then he told her of storm and of calm, of strange fishes in the deep beneath them, and of what the divers had seen there; and she smiled at his descriptions, for she knew better than any one what wonders were at the bottom of the sea.

In the moonlight, when all on board were asleep, excepting the man at the helm, who was steering, she sat on the deck, gazing down through the clear water. She thought she could distinguish her father’s castle, and upon it her aged grandmother, with the silver crown on her head, looking through the rushing tide at the keel of the vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves, and gazed at her mournfully, wringing their white hands. She beckoned to them, and smiled, and wanted to tell them how happy and well off she was; but the cabin-boy approached, and when her sisters dived down he thought it was only the foam of the sea which he saw.

The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful town belonging to the king whom the prince was going to visit. The church bells were ringing, and from the high towers sounded a flourish of trumpets; and soldiers, with flying colors and glittering bayonets, lined the rocks through which they passed. Every day was a festival; balls and entertainments followed one another.

But the princess had not yet appeared. People said that she was being brought up and educated in a religious house, where she was learning every royal virtue. At last she came. Then the little mermaid, who was very anxious to see whether she was really beautiful, was obliged to acknowledge that she had never seen a more perfect vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately fair, and beneath her long dark eye-lashes her laughing blue eyes shone with truth and purity.

“It was you,” said the prince, “who saved my life when I lay dead on the beach,” and he folded his blushing bride in his arms. “Oh, I am too happy,” said he to the little mermaid; “my fondest hopes are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness; for your devotion to me is great and sincere.”

The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were already broken. His wedding morning would bring death to her, and she would change into the foam of the sea. All the church bells rung, and the heralds rode about the town proclaiming the betrothal. Perfumed oil was burning in costly silver lamps on every altar. The priests waved the censers, while the bride and bridegroom joined their hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid, dressed in silk and gold, held up the bride’s train; but her ears heard nothing of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy ceremony; she thought of the night of death which was coming to her, and of all she had lost in the world. On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board ship; cannons were roaring, flags waving, and in the centre of the ship a costly tent of purple and gold had been erected. It contained elegant couches, for the reception of the bridal pair during the night. The ship, with swelling sails and a favorable wind, glided away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea. When it grew dark a number of colored lamps were lit, and the sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could not help thinking of her first rising out of the sea, when she had seen similar festivities and joys; and she joined in the dance, poised herself in the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey, and all present cheered her with wonder. She had never danced so elegantly before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart. She knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince, for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she would breathe the same air with him, or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea; an eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her: she had no soul and now she could never win one. All was joy and gayety on board ship till long after midnight; she laughed and danced with the rest, while the thoughts of death were in her heart. The prince kissed his beautiful bride, while she played with his raven hair, till they went arm-in-arm to rest in the splendid tent. Then all became still on board the ship; the helmsman, alone awake, stood at the helm. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of the vessel, and looked towards the east for the first blush of morning, for that first ray of dawn that would bring her death. She saw her sisters rising out of the flood: they were as pale as herself; but their long beautiful hair waved no more in the wind, and had been cut off.

“We have given our hair to the witch,” said they, “to obtain help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish’s tail, and you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch’s scissors. Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die.” And then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank down beneath the waves.

The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent, and beheld the fair bride with her head resting on the prince’s breast. She bent down and kissed his fair brow, then looked at the sky on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam. The sun rose above the waves, and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did not feel as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun, and all around her floated hundreds of transparent beautiful beings; she could see through them the white sails of the ship, and the red clouds in the sky; their speech was melodious, but too ethereal to be heard by mortal ears, as they were also unseen by mortal eyes. The little mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs, and that she continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam. “Where am I?” asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, as the voice of those who were with her; no earthly music could imitate it.

“Among the daughters of the air,” answered one of them. “A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul.”

The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes towards the sun, and felt them, for the first time, filling with tears. On the ship, in which she had left the prince, there were life and noise; she saw him and his beautiful bride searching for her; sorrowfully they gazed at the pearly foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of her bride, and fanned the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the air to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether.

“After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom of heaven,” said she. “And we may even get there sooner,” whispered one of her companions. “Unseen we can enter the houses of men, where there are children, and for every day on which we find a good child, who is the joy of his parents and deserves their love, our time of probation is shortened. The child does not know, when we fly through the room, that we smile with joy at his good conduct, for we can count one year less of our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or a wicked child, we shed tears of sorrow, and for every tear a day is added to our time of trial!”

Storynory was three years old towards the end of 2008. As anyone who has been three years old knows, it’s a very special age to be. We asked you to tell us what your favourite stories are and why, and to send us mp3 files with your voices.

And Bertie and Natasha would like to thank everyone for listening to Storynory over the first three years. We’ve got plenty more stories for you to come.

Introduced by Natasha. Voices by you.

Update ! You didn’t send us your MP3? Don’t worry there’s still time. Miguel from Spain has sent us his voice which you can listen to here.

In Seo From Korea has sent us New Year Greetings ! … You can listen here.

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Click any picture to enlarge

Now you know what Bertie looks like Sophie Green has painted four pictures for this story. We would love to know what you think of the way Prince Bertie looks.

Most people would just love to see a mermaid – but not Prince Bertie. This is the story of why Bertie thinks that mermaids can be as dangerous as they are beautiful. It’s all because of something that happened before he was turned into a frog. One Christmas, Bertie and The Lovely Princess Beatrice went away to a tropical island. Unfortunately, the wicked step mother came too… and that was the start of their problems.

This is our longest and most ambitious Bertie story to date. We really hope that you will enjoy it.

Read by Natasha. Duration 35 minutes. Pictures copyright Sophie Green 2008.

