Anger is often an unpleasant emotion, and it can be destructive—but it doesn’t have to be. How do we learn to harness our anger to build the world up instead of tearing it down? Here are ten of our picks for helping kids discover the positive power of anger. And, let’s be honest, the adults could use a refresher too.

‘The Angry Dragon‘ by Michael Gordon

“Why are dragons so angry? It turns out they might just be a little misunderstood. Kids will learn from this book that being angry doesn’t make you a bad person and that they can use it to help them get through disappointment and other difficult emotions.” Storyberries

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Angry Octopus by Lori Lite and Max Stasuyk

“Directed at kids ages 5-11, this book uses concepts of belly-breathing and self-calming techniques to provide a host of helpful tips for taking control of emotions before they take control of you. With tools for the mind and body, it will become a cherished part of any feelings-book library.” Storyberries

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Tiger Has a Tantrum by Sue Graves and Trevor Denton

“Tiger is in a terrible mood and it isn’t good news for any of his friends. With the help of a kind guiding influence, though, he might just learn to get his anger on a leash. A vividly rendered story, perfect for kids with a quick temper.” Storyberries

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Pause Power by Jennifer Law and Brian Martin

“Never underestimate the power of the pause! This fun and vibrant book teaches children about the “reset button” that can help them reframe the way they look at frustrating situations. Before they know it, they’ll be able to take the buttons that sometimes get pushed, and turn them into ways to reset and regroup, instead of react.” Storyberries

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Angry Cookie by Laura Dockrill and Maria Karipidou

“Can you help the angry little chocolate-chip cookie get back to smiling after a day that would test any pastry’s patience? With adorable illustrations and relatable situations, the author teaches kids that anyone can get angry—and learn how to overcome anger.” Storyberries

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The Angry Little Puffin by Timothy Young

“Wouldn’t you be pretty peeved if you kept getting mistaken for a penguin when you were in fact a puffin? This is the story of a fed-up puffin who finds that even the kindness and understanding of one person can change his world around. A charming reminder to children and adults of the immense power of a single act of generosity—even simply listening!” Storyberries

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The Angry Elephant by Hannah Kelly

“How do we deal with an angry elephant? Sometimes our anger can feel as big as an elephant. But we can tame it, and Hannah Kelly’s patient, lovingly drawn book is here to walk us through the process.” Storyberries

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My Body Sends a Signal by Natalia Maguire and Anastasia Zababashkina

“Our bodies alert us to all sorts of emotions—but how do we translate those signals into action? And how do we choose the actions that will be best for us? With vibrant illustrations, plus accompanying activities like feeling cards and coloring pages, this book will help kids and adults get in touch with their emotional sides.” Storyberries

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When I’m Feeling Angry by Tracey Moroney

“This comfortingly illustrated book guides kids through a series of actions for calming themselves down when anger seems about to overtake everything else. But really, it’s a fundamentally useful reminder for anyone who picks it up.” Storyberries

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Anh’s Anger by Gail Silver and Christiane Kromer

“What to do if the idea of going to sit at the dinner table makes you furious? It might be worth a try to go to your room and sit with that anger. This lovingly rendered story creates a blueprint for acknowledging, experiencing, and moving past feelings that might at first seem uncontrollable.” Storyberries

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Storyberries Books On Anger

Angry Little Dinosaur

Fred the dinosaur feels very frustrated. He can’t manage to tie his shoelaces. Fred becomes more frustrated and angry until it seems like everything is wrong . His Mum teaches him how to slow down, relax his body and breathe more calmly. Once Fred feels calm again, he enjoys himself once more!

Nin Wants to Get Dressed

It is Nin’s first day at school. She feels sad – she wants someone to help her put her new uniform on, but everyone is too busy. Nin patiently tries to put it on herself but it’s hard and she gets in a pickle! Her family appreciate her efforts and come to her aid. A delightful book for showing an alternative to getting angry when we feel frustrated.

No!

One day, Nosisi is in a NO mood. She wants to say “no” to everyone – that is, until she is offered an ice cream…Nosisi then decides that perhaps saying “yes” can be fun too!

The post Top 10 Books for When You’re Feeling Angry first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

© Storyberries 2021

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LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORY ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Anger, Feelings, Mindfulness

1. Fred feels very angry that he can’t find his shoes. Why do you think it’s hard to think sometimes, when we feel angry?

2. When Fred feels angry, everything feels worse. Even the little things feel like big things! How did Fred’s parents help him to stop everything piling up on his anger?

3. What do you like to do to help you feel calm? Do you have a nice place you can go to, in your imagination? What kinds of things would be in your nice place?

Short Story for Kids written by Jade Maitre

Illustrations by Win Yi Ng

Book design by Jade Maitre

Music Video from zapsplat.com

About the illustrator: Hi, I’m Win Yi ! I’m a children’s book illustrator based in Malaysia, and I graduated with a bachelor of Fine Art from Taiwan. I’ve been collaborating with clients from different countries since 2019. If you like my illustrations, you can contact me at winying729 @ gmail . com

The post Angry Little Dinosaur first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

Long, long ago no one but animals lived upon the earth and sometimes they would hold great Councils. The Bear would be there,—the Bear, with his sharp claws, and his shiny coat, and his big, big growl; and the Deer, who was so proud of his antlers, for they came out of his head like trees; and all the animals, and all the birds would be present at the great Council. Little Turtle would go there, too. She was so small that she did not like to speak to anyone. But, she often wished:

“Oh, if only I could do some good deed! What could such a little creature as I do? Anyway,” she thought, “I’ll be on the watch,—and it may be that some time there will be a chance for me to do something for my people.”

Little Turtle never forgot about that good deed she had planned to perform. One day the opportunity came to her. She was at the Council, and the animals were saying:

“It is so dark here, we have only the Snowlight to see by. It is gloomy, too. Couldn’t we make a light and place it up in Skyland?” they asked.

Little Turtle said: “Please let me go up to Skyland? I am sure that I can make a light shine up there.”

They said that she might go, and they called Dark Cloud to carry Little Turtle there. Dark Cloud came.

Little Turtle saw that Thunder and Lightning were in Dark Cloud; and when she reached Skyland, she made the Sun from Lightning, and placed him in the Sky.

The Sun could not move, because he had no life, and all the world underneath was too hot to live upon.

“What shall we do?” the animals asked one another. Someone said:

“We must give the Sun life and spirit, and then he will move about in the sky.”

So they gave him life and spirit, and he moved about in the sky. Mud Turtle dug a hole through the earth for the Sun to travel through. Little Turtle made a wife for him out of some of the Lightning from Dark Cloud. She was the Moon. Their little children were the stars that played all over Skyland.

All this time, Little Turtle was taking care of Skyland. The animals below called her, She Who Takes Care of Skyland. And she was very happy, because she was doing her good deed.

Some of the animals became jealous of Little Turtle,—especially the Deer, who was so proud of his antlers. One day, Deer said to Rainbow:

“Rainbow, please take me up to Skyland where Little Turtle lives.”

Rainbow did not know whether it would be quite right to take Deer up to Little Turtle’s house, but he said:

“In the winter, when I rest upon the big mountain by the lake, then I will take you.”

This made the Deer glad. He did not tell anyone about the promise of Rainbow. All winter long, he waited and watched near the big mountain for Rainbow to come; but Rainbow did not come to him. In the spring, one day, Deer saw Rainbow beside the lake.

“Rainbow,” he asked, “why did you not keep your promise to me?” Rainbow made him another promise.

“Come to me by the lake, when you see me in the thick fog,” he said.

The Deer kept this promise a secret, too; because he hoped to go to Skyland alone. Day after day, he waited beside the lake. One day, when the thick fog was rising from the lake,—Deer saw the beautiful Rainbow.

Rainbow made an arch from the lake to the big mountain. Then a shining light fell about the Deer, and he saw a straight path shining with all the colours of the Rainbow. It led through a great forest.

“Follow the beautiful path through the great forest,” Rainbow said.

The Deer entered the shining pathway, and it led him straight to the house of Little Turtle in Skyland. And the Deer went about Skyland everywhere.

When the great Council met, Deer was not there. “The Deer is not come to the Council, where is the Deer?” they asked.

Hawk flew about the air everywhere, and could not find Deer in the air. Wolf searched the deep woods, and could not find Deer in the forests.

When Dark Cloud brought Little Turtle to the Council, Little Turtle told them how Rainbow had made a path for Deer to climb to Skyland. “There it is now,” said Little Turtle.

The animals looked over the lake, and they saw, there, the beautiful pathway. They had never seen it before.

“Why did not Deer wait for us? All of us should have gone to Skyland together,” they said.

Now, Brown Bear determined to follow that pathway the very next time he should see it.

One day when he was all alone, near the lake, he saw the shining path that led through the great forest. Soon he found himself in Skyland. The first person he met was the Deer.

“Why did you leave us? Why did you go to the land of Little Turtle without us? Why did you not wait for us?” he asked the Deer.

The Deer shook his antlers angrily. “What right have you to question me? No one but the Wolf may question why I came. I will kill you for your impertinence.”

The Deer arched his neck; he poised his antlered head; his eyes blazed with fury.

The Bear was not afraid. He stood up; his claws were sharp and strong; his hoarse growls sounded all over Skyland.

The battle of the Deer and the Bear shook Skyland. The animals looked up from the earth.

“Who will go? Who will go to Skyland and forbid the Deer to fight?”

“I will go,” said the Wolf. “I can run faster than anyone.” So Wolf ran along the shining pathway, and in a little while he had reached the place of the battle. Wolf made Deer stop fighting. Deer’s antlers were covered with blood, and when he shook them, great drops fell down, down through the air, and splashed against all the leaves of the forest. And the leaves became a beautiful red.

So, in the autumn, when you see the leaves turning red, you may know that it is because in the long ago, the Deer and the Bear fought a great battle in Skyland, in the land of Little Turtle who was doing her good deed.

Fairy tale written by Emelyn Newcomb Partridge, edited by Ada M. Skinner and Eleanor L. Skinner

Let’s Chat About The Stories ~ Ideas for Talking With Kids

Co-operation, Independent Thinking, Anger

1. Do you think there was any reason for the deer and bear to fight? What is another way that they might have sorted out their differences?

2. The Deer reacted with anger to the Bear’s questioning. Can you think of why Deer might have felt so angry when Bear questioned him?

3. In what kinds of situations do we often get most angry? Is it useful?

The post Why The Autumn Leaves Are Red first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

Upon this Christmas morn,

I like to check that Santa’s been

Before the rising dawn.

I sneak and peak around the tree

No, something’s not quite right.

My stocking’s vanished, where’s it gone?

I stuck it up last night…

With skill I scan the fireplace

And what do I detect?

Small finger prints amidst the dust

My brother, I suspect!

I softly creep into his room

He’s snoring with a smile.

