and on the top of the cake is a d.i.n.ky bird with wings spread out all ready to fly.'

Phillida dreamt as she was ordered, and in her dream she saw the cake, and that it was a beautiful cake, and the little cake-bird was a sweet little bird!

'What a handsome cake!' she cried out aloud in her sleep; 'and the little cake-bird is a dear little bird, and it looks as if it can fly and sing:' and she laughed so heartily that the Piskeys laughed too, and one of the d.i.n.ky Men turned head over heels on the patchwork quilt out of sheer delight that the child was so pleased with her beautiful dream-cake and the little dream-bird.

'Dream that Grannie Tredinnick is as pleased with the cake and the cake-bird as you are,' said another little Piskey, stepping on to the bridge of Phillida's nose, 'and that she thinks it is even better than the cakes which were made for her when she was a croom of a cheeld, and the little cake-bird is more like a real bird than those that were on top of her Christmas cakes.'

The child dreamt as the Piskey ordered, and much beside that the d.i.n.ky Man never thought of ordering. In her dream she not only heard her grandmother say what a beautiful cake it was, and that the little cake-bird looked like a real bird, but that she said: 'We must cut and eat the cake, but spare the little cake-bird.' In her sleep she saw the old woman, dressed in her Sunday gown and cap, lean over the small oak table and cut her such a big slice of the cake that she cried out in amazed delight:

'What a great big piece you have given me, Grannie!' and her laugh was as happy and gay as a Piskey's laugh. 'But I must not eat all this myself; I must crumble some of it for the little moor-birds, and put a piece out on the doorstep for the d.i.n.ky Men. It isn't a dream-cake, Grannie, but a Christmas cake, and it has a little Christmas bird on top!'

The Piskeys looked at one another with a peculiar expression in their round little eyes when the child spoke of putting a bit of her Christmas cake on the step of the door for them, and one said, 'Dear little maid!' and another said 'Pretty child!' and one little fellow, with a beard reaching to his feet, cried, 'How kind of her to want us poor little Piskeys to have part in the Christmas joy!' One little d.i.n.ky Man whispered: 'Perhaps it is not true what the old whiddle [18] says, after all--that we are not good enough for heaven nor bad enough for h.e.l.l. The child does not think so, evidently, or she would not be so anxious for us to share her little Christmas cake.'

The Piskey who sat cross-legged on Phillida's arm uncrossed his lean little legs, rose up and stepped on to her nose, and as he walked over its bridge he said ever so tenderly:

'Dream, sweet little Phillida--dream that you shared your cake with the d.i.c.ky-birds, and put a piece of it on the doorstep for the d.i.n.ky Men, which they will treasure as long as there are any d.i.n.ky Men.'

The child dreamt as she was ordered, and when she had put a bit of the cake on the doorstep for the Piskeys, she saw in her dream a crowd of d.i.n.ky Men in quaint little green coats, and caps as red as bryony berries, and tiny fellows in red cloaks and green hats, come and take up the cake with solemn faces and bent heads, and carry it away over the moors towards the Piskey Circle. When they had gone, she stood on the doorstep looking out over the moors, white with the feathers the old Sky Woman had thrown down; then she lifted her sweet little face to the sky, and saw that it was free from clouds and full of stars, which, she thought, were chiming the wonderful news of the Nativity. She was so happy listening to the music of the Christmas stars that she forgot she had not tasted her cake till a little Piskey sprang on to her nose to turn her dream.

'Dream that you are come over to the table and eating your cake,'

he said, slowly pa.s.sing over the bridge of her nose.

'How can I dream that when I am out here on the doorstep listening to the ringing of the star-bells?' murmured the child in her sleep. 'I wonder if the d.i.n.ky Men like listening to the star-bells' music? They are ringing up there in the dark because the Babe was born and laid in the cratch.'

'We shall never get her to dream our dreams if we let her stay there on the doorstep,' cried the Piskeys, looking strangely at one another. 'We never had such trouble to make a cheeld dream our dreams before.'

'Dream your poor old Grannie feels the cold from the open door,' said a d.i.n.ky Man, jumping on to Phillida's nose with all his weight, which caused her to jerk her head in her sleep, and made the d.i.n.ky Man lose his balance, and over he toppled on the heads of his tiny companions sitting at the bottom of the pillow near the child's soft white neck, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of the other Piskeys and his own. They laughed so much, including the wee fellow who was heavy-heeled, that he could not order the dream, and a Piskey, when he could stop laughing for a minute, jumped up and stepped on to Phillida's nose, and as he pa.s.sed over its bridge he said:

'Dream that you shut the door on the cold and the Sky Goose's feathers, and come back to the table.' And Phillida reluctantly dreamt as the d.i.n.ky Man ordered, and in her dream she saw herself sitting at the table facing her grandmother, who was munching a bit of the cake and smacking her withered old lips.

'This is a lovely cake, cheeld-vean. [19] We must eat every crumb of it, for we shall never have such another.'

Phillida was glad her Grannie liked the cake, and she began to eat the generous slice the old woman had given her, and as she ate it she thought it was so delicious that she must go on eating cake for ever and ever. 'I shan't want to eat grail-bread after this,' she said, laughing out loud in her sleep. 'I shall always eat cake made

'"Of fairy cow's cream And every good thing."'

She was enjoying her dream-cake so very very much in her sleep that the d.i.n.ky Men would have liked her to go on eating it; but the quick ticking of Tamsin's clock told them that time was flying, and they had not yet finished ordering her dreams.