I’m just dying to tell you about somebody I’ve just seen on the pond where prince Bertie the Frog lives. As you know, there are plenty of fish, tadpoles, frogs, swans, ducks and geese who live there . But today I saw something much more unusual. Something that you normally only find out at sea, and then only hardly ever. Do you know what it was? No, not a whale – and not even a dolphin – what I saw was -

A Mermaid

Yes, and her name was Pearl and she was sitting on little island in the middle of the pond and combing her hair and reciting a mermaid poem:

Who would be
A mermaid fair,
Singing alone,
Combing her hair
Under the sea,
In a golden curl
With a comb of pearl,
On a throne?

I would be a mermaid fair;
I would sing to myself the whole of the day;
With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair;
And still as I comb’d I would sing and say,
“Who is it loves me? who loves not me?”

All the pondlife was as entranced as I was.

Even Colin the Carp was clearly charmed by the new arrival with a fishy tail. And that’s highly unusual, because he’s an especially grumpy fish.

I said “all the pondlife” – but then I noticed that Bertie was not looking quite so pleased. In fact, he wore his expression that was said he was “jolly fed up.”

And when Sadie the Swan gasped:

“Oh My, a real mermaid, right here on our pond. Isn’t she the most wonderful creature you ever did see?”

Bertie spat out:

“No she jolly well isn’t. The very last thing we need on this pond is a mermaid. In my experience, mermaids are nothing but trouble. Why, they’re no better than sirens!”

Unfortunately the mermaid overheard Bertie and she was rather put out. She shook her little fist at him.

“Hey, you with the frog-face,” she said, “If I’m not appreciated around here I’ll pack up and go back to the seaside thank you very much.”

“And Good Riddance!” said Bertie.

And as soon as Bertie said that, there was uproar on the pond. The geese honked, the ducks quacked, and the tadpoles- well they just flipped their tails and made minuscule little splashes that hardly anyone could hear.

Colin the Carp swam straight up to Bertie’s face and said:

“Oyyyy !!! If anyone’s going to be rude and horrible around here – it’s me. That’s what I do. So you just pipe down and learn some manners, Prince Bertie the Frog.”

And then he swam up to where the mermaid was dangling her tail of silvery scales in the water and said to her:

“There there dear. Don’t be upset by that smelly old frog. He thinks he’s prince he does, but we don’t take much notice of him. If there’s anything you need, just call on me, Colin the Gallant Carp. I’m always at the service of a fair and scaly maiden.”

And poor Bertie hopped away looking very sad indeed. I went after my green friend, and when I found Bertie hiding in an old flower pot in the garden, I asked what he had against mermaids. And this what he told me.

It all happened back in the days when Bertie was still a prince and was courting the Lovely Princess Beatrice. It was winter, and Bertie’s room in the palace was very drafty and cold. One morning Bertie shivered as he slipped his toes into his slippers, and he said to himself.

“Brrr I’d like to fly away to somewhere lovely and warm this Christmas.”

And when he told this to Beatrice, she was simply thrilled at the idea of Bertie and herself on a romantic tropical island.

But her wicked stepmother wasn’t. No, not one bit. She didn’t like Bertie you see, even back then.

So the wicked stepmother thought about the best way to ruin Bertie and Beatrice’s holiday. And she came up with a simple but brilliant plan. She would come too.

Just before Christmas, the Royal Party of three flew away to an exotic tropical island – covered with palm and coconut trees, lapped by a turquoise sea as warm as a bath, and fringed with golden sand that was so hot that you had to wear flip-flops when you trod on it. They ate mango and passion fruit for breakfast, ice-cream for lunch, and fried fish for supper. In fact, it was so wonderful that even the wicked step-mother was quite happy to lie in the sun all day and take a rest from casting evil spells.

Bertie enjoyed lying on the beach and splashing in the sea with Beatrice. But after a few days he began to feel, well, just a little bit bored by such a slow life. After all, he was used to action and adventure. And on Christmas eve he decided to do something a bit more active. He decided to go wind-surfing.

She kissed him. Bertie went all red and she said - Te he he-

He hired a board with a sale on it, paddled out to sea, and tried to stand up on it. But whoops – it wasn’t as easy as it looked, and splash ! – Bertie found himself back in the water. It took him more than a few tries to get going – but a true prince never gives up – and eventually he was standing on the board with the wind in his sail and and gliding across the sea. Beatrice clapped and cheered, and the wicked step-mother pretended to be asleep. He was gathering speed and sailing further out. He tried to change direction but Wey-hey over he went, back into the sea. Bertie took a little rest before standing up again. While he holding onto the board, still in the water, he felt something ticking his feet.

“Is that a fish?” he thought “…. Or is it a shark?” And just to be on the safe side, he started to heave himself up onto the board – but he was in a bit of a rush and wooooo … back into the water he went.

A little voice said “te-he-he” and Bertie thought that perhaps he was imagining things. But he wasn’t, because when he looked up he saw that a pretty girl with red hair was sitting on his board. And then he noticed that instead of legs, she was swishing a tail with silver scales.

“Come up, there’s room for two,” she said, and she held out her hand to Bertie. When they were both sitting up on the board Bertie said

“Oh Golly Gosh, a real-live mermaid.”

And she said,

“Oh Golly gosh, a real live prince”

Kiss

And she kissed him. Bertie went all red and she said “Te he he”

And Bertie would have blushed still more had he known that back on the beach, the wicked step-mother had just handed her binoculars to Beatrice, and the princess was watching all that was happening.. She was, well, furious !

“Men ! she said. “What an earth does he see in that red-head? She’s half fish !”

But Bertie didn’t see anything in the mermaid. He just wanted to get back to Beatrice. And when the mermaid offered to swim behind the board and push him back to the beach, he gladly agreed.