I scan the scene for hidden clues

Search through his laundry pile –

Some oranges come rolling out

I scavenge like a fox.

And spy our stockings hidden in

His mound of smelly socks.

That naughty, greedy, cheeky thief!

I snatch my stocking back

And stuff his full with lumps of coal

My sweet- revenge attack!

POEMS FOR KIDS WRITTEN BY PHOEBE COGHLAN

© Phoebe Coghlan 2018

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE POEM ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Anger, Feelings

1. Why do you think people sometimes take revenge on others? Do you think it helps them to feel better? Why or why not?

The post The Missing Stocking first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

A king and queen once upon a time reigned in a country a great way off, where there were in those days fairies. Now this king and queen had plenty of money, and plenty of fine clothes to wear, and plenty of good things to eat and drink, and a coach to ride out in every day: but though they had been married many years they had no children, and this grieved them very much indeed.

But one day as the queen was walking by the side of the river, at the bottom of the garden, she saw a poor little fish, that had thrown itself out of the water, and lay gasping and nearly dead on the bank. Then the queen took pity on the little fish, and threw it back again into the river; and before it swam away it lifted its head out of the water and said,

‘I know what your wish is, and it shall be fulfilled, in return for your kindness to me—you will soon have a daughter.’

What the little fish had foretold soon came to pass; and the queen had a little girl, so very beautiful that the king could not cease looking on it for joy, and said he would hold a great feast and make merry, and show the child to all the land. So he asked his kinsmen, and nobles, and friends, and neighbours.

But the queen said,

‘I will have the fairies also, that they might be kind and good to our little daughter.’

Now there were thirteen fairies in the kingdom; but as the king and queen had only twelve golden dishes for them to eat out of, they were forced to leave one of the fairies without asking her. So twelve fairies came, each with a high red cap on her head, and red shoes with high heels on her feet, and a long white wand in her hand: and after the feast was over they gathered round in a ring and gave all their best gifts to the little princess. One gave her goodness, another beauty, another riches, and so on till she had all that was good in the world.

Just as eleven of them had done blessing her, a great noise was heard in the courtyard, and word was brought that the thirteenth fairy was come, with a black cap on her head, and black shoes on her feet, and a broomstick in her hand: and presently up she came into the dining-hall.

Now, as she had not been asked to the feast she was very angry, and scolded the king and queen very much, and set to work to take her revenge. So she cried out,

‘The king’s daughter shall, in her fifteenth year, be wounded by a spindle, and fall down dead.’

Then the twelfth of the friendly fairies, who had not yet given her gift, came forward, and said that the evil wish must be fulfilled, but that she could soften its mischief; so her gift was, that the king’s daughter, when the spindle wounded her, should not really die, but should only fall asleep for a hundred years.

However, the king hoped still to save his dear child altogether from the threatened evil; so he ordered that all the spindles in the kingdom should be bought up and burnt. But all the gifts of the first eleven fairies were in the meantime fulfilled; for the princess was so beautiful, and well behaved, and good, and wise, that everyone who knew her loved her.

It happened that, on the very day she was fifteen years old, the king and queen were not at home, and she was left alone in the palace. So she roved about by herself, and looked at all the rooms and chambers, till at last she came to an old tower, to which there was a narrow staircase ending with a little door. In the door there was a golden key, and when she turned it the door sprang open, and there sat an old lady spinning away very busily.

‘Why, how now, good mother,’ said the princess; ‘what are you doing there?’

‘Spinning,’ said the old lady, and nodded her head, humming a tune, while buzz! went the wheel.

‘How prettily that little thing turns round!’ said the princess, and took the spindle and began to try and spin. But scarcely had she touched it, before the fairy’s prophecy was fulfilled; the spindle wounded her, and she fell down lifeless on the ground.

However, she was not dead, but had only fallen into a deep sleep; and the king and the queen, who had just come home, and all their court, fell asleep too; and the horses slept in the stables, and the dogs in the court, the pigeons on the house-top, and the very flies slept upon the walls. Even the fire on the hearth left off blazing, and went to sleep; the jack stopped, and the spit that was turning about with a goose upon it for the king’s dinner stood still; and the cook, who was at that moment pulling the kitchen-boy by the hair to give him a box on the ear for something he had done amiss, let him go, and both fell asleep; the butler, who was slyly tasting the ale, fell asleep with the jug at his lips: and thus everything stood still, and slept soundly.

A large hedge of thorns soon grew round the palace, and every year it became higher and thicker; till at last the old palace was surrounded and hidden, so that not even the roof or the chimneys could be seen. But there went a report through all the land of the beautiful sleeping Briar Rose (for so the king’s daughter was called): so that, from time to time, several kings’ sons came, and tried to break through the thicket into the palace. This, however, none of them could ever do; for the thorns and bushes laid hold of them, as it were with hands; and there they stuck fast, and died wretchedly.

After many, many years there came a king’s son into that land: and an old man told him the story of the thicket of thorns; and how a beautiful palace stood behind it, and how a wonderful princess, called Briar Rose, lay in it asleep, with all her court. He told, too, how he had heard from his grandfather that many, many princes had come, and had tried to break through the thicket, but that they had all stuck fast in it, and died.

Then the young prince said, ‘All this shall not frighten me; I will go and see this Briar Rose.’

The old man tried to hinder him, but he was bent upon going.

Now that very day the hundred years were ended; and as the prince came to the thicket he saw nothing but beautiful flowering shrubs, through which he went with ease, and they shut in after him as thick as ever. Then he came at last to the palace, and there in the court lay the dogs asleep; and the horses were standing in the stables; and on the roof sat the pigeons fast asleep, with their heads under their wings. And when he came into the palace, the flies were sleeping on the walls; the spit was standing still; the butler had the jug of ale at his lips, going to drink a draught; the maid sat with a fowl in her lap ready to be plucked; and the cook in the kitchen was still holding up her hand, as if she was going to beat the boy.

Then he went on still farther, and all was so still that he could hear every breath he drew; till at last he came to the old tower, and opened the door of the little room in which Briar Rose was; and there she lay, fast asleep on a couch by the window. She looked so beautiful that he could not take his eyes off her, so he stooped down and gave her a kiss.

But the moment he kissed her she opened her eyes and awoke, and smiled upon him; and they went out together; and soon the king and queen also awoke, and all the court, and gazed on each other with great wonder. And the horses shook themselves, and the dogs jumped up and barked; the pigeons took their heads from under their wings, and looked about and flew into the fields; the flies on the walls buzzed again; the fire in the kitchen blazed up; round went the jack, and round went the spit, with the goose for the king’s dinner upon it; the butler finished his draught of ale; the maid went on plucking the fowl; and the cook gave the boy the box on his ear.

And then the prince and Briar Rose were married, and the wedding feast was given; and they lived happily together all their lives long.

SHORT STORY FOR CHILDREN WRITTEN BY THE BROTHERS GRIMM

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Anger

1. The thirteenth fairy is angry there is not a place for her, and so casts a terrible spell on the baby Briar Rose. Do you think this was fair of her? Why or why not?

2. If the thirteenth fairy’s feelings were hurt, what are some other things she might have done to help her feel less angry?

The post Briar Rose first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

“What we shall eat to-morrow, I haven’t the slightest idea!” said Widow Wang to her eldest son, as he started out one morning in search of work.

“Oh, the gods will provide. I’ll find a few coppers somewhere,” replied the boy, trying to speak cheerfully, although in his heart he also had not the slightest idea in which direction to turn.

The winter had been a hard one: extreme cold, deep snow, and violent winds. The Wang house had suffered greatly. The roof had fallen in, weighed down by heavy snow. Then a hurricane had blown a wall over, and the son Ming-li, up all night and exposed to a bitter cold wind, had caught pneumonia. Long days of illness followed, with the spending of extra money for medicine. All their scant savings had soon melted away, and at the shop where Ming-li had been employed his place was filled by another. When at last he arose from his sick-bed he was too weak for hard labour and there seemed to be no work in the neighbouring villages for him to do. Night after night he came home, trying not to be discouraged, but in his heart feeling the deep pangs of sorrow that come to the good son who sees his mother suffering for want of food and clothing.

“Bless his good heart!” said the poor widow after he had gone. “No mother ever had a better boy. I hope he is right in saying the gods will provide. It has been getting so much worse these past few weeks that it seems now as if my stomach were as empty as a rich man’s brain. Why, even the rats have deserted our cottage, and there’s nothing left for poor Tabby, while old Blackfoot is nearly dead from starvation.”

When the old woman referred to the sorrows of her pets, her remarks were answered by a pitiful mewing and woebegone barking from the corner where the two unfed creatures were curled up together trying to keep warm.

Just then there was a loud knocking at the gate. When the widow Wang called out, “Come in!” she was surprised to see an old bald-headed priest standing in the doorway. “Sorry, but we have nothing,” she went on, feeling sure the visitor had come in search of food. “We have fed on scraps these two weeks—on scraps and scrapings—and now we are living on the memories of what we used to have when my son’s father was living. Our cat was so fat she couldn’t climb to the roof. Now look at her. You can hardly see her, she’s so thin. No, I’m sorry we can’t help you, friend priest, but you see how it is.”

“I didn’t come for alms,” cried the clean-shaven one, looking at her kindly, “but only to see what I could do to help you. The gods have listened long to the prayers of your devoted son. They honour him because he has not waited till you die to do sacrifice for you. They have seen how faithfully he has served you ever since his illness, and now, when he is worn out and unable to work, they are resolved to reward him for his virtue. You likewise have been a good mother and shall receive the gift I am now bringing.”

“What do you mean?” faltered Mrs. Wang, hardly believing her ears at hearing a priest speak of bestowing mercies. “Have you come here to laugh at our misfortunes?”

“By no means. Here in my hand I hold a tiny golden beetle which you will find has a magic power greater than any you ever dreamed of. I will leave this precious thing with you, a present from the god of filial conduct.”

“Yes, it will sell for a good sum,” murmured the other, looking closely at the trinket, “and will give us millet for several days. Thanks, good priest, for your kindness.”

“But you must by no means sell this golden beetle, for it has the power to fill your stomachs as long as you live.”

The widow stared in open-mouthed wonder at the priest’s surprising words.

“Yes, you must not doubt me, but listen carefully to what I tell you. Whenever you wish food, you have only to place this ornament in a kettle of boiling water, saying over and over again the names of what you want to eat. In three minutes take off the lid, and there will be your dinner, smoking hot, and cooked more perfectly than any food you have ever eaten.”

“May I try it now?” she asked eagerly.

“As soon as I am gone.”

When the door was shut, the old woman hurriedly kindled a fire, boiled some water, and then dropped in the golden beetle, repeating these words again and again:

“Dumplings, dumplings, come to me,
I am thin as thin can be.
Dumplings, dumplings, smoking hot,
Dumplings, dumplings, fill the pot.”

