Project Gutenberg's A Story Garden for Little Children, by Maud Lindsay This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: A Story Garden for Little Children Author: Maud Lindsay Release Date: July 25, 2020 [EBook #62748] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STORY GARDEN FOR LITTLE CHILDREN *** Produced by Linda Cantoni, Charlene Taylor, Tom Cosmas and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) Transcriber Note The music scores shown on pages 5 and 6 have been transcribed and saved in Midi, MP3 and MusicMXL formats. A link to each of these formats is provided for the reader's usage. A Story Garden: For Little Children, by Maud Lindsay A STORY GARDEN For Little Children Books by MAUD LINDSAY A STORY GARDEN for Little Children Illustrated, $1.25 THE STORY-TELLER for Little Children Illustrated in colors, $1.25 BOBBY AND THE BIG ROAD Illustrated in colors, $1.50 LITTLE MISSY Illustrated in colors, $1.50 By MAUD LINDSAY and EMILIE POULSSON THE JOYOUS TRAVELERS Illustrated in colors and black-and-white, $2.00 THE JOYOUS GUESTS Illustrated in colors, $2.00 LITTLE SLEEPYHEAD. A STORY GARDEN for LITTLE CHILDREN BY MAUD LINDSAY « frontis » « i » ILLUSTRATED BY FLORENCE LILEY YOUNG. BOSTON LOTHROP, LEE, & SHEPARD CO. Published, March, 1913 Copyright, 1913, by Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. All Rights Reserved A STORY GARDEN Norwood Press Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U. S. A. TO Lulie Jones THE FOUNDER OF THE FLORENCE FREE KINDERGARTEN, AND A LOVER OF LITTLE CHILDREN EVERYWHERE INTRODUCTION To those who know Miss Maud Lindsay's stories for little children,[1] a new collection needs no heralding. She has proved herself gifted with loving insight, literary ability, and spiritual power. Her stories, whether told in kindergarten, school, or Sunday-school, or perused by little readers, have charmed children and touched their hearts. "Mother Stories" and "More Mother Stories." The stories in "A Story Garden" are addressed, in the main, to the nursery public—a public in pinafore and rompers,—to the very youngest listeners. Any one who uses them with little children, whether realizing or not the art required for such writing, will find the stories wonderful in their fitness and enduring interest. Repetition only endears them to the listening child, for, unlike many "simple" stories, which are merely pretty little nothings, Miss Lindsay's have point and truth that the young child can understand. To invite little children and their retinue of loving attendants to enter "A Story Garden" and enjoy its fair blossoms and wholesome fruit, is a privilege of which I gladly avail myself, because I can unqualifiedly commend Miss Lindsay's stories as the very best I know of for little children. They are by far the best literary product (of their kind) that can be traced to the kindergarten or to the new understanding of childhood that marks our time. Trust them. Use them. They will give joy, refine the taste, enrich the imagination, and gently impel the child toward the True, the Beautiful, and the Good. Emilie Poulsson. PREFACE Children delight in folk-tale and fairy lore, but the very little child loves best the story which mirrors the familiar. And it is for him, and for the mother who is striving in this age of profusion to guard the innate simplicity of her child's nature, that I have written my little stories. Maud Lindsay. « ii » « iii » « iv » « v » [1] « vi » « vii » Sheffield, Ala. Stories in A Story Garden PAGE Little Sleepy Head 1 The Lovely Moon 4 The Wind's Fun 7 The Brown Birds 10 The Stick Horse 17 "Tickity-Tock" 20 The Saucer Pie 23 Thimble Biscuit 26 The Wee Nest 29 The Strawberry Shortcake 32 Good News 35 The Roll of Bread 39 Three Guesses 43 The Snowball 47 Santa Claus 51 Ten Pennies 55 The Lost Doll 63 Little Dog and Big Dog 68 The Little King's Rabbits 77 The Snowman 84 Pictures in A Story Garden LITTLE SLEEPY HEAD Frontispiece FACING PAGE THE LOVELY MOON 4 THE WIND'S FUN 8 THE BROWN BIRDS 12 THE STICK HORSE 18 "TICKITY-TOCK" 20 THE SAUCER PIE 24 THIMBLE BISCUIT 26 THE WEE NEST 30 THE STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE 32 GOOD NEWS 36 THE ROLL OF BREAD 40 THREE GUESSES 44 THE