She propelled him so fast that it was more like driving a motor-boat than a wind-board. When they reached the shore, the mermaid blew Bertie a couple of kisses, and then, with a flip of her tail she was gone, back into the sea.

Well I don’t need to tell you that Beatrice had a few things to say to Bertie about his rendezvous out at sea. Although she was the sweetest, most lovely princess alive, she could be cross too sometimes. She made him promise on his prince’s honour never to speak to another fishy-person again. In fact, the following day they would do what she liked doing – which was pony-riding – safely away from the salty haunts of the mermaids.

So on Christmas Day, after they had exchanged presents, the three royals went to the stables to pick some ponies. Beatrice chose a dappled one called Snuffles because he was the cutest. The wicked step-mother chose a black one, because black was her favourite colour. And Bertie was just about to choose a white pony, when the step-mother said:

“Bertie – a prince can’t go out riding on a pony like that. He’s far too tubby and short in the leg. Cut a dash. Take the Arabian horse because he looks like he can really go some.”

And she pointed to the riding instructor’s horse. He did look magnificent, and full of life and spirit. The instructor said: “Oh no Ma’am. This is a very special horse. Only I can ride him.”

“Nonsense!” Outreached the step mother. Don’t you know who you are talking to? Bertie is a prince. He can ride any horse he chooses.”

And the instructor was afraid so he reluctantly agreed to swap with Bertie.

“That’s better,” said the step mother when Bertie was in the saddle, “Now let’s ride out over the cliffs. There will be wonderful views. Maybe we can spot a dolphin, or a whale, or perhaps even a mermaid.”

And at the word “mermaid” Beatrice gave Bertie one of her crossest glances.

The riding instructor shook his head and said, “Please, if I may be so bold as to give some advice, the cliff rout is only for experienced riders.”

“Good” said the stepmother “We ARE experienced.”

And with that she pointed her black pony towards the cliffs, which were quite a way off. First they cantered over the sand dunes and through the surf of the sea – Beatrice loved that because it was terribly romantic. Of course Bertie’s pony wanted to dash out in front, but he reigned him back so that he was riding along side his princess. They cut inland, along a path that meandered in and out of the jungle, but always upwards, and by mid-morning they were out on the cliffs overlooking the sea. It was a narrow path, with the jungle on one side and the sea on the other. Sometimes they had to step over a fallen branch, and that was really scary, because the cliffs went straight down on the other side, and they wouldn’t want a horse to stumble. Then they came out to a flatter and clearer part. The sky was the truest of blues, and it was hard to say where it ended and where the sea began.

“Come on Bertie,” said the Wicked Step-mother, “I’ll race you.”

Bertie pulled in the reigns saying - Who- Whooooo - ; but the Pony would not stop. He galloped right up to the edge - and beyond !!!!

“Madam – I don’t advise” said the instructor – but she began to canter and then to gallop – and she called out “Come Scardy Cat” So Bertie kicked his horse – in a nice way to say “go”Arabian. And boy did he go. He shot past the stepmother and her black pond and sped on like an arrow to the edge of the cliffs. Bertie pulled in the reigns saying “Who- Whooooo” but the Pony would not stop. He galloped right up to the edge – and beyond !!!!

Beatrice screamed.

The Step Mother tried not to smile.

And Bertie closed his eyes : “If I’m lucky,” he thought, “And and if we land in some deep water, I might just make it out alive – but if we land on a rock, oh, that’s it. Beatrice my love – Goodbye ! ”

And he waited for the splash or the crash: But there was neither.

“This falling through the air’s taking a jolly long time,” he thought. “Am I wearing a parachute?” But he wasn’t. For when he opened his eyes, he found that he was no longer falling through the air on the back of a horse, but he was deep under water. All was blue and bubbly. And yet, he was still breathing…. and he was still riding. For the horse was no longer an Arabian Horse – but a Sea Horse.

The sea-horse seemed to know where he was going – so Bertie just sat back and let him take him there- wherever “there” was. And what a journey ! Bertie had never seen so many different colours and wonderful things in his life. Curly corral, swirling sea anemones, and shoals of strange, funny, and scary fish.

Eventually they came to a great gate studded with pearls, diamonds, and other sparkly stones. It was guarded by two fierce Mermen with multi-colored beards flowing from their faces, and three-pronged weapons in their hands. The sea horse swam straight past them and into the underwater city

Inside the walls, there were crowds of beautiful mer-people – both men and women – some riding on sea horses, some swimming in pairs, mer-boy and mer-girl, hand in hand, and others chasing each other and doing underwater somersaults. The Sea-horse took Bertie through a long pearly alleyway, and at the end they came out into a beautiful under-water garden, full of the most lovely anemones – some like flowers, others like trees. From the other side of the garden they entered a great echoing hall made of gold. At the end of the hall, up on a thrown, sat a mermaid. She had red hair and a silvery tale.

From the other side of the garden they entered a great echoing hall made of gold. At the end of the hall, up on a thrown, sat a mermaid. She had red hair and a silvery tale.

She was the same mermaid who had kissed Bertie on the wind-surfing board.

“Merry Christmas, My prince” she said. “You may dismount from your horse. Now come and sit up here beside me. There’s plenty of room for two.”

“And a Merry Christmas to you,’ said Bertie, but I’d better stay down here. My Lovely Princess Beatrice gave me an awful ticking off about what happened yesterday.”

The mermaid flipped her hair from her face. “Human Girls, are such jealous creatures. But there’s no need to be afraid. Even the wicked Step-mother can’t spy on you down here – now come, sit with me. I’m not a shark – or a sea-monster – I won’t eat you!”

And so Bertie did as she asked and sat down next to the mermaid.