Would those three minutes never pass? Could the priest have told the truth? Her old head was nearly wild with excitement as clouds of steam rose from the kettle. Off came the lid! She could wait no longer. Wonder of wonders! There before her unbelieving eyes was a pot, full to the brim of pork dumplings, dancing up and down in the bubbling water, the best, the most delicious dumplings she had ever tasted. She ate and ate till there was no room left in her greedy stomach, and then she feasted the cat and the dog until they were ready to burst.

“Good fortune has come at last,” whispered Blackfoot, the dog, to Whitehead, the cat, as they lay down to sun themselves outside. “I fear I couldn’t have held out another week without running away to look for food. I don’t know just what’s happened, but there’s no use questioning the gods.”

Mrs. Wang fairly danced for joy at the thought of her son’s return and of how she would feast him.

“Poor boy, how surprised he will be at our fortune—and it’s all on account of his goodness to his old mother.”

When Ming-li came, with a dark cloud overhanging his brow, the widow saw plainly that disappointment was written there.

“Come, come, lad!” she cried cheerily, “clear up your face and smile, for the gods have been good to us and I shall soon show you how richly your devotion has been rewarded.” So saying, she dropped the golden beetle into the boiling water and stirred up the fire.

Thinking his mother had gone stark mad for want of food, Ming-li stared solemnly at her. Anything was preferable to this misery. Should he sell his last outer garment for a few pennies and buy millet for her? Blackfoot licked his hand comfortingly, as if to say, “Cheer up, master, fortune has turned in our favour.” Whitehead leaped upon a bench, purring like a sawmill.

Ming-li did not have long to wait. Almost in the twinkling of an eye he heard his mother crying out,

“Sit down at the table, son, and eat these dumplings while they are smoking hot.”

Could he have heard correctly? Did his ears deceive him? No, there on the table was a huge platter full of the delicious pork dumplings he liked better than anything else in all the world, except, of course, his mother.

“Eat and ask no questions,” counselled the Widow Wang. “When you are satisfied I will tell you everything.”

Wise advice! Very soon the young man’s chopsticks were twinkling like a little star in the verses. He ate long and happily, while his good mother watched him, her heart overflowing with joy at seeing him at last able to satisfy his hunger. But still the old woman could hardly wait for him to finish, she was so anxious to tell him her wonderful secret.

“Here, son!” she cried at last, as he began to pause between mouthfuls, “look at my treasure!” And she held out to him the golden beetle.

“First tell me what good fairy of a rich man has been filling our hands with silver?”

“That’s just what I am trying to tell you,” she laughed, “for there was a fairy here this afternoon sure enough, only he was dressed like a bald priest. That golden beetle is all he gave me, but with it comes a secret worth thousands of cash to us.”

The youth fingered the trinket idly, still doubting his senses, and waiting impatiently for the secret of his delicious dinner. “But, mother, what has this brass bauble to do with the dumplings, these wonderful pork dumplings, the finest I ever ate?”

“Baubles indeed! Brass! Fie, fie, my boy! You little know what you are saying. Only listen and you shall hear a tale that will open your eyes.”

She then told him what had happened, and ended by setting all of the left-over dumplings upon the floor for Blackfoot and Whitehead, a thing her son had never seen her do before, for they had been miserably poor and had had to save every scrap for the next meal.

Now began a long period of perfect happiness. Mother, son, dog and cat—all enjoyed themselves to their hearts’ content. All manner of new foods such as they had never tasted were called forth from the pot by the wonderful little beetle. Bird-nest soup, shark’s fins, and a hundred other delicacies were theirs for the asking, and soon Ming-li regained all his strength, but, I fear, at the same time grew somewhat lazy, for it was no longer necessary for him to work. As for the two animals, they became fat and sleek and their hair grew long and glossy.

But alas! according to a Chinese proverb, pride invites sorrow. The little family became so proud of their good fortune that they began to ask friends and relatives to dinner that they might show off their good meals. One day a Mr. and Mrs. Chu came from a distant village. They were much astonished at seeing the high style in which the Wangs lived. They had expected a beggar’s meal, but went away with full stomachs.

“It’s the best stuff I ever ate,” said Mr. Chu, as they entered their own tumble-down house.

“Yes, and I know where it came from,” exclaimed his wife. “I saw Widow Wang take a little gold ornament out of the pot and hide it in a cupboard. It must be some sort of charm, for I heard her mumbling to herself about pork and dumplings just as she was stirring up the fire.”

“A charm, eh? Why is it that other people have all the luck? It looks as if we were doomed forever to be poor.”

“Why not borrow Mrs. Wang’s charm for a few days until we can pick up a little flesh to keep our bones from clattering? Turn about’s fair play. Of course, we’ll return it sooner or later.”

“Doubtless they keep very close watch over it. When would you find them away from home, now that they don’t have to work any more? As their house only contains one room, and that no bigger than ours, it would be difficult to borrow this golden trinket. It is harder, for more reasons than one, to steal from a beggar than from a king.”

“Luck is surely with us,” cried Mrs. Chu, clapping her hands. “They are going this very day to the Temple fair. I overheard Mrs. Wang tell her son that he must not forget he was to take her about the middle of the afternoon. I will slip back then and borrow the little charm from the box in which she hid it.”

“Aren’t you afraid of Blackfoot?”

“Pooh! he’s so fat he can do nothing but roll. If the widow comes back suddenly, I’ll tell her I came to look for my big hair-pin, that I lost it while I was at dinner.”

“All right, go ahead, only of course we must remember we’re borrowing the thing, not stealing it, for the Wangs have always been good friends to us, and then, too, we have just dined with them.”

So skilfully did this crafty woman carry out her plans that within an hour she was back in her own house, gleefully showing the priest’s charm to her husband. Not a soul had seen her enter the Wang house. The dog had made no noise, and the cat had only blinked her surprise at seeing a stranger and had gone to sleep again on the floor.

Great was the clamour and weeping when, on returning from the fair in expectation of a hot supper, the widow found her treasure missing. It was long before she could grasp the truth. She went back to the little box in the cupboard ten times before she could believe it was empty, and the room looked as if a cyclone had struck it, so long and carefully did the two unfortunates hunt for the lost beetle.

Then came days of hunger which were all the harder to bear since the recent period of good food and plenty. Oh, if they had only not got used to such dainties! How hard it was to go back to scraps and scrapings!

But if the widow and her son were sad over the loss of the good meals, the two pets were even more so. They were reduced to beggary and had to go forth daily upon the streets in search of stray bones and refuse that decent dogs and cats turned up their noses at.

One day, after this period of starvation had been going on for some time, Whitehead began suddenly to frisk about in great excitement.

“Whatever is the matter with you?” growled Blackfoot. “Are you mad from hunger, or have you caught another flea?”

“I was just thinking over our affairs, and now I know the cause of all our trouble.”

“Do you indeed?” sneered Blackfoot.

“Yes, I do indeed, and you’d better think twice before you mock me, for I hold your future in my paw, as you will very soon see.”

“Well, you needn’t get angry about nothing. What wonderful discovery have you made—that every rat has one tail?”

“First of all, are you willing to help me bring good fortune back to our family?”

“Of course I am. Don’t be silly,” barked the dog, wagging his tail joyfully at the thought of another good dinner. “Surely! surely! I will do anything you like if it will bring Dame Fortune back again.”

“All right. Here is the plan. There has been a thief in the house who has stolen our mistress’s golden beetle. You remember all our big dinners that came from the pot? Well, every day I saw our mistress take a little golden beetle out of the black box and put it into the pot. One day she held it up before me, saying, ‘Look, puss, there is the cause of all our happiness. Don’t you wish it was yours?’ Then she laughed and put it back into the box that stays in the cupboard.”

“Is that true?” questioned Blackfoot. “Why didn’t you say something about it before?”

“You remember the day Mr. and Mrs. Chu were here, and how Mrs. Chu returned in the afternoon after master and mistress had gone to the fair? I saw her, out of the tail of my eye, go to that very black box and take out the golden beetle. I thought it curious, but never dreamed she was a thief. Alas! I was wrong! She took the beetle, and if I am not mistaken, she and her husband are now enjoying the feasts that belong to us.”

“Let’s claw them,” growled Blackfoot, gnashing his teeth.

“That would do no good,” counselled the other, “for they would be sure to come out best in the end. We want the beetle back—that’s the main thing. We’ll leave revenge to human beings; it is none of our business.”

“What do you suggest?” said Blackfoot. “I am with you through thick and thin.”

“Let’s go to the Chu house and make off with the beetle.”

“Alas, that I am not a cat!” moaned Blackfoot. “If we go there I couldn’t get inside, for robbers always keep their gates well locked. If I were like you I could scale the wall. It is the first time in all my life I ever envied a cat.”

“We will go together,” continued Whitehead. “I will ride on your back when we are fording the river, and you can protect me from strange animals. When we get to the Chu house, I will climb over the wall and manage the rest of the business myself. Only you must wait outside to help me to get home with the prize.”

No sooner arranged than done. The companions set out that very night on their adventure. They crossed the river as the cat had suggested, and Blackfoot really enjoyed the swim, for, as he said, it took him back to his puppyhood, while the cat did not get a single drop of water on her face. It was midnight when they reached the Chu house.

“Just wait till I return,” purred Whitehead in Blackfoot’s ear.

With a mighty spring she reached the top of the mud wall, and then jumped down to the inside court. While she was resting in the shadow, trying to decide just how to go about her work, a slight rustling attracted her attention, and pop! one giant spring, one stretch-out of the claws, and she had caught a rat that had just come out of his hole for a drink and a midnight walk.

Now, Whitehead was so hungry that she would have made short work of this tempting prey if the rat had not opened its mouth and, to her amazement, begun to talk in good cat dialect.

“Pray, good puss, not so fast with your sharp teeth! Kindly be careful with your claws! Don’t you know it is the custom now to put prisoners on their honour? I will promise not to run away.”

“Pooh! what honour has a rat?”

“Most of us haven’t much, I grant you, but my family was brought up under the roof of Confucius, and there we picked up so many crumbs of wisdom that we are exceptions to the rule. If you will spare me, I will obey you for life, in fact, will be your humble slave.” Then, with a quick jerk, freeing itself, “See, I am loose now, but honour holds me as if I were tied, and so I make no further attempt to get away.”

“Much good it would do you,” purred Whitehead, her fur crackling noisily, and her mouth watering for a taste of rat steak. “However, I am quite willing to put you to the test. First, answer a few polite questions and I will see if you’re a truthful fellow. What kind of food is your master eating now, that you should be so round and plump when I am thin and scrawny?”

“Oh, we have been in luck lately, I can tell you. Master and mistress feed on the fat of the land, and of course we hangers-on get the crumbs.”