SNOWBALL 48 SANTA CLAUS 52 TEN PENNIES 56 THE LOST DOLL 64 LITTLE DOG AND BIG DOG 72 THE LITTLE KING'S RABBITS 80 THE SNOWMAN 86 A STORY GARDEN « viii » « xiii » « ix » « 1 » O O FOR LITTLE CHILDREN LITTLE SLEEPY HEAD nce upon a time, early in the morning when the sun was just climbing over the hills and all the clouds were rosy pink, a little child lay asleep in his pretty white bed. "Wake up, wake up," ticked the clock that stood on the mantel. "Wake up, wake up;" but the child did not hear a word that it said. "I'll wake him up," said a bird that lived in a tree close by the window. "He throws me crumbs to eat every day, and I will wake him with a song." So the bird sat in the tree and sang and sang, "Wake up, dearie, dearie, dearie," till all the birds in the garden waked up and sang with her; but the little child slept on in his pretty white bed. He was still asleep when the wind from the South blew through the garden. "I know this little child," said the wind. "I turned his windmill for him yesterday, and I will blow through the window and wake him with a kiss." So the wind blew through the window and kissed him on both cheeks, and blew his curls about his face; but the child did not stir in his pretty white bed. "He is waiting for me to call him," said the rooster in the barnyard. "Nobody knows him so well as I, for I belong to him, and I will wake him." So the rooster stood on the fence and flapped his wings, and crowed:— "Cock, cock a doo, I'm calling you. Wake up, wake up, Cock, cock a doo." He waked the yellow chickens and the old hen, the pigeons in the pigeon-house, and the little red calf in the barn. Even the lambs in the meadow heard his call; but he did not wake the little child, though he crowed till he was hoarse. Now by this time the sun was bright in the sky. It shone over the hills and the meadows. It shone in the barnyard where the noisy rooster crowed and in the garden where the birds sang, and it shone through the window right into the little child's face. And then the little child opened his eyes! "Mamma, Mamma," he called; and his mamma came in at once to dress him. "Who waked my baby child?" asked she; but nobody answered, for not even little Sleepy Head himself knew that it was the sun. THE LOVELY MOON nce upon a time there was a little child who did not want to go to bed. "The yellow chickens are all asleep," said his mother, as she undressed him. "I heard the old hen calling them, cluck, cluck, cluck, before you had eaten your supper." "But I do not want to go to sleep," said the child. "The pigeons are all asleep," said his mother, "up in the pigeon house. 'Coo-roo, coo-roo, good-night,' they said, then tucked their heads under their wings." "But I do not want to go to sleep," said the child. "The little red calf is asleep in the barn," said the mother; "and the lambs are asleep on green clover beds;" and she put the child into his own white bed. « 2 » « 3 » « 4 » THE LOVELY MOON. It was a soft downy bed close beside a window, but the child did not want to lie there. He tossed about under the coverlet, and the tears were beginning to run down his cheeks when, all at once, the moon looked in at the window. "There!" said his mother. "The moon has come to tell you good-night. See how it is smiling." The moon shone right into the child's eyes. "Good night, little child, sleep well," it seemed to say. "Good night," said he; and he lay still on his bed, and watched the moon while his mother sang:— [Mid] [Mp3] [Mxl] Music by Elizabeth K. Dingus Lovely moon, lovely moon, smiling on high, Like a bright angel's face up in the sky, Baby is watching you, Baby and I, Lovely moon, lovely moon, up in the sky. "Can the moon see the lambs?" asked the child sleepily. His eyelids were so heavy that he could scarcely keep them open, while the moon looked in at the window and his mother sang:— [Mid] [Mp3] [Mxl] « 5 » « 6 » O Tell us, oh, lovely moon, what do you see, As you shine down upon meadow and tree? I see the little lambs, I see the sheep, I see a baby child going to sleep. The moon smiled at the child and his mother, and the mother smiled at the moon; but the little child did not see them, for he was fast asleep. THE WIND'S FUN ne day the wind blew through