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tiny necklace, all made of jewels, and it was just big enough for a lady mouse. So the little Field Mouse gave the tiny necklace to his little Mouse-sister. She thought it was perfectly lovely. And when she wasn't wearing it she kept it in the shiny acorn box.

And the little Red Man never knew what had become of it, because he didn't know where the little Field Mouse lived.

ANOTHER LITTLE RED HEN[18]

Once upon a time there was a little Red Hen, who lived on a farm all by herself. An old Fox, crafty and sly, had a den in the rocks, on a hill near her house. Many and many a night this old Fox used to lie awake and think to himself how good that little Red Hen would taste if he could once get her in his big kettle and boil her for dinner. But he couldn't catch the little Red Hen, because she was too wise for him. Every time she went out to market she locked the door of the house behind her, and as soon as she came in again she locked the door behind her and put the key in her apron pocket, where she kept her scissors and some sugar candy.

At last the old Fox thought out a way to catch the little Red Hen. Early in the morning he said to his old mother, "Have the kettle boiling when I come home to-night, for I'll be bringing the little Red Hen for supper." Then he took a big bag and slung it over his shoulder, and walked till he came to the little Red Hen's house. The little Red Hen was just coming out of her door to pick up a few sticks for firewood. So the old Fox hid behind the wood-pile, and as soon as she bent down to get a stick, into the house he slipped, and scurried behind the door.

In a minute the little Red Hen came quickly in, and shut the door and locked it. "I'm glad I'm safely in," she said. Just as she said it, she turned round, and there stood the ugly old Fox, with his big bag over his shoulder. Whiff! how scared the little Red Hen was! She dropped her apronful of sticks, and flew up to the big beam across the ceiling. There she perched, and she said to the old Fox, down below, "You may as well go home, for you can't get me."

"Can't I, though!" said the Fox. And what do you think he did? He stood on the floor underneath the little Red Hen and twirled round in a circle after his own tail. And as he spun, and spun, and spun, faster, and faster, and faster, the poor little Red Hen got so dizzy watching him that she couldn't hold on to the perch. She dropped off, and the old Fox picked her up and put her in his bag, slung the bag over his shoulder, and started for home, where the kettle was boiling.

He had a very long way to go, up hill, and the little Red Hen was still so dizzy that she didn't know where she was. But when the dizziness began to go off, she whisked her little scissors out of her apron pocket, and snip! she cut a little hole in the bag; then she poked her head out and saw where she was, and as soon as they came to a good spot she cut the hole bigger and jumped out herself. There was a great big stone lying there, and the little Red Hen picked it up and put it in the bag as quick as a wink. Then she ran as fast as she could till she came to her own little farmhouse, and she went in and locked the door with the big key.

The old Fox went on carrying the stone and never knew the difference. My, but it bumped him well! He was pretty tired when he got home. But he was so pleased to think of the supper he was going to have that he did not mind that at all. As soon as his mother opened the door he said, "Is the kettle boiling?"

"Yes," said his mother; "have you got the little Red Hen?"

"I have," said the old Fox. "When I open the bag you hold the cover off the kettle and I'll shake the bag so that the Hen will fall in, and then you pop the cover on, before she can jump out."

"All right," said his mean old mother; and she stood close by the boiling kettle, ready to put the cover on.

The Fox lifted the big, heavy bag up till it was over the open kettle, and gave it a shake. Splash! thump! splash! In went the stone and out came the boiling water, all over the old Fox and the old Fox's mother!

And they were scalded to death.

But the little Red Hen lived happily ever after, in her own little farmhouse.

