Once upon a time there was a man who lived with his wife in a tiny cottage. It was a sweet little cottage, with a bedroom upstairs, the floor was made of bright-red brick, which the woman always kept very clean. The window had snow-white muslin curtains that fluttered in the breeze and seemed to wave a greeting in the breeze and seemed to be a greeting to the pigeons. Above the neat little hearth was a mantelpiece on which stood the clock that went tick-tock all the time. In a corner stood a cupboard in which the woman kept all her good things, such as jam and honey. It was a lovely little home, and the man and woman were very happy, but they could have been happier if only they had a little child to keep them company.
The …show more content…
See where the fairies have been dancing.’
Now the fairies only come to dance where good people live, so the man and his wife felt very glad.
‘They are a charming little people,’ he said. ‘Tonight we must give them something in return for their visit.’
So that night, when the moon rose high in the sky, the woman went to her cupboard and drew out a jar of golden honey.
‘This will please the little people,’ she said. ‘There is nothing they like so much,’ and she handed it to her husband to place under the dovecot.
Next morning they were both up early to see if their gift had been taken by the fairies. There stood the pot under the dovecot, but not full of honey. No, the fairies had drunk every drop, but yet the pot was not empty, for right at the bottom lay a curious little brown bulb. The good man laughed as he picked it up.
‘And what can this be?’ he said.
‘The fairies’ gifts are never to be despised,’ said the wife. ‘It is a little bulb which we must plant in a pot, and no doubt the flower will bring joy to our home.’
‘It is said the fairies only bring what is wanted to a home,’ said the man, ‘and we have all we want except a …show more content…
‘It is true she is but half the size of your thumb,’ said the woman. ‘We must call her Thumbelina.’
‘She must have a cradle to sleep in,’ said the man. ‘Would not half the shell of a walnut keep her very cosy?’
So a nut was taken from the store cupboard, and carefully opened and the inside removed.
‘See how beautiful it rocks,’ said the woman. ‘I know she will like it,’ and they began to fill the bottom of it with purple violet leaves for a mattress. ‘She shall have a pink petal from her own flower for a coverlet; that will keep her nice and warm.’
And so they spent their time making tiny things for their tiny Thumbelina, and she was a joy to them both with her sweet songs and silver ripples of laughter.
For many weeks Thumbelina spent her days in happiness, and added joy to the home by her merry ways.
But now a sad thing happened to the little family.
One warm evening, when Thumbelina was asleep in her walnut cradle, a big shiny green frog hopped on to the window-sill and popped her head in at the open window, gave one big hop, and landed on the table close to the cradle. ‘What a find,’ croaked the frog; ‘I shall carry this lovely baby home to my nursery in the pond, and she shall be reared with my own children.’ With that the old frog seized