the town, and oh, how merry it was! It whistled down the chimneys, and scampered round the corners, and sang in the tree tops. "Come and dance, come and dance, come and dance with me," that is what it seemed to say. And what could keep from dancing to such a merry tune? The clothes danced on the clothes-line, the leaves danced on the branches of the trees, a bit of paper danced about the street, and a little boy's hat danced off of his head and down the sidewalk as fast as it could go. It was a sailor hat with a blue ribbon around it; and the ends of the ribbons flew out behind like little blue flags. "Stop!" cried the little boy as it blew away; but the hat could not stop. The wind whirled it and twirled it, and landed it at last right in the middle of the street. "Now I'll get it," said the child, and he was just reaching his hand out for it when off it went again, rolling over and over like a hoop. "Nobody can catch me," thought the hat proudly; "and I do not know myself how far I shall go." Just then the wind whisked it into an alley, and dropped it behind a barrel there. When the little boy looked into the alley, it was nowhere to be seen. "Where is my new sailor hat?" he cried. "Ho! ho! I know," laughed the wind, and it blew behind the barrel, and fluttered the ends of the blue ribbon till the little boy spied them. "Hurrah!" said he; and he ran to pick up the hat in a hurry. "The wind shall not get my new hat again," he said; and he put it on his head and held it with both hands all the way home. « 7 » « 8 » O THE WIND'S FUN. But as for the clothes on the clothes-line, and the leaves on the trees, and the bit of paper in the street, they danced on and on, till the wind blew away; and that is the end of the story. THE BROWN BIRDS ne fair spring morning two bonny brown birds sat on a lilac bush twittering and chirping:— "Chee, chee, cheeree. Where shall we make our little nest?" "Make it here in my branches," said the maple tree that grew by the garden gate. "Many a nest have I held in my arms. Make it here." The maple tree was strong and green and beautiful. Its wide-spreading branches reached from the garden path far over the road beyond the gate; and they rocked like a cradle in the wind that fair spring morning. Oh! it was the very place to make a nest, and as soon as the brown birds had looked at it they decided to build there. "Chee, chee, cheeree," they sang in the sunshine. "We'll make our nest in the maple tree, Oh! we are so happy, chee, chee, cheeree." « 9 » « 10 » « 11 » They twittered and chirped and trilled and sang till a cow, that was eating her breakfast of hay in the barnyard near by, put her head over the fence to ask the news. When the brown birds told her what they were going to do she did not wonder at their singing. "If you need any hay," said she, "fly over the fence and help yourselves to some of mine. There is plenty here for you and me; and I have heard my friend the speckled hen say that there is nothing better for a nest than hay." "Very true," said the maple tree. "Every bird must suit himself, but I agree with the speckled hen, and I have held enough nests to know something about them." The brown birds looked at each other wisely. "Chee, chee, cheeree," they sang again. "We'll weave our little nest of hay; And we'll begin this very day To make it in the maple tree. Oh! we are so happy, chee, chee, cheeree," sang the birds as they hurried into the barnyard. They could take only a little hay at a time in their bills, but they chose the nicest, longest pieces they could find, and were just ready to fly away with them when a horse came galloping up. "This is no way to carry hay," he cried. "Tell me where you live, and I will bring it to your barn in a wagon." Then the two birds laughed till they dropped the hay from their bills; the cow laughed till her bell tinkled; the maple tree laughed till its leaves shook; and the horse laughed, too, though he did not know what the joke was, till the cow told him. THE BROWN BIRDS. "Well, well," he said to the birds, "if I cannot haul your hay for you, perhaps I may give you some hairs from my mane for your nest. I am sure I can't see what use they can be, but a bird in the pasture begged for some, and she said she was building a nest in the hedge." "Chee, chee, cheeree. 