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Baby Pitcher's Trials / Little Pitcher Stories Chapter 1 HOW THE LITTLE PRINCESS MADE SUNSHINE.
t was raining fast, and it had rained for two days. This was the third. Flora had become tired of the leaden sky and the wet earth. She had watched the moving clouds and the swaying branches of the trees long enough, and now she was ready for fair weather. But it seemed as if fair weather would never come, and she looked in vain for a bit of blue sky. There was not even a light streak. It was stormy without and it was stormy within. The gray side of the sky was all that could be seen, and the gray side of Flora's temper was out also.
There was a sunny side to both, but that was carefully hidden by the sober clouds.
Flora was tired of the big drops that chased each other down the pane. She was tired of trying to look abroad through the wet glass and the mist. When she did get a glimpse of the outer world there was nothing to see, and that was the worst of it. There was nothing but muddy roads, pools of water and little patches of green grass. It was not to be borne.
Flora crept down from her high chair to the lowly footstool, leaned her head upon her hand and sighed. Sister Amy had gone to school, and Charley and Bertie were big boys. Of course they could go anywhere in any weather, with "yubber" boots. How she envied them! Only she the youngest of the flock, the Baby Pitcher, was forced to stay at home because it rained. So she sighed. Mamma heard the sigh and said inquiringly, "Well?"
"If I was a lady," said Flora, "a certain true lady, I wouldn't stay in for the weather. I would put on my water-prooth and go a-fishing."
"In the rain?"
"I would."
Mamma laughed. Now Flora was not in a mood to be laughed at, so she shut her eyes to keep back the tears, for she knew they would come if she did not shut the covers down tightly. She did not keep them all back however, for mamma saw two or three rolling slowly down her little girl's cheek.
"Wouldn't go fishing without a water-prooth," she added, petulantly; "might fall in and get wet."
Mamma did not laugh now. She was very grave. She had not had an easy time of it since falling weather set in. She could do nothing right. All her efforts had failed to amuse Flora. So mamma sighed.
Flora, forgetting that she must keep the covers shut down tightly, opened wide her eyes and was astonished. Mamma looked so very sober. Was she too going to cry because the pleasant sunshine staid away so long?
"I wouldn't," she said, earnestly. Mamma looked up. "I never would cry for the rain," hastily brushing the moisture from her own cheek. "Ladies don't, nor good children; only cross ones."
"I am glad to hear it," said mamma; but she did not smile.
"It will be pleasant when it clears off, I guess; don't you?"
"It generally is," said mamma, quietly; and then she went on with her work and paid no more attention to Flora. Now that was unusual conduct. What did mamma mean? In thinking about it, Flora forgot her own troubles, and forgot all about the rain, though at that moment it was beating fiercely against the window, and the cold wind was begging to come in. By and by she carried the footstool to her mother's side and seated herself demurely.
"I am going to tell you a story," she said. "It is a story, but it is the truth, too. Want to hear it?"
Mamma assented.
"Well. Once, a good while ago, almost as much as a week, somebody went a-fishing. It wasn't Charley or Bertie or Amy or me. His mother told him never to do it because he might tumble in, you know. But he did; he went."
"What a naughty boy!" said mamma, gravely.
"But he wasn't a boy."
"Excuse me," said mamma, "I thought he was."
"And he wasn't a girl."
"No?"
"No. You could never guess what he was."
"Then you will have to tell me."
"He was a fly."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, he was a fly; a sure enough fly. And where do you think the pond was? Not a truly pond, but play it was, you know."
"It might have been the sirup pitcher or the plum jar. Flies are very fond of sweets."
"But it wasn't. It was the cream jug. He was trying to catch some milk and he tumbled in."
"What a pity!"
"Yes, and his mamma wasn't there, and the milk drownded him. And I hope he will remember it as long as he lives, and never do so any more. Wasn't that a good story?"
"It was a very good story."
"Did it make you feel better?"
"A great deal better; and now I will tell you a story."
"Oh, goody!"
Flora brushed the curls back from her face and prepared to listen.
"Once upon a time," said mamma.
"Long ago?"
"Not so very long ago."
"Much as a week?"
