THE THREE WISHES AN ENGLISH FOLK TALE Once upon a time, and be sure it was a long time ago, there lived a poor woodman in a great forest. Every day of his life he went out to cut timber. One day, as he started out, the goodwife filled his wallet and slung his bottle on his back, that he might have meat and drink in the forest. He had marked out for his work this day a huge old oak, which, he thought, would furnish many and many a good plank. When he came to the oak, he took his ax in his hands and swung it round his head as though he would fell the tree at one stroke. But he had not given one blow, when there stood before him a fairy, who prayed him to spare the tree. The woodman was dazed, as you may fancy, with wonder and fright. He could not open his mouth to utter a word. At last he found his tongue. "Well," said he, "I'll e'en do as thou wishest." "You have done better for yourself than you know," answered the fairy. "To show that I am grateful, I will grant your next three wishes, be they what they may." With that the fairy was no more to be seen. So the woodman slung his wallet over his shoulder and his bottle at his side, and off he started for home. But the way was long, and the poor man was still dazed with the wonderful thing that had happened. When he got home there was nothing in his mind but the wish to sit down and rest. As he sat, he became hungry. "Hast thou naught for supper, dame?" said he to his wife. 66 Nay, not for two hours," said she. "Ah!" groaned the woodman, "I wish I'd a good link of sausage here before me.' No sooner had he said the word, when clatter, clatter, rustle, rustle, what should come down the chimney but a link of the finest sausage the heart of man could wish. "What's all this?" cried the goodwife. Then all the morning's work came back to the woodman, and he told his tale. "Thou art but silly, Jan, thou art but silly!" the goodwife burst out. "I wish the sausage were at thy nose; I do, indeed!" And, before you could say "Jack Robinson," there sat the woodman with his nose the longer for a noble link of sausage. He gave a pull, but it stuck, and she gave a pull, but it stuck; and they both pulled till they had nigh pulled the nose off, but the sausage stuck and stuck. "What's to be done now?" said he. "It does not look so very bad," said she, looking hard at him. Then the woodman saw that if he wished, he must wish in a hurry, and so he wished that the sausage might come off his nose. Well!—there it lay in a dish on the table. So it happened that if the goodman and goodwife did not ride in a golden coach, or dress in silk and satin, they had at least as fine a link of sausage for their supper as the heart of man could desire. From Joseph Jacobs's "More English Fairy Tales." Adapted. SEVEN TIMES ONE BY JEAN INGELOW There's no dew left on the daisies and clover, There's no rain left in heaven; "seven times" over and over, I've said my "seven times Seven times one are seven. I am old, so old I can write a letter; The lambs play always, they know no better; O moon! in the night I have seen you sailing, You were bright! ah, bright! but your light is failing, You are nothing now but a bow. You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven That God has hidden your face? I hope if you have, you will soon be forgiven, O velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow, |