Fairy Tale:

Thumbelina

There was once a woman who wished to have a little child, but she could not get her wish. At last she went to a witch, and said, "I like to have a child; can you tell me where I can find one?" "Oh, that can be easily managed," said the witch. "Here is a barleycorn of a different kind, put it into a flower-pot, and see what will happen."

"Thank you," said the woman.Then she went home and planted it, and immediately there grew a large beautiful flower, something like a tulip, but with its leaves tightly closed as if it were still a bud. "It is a beautiful flower," said the woman, and she kissed the red and golden coloured leaves, and while she did so the flower opened, and she saw that it was a tulip. Within the flower, upon the green velvet stamens, sat a very delicate and graceful little maiden. She was scarcely half as long as a thumb, and they gave her the name of "Thumbelina," or Tiny, because she was so small. A walnut shell, elegantly polished, served her for a cradle; her bed was formed of blue violet-leaves, with a roseleaf for a counterpane.

Here she slept at night, but during the day she amused herself on a table, where the woman had placed a plateful of water. In the swampy margin of a broad stream in the garden lived the toad, with her son. He was uglier than his mother, and when he saw the pretty little maiden in her elegant bed, he could only cry, "Croak, croak, croak."

"Don't speak so loud, or she will wake," said the toad, "and then she might run away. We will place her on one of the water-lily leaves out in the stream; it will be like an island to her, she is so light and small, and then she cannot escape; and, while she is away, we will make haste and prepare the state-room under the marsh, in which you are to live when you are married."

Far out in the stream grew a number of water lilies, with broad green leaves, which seemed to float on the water.

The largest of these leaves appeared farther off than the rest, and the old toad swam out to it with the walnut-shell, in which little Tiny lay still asleep. "Croak, croak, croak," was all her son could say so the toad took up the elegant little bed, and swam away with it, leaving Tiny all alone on the green leaf, where she sat and wept. She could not bear to think of living with the old toad, and having her ugly son for a husband.

"We shall have a visitor soon," said the field-mouse one day; "my neighbor pays me a visit once a week. He is better off than I am; he has large rooms, and wears a beautiful black velvet coat. If you could only have him for a husband, you would be well provided for indeed. But he is blind, so you must tell him some of your prettiest stories.

But Tiny was not interested about this neighbor, for he was a mole. However, he came and paid his visit dressed in his black velvet coat.

"Farewell, then, farewell, you good, pretty little maiden," said the swallow; and he flew out into the sunshine. Tiny watched him, and the tears rose in her eyes. She was very fond of the poor swallow.

"You are going to be married, Tiny," said the field mouse. "My neighbor has asked for you. What good fortune for a poor child like you.

Tiny had to turn the spindle, and the field mouse hired four spiders, who were to weave day and night. Every evening the mole visited her, and was continually speaking of the time when the summer would be over. Then he would keep his wedding-day with Tiny; but now the heat of the sun was so great that it burned the earth, and made it quite hard, like a stone. As soon, as the summer was over, the wedding should take place. But Tiny was not at all pleased; for she did not like the tiresome mole. When autumn arrived, Tiny had her outfit quite ready; and the field mouse said to her, "In four weeks the wedding must take place."

Then Tiny wept, and said she would not marry the disagreeable mole.

So the wedding-day was fixed, on which the mole was to fetch Tiny away to live with him, deep under the earth, and never again to see the warm sun, because he did not like it. The poor child was very unhappy at the thought of saying farewell to the beautiful sun, and as the field mouse had given her permission to stand at the door, she went to look at it once more.

"Farewell, farewell," she repeated, twining her arm round a little red flower that grew just by her side. "Greet the little swallow from me, if you should see him again." "Tweet, tweet," sounded over her head suddenly. She looked up, and there was the swallow himself flying close by. As soon as he spied Tiny, he was delighted; and then she told him how unwilling she felt to marry the ugly mole, and to live always beneath the earth, and never to see the bright sun any more. And as she told him she wept.

"Cold winter is coming," said the swallow, "and I am going to fly away into warmer countries. Will you go with me? "Yes, I will go with you," said Tiny; and she seated herself on the bird's back, with her feet on his outstretched wings, and tied her girdle to one of his strongest feathers.

"This is my house," said the swallow; "but it would not do for you to live there- you would not be comfortable. You must choose for yourself one of those lovely flowers, and I will put you down upon it, and then you shall have everything that you can wish to make you happy."

"That will be delightful," she said, and clapped her little hands for joy. He was the angel of the flower; for a tiny man and a tiny woman dwell in every flower; and this was the king of them all.

"Oh, how beautiful he is!" whispered Tiny to the swallow.

The little prince was at first quite frightened of the bird, who was like a giant, compared to such a delicate little creature as himself; but when he saw Tiny, he was delighted, and thought her the prettiest little maiden he had ever seen. He took the golden crown from his head, and placed it on hers, and asked her name, and if she would be his wife, and queen over.

"Farewell, farewell," said the swallow, with a heavy heart as he left the warm countries to fly back into Denmark. There he had a nest over the window of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy tales. The swallow sang, "Tweet, tweet," and from his song came the whole story.

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