“But this is a poor tumble-down house. How can they afford such eating?”

“That is a great secret, but as I am in honour bound to tell you, here goes. My mistress has just obtained in some manner or other, a fairy’s charm——”

“She stole it from our place,” hissed the cat, “I will claw her eyes out if I get the chance. Why, we’ve been fairly starving for want of that beetle. She stole it from us just after she had been an invited guest! What do you think of that for honour, Sir Rat? Were your mistress’s ancestors followers of the sage?”

“Oh, oh, oh! Why, that explains everything!” wailed the rat. “I have often wondered how they got the golden beetle, and yet of course I dared not ask any questions.”

“No, certainly not! But hark you, friend rat—you get that golden trinket back for me, and I will set you free at once of all obligations. Do you know where she hides it?”

“Yes, in a crevice where the wall is broken. I will bring it to you in a jiffy, but how shall we exist when our charm is gone? There will be a season of scanty food, I fear; beggars’ fare for all of us.”

“Live on the memory of your good deed,” purred the cat. “It is splendid, you know, to be an honest beggar. Now scoot! I trust you completely, since your people lived in the home of Confucius. I will wait here for your return. Ah!” laughed Whitehead to herself, “luck seems to be coming our way again!”

Five minutes later the rat appeared, bearing the trinket in its mouth. It passed the beetle over to the cat, and then with a whisk was off for ever. Its honour was safe, but it was afraid of Whitehead. It had seen the gleam of desire in her green eyes, and the cat might have broken her word if she had not been so anxious to get back home where her mistress could command the wonderful kettle once more to bring forth food.

The two adventurers reached the river just as the sun was rising above the eastern hills.

“Be careful,” cautioned Blackfoot, as the cat leaped upon his back for her ride across the stream, “be careful not to forget the treasure. In short, remember that even though you are a female, it is necessary to keep your mouth closed till we reach the other side.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I need your advice,” replied Whitehead, picking up the beetle and leaping on to the dog’s back.

But alas! just as they were nearing the farther shore, the excited cat forgot her wisdom for a moment. A fish suddenly leaped out of the water directly under her nose. It was too great a temptation. Snap! went her jaws in a vain effort to land the scaly treasure, and the golden beetle sank to the bottom of the river.

“There!” said the dog angrily, “what did I tell you? Now all our trouble has been in vain—all on account of your stupidity.”

For a time there was a bitter dispute, and the companions called each other some very bad names—such as turtle and rabbit. Just as they were starting away from the river, disappointed and discouraged, a friendly frog who had by chance heard their conversation offered to fetch the treasure from the bottom of the stream. No sooner said than done, and after thanking this accommodating animal profusely, they turned homeward once more.

When they reached the cottage the door was shut, and, bark as he would, Blackfoot could not persuade his master to open it. There was the sound of loud wailing inside.

“Mistress is broken-hearted,” whispered the cat, “I will go to her and make her happy.”

So saying, she sprang lightly through a hole in the paper window, which, alas! was too small and too far from the ground for the faithful dog to enter.

A sad sight greeted the gaze of Whitehead. The son was lying on the bed unconscious, almost dead for want of food, while his mother, in despair, was rocking backwards and forwards wringing her wrinkled hands and crying at the top of her voice for some one to come and save them.

“Here I am, mistress,” cried Whitehead, “and here is the treasure you are weeping for. I have rescued it and brought it back to you.”

The widow, wild with joy at sight of the beetle, seized the cat in her scrawny arms and hugged the pet tightly to her bosom.

“Breakfast, son, breakfast! Wake up from your swoon! Fortune has come again. We are saved from starvation!”

Soon a steaming hot meal was ready, and you may well imagine how the old woman and her son, heaping praises upon Whitehead, filled the beast’s platter with good things, but never a word did they say of the faithful dog, who remained outside sniffing the fragrant odours and waiting in sad wonder, for all this time the artful cat had said nothing of Blackfoot’s part in the rescue of the golden beetle.

At last, when breakfast was over, slipping away from the others, Whitehead jumped out through the hole in the window.

“Oh, my dear Blackfoot,” she began laughingly, “you should have been inside to see what a feast they gave me! Mistress was so delighted at my bringing back her treasure that she could not give me enough to eat, nor say enough kind things about me. Too bad, old fellow, that you are hungry. You’d better run out into the street and hunt up a bone.”

Maddened by the shameful treachery of his companion, the enraged dog sprang upon the cat and in a few seconds had shaken her to death.

“So dies the one who forgets a friend and who loses honour,” he cried sadly, as he stood over the body of his companion.

Rushing out into the street, he proclaimed the treachery of Whitehead to the members of his tribe, at the same time advising that all self-respecting dogs should from that time onwards make war upon the feline race.

And that is why the descendants of old Blackfoot, whether in China or in the great countries of the West, have waged continual war upon the children and grandchildren of Whitehead, for a thousand generations of dogs have fought them and hated them with a great and lasting hatred.

CHINESE BEDTIME STORY BY NORMAN HINSDALE PITMAN

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Independent Thinking

1. Were Mr and Mrs Chu right to take the golden beetle, if they were hungry? Why or why not?

2. What might have been a better thing for Mr and Mrs Chu to do in respect of the beetle?

Fairness

1. Why do you think the cat didn’t tell the widow Wang about the dog’s help? Was this fair?

2. Was it fair in the first place for the widow Wang and her son to eat well every day while their neighbours went hungry?

3. Afterwards, was it fair for Mr and Mrs Chu to eat well when the widow Wang and her son went hungry again?

4. Do you think your answer is the same, whether it was the Wangs or the Chus who were hungry? Why or why not?

Anger

1. Was Blackfoot the dog right to have hurt the cat when she was unkind to him? Why or why not?

2. Do you think that the actions of one cat ought to have made the dogs and cats enemy for the rest of time? Why do you think this?

The post The Golden Beetle first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

There was once a baron so rich and powerful that only the king himself was greater. He was very fierce and warlike, and what he wished for he took from rich and poor alike, and none was able to withstand him.

The baron had a very gentle and beautiful wife. Often she wept bitterly over the evil deeds her husband did in the world, but this the baron never knew, for she was careful to hide her tears from him.

One day the lady was sitting beside a fountain in the gardens, and she was very sad. Presently she leaned her head on her hand and began to weep. Suddenly the waters of the fountain were disturbed, and up from the midst of them arose the figure of a nixie or water spirit.

The lady was frightened at such a strange sight, but the nixie spoke to her gently and bade her not be afraid.

“I,” said she, “am the spirit who watches over the fortunes of the castle. I have come to tell you that within a year a child will be born to you—a little girl. This child will suffer many things, both dangers and sorrows. There is only one way in which she can be protected. If you will make me her godmother I will be able to guard her and bring her safely through her troubles, but in no other way can she be saved from them.”

The lady was filled with amazement at what she heard. She had known there was a spirit that watched over the fortunes of the castle, and now she promised eagerly that if a child came to her the nixie should be its godmother.

At once the nixie smiled at her and waved its hand, and then sank back again into the waters of the fountain.

In less than a year, as the nixie had foretold, a little daughter was born to the lady, a child as beautiful as the day. The time for christening the child was set. She was to be called Matilda, after her mother, but the lady refused to say who was to stand godmother to the child. A godmother she had chosen, but she would tell no one who that godmother was.

The hour of the christening arrived, all the ladies and gentlemen of the court were gathered together, and still no godmother. Suddenly, without a sound, a stranger appeared among them. She was dressed from head to foot in silver that shone and rippled like running water, and a silver veil was wound about her head. At once the Lady Matilda recognized her as the nixie.

The water spirit took her place as godmother to the child, and the christening proceeded. When it was over, every one looked to see what gift the godmother would give the child. They had no doubt that it would be something very rare and handsome, but instead it was only a common little carved wooden ball, such as ladies sometimes use to carry perfume in. This the godmother placed in the child’s hand. Then, turning to the lady, she said, “Guard carefully this ball which I have given to the child. Place it in some safe place for her. Her good fortune—yes, even her life itself—depends upon this ball.”

After saying this, the stranger at once disappeared, and none could tell where she went, nor how.

The Lady Matilda took the ball and put it away among her jewels in a strong chest, and orders were given that no one should touch or disturb it. As soon as the little Matilda was old enough, the mother meant to give the ball to her and tell her of its value.

Before that time, however, and while the child was still very young, the lady died, and the ball was forgotten. The little Matilda grew up, knowing nothing of its worth; indeed, she did not even know that there was such a thing in the castle.

Not long after his wife’s death the baron married again. His second wife was a very handsome woman, but she was cold and proud and envious. From the first day she saw Matilda, she hated the child because of her beauty and her gentleness. She treated her so unkindly that Matilda was very unhappy. She was worse fed and clothed than any servant in the castle, and the meanest room and the hardest bed were given to her. Still she grew in beauty day by day, and every one except the stepmother loved her for her gentle ways and her sweetness.

One day the stepmother wished to examine the jewels that had once belonged to the Lady Matilda. She intended to choose from among them such as she might admire. She had the jewel casket brought to her room, and unlocked it and began to examine the ornaments that were in it. Some of them she decided to keep, but others she threw aside. At last, hidden away in a corner, she came upon a common little carved wooden ball.

“What is this?” she asked. “Why should this have been locked away with the jewels as though it were valuable?”

Her ladies whom she had brought with her to the castle could not tell her, and she disdainfully threw the ball out through the open window of her room.

Now it so chanced that Matilda was passing under the window at that very time, and the ball fell directly at her feet. Surprised, she stooped and picked it up, and examined it. The top seemed to be screwed on, but though she tried again and again she could not unscrew it. However, Matilda took the greatest fancy to the ball. Through the day she carried it in her pocket or the bosom of her dress, and at night she slipped it under her pillow, and somehow she felt quite happy and contented now in spite of the unkindness of her stepmother.

One day Matilda sat down beside the fountain in the garden, and, as usual, she began to play with the ball, tossing it up into the air and catching it again. Suddenly the ball slipped from her fingers and fell into the fountain. Matilda bent over and tried to reach it, but it had floated beyond her reach. Then a hand appeared in the waters and seized it, and the figure of the nixie rose out of the fountain.

“Do not be afraid, my child,” said the nixie to Matilda. “I wish you nothing but good. I am your godmother, and it was I who gave this ball to your mother to keep for you until you were old enough to take charge of it yourself. Unfortunately she died before that time arrived. It is well you have found it at last, for the time is at hand when you will need it. Listen well to what I now tell you. This ball contains three wishes which you can use at any time. But be careful. Only in the time of your greatest need must you use its magic, for after it has given you three wishes, its power will be gone, and it can do nothing more for you.”

The nixie then told Matilda that there was one other way in which the ball could aid her. If at any time she wished to become invisible, she had only to hold it in her hand and say:

“Light to guide me,
Dark to hide me,
Let no harm nor ill betide me.”

