Part 9 (1/2)

”What shall we do if we can't remember our stories?” asked the first old woman.

”We'll have to learn some new stories,” replied the other.

Just then they spied a queer sight. There was a little donkey without any feet traveling along the road. On his back was a load of wood.

”What a queer donkey!” cried the first old woman.

”Let us follow along after him. Perhaps we shall be able to tell a story about him,” replied the other.

The two old women followed the donkey into the forest. There was a little thatched-roofed house in the forest and before the house there was a fire burning. A kettle of something which smelled good was boiling merrily over the fire.

The donkey which had no feet stopped beside the fire and left his load of wood. The two old women stopped beside the fire, too.

”What do you suppose is cooking in this kettle?” asked one of the old women.

”It smells so good I'm going to taste and see,” said the other.

She started to taste, but as she was about to stick in her finger she heard a strange deep voice which seemed to come out of the little thatched house.

”Do not touch. It is not yours,” is what the voice said.

The two old women went up to the door of the house and one of them peeped through the keyhole.

Inside the house she saw a pretty white rabbit playing with a box full of rings. Suddenly the white rabbit pulled off his skin and changed into a handsome prince.

”What wouldn't I give to see the owner of these rings!” cried the prince.

The two lame old women hurried away from the little house in the forest. They were frightened at the queer doings there.

”I know a story to tell the princess!” cried one of the old women when she had recovered from her fright. ”I'll tell her how I peeped through the keyhole and saw the rabbit change his skin.”

”I know what I'll tell the princess,” said the other old woman. ”I'll tell her how I followed the donkey without any feet and what that strange voice said to me when I tried to taste the good-smelling broth in the kettle.”

”We must keep saying over our stories so we won't forget them,” said the first old woman.

”We must hurry on our way to the royal palace and get there while we remember them,” said the other.

The two old women hurried on their way to the palace as fast as their lame old legs could carry them. They rehea.r.s.ed their stories over and over along the way so they would not forget them.

Many storytellers had told their tales to the princess. They were jolly tales, too, but the princess was not in the least cheered by them. She remembered her lost rings even when she was listening to the stories.

”If the storytellers cannot make the princess happy, who can?” asked the king in despair.

”I'm sure I don't know,” replied the queen. ”She always used to like stories.”

Finally the two old women reached the royal palace and went to tell their tales to the princess.

The first old woman told the story of the donkey without any feet and the broth in the kettle. The princess did not appear to be particularly interested even when the old woman told about the strange deep voice which said, ”Do not touch. It is not yours.” Cold chills, however, ran up and down the spines of the king and queen and all the courtiers when she came to that part of the tale.