TUPPENY

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 340, 28 April 1928, Page 31

TUPPENY

The postman calls me “Tuppeny,” Or "Hallo half-past four!” Or something silly every time He comes up to our door. I wish he wouldn’t do it, For he knows the name's not right, But when I say that he is wrong, He shuts one eye up tight. And next time when he comes he says “I have a parcel here Addressed to Master Tuppeny, Now where’s it gone? Dear, dear!” He feels about his bag inside, “Whatever shall I do? I must have lost it, still of course. It can’t have been for you. You say your name’s not Tuppeny?” And laughs and goes away, And I wish he hadn’t done, Now I don’t know what to say. it he should find the parcel, For I feel I ought to see In case it’s not my name, The parcel’s meant for me.

HEATHER BELL

“I hate Fairyland!” said the fairy Heather Bell. She was always getting into tempers and saying things she didn’t mean, “Very well,” said the Fairy Queen, who was tired of he** tantrums, “if you hate Fairyland you’d tetter leave it. Go at once.” Heather Bell began to feel a tit frightened, but she didn’t show it. “Thanks, I will,” she said ‘Til go and be a mortal,” The Fairy Queen hadn’t really meant what she said, and idle didn’t want Heather Bell to go, so she said: “Oil, but you can’t, do that, for you don’t know how mortals live. You wouldn’t be able to get anything to eat or find a place tc live.” “I can do a bit of magic,” said Heather Bell airily. “Good-bye,” and before the Fairy Queen could say any more the angry little fairy had disappeared. At first Heather Bell got on quite well. Bhe did some magic and turned herself into a funny little old lady, called Mr-s. Bell. She managed to magic herself some money, and a little house as well, but after that her supply of magic ran out. She didn't know what to do then, for although she had some money she didn’t know what to buy with it. Then she had an idea. Her next-door neighbours kept chickens. She understood that these funny creatures laid eggs which were good to eat, and she thought she'd like to have at least one. So off she went to market. “I want a chicken,” she said to the man who was selling them. “The prettiest one you’ve got, please. ’ “You want a pretty one, do you?” said the man, laughing. “Well, here’s one for you,” and he produced an enormous cockerel. “Oh, that’s a nice one!” said Mrs. Bell.

And off she went home with it. She fed it on all the right food and sat waiting for it to lay her some nice eggs. But it never did. “Oh, dear! oh, dear!” sighed Mrs. Beil. “I hate this horrid mortal land! X think I’ll ask the Fairy Queen if X may be a fairy again.” And the Fairy Queen was so amused at Heather Bell thinking that cockerel would lay eggs, that she forgave her.

SWINGING

Swinging high! swinging low! Up to the gum tree bloom I go. Down to the daisies, back to the sky, Smooth and swift as the fairies fly. Swinging high! swinging low! Drifting dreamily to and fro; Come, come, swing in my leafy bower, Come, be a fairy for just an hour!