The race anon was quickly plann'd, Eftsoons a judge was nam'd, And Fox and Shrimp quite ready stood, Though Shrimp seem'd half-asham'd.

And now they start, one, two, away!

See, Reynard darts ahead, Unconscious that sly Shrimp had jump'd Upon his tail outspread.

There snug he lay, so close and warm, While Reynard tore apace, And laugh'd, as only shrimps can laugh, In his comfortable place.

At length, as Reynard near'd the goal, He slowly slacken'd speed, And stopping, ere he touch'd the post, He turn'd--he did indeed.

Then off hopp'd Shrimp, and stood at once Up at the winning-place; While Reynard still look'd back and cried, "How now, who wins the race!

Where are you, villain? where are you?

Not e'en in sight, I trow!"

"Nay, pardon, sir," behind him cried That sly Shrimp with a bow.

Then Reynard, all abash'd, did stare To find himself outdone!

While the jeering crowd, in high delight, Went wild at all the fun.

But Reynard could not bear their gibes: He slunk in haste away; Nor ever guess'd how Shrimp contriv'd To win the race that day.

THE KING AND QUEEN'S QUARREL.

(NARRATED BY A DOLL).

I was very pleased indeed, when I first came into the world, to find that I was to become the property of a King and Queen. I had seen a great deal of life through my shop-window, and had come to the conclusion that I was formed for high society. So therefore, when my new mistress said to me, "Dolly, I am the Queen to-day, and Bertie is the King," I was not at all surprised, but held myself as firmly as before.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE KING AND QUEEN SAT TOGETHER."]

The King and Queen sat together on one chair, which I suppose is the constant habit of Kings and Queens. They were both very nice and neat, for the nurse had just brushed their hair. The Queen was four years old, and the King was six. And they were both the very prettiest children you could see.

The little Queen had a blue print frock, and a little round face. She had pretty shy eyes that looked out from beneath a shock of curly hair.

The little King was very pretty too. And he liked to play with dolls, which I always think is a nice trait of character in a boy.

"Oh, what a lovely doll!" cried the Queen, when she first saw me. I may repeat it without vanity, for I suppose it was true. Anyway it is exactly what everybody said the moment they set eyes on me. People always praise dolls to their faces, and that is what makes us look so conceited. Even when we are old, and battered, and worn-out we still preserve a somewhat conceited air--we still look pleased and proud of ourselves so long as there is one little child who loves us, and who thinks us pretty still.

The King and Queen sat down together on their throne, and were as happy as happy could be. The little Queen's feet dangled a good way off the ground, but she did not mind that in the least. She put one chubby arm round her brother to keep her quite firm, and the other arm was round me.

When a nice little fat, dimpled arm holds me tightly against a loving heart, I feel very pleased and happy. If I were a p.u.s.s.y-cat I should purr, for I feel that I am in my right place.

"Now I am King and you are Queen," said the little boy; "and everybody that comes in must bow to us."

"Dolly shall be the Princess," said the little girl, in a voice like that of a cooing dove.

"Her name must be Sophonisba," said the little boy gravely. "That sounds something like a Princess."

"Topanithba," repeated the little girl, very much pleased; and she pressed me close to her heart.

Suddenly a cloud pa.s.sed over the face of the little boy. He looked at me hard for a minute, and then he spoke.

"No, that won't do at all," he said; "I am an old French King, and we're under the old Salic law. She mustn't be a Princess, or she'll never come to the throne. We must pretend she is a Prince, and we'll call her Jack."

You should have seen the little girl's face at this. All the dimples went out of it, and she looked quite frightened.

"Oh, don't call her Jack, dear," she cried; "it's so ugly. And I'd rather she was a Princess."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HE TURNED HIS BACK TO HER" (_p. 79_).]

"Then she'll never come to the throne," said the boy solemnly. "I read it lately in my history."

Here the little girl looked much inclined to cry.

"Oh, don't say she won't come to the throne!" she cried piteously. "I like my Princess Sophonisba so much."

"She'll never come to the throne," said the King, laying down the law with his fore-finger; "a Princess is no good at all. She's a stupid."

"Well, she shan't be called Jack," said the Queen, plucking up a little spirit.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "IN A MOMENT SHE WAS UPON A CHAIR" (_p. 81_).]

"Then I shan't play," said the little King, at once jumping down off the chair.

The little Queen put her finger in her mouth, and looked as if she did not quite know what to do. She did not care to play without Bertie, but she wanted to have her own way. She glanced at Bertie out of the corner of her eye. He turned his back to her directly, and would not look her in the face. Yes, there was no doubt about it--she could tell it from the look of his shoulders--Bertie was in the sulks.

All their play was spoilt. The throne was deserted, the sceptre laid down. They did not care to be King or Queen by themselves.

"I shall go down to mamma, then," said the Queen, and she put me down on the chair, and went off.

For some time Bertie stood in the corner, looking very cross. Then he looked round, and began wondering when May would come back. Next he commenced to cry.

"Naughty girl! naughty girl! I don't want her to come back!" and he took a piece of string out of his pocket, and kept slashing it against his sleeve as he spoke.

Suddenly, in the midst of his temper, he caught sight of me.

"Nasty doll!" he cried; "we should never have quarrelled if it hadn't been for you! You shall be a boy," he added, sternly; "for I'll cut all your hair off!"

A shudder went through me. Unfortunately the nursery scissors were lying on the table--he took them up, and in a minute it was done. Clip, clip, went the scissors, as if they were pleased, and nearly the whole of my flaxen curls lay scattered on the floor. How I looked I don't know, but I think Bertie was a little frightened when he saw what he had done. I don't think he was anxious for his sister to see me, so he jumped up on the fender and put me on top of the mantel-piece.

Here I lay, with my feet dangling down off the side, about as uncomfortable as a doll could be. Nearly all my hair was cut short, my hat had fallen off in the fray, and I found myself in a position of much discomfort, and even danger. I could see nothing that went on in the room, and the heat of the stove was fast melting my beautiful complexion. I tried to look like a Princess, but it was hard.

The nursery-door opened, and the little girl came back. In a minute she ran up to the chair where she had left me, and then looked at her brother.

"Where's dolly?" she cried, and she looked anxiously round.

"I shan't tell you," said Bertie, beginning to look frightened.

"Oh, dolly, dolly; where is my dolly?" cried the little girl, and how I longed for a voice that could answer her. I could hear her going all round the room, pulling open drawers and cupboards, and hunting for me, but I never said a word.

Suddenly I heard a cry. She had come to the hearth-rug, where lay the scissors, and nearly all my beautiful flaxen curls on the floor.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SO THEY MADE IT UP" (_p. 81_).]