“Tell me,” he said, “Am I dead or a live? Because everything that’s happened to me in the last hour has been quite impossible”.

“Tich!” said the mermaid. “This is my kingdom, I’m Princess Calypso and nothing is impossible for me – except, it seems, finding a best friend.
You know that I’m every bit as much a true princess as your Beatrice – and yet here I am, all alone and nobody to play with . I need a true prince to live with me for ever in my beautiful city under the sea.”

“Oh No!” said Bertie. “Not Me! I’m engaged to marry Beatrice”

The mermaid shook her head. “My dear prince. The Wicked Step mother will never let that happen. Look into this future-mirror and tell me: what do you see?”

And Bertie looked into the mirror – and instead of his reflection, he saw a frog sitting on a lilly leaf. The expression on the frog’s face looked, well, just a bit familiar. There was a family resemblance, you might say.

” Think again, ” said the mermaid. “For Beatrice’s Wicked Step Mother has plans for you, Prince Bertie…… The Frog”

“No, I don’t believe you. She wouldn’t dare. This mirror is nothing but a trick,” said Bertie, little knowing how wrong he was.

But Bertie soon realised that he had no way of returning to Beatrice. And so he became a prisoner of Princess Calyspo, and had to stay with her in her gilded palace. She loved to swim and dance with him, and to go riding on sea ponies. They ate sea weed and drank the milk of sea-cows. And in the evenings, the mermaid princess either combed her long red hair, or played on her harp and sang:

But at night I would wander away, away,
I would fling on each side my low-flowing locks,
And lightly vault from the throne and play
With the mermen in and out of the rocks;
We would run to and fro, and hide and seek,
On the broad sea-wolds in the [1] crimson shells,
Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea.

They spent almost a week like this – and to tell the truth – everything was so new and interesting that Bertie did not have time to be bored. . But no matter how pretty or attentive Princess Calypso might be – she was no equal to his one and only princess Beatrice.

And then, on New Years Eve, when Bertie and Princess Calypso were playing hide and seek around the sea-garden,
a Merman in an suit of armour made of lobster-shell rode into the City on his sea-horse. He went directly to the throne room to look for the princess, and when she was not there, he came out into the garden and called :

“Calypso My Lovely. It’s me, your beloved Prince Melrose, back from the War against the Crab-People of Atlantis. ”

But Calypso didn’t answer. Only Bertie said:

“Oh, Hi there.”

“And who might you be?” boomed Prince Melrose.

“Why, I’m prince Bertie – I’m just staying here, a guest of Princess Calypso.”

“A prince you say ! A guest of Princess Calypso ? Well in that case, I must fight you to the death, for the Princess is my fiance.”

“Oh no need for fighting,” said Bertie. “You can have her all to yourself. I’d be glad to be off home.”

“What ! Are you saying that my mermaid isn’t good-looking?”

“No, Not at all.”

“Isn’t she the most divine and beautiful creature under the sea?”

“Well under the sea, perhaps, but up on land….”

” Put on your armor and mount your sea-steed – for I challenge you to a jousting match.”

And just then Princess Calypso appeared from behind a coral reef and said:

“Oh How Thrilling ! A jousting match !”

But to tell you the truth, Bertie wasn’t at all thrilled. No not one bit. For he had never jousted before on the back of the sea horse.

Anyone who was anybody in Mer-City came out to see the match – which took place in a courtyard in front of the palace.

Princess Calypso sat high up on a thrown of gold, and the two princess sat astride their sea-horses before her. She kissed her sash and threw it to Prince Melrose.

“I really don’t care a bit, ” said Bertie to his rival. “I told you that I have no interest in Calypso.”

“And for that insult to my Princess, I’m going to knock you off your horse and into Kingdom Come” said Prince Melrose, and he looked like he meant it.

The heralds sounded their conchs and the Princess took up their positions at either end of the courtyard. Bertie’s sea-horse was very same one that had brought him over the cliff and down into the City of the mer-people, and he wondered how much he could trust it. But he put such thoughts out of his head, raised his lance, and looked down it to the point and Prince Melrose’s breast-plate. His horse was chaffing at the bit, and it took Bertie all his strength to reign him in. Prince Melrose was snorting even louder than his horse. There was froth on his beard. He was a sea-warrior to contend with.

Melrose came off his mount and was tumbling over and over and over through the water

Princess Calypso gave the signal – a wave of her handkerchief - and both the sea horses both knew what to do – they charged towards each other. Bertie understood it was complete madness to gallop headlong into a collision like this – both knights would be knocked senseless in the crash – and presumably Prince Melrose knew the same thing. It was just a question of who was the craziest – and who would give way at the last moment – Bertie leaned forward, to try and get his lance out a bit further and hit Prince Melrose first – his sea horse careered on – and Bertie realised that the horse as crazier than all of them put together. There was no point in reigning him in. And then Melrose and his horse swerved to the side, Bertie gave him a glancing blow with his lance – and Melrose came off his mount and was tumbling over and over and over through the water. All the Mer people gasped, the conchs sounded – And Bertie was triumphant

“Yes ” he said. ” I did it ! Or rather my, crazy horse did it for me – Na Na Na-NA NA! ”

He rode up to the Royal Box and princess Calypso offered her hand for the victor to kiss

“Bertie. You were magnificent, ” she said. “Tomorrow is New Year’s Day. It shall be our wedding day.”

“Oh no it won’t,” said Bertie. “I mean no offense, but I’ve referred before to the fact I’m going to marry Princess Beatrice.”

“NO NO NO! Shan’t Shan’t Shan’t ! Screamed Calypso. You’ll stay here with me for ever and a day !”

“Fine,” said Bertie. “It’s no problem for a prince to wait every and a day for his princess.”