'T is nice to line A nest of hay with horsehair fine. We're building in the maple tree, And we are so happy, chee, chee, cheeree," « 12 » « 13 » chirped the birds. By this time everybody in the barnyard knew that two brown birds were making a nest in the maple tree by the garden gate; and everybody wanted to help them. "Take this with my love," called the pigeon; and she dropped a feather from her soft white breast, as she flew from the pigeon house. "We, too, have feathers to spare," cried the hen and the goose. "Every nest is the better for a bit of down," said the duck. "And I can give that." The two birds were pleased with everything. "Chee, chee, chee, chee, cheeree," sang they, "With feathers soft, and hair, and hay, How fine our little nest will be Up in the dear old maple tree. Oh! we are so happy, chee, chee, cheeree." They were busy all the fair spring morning carrying the gifts to the maple tree; and as they flew back and forth a little girl spied them, and called to her mother:— "Oh, mother, come and see these little birds with feathers and hay in their bills. What are they doing?" "I know," said her mother. "They are building a nest in our maple tree. Would you like to give them a piece of cloth like your new pink dress for their nest?" "Oh, yes, yes," said the child; and she ran and got the cloth from the scrap bag, and hung it on the lilac bush. It had not been there longer than a minute when down flew a brown bird to get it. "Chee, chee," he sang, "what do you think? I've found a lovely bit of pink To trim our nest up in the tree. Oh! I am so happy, chee, chee, cheeree." "Just what we needed," said the other brown bird; and she made haste to weave it into the nest, for there was no time to waste. Over and under, in and out, twisting and pulling, they wove the cloth and the hay together, with a lining of hair and downy feathers. The nest was finished by the time the little girl's papa came home to dinner, and he held her up in his arms to see it. "I'm glad I gave them a piece like my new dress," she said, when she spied the bit of pink woven into the nest. "Chee, chee, so are we," sang the brown birds in the tree top. "We're glad we made our nest of hay. We're glad we finished it to-day. We're glad we built in the maple tree. Oh! we are so happy, chee, chee, cheeree." THE STICK HORSE here was once a little boy who was too tired to walk; or at least he thought he was. He and his mother and the baby « 14 » « 15 » « 16 » « 17 » T were at his grandmother's house and it was time to go home, but he sat down on the doorstone and felt very sure that he could not go a step farther. "Somebody will have to carry me," he said. "Well," said his mother, who had the baby in her arms, "what shall we do?" And I am sure I do not know what they would have done if the little boy's grandmother had not come out just then to see what the matter was. "If he cannot walk he must ride," she said; and she went into the house and got the old hearth broom, and the mop handle, and one of Grandfather's walking-sticks and brought them all out to the little boy. "Now," said she, "will you ride a slow and steady gray horse, or a sleek-as-satin bay horse, or will you ride a black horse that is spirited and gay?" "I like black horses best," said the little boy; "and I will ride that one, please." "Very well," said Grandmother; and she took Grandfather's walking-stick and gave it to the little boy. "This is a very fast horse," she said. "I should not be surprised if you got home before your mother and the baby; but do be careful." "I will," promised the little boy; and away he rode on the stick horse, gallop, gallop, gallop! By the time Mother and the baby came out of Grandmother's gate the little boy was at the corner. When they reached the corner he had passed the big elm tree that grew by the sidewalk. When he rode up the little hill beyond the elm, trot, trot, trot, they almost caught up with him; but when they went down on the other side he was far ahead. THE STICK HORSE. Gallop, gallop, gallop—almost before the little boy knew it himself he was at home; and when Mother and the baby got there the stick horse was