No one then would be able to see her until she wished to become visible again.

At once, after saying this, the nixie disappeared, dissolving back into the waters, but the ball she left lying on the grass beside the fountain.

Matilda picked it up and slipped it into her bosom, and then went back to the castle, very grave and thoughtful.

Now in the years while Matilda was growing to womanhood, the baron’s enemies had grown very strong, so strong indeed that they no longer feared him. A plan was made to attack him in his castle, to take him prisoner, and to rob him of the possessions that he himself had stolen from others. The attack was planned for a certain night when there would be no moon, and it would be too dark for those inside the castle to see their enemies approach.

Matilda went to bed early that evening, and soon fell asleep. She slept for only a few hours, however. Suddenly, just before midnight, she was awakened by a great uproar and confusion. The assault had begun. The baron’s enemies had surrounded the castle. They entered in and captured the baron and his wife, and presently they came to the door of Matilda’s room and began to break down the door. The poor girl was overcome with terror.

Suddenly she remembered the charm the nixie had taught her. She caught up the wooden ball from under her pillow, and in a whisper she repeated:

“Light to guide me,
Dark to hide me,
Let no harm nor ill betide me.”

At once she became invisible. The door was broken open, and the foemen came into the room, but they saw no one. Matilda, indeed, was there close beside them, but they could not see her, and she was careful not to brush against them. Unseen, she passed from the room and down the stairs and out of the castle. There was a light in the heavens now, a red glow of flames, for the castle had been set on fire.

Matilda hurried away, and when she had gone far enough to feel that she was safe, she wished and became visible again. Just as day was breaking, she came to a deep forest. So far she had seen no one, but before venturing farther she gathered roots and herbs, and with them she stained her face and hands so that no one would have known her. She looked like a gipsy, or some poor servant-maid in search of work. She had now no fear of robbers, for who would think of stopping anyone so poor and miserable-looking as she?

All day she travelled through the forest, and by night she came out on the other side of it and saw before her a great castle. Matilda knocked at the door and humbly begged the woman who opened it to take her in and give her food and shelter. In return for such help she would gladly do any work that might be needed about the castle.

Now it so happened that the old woman was the housekeeper, and she was in need of a scullery-maid. Matilda, with her poor clothes and her darkened hands and face, looked just the one for such a place.

“If you are willing to work,” said the housekeeper, “it may be that we can strike a bargain. You may begin by scouring these pots and pans. If you do it well, I will keep you here as scullery-maid.”

Matilda at once set to work, and soon had the kettles and pans shining like new. The housekeeper was very much pleased, and decided to engage her. So Matilda became a scullery-maid in the castle. Sometimes she helped the cook, for she was very clever in cookery.

Now the nobleman to whom this castle belonged was a young and handsome count named Conrad. His father was dead and his mother was anxious to see him married; but never yet had the count seen any lady who attracted him sufficiently.

At last the old countess decided to give a ball for the count, and to invite to it all the most beautiful ladies from the country round. Among them all she hoped her son would see some one whom he would care to make his wife.

The invitations were sent out, and everywhere there was great excitement. Not only was the count young and handsome; he was also as rich as a prince, and so courteous that he was beloved by all. There were few among the ladies who did not hope that they might be chosen as his bride.

At the castle nothing was talked of but the ball that was to be given for the count. Matilda listened to all that was said, and the more she heard, the more she wished that she too might go to the dance and mingle with the other ladies. All the while she had been at the castle she had kept the ball with her, but she had been careful not to use any of the three wishes it contained. But now the time had come when she determined to try its power. The night of the ball Matilda finished her work early, and then she stole away to her room and fastened the door so that no one could come in.

First of all she took water and washed off the stain from her face and hands. When this was done, her skin was once more as fair as a lily, and her cheeks as red as roses. She shook down her wonderful hair so that it fell in a cloud about her. She combed and braided it, and then she took out the little wooden ball and held it in her hand.

“Little ball, I hold you close;
Little ball, I hold you tight;
By your magic power I pray
Grant my wish to me to-night,”

she whispered. And then, “I wish,” she said, “for a gown more beautiful than any that ever was seen, and for ornaments to go with it—jewels for my neck and jewels for my hair, and slippers, and a fan to wave in my hand.”

At once, upon the bed, appeared a gown more beautiful than Matilda had ever dreamed of. It was woven all of silver, and set with pearls, and with it there were ornaments for her neck and hair and a fan of shining plumes; and on the floor beside the bed stood a tiny pair of satin slippers embroidered with pearls and threads of silver.

Trembling with haste, Matilda dressed, for already the night was late, and when at last she stood clothed all in silvery white, the whole room shone with the light of her beauty.

She stole down the stairs unnoticed, and it was not long before she reached the old countess’s house where the ball was being held. Many beautiful ladies were there, the loveliest in the land, but when Matilda entered the ballroom, she outshone them all as the moon outshines the stars at night.

From the moment he saw her Count Conrad had eyes for no one else, and there was no one else with whom he would dance. Before the end of the evening he drew her aside into another room.

“Listen,” said he. “Never before in all my life have I seen anyone as beautiful as you, nor one whom I could love as already I love you. Tell me, I pray, who you are. Only some great lady or princess could be as beautiful as you.”

Matilda was filled with joy when the count said he loved her, but immediately after she became sad, for she thought that if he learned she was only a kitchen-maid in his castle, he would no longer care for her.

“Look, I beg of you,” she said, “and see whether there is not some one listening at the door.”

The count thought Matilda wished to tell him some secret, and he at once went to the door to make sure that no one could overhear it.

Matilda drew the wooden ball from her pocket and whispered:

“Light to guide me,
Dark to hide me,
Let no harm nor ill betide me.”

At once she became invisible, and she slipped past the count and hurried back to the castle.

When the count turned, he was very much surprised to find that his beautiful partner had disappeared. He could not imagine what had become of her. He hunted for her everywhere, and asked every one which way she had gone, but no one had seen her.

He was very much disquieted at this. However, there was to be another ball the next night, and Count Conrad felt sure Matilda would appear at it also. This time he was determined she should not leave him until he knew who she was and whence she came. To make sure of this, he decided to set a guard about the house, with orders to follow any strange lady who passed out alone, and watch where she went.

All the next day but little was to be heard anywhere but talk of the wonderful stranger, of how beautiful she had been, and how magnificently dressed, and of how much the count had admired her. Every one wondered whether she would appear again at the second ball.

When evening came, Matilda made haste to finish her work, and then stole away to her little garret room. Taking the ball in her hand, she said:

“Little ball, now serve me right,
Grant the wish I wish to-night.”

“I wish I may have a gown even more beautiful than the one I wore last night, and all ornaments that should go with it.”

At once the room was filled with light, and Matilda saw, lying upon the bed, a gown made entirely of cloth of gold, and set with precious stones. There were jewels for her neck and arms, and a pair of golden slippers that shone like glass. Matilda dressed in haste, and throwing a dark cloak over her, she stole away through the night to the ball.

Count Conrad had been watching for her. He would, indeed, look at no one else, and as soon as she entered, he hastened to her side.

If she had been beautiful the night before, she was far more so now. Then she had shone like the moon, but now she glittered like the sun, so that it dazzled the eyes to look at her.

The count begged her to dance with him, and as soon as he could, he drew her aside into another room. He then took from his hand a ring, and placing it upon her finger, he said, “Now you are my own true love, for you wear my ring upon your finger. But tell me, I pray of you, who you are and whence you come, that I may ask your hand in marriage in a proper manner.”

“Alas, my mother is dead,” answered Matilda, “and my father, I fear, has also been put to death by cruel enemies.”

So saying she dropped her fan. The count at once stooped to pick it up. Quick as thought, as he stooped, Matilda drew her ball from her pocket and whispered the magic charm:

“Light to guide me,
Dark to hide me,
Let no harm nor ill betide me.”

At once she became invisible, and slipping from the room, she hastened back to the castle.

When the count looked up and found that his beautiful partner had once more disappeared, he was in despair. He searched through every room, and then sent for his guards and questioned them closely. None of them could tell him anything of the stranger, however. Not one had seen her pass by. This was not strange, for Matilda had remained invisible until she reached the castle. She was even then in her little attic room, slipping off her beautiful clothes, and staining her face and hands that she might again appear as the kitchen wench.

Again the count had lost her. But now he determined to give a ball himself. He caused it to be made known that this ball was in honour of the unknown beauty, and he had no doubt but that she would appear at it as she had at the other two. This time he determined that not for one instant would he lose sight of her.

The count’s ball was to be much more magnificent than those that the old countess had given. All the servants in the castle were set to work preparing for it, and Matilda was no less busy than the others. She had not a moment to herself.

The night of the ball arrived, and there was still much to be done in the kitchen. Matilda began to see that there would be no chance for her to slip away from her work and appear at the ball.

She did indeed ask the housekeeper to allow her an hour that she might go outside and peep in through a window at the dancers, but the housekeeper refused her angrily.

“Look in through the windows!” she cried. “What are you thinking of? You would frighten the ladies to death with your gipsy face and your big eyes. No; do you stay here in the kitchen where you belong, and do your work in a proper manner.”

Matilda would not disobey her, but as she scoured the pots and pans, she could not prevent the tears from falling. She could think of nothing but Count Conrad, of how handsome he was, and how kind and gentle.

Meanwhile the count was standing close to the door of the ballroom, waiting for the beautiful stranger to appear. Great coaches rolled up to the entrance of the castle. Beautiful ladies in silks and satins and jewels swept through the rooms. They waved their fans and smiled at the count, but he had no eyes for any of them. His thoughts were all of Matilda. Little he guessed that even then she was scouring kettles in the kitchen below and weeping as she scoured.

As hour after hour passed and she did not appear, the count’s heart grew heavy with grief. By the time the ball was over and his guests were leaving, he was quite ill with disappointment. He could hardly stand to bid them farewell. The beautiful stranger had not come, and now he feared he would never see her again.

The next day word passed through the castle that the young count was unable to leave his bed. He had fallen ill through grief and disappointment. Doctors were sent for, but they could do nothing for him. One thing could cure him and one alone, and that was some knowledge of the beautiful stranger who had danced with him.

Matilda had managed to win the confidence of the old housekeeper, and now she went to her and said, “I have heard how ill the count is and how all the medicines the doctors have given him have failed to help him. If you will but let me, I can make a broth of such wonderful qualities that if the count will but taste of it he will be cured.”

At first the housekeeper refused, but Matilda still urged and entreated, until at last the old woman grew tired of saying ‘no’ to her.

“Very well, then,” she said. “It will do no harm for you to make a bowl of broth, but as to its having the power to cure the count, that, of course, I do not believe.”