But of course it was. And that night – even though the whole mer city was out partying – he wasn’t at all jolly as the clock struck twelve and announced a new year.

“Oh dear, ” said Bertie, “How many years make for ever ?”

“More than a few” said a voice, and Bertie turned round and saw that it was Prince Melrose. “You must forgive me, ” said Melrose, “I am a hot-headed warrior. A mer-man of action and few words. But I see now that you are as true to your Beatrice as I am to my Calypso. Our interests are one and the same. Come. Find your sea-horse. I will show you the way back to dry land.”

And the mer-people were too busy celebrating the new year to notice the two princess riding out a secret gate in the City Wall. They rode for about an hour, until at last Bertie’s head rose above the water and he breathed fresh air for the first time in a week. His horse was again an Arabian Horse and he swam with Bertie on his back towards the beach. Eventually Bertie rode out of the surf and onto the beach.

He found Beatrice in the tower of the palace that they had rented for the holiday. She was quietly sobbing to herself about the worst Christmas and New Year that she had ever had.

And then her prince walked in.

“There there,” he said. And at first she could not believe her own ears. Surely she was dreaming. But she wasn’t because her prince had returned.

And that’s the story of why Bertie doesn’t like Mermaids. But I suppose you are wondering what happened to Pearl the Mermaid who came to live on the pond. Well that all turned out well too. You see, the tadpoles kept on asking her all sorts of silly questions like:

“What did the sea say to the mermaid? ” the answer being, Nothing, it just waved.

And Colin the Carp kept on offering to take her out to his favourite dead fly restaurant.

And Sadie the Swan kept on asking her for her autograph.

So Pearl Decided that living on the pond wasn’t all that fun at all. And she decided to try the town swimming pool instead – and I can tell you that when she appeared on the end of the diving board, she created quite a stir.

So it all ended happily for everyone.

We present the classic story with music by Tchaikovsky from his famous ballet.

Clara and Fritz have a very special godfather who makes inventions out of clockwork  (or perhaps they are magical) and his Christmas presents are always amazing and wonderful.  This year he gives them something rather small and simple -  a nutcracker-doll in the form of a soldier.  It’s rather ugly, and soon it is broken, but Clara loves it all the same. And then it comes to life and proves himself to be a true hero.

The original book in German, “The Nutcracker and the Mouse King” was by ETA Hoffmann, who wrote it in 1816.   This is our own Storynory adaptation, with music and magic.

Read by Natasha.   Duration 28 minutes.

It was the night before Christmas.  Clarla and Fritz were sitting  by the door of the kitchen.  Their cheeks were red after throwing snowballs outside in the cold air.   Their eyes shone brighter than the candles on the Christmas tree.  They were chattering very excitedly about something.

And what were two children so excited about on Christmas Eve? You don’t have to be a genius to guess the answer to that question.  For they were talking about -

Presents.

And the presents for Clara and Fritz were wrapped up and waiting for them  on the kitchen table, just on the other side of the door.  But the children were forbidden to go through the door until it was time.  Time for presents.  And as they couldn’t see the presents, they talked about them instead.

“I bet, ” said Fritz, “That this year, Godfather Drosselmeyer has made a two entire armies of clockwork soldiers – thousands and thousands of them -  Cavalry, and infantry, and artillery – and they’ll go to war with each other and fire cannons and guns like this  BAAAMMMMM !  It is will be just like a Real Battle !”

“Oh NO! ” said Clara.  “I do hope he’s made something more pretty than that.  I think he’s made a toy theatre, with an orchestra that plays, and ballerinas  who look like swans and dance on their tip-toes. In fact, Godfather Drosselmeyer has told me himself that he had been to see the Russian dancers – and that they were the most marvelous thing he had ever seen – and that’s why I think he’s making a magic theatre for us.”

“You’re such a silly nincompoop sometimes,” said Fritz.  “Godfather Drosselmeyer doesn’t do magic.  He makes clockwork that you can wind up.”

“Oh yes he does do magic,” said Clara.  “And in any case, you’re the silly nincompoop – so there.”

And  the children chattered on, until at last the door bell rang to announce that Godfather Drosselmeyer himself had arrived at the house. The children rushed to meet him in the hall.

“Oh Godfather  do please come into the kitchen so we can open our presents,” begged Clara.

He was a funny-looking man, who wore a wig that sometimes slid half off his head.  He had a faint mustache that had never grown very bushy, and his left eye was usually half closed.  His hands and fingers were very tiny, but he was ever so-clever with them – for Fritz was right; Godfather Drosselmeyer was a watch and clock maker and one of the cleverest who ever lived.  But then perhaps Clara was right too.  Maybe, just maybe he also could do a little magic.  But in any case, his presents were always amazing and wonderful.

It took a while to gather the whole family including parents, children, aunts, uncles and godparents.  But at last it was time to open the presents. Sweets, dolls,and tin-soldiers all  emerged out of the wrapping, and even a Sultan’s palace beautifully carved and painted.  They were exciting, lovely presents – and  at last they were all opened – except that they hadn’t yet found a gift from Godfather Drosselmeyer.   Clara understood that he was keeping back an extra special surprise for them, but Fritz thought that their godfather such a strange man, that perhaps he had forgotten all about Christmas this year.  Both children were too polite to ask – but Clara gave her Godfather a gift of her own – a picture of a sugar-plum fairy that she painted herself. The old man was clearly delighted with it,  he said.

“And what have I got for dear Clara and Fritz this year?  Ah yes, I remember now. It’s here in my waistcoat pocket.”

And he pulled out a very small present – no longer than his hand.  “Which one of you two wants to open it this year?”

Fritz saw how small the present was and said : “Let Clara open it.  She’s so excited about it because she’s still a baby.”