'Dream, little Phillida--dream that you and Grannie Tredinnick have eaten all the cake, and there is nothing left but the little cake-bird,' said one of the d.i.n.ky Men pa.s.sing over the bridge of her nose; 'and that Grannie says the little cake-bird is yours.'

Phillida dreamt all that, and in her dream her grandmother said, in her kind old voice: 'The little bird on the top of the cake belongs to the cheeld of the house, and Phillida is the only cheeld in my little house. Take the cake-bird, Phillida, my dear;' and Phillida took it and held it in her little warm hand.

As she was holding it thus a Piskey stepped lightly as a ladybird on to her nose, and as he pa.s.sed over its bridge he said:

'Dream, Phillida, dream that your little cake-bird is alive and wants to fly and sing;' and the child dreamt that the little cake-bird was alive, and was fluttering in her little warm hand, and then it flew out of her hand up to the thatch, and began to sing a wonderful song.

'What is my little cake-bird singing?' asked Phillida in her sleep.

'It is singing it is a fairy-bird,' said a d.i.n.ky Man, pa.s.sing over the bridge of her nose, 'and that it is going to sing with other little fairy-birds in the d.i.n.ky People's land.'

'I don't think my little cake-bird is singing it is a fairy-bird and going to sing in the d.i.n.ky People's country,' said the child in her sleep. 'Its song is much too happy and beautiful for that. What is it singing? Please tell me. I do want to know. Can't you tell me?' she asked as the Piskeys looked at one another. 'Ah! I know now what its song is about. My little cake-bird is singing a little song because it is a little Christmas bird, and was on top of a Christmas cake! Isn't it a lovely song? It has changed its tune now, and it is singing a golden song about the Babe who was born on Christmas Day in the morning. I am a little Christian cheeld and know! Listen, listen!' she cried, clasping her hands and lifting her sweet child-face to the thatch. 'Isn't it wonderful? It thinks it is a little golden bird, and one day will sing with the Great White Angel Birds Grannie told me about.'

'Somebody far greater than we little Piskeys is ordering Phillida's dreams,' said the d.i.n.ky Men one to another, 'which are much more beautiful than we can order.'

Just then old Tamsin's clock struck the midnight hour, and the Piskeys got off the bed, went across the room, climbed up the durn of the door and out through the keyhole on to the moors, and in a little while they were hastening over the snow-covered turf to the Piskey Circle, which was a big round door to the d.i.n.ky People's land under the moors.

THE IMPOUNDED CROWS

A small boy called Jim Nancarrow was sitting one day eating a pasty on top of the Crow Pound, a large enclosure built on a common by the far-famed St. Neot to impound the pilfering crows of the parish that bears his name.

Jim was the son of a thatcher, and he was waiting to accompany his father to a distant hamlet to help him to thatch a cottage. He looked a nice little lad in his clean white smock and nankeen breeches and soft felt hat--much the worse for wear--shading his bright young face and clear blue eyes.

As he was waiting for his father and eating his pasty, which his mother had given him for his dinner, he saw a crow flying over Goonzion Downs, of which the Crow Pound common was a part.

As he watched it he thought of the pilfering crows which, according to the old tale, little St. Neot impounded there from morning till evening on Sundays, that his people might go to church undisturbed by fear of the great black thievish birds which ate up the corn sown in their fields. Jim had often heard this story from the old people of the parish, and whenever he saw a crow he wondered if it were a relation of the wicked crows their patron Saint had impounded.

The crow that the boy was watching was flying in the direction of the Crow Pound, and when it came near it alighted on the top of the wall quite close to the lad.

The crow was lean to look at, and scanty of feathers, and such a sorry-looking bird that Jim broke off a piece of his pasty and threw to him, which he ate as if he were starving.

'One would think you were one of the pilfering crows of St. Neot's time,' said Jim, tossing him another piece of his pasty; and to his surprise, the bird answered back:

'I am!'

'Are you?' cried Jim, staring hard at the crow. 'Well, you look ancient enough to be one of those birds, though I have always understood that our patron Saint lived ever so long ago, when Alfred the Great was a little chap like me. But p'r'aps crows tell lies as well as pilfer.'

'If I am not one of the identical crows St. Neot was unkind enough to put into this pound,' croaked the big black bird, eyeing Jim and his pasty with his bright little eye, 'I am a descendant of theirs in the direct line. I truly am,' as the lad stared as if he did not believe the a.s.sertion. 'Those poor impounded crows learnt the language of men during the long hours of their imprisonment, listening to all the little Saint and his people said about them outside this pound, and they pa.s.sed on their dearly-bought knowledge to their children through long generations.'

'Then you are quite "high learnt," as the old Granfer men say,'

cried Jim, gazing up at the bird in open-eyed amazement.

'I confess I am,' returned the crow with due modesty, 'especially in the old Cornish tongue, in which I can swear to any extent. I am not going to use bad language now,' as Jim took up a stone to throw at him. 'You would not understand it if I did. I am also "high learnt"

in the needs of the body, and I shall be ever so grateful for a bit more of your pasty. It isn't nice to have an aching void inside one's little feather stumjacket.'

'I suppose it can't be,' said the lad, dropping the stone and breaking off a large piece of his pasty to toss to the bird.

He was a feeling-hearted little fellow, and the crow's quaint appeal touched him, and the sorry-looking bird, with his bedraggled tail, had most of his pasty.

'I have had a good meal for once in my life, and am full fed,' said the crow, when the last of the pasty was eaten; and he perched on a stone, starred with stonecrop, and fluffed out all the feathers he possessed, and looked with a comical expression at Jim.