Part 11 (1/2)
”It wasn't you, was it, Pincher,” cried Horace, seizing his dog by both ears. ”I reckon if they tried to shoot you they'd catch it.”
”Now, Susy, it's your turn,” said Grace.
”No, Horace's; he's the oldest.”
”Pshaw!” returned Horace, who had been the very first one to propose stories, ”I'd like to get shut of it. Pshaw! I can't think of nothin'.”
”But you must, you know, Horace; so it's no use to grumble.”
”O shucks! Has it got to be true?”
”Don't say 'shucks,' Horace,” said Grace, gently. ”You can tell a true story, or make it up as you go along.--Come, hurry.”
”I know what _I'm_ goin' to tell,” whispered Prudy to Horace.
”Well,” said the boy, thinking a moment, ”I'll tell my story double quick, and be done with it.”
”You'd ought to see my pa's horse out West, auntie; there ain't a Yankee horse can hold a candle to him; I'll leave it to Pincher. His name is Sancho, and my ma sends him to market mornings, early, with the basket, and puts some money in, and a note to the butcher, and that horse comes back, sir, just as fast as he can trot, sir, and he has the meat there all wrapped up, and just has the basket in his teeth, this way.”
”Why, Horace Clifford!” cried Grace, in surprise; ”why, what a story!”
”Of course it's a story. You wanted me to tell a story, didn't you? I was just a-blowin'.”
”Well, there, tell something nice, can't you, please?”
”I've told all the story I'm a-goin' to,” said Horace, firmly. ”Now it's Susy's turn.”
”You talk about something else a while,” replied Susy, ”and let me be a-thinkin'.”
”I'll tell one,” cried Prudy, ”let _me_, now.”
”Once there was goin' to be three b.a.l.l.s, and Cindrilla didn't have no mother, and her father didn't have no wife, so he married him one. And there was goin' to be three great big b.a.l.l.s, and Cindrilla asked her mother if she couldn't go, and her mother said, No, indeed; she hadn't nothin' to wear. And then they started off, and her grandma came,--O, I forgot, the woman was wicked, and she made her little girls sit in the parlor, all dressed up spandy clean, and she made Cindrilla sit in the coal-hod.”
”And then she told her to get a great punkin, and it turned into a gold hack, and she went off into the back shed and got the rat-trap, and it turned into two footmens,--and the king's son--O, no----”
”And then there was some bugs round there, and they was six horses, and she got in and rode on to the ball, and her shoes come off, and then the king married her, and she had the other shoe in her pocket, and he married her right off, and they're all safe now.”
”All safe?” said aunt Madge, laughing; ”what do you mean by that?”
”O, now she'll have a good father and a good mother, and won't sit in the coal-hod no more.--Now it's your turn, Susy.”
”O dear suz! I was going to tell a story, a fairy story. It was going to be a real good one, about 'The Bravest of Lion's Castle,' and I couldn't think of a thing to say, and now Prudy has drove it all out of my head.”
”Well, children,” said aunt Madge, ”suppose we give Susy a little more time, and excuse her for to-night? It's time for pleasant dreams now, and kisses all 'round.”
CHAPTER XI
PRUDY'S WHITE TEA