And Clara took the present and felt it.    Yes here was its head – a little on the large size,   and here were its legs. She smiled and said:

“It’s a doll.   I bet it dances.”

And she carefully unwrapped it.

But it wasn’t just a doll.   It was nutcracker – painted to look like a soldier.  The handles were legs, in bright red trousers, and with feet in shiny boots,  and the part where you put the nuts to crack them looked like an oversized head with giant jaws. On top of its head it wore a tall fury hat.  To tell you the truth, it was rather ugly.

“Why thank you,” said Clara.

“You’re not disappointed are you?” asked Godfather Drosselmeyer.

“No,” she said. “I love the nutcracker-soldier because he’s funny.” And she gave her godfather a hug and a kiss.

But Fritz did not like the nutcracker-soldier at all.  He thought it was useless. Well almost, you could use it to crack nuts – and after dinner that’s what they did.  Clara and Fritz sat under the Christmas tree and cracked walnuts in the mouth of the soldier.

Clara wasn’t quite strong enough to break the shells, but Fritz found it easy.  Until he tried to break open an extra hard nut.  He squeezed and squeezed and squeezed  until eventually – the nutcracker broke.  One of its jaws came off, leaving the poor solider with half a mouth.

“Oh no!” Squealed Clara. “Why did you do that?”  And she grabbed the nutcracker and the broken-off piece its jaw and ran off to find their mother.

But what could her mother do? All she could do was to hug Clara and promise that Godfather Drosselmeyer would make the nutcracker as good as new in the morning.   It was funny, but now that the nutcracker-soldier was damaged,  Clara felt sorry for it, and even though it had an ugly face, she began to love it as much as if it were the most beautiful doll in the world.

And when Clara went to  lay it  under the Christmas tree,  she felt so sad that she lay down and held the broken solider closely to her.  She cried a little, and soon she fell asleep among the presents.  And if you came into the room just then, you might have thought that Clara herself was a big doll, like the others flopped under the tree.

At midnight, the 12 chimes of the grandfather clock roused Clara from her sleep.   She sat up and wondered for a  where she was.  And as she looked up she saw Godfather Drosselmeyer sitting on the very top of the tree in the place of the angel.

“Godfather !  What are you doing up there? ” she said.

But he did not answer, because he was just a doll.

And then she saw the nutcracker.  Oh, how sad it looked, lying there with a piece missing.  But then the nutcracker-soldier turned over… and it smiled at her with its broken face.

She screamed and started to run for the door.  But she had only taken a few steps when she saw that the whole floor in front of her was covered with mice  -  only they weren’t ordinary mice because they were dressed as soldiers and they had swords and rifles.   Out in front they were lead by a terrible rodent with seven heads, each with a golden crown on it.

I think that anyone can get a fright from a mouse – they are so small and squeaky, but at the same time they appear out of holes and cracks so suddenly that they catch us by surprise.  But an army of mice!  And a Seven-headed Mouse-King.  This was a terrible sight indeed !  Perhaps I don’t need to tell you that Clara let out a scream !

But before she could scream, or cry , or run,  the Nutcracker Doll rushed forward followed by his own army of dolls and tin soldiers, and the battle between the toys and the mice broke out all around Clara’s feet.   The mice squeaked and guns and cannons fired on both sides.  Clara wondered why they whole family was not awoken by the noise.  Toys and mice lay wounded on all sides, and the nutcracker was fighting  with the Mouse King.  The Mouse King was biting the nutcracker with his seven heads, but the nutracker fought on – if only he was not broken he could have caught the Mouse King in his jaws, but as it was, all he could do was to dance, jump, and kick with his long legs.   He was winning the fight with the King, but losing the battle, for he was surrounded by mice solders who caught him by the feet and started to drag him away.

“Oh no you don’t !” screamed Clara, “and she took off her shoe and threw it as hard as she could at the Mouse King.  She just missed him, but he took fright and started to run.   When the army of mice saw their king running from a giant girl and her flying shoes they turned and fled in terror. In a moment they had vanished into the cracks between the floor boards, leaving their prisoner, the nutcracker, behind them.  All the toys cheered and began to dance, until at least, when the first light came through the window they crept back into the toy box, or went back to sleep under the Christmas tree.

And Clara pulled herself back to her own room and fell into a deep sleep.

She awoke late on Christmas Morning. When she went downstairs, she found Godfather Drosselmeyer. He had already fixed the nutcracker doll so that he was as good as new …

“Thank you so much dear Godfather,” said Clara. “He’s the best present I ever had.”  And then she told him all about her strange dream.

And her Godfather put his head on one side, while he listened to her dream, and when she had finished telling him, he said.

“Interesting. Very interesting indeed. Your dream reminds me of a story.  Let me tell it too you now”

And this is the story that he told Clara.

One Christmas some bad mice crept into the Royal Palace and gobbled up all the sausage meat that was meant for the King’s special Christmas lunch.  The king was furious, and he summoned his special inventor – whose name was Drosselmeyer and who made many wonderful things.   He ordered him to make some mouse traps – which he did – and these were left in the palace kitchens.  Soon they had caught lots of mice.   The Queen of the Mice was furious – for the mice that lay in the traps were her children. A  She climbed up onto the Human Queen’s dressing room table, and just as the Queen was going to bed, the Queen Mouse said:

“So you dared to kill my children did you?   Well I’ll have my revenge, I will.   I’ll make your little Princess turn quite ugly”

The Queen screamed, and her guards rushed in to the room with drawn swords – but the Mouse Queen had disappeared behind the skirting board.