hitched to the red rose bush, and the little boy sat on the doorstep laughing. "I got home first. I got home first. I can ride fast on my black horse," said the little boy. « 18 » « 19 » O "TICKITY-TOCK" nce upon a time there was a clock that stood on the mantel in a little boy's mother's room, ticking merrily night and day, "Tickity, tickity tock." It told the little boy's father when to go to work and his mother when to get dinner, and sometimes it talked to the little boy himself. "Go to bed, Sleepy Head," that is what it seemed to say at bedtime; and in the morning it ticked out loud and clear, as if it were calling, "Wake up! wake up! wake up!" The little boy's mother always knew just what it meant by its tickity, tickity tock, and late one afternoon, when he was playing with his toys and the clock was ticking on the mantel, she said:— "Listen, little boy, the clock has something to tell you:— TICKETY TOCK. "'Tickity, tickity tock,' it is saying, 'Tickity tock, it is time to stop playing; Somebody's coming so loving and dear, You must be ready to welcome him here.'" Then the little boy jumped up in a hurry and put his hobby-horse in the corner and his pony lines on a hook in the closet and his tin soldiers in a straight row on the cupboard shelf. « 20 » « 21 » O "Now I'm ready," he said, but:— "'Tickity, tickity, tickity tock! Time to tidy yourself,' said the clock." "Oh!" said the little boy, when his mother told him this; but he stood very still while she washed his hands and his rosy face and combed his curls till they were smooth and shining. "Now I'm ready," he cried, but Mother said:— "Why, are you going to forget your nice little blouse that you've never worn yet?" "'Tickity, tickity, tickity tock, Time for clean clothes, little boy,' says the clock." Then she made haste to get the blouse out of the dresser drawer, where it had been ever since it was finished. It had a big collar and a tie, and when the little boy put it on he looked like a sailor man. "Now I'm ready," he said, and—do you believe it?—the very next minute the door opened and in walked the little boy's father. "I knew you were coming," said the little boy, "and so did Mother. The clock told us and I have on my new blouse." THE SAUCER PIE nce upon a time there was a saucer pie. A saucer pie is one that is baked in a saucer instead of a pan; and if you have never seen one, I hope you will before you are a hundred years old. This pie was baked in a saucer that belonged to a little girl named Polly. Her grandmother had given her the saucer, and it was as blue as the sky. When her mamma took the pie out of the oven, and put it on the table to cool, she said:— "Here is a nice little, brown little pie, Baked in a saucer as blue as the sky." The pie belonged to Polly, as well as the saucer. Her mamma had baked it for her because it was her birthday; and she was very proud of it. "Tell me about it again," she said, as she stood on tiptoe by the table to see it. Then her mamma said:— "Here is a pie that is dainty and sweet, Baked in a saucer, for Polly to eat." But Polly did not want to eat her saucer pie by herself. "I will have a party," she said; and away she went with dancing feet to call her neighbors in. There was Martha, and Margaret, and little boy John; and all of them came to Polly's party. When they got there the table was set with Polly's doll dishes, and in the middle of the table was the pie. « 22 » « 23 » « 24 » O THE SAUCER PIE. "A nice little pie, in a saucer blue, Baked in the oven for Polly and you," said Mamma, as she cut the pie, once across this way, and once across that. Each child had a slice; and then, nibble, nibble,— All that was left of the saucer-pie, Was a crumb in the saucer as blue as the sky. THIMBLE BISCUIT nce upon a time Polly's mamma was making biscuit for supper. She sifted the flour so fine, and white; And kneaded the dough till it was light, And rolled it out with a rolling pin; And cut the biscuit round and thin. Polly watched her do everything; and when the last biscuit was in the biscuit pan, Mamma said:— "Here is a piece of dough left on my biscuit board. I wonder if there is a little girl in this kitchen who would like to make some little biscuit?" « 25 » « 26 »