Matilda at once set to work, and as she was very clever at cooking, she made a broth so rich and delicious that it made the mouth water just to smell of it. It was as clear as crystal, and of a rich amber colour. When it was done, she put it in a silver bowl and covered it over with a napkin, but before doing this she managed to drop into it the ring that the count had given her.

The broth was so good that the housekeeper was delighted with it, and she herself carried it up to her master’s room.

When she entered with it, the count turned away his head. “Why do you come here?” he said. “Do not trouble me. I wish for nothing.”

But the housekeeper would not be sent away in this manner. “I have brought you a bowl of broth,” she said, “and it is so delicious that if you will but taste of it, I am sure you will be better.”

With these words she uncovered the bowl and placed it before the count, and the broth was so clear that at once he saw the ring lying at the bottom of it.

“What is this!” he cried. “Who has made this broth? Tell me immediately.”

The housekeeper was frightened at his look and tone. “It is good broth,” she cried; “the best of broth, I am sure, even though it was made by our little kitchen-maid.”

“Whoever made it, send her to me at once,” demanded the count.

The housekeeper was very much concerned. She hurried away to the kitchen.

“What is to be done now?” she said to Matilda. “The count demands to see you, but the sight of your rags and dark face would surely throw him into a fever. This is a pretty piece of work!”

“Do not be troubled,” said Matilda. “I will wash my face and hands, and then do you lend me your cloak and your long veil. With them I can cover myself so that he will not be able to see what I look like.”

To this the housekeeper agreed, as she could think of no better plan.

Matilda took the cloak and veil and hastened away with them to her own room. There she combed her hair and washed off the stain, and then she put on her golden dress and her jewels, which she had kept hidden away since the night of the ball. When she was dressed, she covered herself carefully with the cloak and veil, so that even the housekeeper’s prying eyes could not catch a glint of the finery beneath. So disguised, Matilda went up to Count Conrad’s room and stood modestly just inside the doorway.

The count had been waiting for her impatiently, and as soon as she entered, he said, “Was it you who made the broth the housekeeper brought to me?”

“It was I,” answered Matilda.

“And who was it who put the ring in it?”

“It was I.”

“Then tell me,” cried the count, “who gave you the ring. How came you by it?”

“It was you yourself who gave me the ring, and it was you who placed it on my finger,” said Matilda.

With these words she put aside the veil and dropped the cloak from her shoulders. There she stood before him, blushing, and filling all the room with the light of her beauty.

The count was transported with joy. “You have come!” he cried, “and you have come at the time when I most despaired of finding you. Now we will be married, and never again shall you leave me.”

At these words Matilda grew very sad. “Alas, that may not be,” said she. “Have you forgotten that I am only your kitchen-maid?”

But the count loved her too dearly to care for that. “You will be my wife,” he said, “and then who will dare to remember what you were before?”

“Yes, but there is another reason why we can never, never marry,” sighed Matilda. “You will agree with me as to that when I tell you that my father was your father’s bitterest enemy.”

“Who was your father?” asked the count, wondering.

Matilda then related to him her whole story, who her father was, how her mother had died while she was still a child, and about her stepmother and her nixie godmother. She also told him of how she had chanced to come to his castle and take service there.

The count listened to all she had to say, and when she had come to an end, he took her in his arms and embraced her tenderly.

“I care not who you are,” he said, “nor whence you come. I know only that I love you, and that you and you alone shall be my bride.”

Matilda was very happy when she heard this. She already loved the count dearly, and now she could no longer refuse him.

Almost at once preparations for the wedding were begun, and people from far and near were invited to come to it.

The first to be asked was the count’s mother, a proud and covetous old woman. She had been the one who was most eager for her son to marry, but when she heard whom he had chosen for a bride, that it was the daughter of an enemy, and, moreover, a girl both poor and homeless, she was filled with rage.

At once she hastened to the castle, and urged and entreated the count to give up Matilda, but he would not listen to her. He loved his bride too tenderly for that.

When his mother found that all her efforts to separate them were in vain, she left the castle in a fury, and drove away to her home. Never again, she vowed, would she set foot in the castle as long as Matilda was there, and the time would come when the young count would bitterly regret his choice of a wife.

Count Conrad was grieved at his mother’s anger, but he was too happy with Matilda to grieve long. He and she were soon married, and so sweet and gentle was her character that every day the count loved her better and was more contented with his choice.

When the count and Matilda had been married for a year, a child was born to them, a little boy so handsome and big and strong that the count was filled with joy and pride.

The nurse who had charge of the child was sent to the castle by the old countess, and both the count and Matilda were delighted at what they took to be a sign that his mother had forgiven them. This was not the case however. The old countess still hated Matilda with a bitter hatred, and had sent the nurse, hoping she might find some way to injure her, and if possible to separate her from the count.

Matilda always slept with the baby’s cradle close to her own bed. One night, when all the castle was wrapped in sleep, the old nurse slipped into the room, and lifting the child carefully from the cradle, she carried it away without waking anyone.

In the morning, as soon as Matilda awoke, her eyes as usual turned first of all to the cradle. She was greatly surprised to see that it was empty, and at once called the nurse and demanded what had become of the child.

The nurse pretended to be equally surprised. “I do not know,” she answered. “When I last saw him, he was asleep in the cradle beside your ladyship.”

Matilda was very much alarmed. The count was called, the castle searched thoroughly, and every one was questioned, but they could find no trace of the baby.

“It must be some evil spirit or enchantress who has carried him away,” said the nurse. “Last night I heard a beating of wings outside my window, and a strange sound of sighing and moaning, but I thought it was only some great bird that was lost in the night.”

This the nurse said not because she had really heard anything, but because this was part of a plot that she and the old countess had hatched between them.

Days passed, and still nothing was heard of the child. The count was in despair. Even Matilda herself was scarcely more dear to him than his infant son.

At the end of a year another child was born to Matilda, and this also was a son, a child as strong and handsome as the first.

But again, when the infant was only a few weeks old, the nurse stole it away secretly in the night, without being seen by anyone. In the morning the cradle was empty, and no trace of the child could be found anywhere.

The count was filled with grief and anguish. In his heart he secretly blamed Matilda because she had not awakened when the child was carried away. But he restrained himself from reproaching her. He could not help treating her somewhat coldly, however, and Matilda was grieved to the heart not only over the loss of the child, but because she feared her husband no longer loved her.

At the end of the year, still a third child was born, and now, in order to make sure that it should not be stolen, a watch was kept over the infant—by day and night; and though he slept by Matilda’s side, there was always some one else in the room with them.

But even this precaution could not keep the nurse from carrying out her wicked plans. When the child was still only a few weeks old, she managed one evening to put a sleeping potion in the repast that was served to Matilda, and in that of the attendant as well.

Night came and the child was laid in the cradle close to Matilda’s bed. The attendant took her place at the door. It was not long, however, before Matilda and the attendant fell into a deep sleep. The nurse then stole into the room, and lifting the child from the cradle, she carried it away with her as she had the two others.

When morning came, and it was discovered that this child too had been stolen, the count could restrain himself no longer. The woman who had been in attendance was thrown into prison, and he heaped reproaches on Matilda for having allowed this third child, the most beautiful of them all, to be stolen from her side.

“You should not be surprised,” said the wicked nurse, “and the attendant is not to blame. There is some enchantment in this, and if you will come aside with me into a private room, I will tell you of some things I have seen here in the castle in the last three years.”

The count was in a state to listen to anything, and he allowed the nurse to speak to him in private, and to tell him the story that she and the old countess had arranged between them.

She told him that though Matilda seemed so fair and gentle, she was in reality a wicked enchantress. This his mother had known, and it was for this reason she had been so unwilling that he should marry her, and for no other cause. During the night when the child was stolen, the nurse said, she had been awakened by a beating of wings, and had stolen to the door and looked out. There she had seen Matilda talking with a being that from its looks could be nothing but an evil spirit. Presently (so the nurse said) Matilda had gone back into her chamber, and when she returned she was carrying the child, and she had given it into the hands of the strange being. “After that,” said the nurse, “I saw no more, for I was afraid to look. But I make no doubt that that is what has become of all the children, and that the young countess caused the attendant to fall into an enchanted sleep so that she might have a chance to give the baby to the evil spirit.”

The count was so distracted with grief that he was ready to believe anything. He remembered what Matilda had told him of her godmother the nixie, and it seemed to him possible that this water spirit had some power over her that might cause her to sacrifice her children. In his distraction he sent for his mother to question her as to what she knew.

The old countess had been waiting for this summons. She came to him at once and in haste, and her heart was full of evil joy at the thought that at last she was to have Matilda in her power.

When she appeared before her son, however, she dissembled her joy, and pretended to be sad.

“Alas, my dear son,” said she, “what I feared has come to pass at last. I would have warned you before that the bride you had chosen was a wicked enchantress, but I knew you would not listen to me. Now, however, she has shown herself in her own wicked character. She has sacrificed her children to an evil spirit, and it is only right that she should be punished for her wickedness.”

The count knew not what to answer to this. He still loved Matilda, but if she had done such a wicked thing as to give her children to an evil spirit, she must suffer for it.

“What you say may be true,” said he to his mother. “As for me, I am so distracted that I no longer seem to understand anything. I will go away on a long journey, and I will leave Matilda in your hands. Do as you think best with her, only treat her as gently as you can.”

As soon as the count had said this he left his mother and went away, and it was well for his mother that he did so. She was so overjoyed at the way her plans had turned out that she could no longer hide her satisfaction. The count left the castle without bidding farewell to his wife. Matilda was cut to the heart when she found he had left her without a word. She was also terrified at the thought that now the old countess had her in her power.

Matilda had indeed good cause for fear. As soon as the count had gone, his mother caused an iron room to be built. All about this room were ovens arranged in such a way that the room could be made so hot that it would be impossible for anyone to remain in it for long and live. After it was finished, Matilda was induced to go into it, and as soon as she was inside, the door was shut and locked.

The moment Matilda found that she had been locked in the room alone, she suspected some evil. She looked about her for a way of escape, but the walls were of iron, and the room had been built in such a way that there were no windows.

“Alas,” said Matilda, “are my misfortunes never to end? Oh, my dear husband, how had you the heart to leave me here alone and in the power of that wicked woman?”

In her despair Matilda threw herself down upon the floor of the room. As she did so, she felt something hard in the pocket of her dress. She slipped her hand into it and drew out the wooden ball that she had so long forgotten. One more wish was left to her. Now, if ever, was her time of need. Holding it in her hand she whispered:

“Little ball, so great my need,
Only you can help indeed;
Save me now and set me free,
Give my children back to me.”

Without her willing it, the ball slipped from her fingers and fell upon the floor, and was broken to pieces. From these fragments arose a silvery mist that spread through the room and filled it with a refreshing coolness. In the midst of the mist appeared the nixie, and in her arms she carried three beautiful little boys. They were the children who had been stolen from Matilda.