It so happened that the King and Queen had a beautiful daughter called Princess Pirlpat.  When The king heard about the threats of the Mouse-Queen, he ordered bed of the princess must be guarded by seven fierce cats so that no mouse could get near her.  But even cats must sleep. And when they were curled up and purring softly, the Queen Mouse crept past them and climbed up on to the end of Princess Pirlpat’s cot. There she said an evil magic spell, and in the morning, when she looked in the mirror, she saw that her face had been turned quite, quite ugly.  Her nose was long and had a wart on the end of it,  her eyes were small and squinty, her hair was standing up on end and would not settle down,  she had spots on her chin.  In fact, she wasn’t just ugly. She was hideous.

As you can imagine, the Queen was utterly distraught – and the King, well he was beside himself.  He summoned Drosselmeyer again and gave him just four weeks to find a cure for the princesse’s ugliness – or else.

But Drosselmeyer was an inventor, not a magician.  He did not know any spells or anti-spells.  He did not know what to do, and so he asked the Court Astrologer for his advice.  And the advice he received was that Princess Pirlpat must eat a nut called a Crakatook.  But first the Nut must be cracked by a boy who had never shaved,  and he must do it without opening his eyes, and then he must take seven steps backwards without stumbling.

Well Drosselmeyer searched the land for a Crakatook nut, and eventually, after almost four weeks were up, he found one in a small shop. He brought it before the King.

“This nut sire, ” he said, “is the cure for your daughter’s ugliness.  She must eat it.  But first the nut must be cracked by a boy who has never shaved, and he must do it with his eyes closed, and then he must take seven steps backwards without stumbling”.

The King was pleased that the cure for his daughter was so straight forward.  He made a law that that any boy who fulfilled the conditions and cured his daughter of ugliness would have the hand in marriage of the princess.

And many boys came to the palace and tried to crack the nut.  But not one could succeed.

Until one day, Drosselmeyer’s own nephew was visiting his uncle in the palace.  His face was still smooth, he had not quite reached the age when he needed to shave, and his uncle asked if he would like to try his hand at cracking the nut.

And the nephew held the nut between his teeth. And he closed his eyes.  And he cracked it. Then he took seven steps backwards, and on the seventh step — he stumbled.

And although Princess Pirlpat was cured of her ugliness, and was beautiful once more- Drosselmeyer’s nephew caught the spell – and his face became ugly.   In place of his nice kind mouth, he wore a stupid grin, and his smooth cheeks grew a white curly beard.  And his head grew too large for his shoulders. And he looked not only ugly, but stupid too.

And although the King had promised that his daughter would marry the boy who cured her,  his daughter refused to marry one who was so ugly.  And the king had to agree that it would not be proper for the princess to marry such an ugly, stupid-looking boy.

And as Drosselmeyer’s nephew went home, people pointed and laughed at him.  His teacher said he could no longer come to school because he looked so stupid.  And so he stayed at home, all alone.

And that was the story that Godfather Drosselmeyer told to Clara. And she thanked her Godfather for telling her such an interesting story, but she had to admit that it had made her feel rather sad.

That night Clara was thinking about the strange tale, and she could not fall asleep.  After a long while of laying awake, she heard a voice whispering in her ear.

It was the mouse king who had come back. And he said to her:

“Feed me your sweets, or I will bite of the head of your precious nutcracker, and I will spit it out where nobody will find it again, not even your ingenious godfather.”

And Clara was so afraid for the nutcracker that she got up and found some sweets for the Mouse king.  He gobbled them up with this seven heads in an instance, and then he demanded more. And she went down the the pantry and found some cake – and he ate all of that too – and the Christmas pudding – and the newly baked biscuits.  And still he wanted more.

“How much more shall I give you?” Asked Clara.  And the Mouse King said:

“It is for me to say when to stop.  Give me more. More I say !”

And Clara began to cry – for what would her mother say in the morning when she found that all the sweets, cake and biscuits in the house had been eaten?

And as she was crying, the Nutcracker came striding into the room.  The Mouse king turned round and said:

“Prepare to die oh Ugly One ”

but the Nutcracker bit off each of the Mouse King’s seven heads.  And soon he lay dead.

And when he had defeated his enemy, Clara picked up her hero and took him back to her room.  And instead of going to sleep they watched a wonderful show.  Toys came out to dance and sing for them all night long.  Never before had Clara seen such a lovely performance.

In the morning she could not wait to tell her mother all about what she had seen.

But when she began to explain about the seven headed mouse king and the brave little nutcracker, her mother said, “Clara – your imagination is running wild.  Don’t you realise that what you saw is just a dream?”

“But look mother,” said Clara reaching into her pocket, “Here are the seven crowns of the mouse king that the nutcracker defeated !”

“Just toys !” said her mother. “stop being silly.  Can’t you see I’m busy.”

And so clara went into the nursery and sat down and cried.

“It is true, it is true,” she said.  “And if the nutcracker was a person, not just a, well, a nutcracker, then I would love him and marry him even if he was ugly.  I would not be like that Princess Pirlpat in the story.  I would love a boy for his good heart – not for his handsome face.”

And as she said that, she heard the door bell, followed by her Godfather’s voice in the hall.  She went to see him and to tell him what she was thinking.

But there was no need. For Godfather Drosselmeyer had come with his nephew.  And his nephew was no longer ugly – but handsome and bright eyed and smiling.

For when Clara had promised to marry an ugly but good boy, she had broken the spell.  And he had regained his looks of old.   And they both knew that one day they would be married to each other and live happily ever after.

This ancient poem tells us about romance in the world of garden birds. Unfortunately the ending is rather tragic, but we hope that the gallant and charming verses will make up for that.

Robin Redbreast (also known as Cock Robin in the poem) falls in love with Jenny Wren. Her taste is very English – she is not at all “showy” in her dress – but everyone agrees that Robin and Jenny make a very fine-looking couple indeed. The couple weds and celebrates with a feast – until the Cuckoo gatecrashes the party, the sparrow draws his bow and arrow – and tragedy strikes.