"Oh, no; not so much as a week. We will say about two days."
"Well."
"Once upon a time-"
"About two days ago?"
"Yes, dear. In a little white palace no larger than this house, there lived a king and a queen, a tall princess and a little princess."
"Oh oo!" said Flora.
"And the king could not always remain in the pretty palace, because it was necessary for him to go abroad to provide food and clothing for his family. The queen, the tall princess and the little princess, were his family."
"Yes," said Flora.
"And the tall princess could not always stay in the palace, because she expected to be a queen herself some day, and her mamma-I mean the queen-wanted her to be a wise one; so she sent her away to school every morning. But the queen and the little princess stayed in the palace, and it often happened that they were left at home together."
"Just like us."
"Yes, dear. The princess used to run about and play out of doors like other little girls when the weather was pleasant, and when it was not she amused herself in doors with her toys and her pets."
"Did she have a white mouse, do you think?"
"I think she had a white mouse."
"And a grandma?"
"I am almost certain that she had a grandma."
"But the grandma did not live in the palace?"
"Oh, no. The grandma lived in a house not far from the palace, and the tall princess and the little princess used to visit her almost every day."
"Well."
"The queen and the little princess were very happy together until something happened. It was a long storm that happened, and there was no sunshine in the palace for more than two days."
Flora, reminded of the rain, glanced at the window against which the big drops were rattling merrily, but quickly turned to mamma again, for she did not wish to lose one word of the story.
"Now when the sun did not shine in the palace it was a very gloomy place, not like a palace at all, and the queen was sad and the princess unhappy. The princess did not know why she was unhappy, but the queen knew. It was because there was no sunshine to make little faces look pleasant and cheerful. It made the queen sad to see the little princess unhappy and discontented, so she thought she would try to make some sunshine."
"Did she?"
"No," said mamma. "I am sorry to say that the poor queen worked very hard, but she had forgotten how to make it."
"Too bad!" said Flora.
"But when the poor queen was quite discouraged the little princess thought that she would try; and what her poor mamma-I mean the queen-had failed to do, she did. The little princess made the sunshine."
"Oh, goody!" exclaimed Flora, clapping her hands. "How did she do it?"
"Why," said mamma, smiling, and putting her arm round the little girl's neck, "she brought her footstool to the queen's side and told the queen a story."
"Just like me!"
"Yes, dear. And the queen was very happy because the palace was no longer dark and gloomy; it was bright with the sunshine her little girl had made."
"The princess, you mean."
"The princess was a little girl."
"And was the queen a lady?"
"The queen was the little girl's mamma."
"Oh, I know!" said Flora, jumping about in high glee, "I am the little princess and you are the queen, and this is the palace."
"Yes," said mamma.
"And papa is the king, and sister is the tall princess."
"Yes, dear."
"And I hope," she added, earnestly, "that the princess will never forget that she knows how to make sunshine."
"The queen hopes so too," said mamma.
* * *
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Baby Pitcher's Trials / Little Pitcher Stories
Carrie L. May
Literature
Chapter 1 HOW THE LITTLE PRINCESS MADE SUNSHINE.
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Chapter 2 FLORA WAITS FOR THE SUN TO DRINK UP THE WATER.
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Chapter 3 THE STORY OF POOR ROBIN.
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Chapter 4 GOING TO HAVE A FUNERAL.
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Chapter 5 BERTIE MEETS JACK MIDNIGHT AT THE SPRING.
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Chapter 6 A DEADLY SNARE FOR THE MUSK-RAT.
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Chapter 7 SOMETHING IN THE TRAP.
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Chapter 8 JACK PULLS OFF THE WARM JACKET.
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Chapter 9 FLORA AN EXILE.
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Chapter 10 FLORA GOES TO RIDE IN THE LITTLE BLUE CART.
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Chapter 11 SHE SAYS GOOD-BY TO THE SOAP MAN.
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Chapter 12 AND LOSES HER WAY.
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Chapter 13 CHARLEY SWALLOWS THE ROOSTER.
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Chapter 14 HAPPY TOWZER.
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Chapter 15 FLORA NEVER OPENS THE BIG GATE.
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