The nixie smiled upon her godchild and spoke in a voice like the flowing of cool waters. “At last you have remembered me and my gift,” she said. “Long have I been waiting for you to call upon me, my child. Now I am here, and no harm can come to you. Look! Here are the three children that the wicked old countess caused to be thrown into the water, thinking to drown them. But I saved them. They have been safe in my care until you should call upon me, and now I restore them to you.”

So saying, she placed the children in Matilda’s arms, and the mother clasped them to her, weeping with joy.

Meanwhile the men who had been in charge of the ovens that were to heat the room found that in spite of all they could do the walls of it remained cool. They went to the old countess and told her this. “Our fires are burning brightly,” they said, “and are so hot that we can scarcely go near them, and yet the walls of the room are even cooler than when we began.”

The countess could not understand how this could be. She was about to go and probe the mystery when she heard a clatter of hoofs outside, and a sound of loud voices. She looked from a window, and saw to her surprise and alarm that it was her son returning to the castle.

The count, indeed, had been unable to bear the thought of having left Matilda in his mother’s care. He feared some harm might come to her, and the farther he went, the more anxious he had grown. At last he had turned his horse and ridden back with all speed to tell Matilda that he still loved her, and that whatever their sorrow was, they would bear it together.

As soon as the old countess saw her son, she knew that her plots had failed, and she feared his wrath when he should find his wife shut in the iron room. She determined not to wait for that, and calling the wicked nurse, they escaped together from the castle and fled away, nobody knew whither.

As for the count, he hurried through the castle, searching everywhere for Matilda, and at last he came to the iron room. When he found that she was locked inside it, and saw the ovens all about it, he was like one distracted.

He turned the key and threw open the door, but he scarce dared look inside. He dreaded what he might see there.

When he did summon courage, however, what was his wonder to see not only his wife, but there in her arms the three children they had lost. He could hardly believe his eyes and was well-nigh crazy with joy. Flinging himself on his knees before her, he begged her to forgive him for having doubted her and for having left her as he had done.

Matilda, who was all mildness and sweetness, raised him from his knees and placed the children in his arms.

“See,” said she, “you have no longer any reason to mistrust me. These are our own dear children whom the nixie has returned to us.”

She then told the count the whole story, and when she came to an end they kissed each other and the children, and from that time on they lived in mutual love and happiness.

As for the wicked old countess, unless she died of spite, she may be living and wandering over the world to this very day.

SHORT STORY FOR CHILDREN BY KATHARINE PYLE

Vintage story illustration by Katharine Pyle

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Honesty, Communication

1. When the Count wanted to marry Matilda, she told him who her father was and who she was, even though she was worried that he wouldn’t want to marry her any more. Why did she do this? Why do you think honesty is important?

Anger

2. At the end of the story, the narrator wonders if the wicked countess died of spite. Do you think it is possible to die of spite? Why or why not?

3. Even if spite could not cause a person to die, what do you think it could do to you all the same?

Creativity

4. If you had a wooden ball with three wishes, what would your wishes be?

The post The Four Wishes first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

Every evening after dusk, Princess Rose went out on the balcony and clapped her hands. A golden bird came flying out of nowhere and alighted on her shoulder. Instantly, the princess’s hair began to shine, ablaze with brilliant red light. When the bird started to warble an enchanting tune, Princess Rose joined it in a song, and everyone in the kingdom fell asleep and had sweet dreams till the break of dawn.

Thus passed the years. Every evening Princess Rose, along with the little golden bird, sang a loving lullaby, so that all people fell asleep and had sweet dreams till the break of dawn.

Until one day something terrible happened. A wicked witch learned about Princess Rose and decided to curse her.

“Abracadabra, Sim-Sala-Bim, may the rose’s color dim!” the witch said, and Princess Rose’s hair instantly turned as black as tar.

That evening, too, Princess Rose went out on her balcony and clapped her hands. But when the golden bird appeared, her hair glowed black instead of red. The bird warbled its enchanting melody, and Princess Rose sang her lullaby. Everyone in the kingdom fell asleep, but that night they only had bad dreams and nightmares.

On the following day, the saddened princess asked the bird:

“Tell me, golden bird, how can I make my people’s dreams so sweet again till the break of dawn?”

“Black hair in rose water,” the bird chirped in reply.

The princess wondered at this counsel, but abided by it, nevertheless. She filled up a basin with water and sprinkled rose petals on its surface. Then, she dipped her hair into the rose water, and it instantly turned red again.

That evening, when the bird perched on her shoulder, the radiant red glow of her hair lit up the night sky once more. The princess sang her lullaby, and everyone in the kingdom fell asleep and had sweet dreams till the break of dawn.

The wicked witch was so very angry that her curse had been broken that she decided to cast it again.

“Abracadabra, Sim-Sala-Bim, may the rose’s color dim!”And the princess’s hair turned as black as tar again. Only this time the witch also picked up all of the rose blooms in the entire kingdom. “Let’s see how you’ll break my curse now!” she sneered, filled with rage.

Once again, the saddened princess asked the bird:

“Tell me, golden bird, how can I make my people’s dreams so sweet again till the break of dawn?”

“Black hair in rose water,” the bird chirped in reply.

“But where should I find a rose?”

“Black hair in rose water,” the bird chirped and flew away.

The princess didn’t know what to do. So great was her anguish that her eyes filled with tears, one of them falling to the ground below.

At that very moment, a young and handsome prince, who had stopped under the balcony of the princess, took out a little box and a single red hair from within it. He bent down and placed the hair atop the princess’s tear. And then, a miracle happened.

Suddenly, the red hair turned into a red rose.

The prince picked the rose and took it up to the princess.

Upon seeing the rose, she immediately brushed off her tears and plucked its petals to add to the water in the basin. Then, she dipped in her hair, and the curse was broken.

Everyone gasped in astonishment, and the King asked the prince:

“Young man, where did you find that red hair?”

“When the princess and I were both children, I picked a single strand of hair from her head as a sign of my loyalty to her. And she did the same to me, pulling out a strand of my own hair.”

“It’s true, father,” the princess confirmed and took out a little box. She opened it to reveal a single hair from the prince’s head inside.

Everyone was delighted with this news. The prince and Princess Rose got married on that very same day.

Upon learning that her curse had been broken again, the wicked witch’s evil nature swelled so much that she exploded into a thousand tiny pieces.

Eventually, rose blooms sprang up in every garden in the kingdom once again. And so it went: each evening Princess Rose sang her loving lullaby, so that all people fell asleep and had sweet dreams till the break of dawn.

SHORT STORY FOR CHILDREN WRITTEN BY SERGEY NIKOLOV

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Kindness

1. Princess Rose liked to sing a lullaby to her kingdom every night. Why do you think she liked to do this?

Anger

2. When the wicked witch discovered that her curse was broken twice, she swelled so much that she exploded into tiny pieces. Why do you think that anger can sometimes make us feel like this?

3. Do you think that anger can sometimes hurt the person being angry? Why or why not? Can being angry likewise hurt others? How?

4. What might have been a good way for the witch to manage her angry feelings without exploding?

The post Princess Rose and the Golden Bird first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

This is a vintage fairy tale, and may contain violence. We would encourage parents to read beforehand  if your child is sensitive to such themes.

Long, long ago in Japan there lived an old man and his wife. The old man was a good, kind-hearted, hard-working old fellow, but his wife was a regular cross-patch, who spoiled the happiness of her home by her scolding tongue. She was always grumbling about something from morning to night.

The old man had for a long time ceased to take any notice of her crossness. He was out most of the day at work in the fields, and as he had no child, for his amusement when he came home, he kept a tame sparrow. He loved the little bird just as much as if she had been his child.

When he came back at night after his hard day’s work in the open air it was his only pleasure to pet the sparrow, to talk to her and to teach her little tricks, which she learned very quickly. The old man would open her cage and let her fly about the room, and they would play together. Then when supper-time came, he always saved some tit-bits from his meal with which to feed his little bird.

Now one day the old man went out to chop wood in the forest, and the old woman stopped at home to wash clothes. The day before, she had made some starch, and now when she came to look for it, it was all gone; the bowl which she had filled full yesterday was quite empty.

While she was wondering who could have used or stolen the starch, down flew the pet sparrow, and bowing her little feathered head—a trick which she had been taught by her master—the pretty bird chirped and said:

“It is I who have taken the starch. I thought it was some food put out for me in that basin, and I ate it all. If I have made a mistake I beg you to forgive me! tweet, tweet, tweet!”

You see from this that the sparrow was a truthful bird, and the old woman ought to have been willing to forgive her at once when she asked her pardon so nicely. But not so.

The old woman had never loved the sparrow, and had often quarreled with her husband for keeping what she called a dirty bird about the house, saying that it only made extra work for her. Now she was only too delighted to have some cause of complaint against the pet. She scolded and even cursed the poor little bird for her bad behavior, and not content with using these harsh, unfeeling words, in a fit of rage she seized the sparrow—who all this time had spread out her wings and bowed her head before the old woman, to show how sorry she was—and fetched the scissors and cut off the poor little bird’s tongue.

“I suppose you took my starch with that tongue! Now you may see what it is like to go without it!” And with these dreadful words she drove the bird away, not caring in the least what might happen to it and without the smallest pity for its suffering, so unkind was she!

The old woman, after she had driven the sparrow away, made some more rice-paste, grumbling all the time at the trouble, and after starching all her clothes, spread the things on boards to dry in the sun, instead of ironing them as they do in England.

In the evening the old man came home. As usual, on the way back he looked forward to the time when he should reach his gate and see his pet come flying and chirping to meet him, ruffling out her feathers to show her joy, and at last coming to rest on his shoulder. But to-night the old man was very disappointed, for not even the shadow of his dear sparrow was to be seen.

He quickened his steps, hastily drew off his straw sandals, and stepped on to the veranda. Still no sparrow was to be seen. He now felt sure that his wife, in one of her cross tempers, had shut the sparrow up in its cage. So he called her and said anxiously:

“Where is Suzume San (Miss Sparrow) today?”

The old woman pretended not to know at first, and answered:

“Your sparrow? I am sure I don’t know. Now I come to think of it, I haven’t seen her all the afternoon. I shouldn’t wonder if the ungrateful bird had flown away and left you after all your petting!”

But at last, when the old man gave her no peace, but asked her again and again, insisting that she must know what had happened to his pet, she confessed all. She told him crossly how the sparrow had eaten the rice-paste she had specially made for starching her clothes, and how when the sparrow had confessed to what she had done, in great anger she had taken her scissors and cut out her tongue, and how finally she had driven the bird away and forbidden her to return to the house again.

Then the old woman showed her husband the sparrow’s tongue, saying:

“Here is the tongue I cut off! Horrid little bird, why did it eat all my starch?”