THE STORY OF THE LITTLE RID HIN

There was once't upon a time A little small Rid Hin, Off in the good ould country Where yees ha' nivir bin. Nice and quiet shure she was, And nivir did any harrum; She lived alane all be herself, And worked upon her farrum. There lived out o'er the hill, In a great din o' rocks, A crafty, shly, and wicked Ould folly iv a Fox. This rashkill iv a Fox, He tuk it in his head He'd have the little Rid Hin: So, whin he wint to bed, He laid awake and thaught What a foine thing 'twad be To fetch her home and bile her up For his ould marm and he. And so he thaught and thaught, Until he grew so thin That there was nothin' left of him But jist his bones and shkin. But the small Rid Hin was wise, She always locked her door, And in her pocket pit the key, To keep the Fox out shure. But at last there came a schame Intil his wicked head, And he tuk a great big bag And to his mither said,— "Now have the pot all bilin' Agin the time I come; We'll ate the small Rid Hin to-night, For shure I'll bring her home." And so away he wint Wid the bag upon his back, An' up the hill and through the woods Saftly he made his track. An' thin he came alang, Craping as shtill's a mouse, To where the little small Rid Hin Lived in her shnug ould house. An' out she comes hersel', Jist as he got in sight, To pick up shticks to make her fire: "Aha!" says Fox, "all right. "Begorra, now, I'll have yees Widout much throuble more"; An' in he shlips quite unbeknownst, An' hides be'ind the door. An' thin, a minute afther, In comes the small Rid Hin, An' shuts the door, and locks it, too, An' thinks, "I'm safely in." An' thin she tarns around An' looks be'ind the door; There shtands the Fox wid his big tail Shpread out upon the floor. Dear me! she was so schared Wid such a wondrous sight, She dropped her apronful of shticks, An' flew up in a fright, An' lighted on the bame Across on top the room; "Aha!" says she, "ye don't have me; Ye may as well go home." "Aha!" says Fox, "we'll see; I'll bring yees down from that." So out he marched upon the floor Right under where she sat. An' thin he whiruled around, An' round an' round an' round, Fashter an' fashter an' fashter, Afther his tail on the ground. Until the small Rid Hin She got so dizzy, shure, Wid lookin' at the Fox's tail, She jist dropped on the floor. An' Fox he whipped her up, An' pit her in his bag, An' off he started all alone, Him and his little dag. All day he tracked the wood Up hill an' down again; An' wid him, shmotherin' in the bag, The little small Rid Hin. Sorra a know she knowed Awhere she was that day; Says she, "I'm biled an' ate up, shure An' what'll be to pay?" Thin she betho't hersel', An' tuk her schissors out, An' shnipped a big hole in the bag, So she could look about. An' 'fore ould Fox could think She lept right out—she did, An' thin picked up a great big shtone, An' popped it in instid. An' thin she rins off home, Her outside door she locks; Thinks she, "You see you don't have me, You crafty, shly ould Fox." An' Fox he tugged away Wid the great big hivy shtone, Thimpin' his shoulders very bad As he wint in alone. An' whin he came in sight O' his great din o' rocks, Jist watchin' for him at the door He shpied ould mither Fox. "Have ye the pot a-bilin'?" Says he to ould Fox thin; "Shure an' it is, me child," says she; "Have ye the small Rid Hin?" "Yes, jist here in me bag, As shure as I shtand here; Open the lid till I pit her in: Open it—nivir fear." So the rashkill cut the shtring, An' hild the big bag over; "Now when I shake it in," says he, "Do ye pit on the cover." "Yis, that I will"; an' thin The shtone wint in wid a dash, An' the pot o' bilin' wather Came over them ker-splash. An' schalted 'em both to death, So they couldn't brathe no more; An' the little small Rid Hin lived safe, Jist where she lived before. THE STORY OF EPAMINONDAS AND HIS AUNTIE[19]

Epaminondas used to go to see his Auntie 'most every day, and she nearly always gave him something to take home to his Mammy.

One day she gave him a big piece of cake; nice, yellow, rich gold-cake.

Epaminondas took it in his fist and held it all crunched up tight, like this, and came along home. By the time he got home there wasn't anything left but a fistful of crumbs. His Mammy said,—

"What you got there, Epaminondas?"

"Cake, Mammy," said Epaminondas.

"Cake!" said his Mammy. "Epaminondas, you ain't got the sense you was born with! That's no way to carry cake. The way to carry cake is to wrap it all up nice in some leaves and put it in your hat, and put your hat on your head, and come along home. You hear me, Epaminondas?"

"Yes, Mammy," said Epaminondas.

Next day Epaminondas went to see his Auntie, and she gave him a pound of butter for his Mammy; fine, fresh, sweet butter.

Epaminondas wrapped it up in leaves and put it in his hat, and put his hat on his head, and came along home. It was a very hot day. Pretty soon the butter began to melt. It melted, and melted, and as it melted it ran down Epaminondas' forehead; then it ran over his face, and in his ears, and down his neck. When he got home, all the butter Epaminondas had was on him. His Mammy looked at him, and then she said,—

"Law's sake! Epaminondas, what you got

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