Anyone who loves seeing a Robin at their window, especially at Christmas, will enjoy this poem.

Read by Natasha. Duration 10.50.

It was on a merry time,
When Jenny Wren was young,
So neatly as she danced,
And so sweetly as she sung–

Robin Redbreast lost his heart:
He was a gallant bird;
He doffed his hat to Jenny,
And thus to her he said.

“My dearest Jenny Wren,
If you will but be mine,
You shall dine on cherry pie,
And drink nice currant wine.

“I’ll dress you like a Goldfinch,
Or like a Peacock gay;
So if you’ll have me, Jenny,
Let us appoint the day.”

Jenny blushed behind her fan,
And thus declared her mind:
“Then let it be to-morrow, Bob;
I take your offer kind.

“Cherry-pie is very good;
So is currant-wine;
But I will wear my brown gown,
And never dress too fine.”

Robin rose up early,
At the break of day;
He flew to Jenny Wren’s house,
To sing a roundelay.

He met the Cock and Hen,
And bade the Cock declare,
This was his wedding-day
With Jenny Wren the fair.

The Cock then blew his horn,
To let the neighbors know
This was Robin’s wedding-day,
And they might see the show.

And first came Parson Rook,
With his spectacles and band;
And one of Mother Hubbard’s books
He held within his hand.

Then followed him the Lark,
For he could sweetly sing;
And he was to be clerk
At Cock Robin’s wedding.

He sang of Robin’s love
For little Jenny Wren;
And when he came unto the end,
Then he began again.

The Goldfinch came on next,
To give away the bride;
The Linnet, being bridesmaid,
Walked by Jenny’s side.

And as she was a-walking,
Said, “Upon my word,
I think that your Cock Robin
Is a very pretty bird.”

The blackbird and the Thrush,
And charming Nightingale,
Whose sweet “jug” sweetly echoes
Through every grove and dale;

The sparrow and Tomtit,
And many more were there;
All came to see the wedding
Of Jenny Wren so fair.

The Bullfinch walked by Robin,
And thus to him did say:
“Pray mark, friend Robin Redbreast,
That Goldfinch dressed so gay;

“What though her gay apparel
Becomes her very well;
Yet Jenny’s modest dress and look
Must bear away the bell !”

Then came the bride and bridegroom;
Quite plainly was she dressed;
And blushed so much, her cheeks were
As red as Robin’s breast.

But Robin cheered her up;
“My pretty Jen,” said he,
” We’re going to be married,
And happy we shall be.”

“Oh, then,” says Parson Rook,
“Who gives this maid away ?”
“I do,”says the Goldfinch,
“And her fortune I will pay;

“Here’s a bag of grain of many sorts,
And other things beside;
Now happy be the bridegroom,
And happy be the bride !”

“And will you have her, Robin,
To be your wedded wife ?”
“Yes, I will,” says Robin,
And love her all my life.”

“And you will have him, Jenny,
Your husband now to be ?”
“Yes, I will,” says Jenny,
And love him heartily.”

Then on her finger fair
Cock Robin put the ring;
“You’re marrried now,” says Parson Rook;
While the Lark aloud did sing:

“Happy be the bridegroom,
And happy be the bride!
And ,nay not man, nor bird, nor beast
This happy pair divide.”

The birds were asked to dine;
Not Jenny’s friends alone,
But every pretty songster
That had Cock Robin known.

They had ;cherry-pie,
Besides some currant-wine,
And every guest brought something,
That sumptuous they might dine.

Now they all sat or stood,
To eat and to drink;
And every one said what,
He happened to think.

They each took a bumper,
And drank to the pair,
Cock Robin the bridegroom,
And Jenny Wren the fair.

The dinner things removed,
They all began to sing;
And soon they made the place
Near a mile around to ring.

The concert it was fine;
And every bird tried
Who best should sing for Robin,
And Jenny Wren the bride,

When in came the Cuckoo
And made a great rout;
He caught hold of Jenny,
And pulled her about.

Cock Robin was angry,
And so was the Sparrow,
Who fetched in a hurry
His bow and his arrow.

His aim then he took,
But he took it not right;
His skill was not good,
Or he shot in a fright;

For the cuckoo he missed,
But Cock Robin he killed!—
And all the birds mourned
That his blood was so spilled.

Who killed Cock Robin?
“I,” said the Sparrow,
“With my bow and arrow,”
I killed Cock Robin.”

Who saw him die
“I” said the Fly,
“With my little eye,
And I saw him die.”

Who caught his blood?
“I,” said the Fish,
“With my little dish,
And I caught his blood.”

Who made his shroud?
“I,” said the Beetle,
“With my little needle,
And I made his shroud.

Who shall dig his grave ?
“I,” said the Owl,
“With my spade and show’l,
And I’ll dig his grave.”

Who’ll be the parson ?
“I” said the Rook,
“With my little book,
And I’ll be the parson.”

Who’ll be the clerk ?
“I,” said the Lark,
“If it’s not in the dark,
And I’ll be the clerk.”

Who’ll carry him to the grave ?
“I,” said the Kite,
“If tis not in the night,
And I’ll carry him to his grave.”

Who’ll be the chief mourner ?
“I,” said the Dove,
“I mourn for my love,
And I’ll be chief mourner.”

Who’ll carry the link ?
“I,” said the Linniet,
“I’ll fetch it in a minute,
And I’ll carry the link.”

Who’ll sing a psalm ?
“I,” said the Thrush,
As she sat in a bush,
“And I’ll sing a psalm.”

And who’ll toll the bell ?
“I,” said the Bull,
“Because I can’ pull ;”
And so, Cock Robin, farewell.