“How could you be so cruel? Oh! how could you so cruel?” was all that the old man could answer. He was too kind-hearted to punish his be shrew of a wife, but he was terribly distressed at what had happened to his poor little sparrow.

“What a dreadful misfortune for my poor Suzume San to lose her tongue!” he said to himself. “She won’t be able to chirp any more, and surely the pain of the cutting of it out in that rough way must have made her ill! Is there nothing to be done?”

The old man shed many tears after his cross wife had gone to sleep. While he wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his cotton robe, a bright thought comforted him: he would go and look for the sparrow on the morrow. Having decided this he was able to go to sleep at last.

The next morning he rose early, as soon as ever the day broke, and snatching a hasty breakfast, started out over the hills and through the woods, stopping at every clump of bamboos to cry:

“Where, oh where does my tongue-cut sparrow stay? Where, oh where, does my tongue-cut sparrow stay!”

He never stopped to rest for his noonday meal, and it was far on in the afternoon when he found himself near a large bamboo wood. Bamboo groves are the favorite haunts of sparrows, and there sure enough at the edge of the wood he saw his own dear sparrow waiting to welcome him. He could hardly believe his eyes for joy, and ran forward quickly to greet her.

She bowed her little head and went through a number of the tricks her master had taught her, to show her pleasure at seeing her old friend again, and, wonderful to relate, she could talk as of old. The old man told her how sorry he was for all that had happened, and inquired after her tongue, wondering how she could speak so well without it. Then the sparrow opened her beak and showed him that a new tongue had grown in place of the old one, and begged him not to think any more about the past, for she was quite well now.

Then the old man knew that his sparrow was a fairy, and no common bird. It would be difficult to exaggerate the old man’s rejoicing now. He forgot all his troubles, he forgot even how tired he was, for he had found his lost sparrow, and instead of being ill and without a tongue as he had feared and expected to find her, she was well and happy and with a new tongue, and without a sign of the ill-treatment she had received from his wife. And above all she was a fairy.

The sparrow asked him to follow her, and flying before him she led him to a beautiful house in the heart of the bamboo grove. The old man was utterly astonished when he entered the house to find what a beautiful place it was. It was built of the whitest wood, the soft cream-colored mats which took the place of carpets were the finest he had ever seen, and the cushions that the sparrow brought out for him to sit on were made of the finest silk and crape. Beautiful vases and lacquer boxes adorned the tokonoma (an alcove where precious objects are displayed) of every room.

The sparrow led the old man to the place of honor, and then, taking her place at a humble distance, she thanked him with many polite bows for all the kindness he had shown her for many long years.

Then the Lady Sparrow, as we will now call her, introduced all her family to the old man. This done, her daughters, robed in dainty crape gowns, brought in on beautiful old-fashioned trays a feast of all kinds of delicious foods, till the old man began to think he must be dreaming. In the middle of the dinner some of the sparrow’s daughters performed a wonderful dance, called the “suzume-odori” or the “Sparrow’s dance,” to amuse the guest.

Never had the old man enjoyed himself so much. The hours flew by too quickly in this lovely spot, with all these fairy sparrows to wait upon him and to feast him and to dance before him.
But the night came on and the darkness reminded him that he had a long way to go and must think about taking his leave and return home. He thanked his kind hostess for her splendid entertainment, and begged her for his sake to forget all she had suffered at the hands of his cross old wife. He told the Lady Sparrow that it was a great comfort and happiness to him to find her in such a beautiful home and to know that she wanted for nothing. It was his anxiety to know how she fared and what had really happened to her that had led him to seek her. Now he knew that all was well he could return home with a light heart. If ever she wanted him for anything she had only to send for him and he would come at once.

The Lady Sparrow begged him to stay and rest several days and enjoy the change, but the old man said he must return to his old wife—who would probably be cross at his not coming home at the usual time—and to his work, and there-fore, much as he wished to do so, he could not accept her kind invitation. But now that he knew where the Lady Sparrow lived he would come to see her whenever he had the time.

When the Lady Sparrow saw that she could not persuade the old man to stay longer, she gave an order to some of her servants, and they at once brought in two boxes, one large and the other small. These were placed before the old man, and the Lady Sparrow asked him to choose whichever he liked for a present, which she wished to give him.

The old man could not refuse this kind proposal, and he chose the smaller box, saying:
“I am now too old and feeble to carry the big and heavy box. As you are so kind as to say that I may take whichever I like, I will choose the small one, which will be easier for me to carry.”

Then the sparrows all helped him put it on his back and went to the gate to see him off, bidding him good-by with many bows and entreating him to come again whenever he had the time.

Thus the old man and his pet sparrow separated quite happily, the sparrow showing not the least ill-will for all the unkindness she had suffered at the hands of the old wife. Indeed, she only felt sorrow for the old man who had to put up with it all his life.

When the old man reached home he found his wife even crosser than usual, for it was late on in the night and she had been waiting up for him for a long time.

“Where have you been all this time?” she asked in a big voice. “Why do you come back so late?”

The old man tried to pacify her by showing her the box of presents he had brought back with him, and then he told her of all that had happened to him, and how wonderfully he had been entertained at the sparrow’s house.

“Now let us see what is in the box,” said the old man, not giving her time to grumble again. “You must help me open it.” And they both sat down before the box and opened it.

To their utter astonishment they found the box filled to the brim with gold and silver coins and many other precious things. The mats of their little cottage fairly glittered as they took out the things one by one and put them down and handled them over and over again. The old man was overjoyed at the sight of the riches that were now his. Beyond his brightest expectations was the sparrow’s gift, which would enable him to give up work and live in ease and comfort the rest of his days.

He said: “Thanks to my good little sparrow! Thanks to my good little sparrow!” many times.
But the old woman, after the first moments of surprise and satisfaction at the sight of the gold and silver were over, could not suppress the greed of her wicked nature. She now began to reproach the old man for not having brought home the big box of presents, for in the innocence of his heart he had told her how he had refused the large box of presents which the sparrows had offered him, preferring the smaller one because it was light and easy to carry home.

“You silly old man,” said she, “Why did you not bring the large box? Just think what we have lost. We might have had twice as much silver and gold as this. You are certainly an old fool!” she screamed, and then went to bed as angry as she could be.

The old man now wished that he had said nothing about the big box, but it was too late; the greedy old woman, not contented with the good luck which had so unexpectedly befallen them and which she so little deserved, made up her mind, if possible, to get more.

Early the next morning she got up and made the old man describe the way to the sparrow’s house. When he saw what was in her mind he tried to keep her from going, but it was useless. She would not listen to one word he said. It is strange that the old woman did not feel ashamed of going to see the sparrow after the cruel way she had treated her in cutting off her tongue in a fit of rage. But her greed to get the big box made her forget everything else. It did not even enter her thoughts that the sparrows might be angry with her—as, indeed, they were—and might punish her for what she had done.

Ever since the Lady Sparrow had returned home in the sad plight in which they had first found her, weeping and bleeding from the mouth, her whole family and relations had done little else but speak of the cruelty of the old woman.

“How could she,” they asked each other, “inflict such a heavy punishment for such a trifling offense as that of eating some rice-paste by mistake?” They all loved the old man who was so kind and good and patient under all his troubles, but the old woman they hated, and they determined, if ever they had the chance, to punish her as she deserved. They had not long to wait.

After walking for some hours the old woman had at last found the bamboo grove which she had made her husband carefully describe, and now she stood before it crying out:

“Where is the tongue-cut sparrow’s house? Where is the tongue-cut sparrow’s house?”

At last she saw the eaves of the house peeping out from amongst the bamboo foliage. She hastened to the door and knocked loudly.

When the servants told the Lady Sparrow that her old mistress was at the door asking to see her, she was somewhat surprised at the unexpected visit, after all that had taken place, and she wondered not a little at the boldness of the old woman in venturing to come to the house. The Lady Sparrow, however, was a polite bird, and so she went out to greet the old woman, remembering that she had once been her mistress.

The old woman intended, however, to waste no time in words, she went right to the point, without the least shame, and said:

“You need not trouble to entertain me as you did my old man. I have come myself to get the box which he so stupidly left behind. I shall soon take my leave if you will give me the big box—that is all I want!”

The Lady Sparrow at once consented, and told her servants to bring out the big box. The old woman eagerly seized it and hoisted it on her back, and without even stopping to thank the Lady Sparrow began to hurry homewards.

The box was so heavy that she could not walk fast, much less run, as she would have liked to do, so anxious was she to get home and see what was inside the box, but she had often to sit down and rest herself by the way.

While she was staggering along under the heavy load, her desire to open the box became too great to be resisted. She could wait no longer, for she supposed this big box to be full of gold and silver and precious jewels like the small one her husband had received.

At last this greedy and selfish old woman put down the box by the wayside and opened it carefully, expecting to gloat her eyes on a mine of wealth. What she saw, however, so terrified her that she nearly lost her senses. As soon as she lifted the lid, a number of horrible and frightful looking demons bounced out of the box and surrounded her as if they intended to kill her. Not even in nightmares had she ever seen such horrible creatures as her much-coveted box contained. A demon with one huge eye right in the middle of its forehead came and glared at her, monsters with gaping mouths looked as if they would devour her, a huge snake coiled and hissed about her, and a big frog hopped and croaked towards her.

The old woman had never been so frightened in her life, and ran from the spot as fast as her quaking legs would carry her, glad to escape alive. When she reached home she fell to the floor and told her husband with tears all that had happened to her, and how she had been nearly killed by the demons in the box.

Then she began to blame the sparrow, but the old man stopped her at once, saying:

“Don’t blame the sparrow, it is your wickedness which has at last met with its reward. I only hope this may be a lesson to you in the future!”

The old woman said nothing more, and from that day she repented of her cross, unkind ways, and by degrees became a good old woman, so that her husband hardly knew her to be the same person, and they spent their last days together happily, free from want or care, spending carefully the treasure the old man had received from his pet, the tongue-cut sparrow.

Short story for children compiled by Yei Theodora Ozaki

Let’s Chat About The Stories ~ Ideas for Talking With Kids

Anger

1. The old woman cut the tongue of the sparrow because she was angry. Was her action proportionate to what the sparrow had done? What might this say about anger?

2. The sparrow ate the starch because he mistakenly believed it was food. Is it ok to make mistakes? Did the sparrow do the right thing in apologising?

Kindness

3. The sparrow was tiny and was treated very cruelly. It rewarded the man with jewels for his kindness to her. But can you think of any other rewards that the old man might have had in being kind to the sparrow, even if it did not give later him jewels?

Greed

4. The wicked old woman wanted larger box, believing it would be filled with more riches than the lighter bag. Yet it was filled with something quite nasty. Do you think that being greedy often has unexpected disadvantages? Can you think of some times when being greedy made things worse for you?

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