Children's Column.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 20, 30 July 1920, Page 12

Children's Column.

(By "Patricia," Ettrick street.)

MATER'S LETTER BOX. Mater invites children to send in stories for this column, or ^iorrespondence which will be replied to through these columns. All matter Ao he clearly written in ink, and on one side of the papej only. Name, age> and address, must be always given, and correspondence directed to "Mater," care of Editor, "The Digger," Box 310, Invercargill. Patricia, Ettrick street, Invercargill. — [ am glad to have your story on Mignonette. As far as I can remember we have not had the pleasure of your entering our childrenis column before. However, we will be pleased to hear from you again. — Mater. WHAT HAPPENED NEXT. THE WHOLE OF THE STORY OF THE QUEEN OF HEARTS TOLD FOR CHILDREN. The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts all on a summer's day. Tlie JVnave of Hearts, he stolef those tarts and carried them away. The tarts were brought back to the Queen ; yes, but what happened in between ? The tarts were in the oven, they were very crisp and hot. The Knave came creeping, creeping in — ^ villian, was he not:' "The Queen's not here, I know," thought he. "I'll steal these quite easily. ' ' "The Queen is in her parlour— yes, she's eating bread and honey. The King's dcwn in his counting-house ; he's counting up his money. The maid is hanging up th? clo'. I'll steal those tarts before they kncw!" , It didn't take him long at all to ope' the oven door. There were six tarts inside and oh— the rascal, he stole four ! "I'll hurry to the woods 1" said he, "and picnie on them royally." Now was the time ; a Blackbird »at and sliouted from a spray : "Oh, King, oh, Queen, see o'er that hedge the Knave who runs away! He's carrying four of your tarts — he is — he is, oh, Queen of Hearts!" Tlie King and Queen rushed out at once ti e Queen forgot her honey. The King forgot his money-bags, though they held all his money. "Send for the milit'ry !" he cried. "That Knave, he must he caught and tried!" It was a pity— yes, it was— that they dii not speak low. The Knave was not so far away; he heard their words, you know. "I am found out," thought he, "I fear — well, I must hide these tarts, that's clear ! "What shall I do? I'd better fly, or else th- milit'ry will surely shoot me if the Royal tarts are found on me. I"1 give the tarts away if I meet anyone who's nct too spry !" And, at that moment who should he see coming through the trees but Tommy Bones, the butcher's son, as jolly as you please. "Hi, Tommy, have these ripping tarts!" exclaimed the wicked Knave of Hearts. Perhaps Tom Bones was just a bi't suspicious, so it's said ; because the Knave was panting so, and he was oh, so red ! "No thanks," said Tom, "for long ago I stole a pig, and — oh, you know . "Oh, botheration !" thought the Knave, and jumped a bush or two; then, to his joy, a little house came suddenly to view. "It's Mother Hubbard's cottage, yes! She won't say 'No' to tarts, I guess! " So said the Knave, and hurried on and battered at the door. Dame Hubbard came to open it, a hungry look she wore. Bu: stared the Knave first up, then

down, and shut- the door with such a frown. "This is too dreadful!" said the Knave. "Have they all found me out? Tom and Dame Hubbard both say 'No !' " But t-hen he raised a shout as round about that way there came a pie-man with his tray. "Here, Pie-man, Pie-man!" shrieked the Knave. "Here are four tarts to sell ! I'll give them to you if you like, for I'm not very .w,ell, and I can't eat them so, you see. they'd he more use to you than me!" "Hi!" said the Pie-man, stopping short and speaking with a frown. "I wouldn't take these tarts of yours, not for a silver croWn. They're stolen tarts, and if you're wise, you'il go before I black your eyes ! ' ' He saw a gentle Ladybird, with very teuder heart; she didn't know the Knave was such a rogue, she took his part. I fear you're burdened, sir, with care. My house is close, pray rest in there ! "My daughter Ann will cheer you up, my children will all try to soothe your sorrows ; I mys,elf, am just off for a fly. But you are welcome, while I roam, to rest a little in my home." The wicked Knave, with tarts in hand he sought her little house, find there, undAfi a frying-pan, as silent as a mouse, he hid his spoil and then, oh, dear ! he set the house alight, I fear ! Up flared the flames, off went the Knave, and in a frightened crowd, the Lady-birdlets hurried off, all buzzing very loud ; except the eldest one, named Ann, and she hid 'neath the fryin-pan ! And there she found the four hot tarts, and then and there she guessed — because Miss Ann was cleverer,'"you know, than all the rest. "I didn't trust that Knave," said she. " 'Twas he destroyed our house — 'twas he!" And that moment up there marched a hand of milit'ry, and how they stared to hear Ann's tale so interestedly. And off they carried the jam tarts at once back to the Queen of Hearts. But then the Knave, still watching near, saw what was happening. "Oh, me!" he sohbed. "I'd better go confessing to the King! I'll vow to steal no more," said he. "P'rhaps lie'll be merciful to me!" But no, the King did not forgive that Knave, I'm glad to say, He was sent off to Goblin Land for ever and a day. And there he lives unto this time, in punishment for all his crime. THE DISCONTENTED MIGN ONETTE.

The evening breeze sweeping through th? king's gardens bore on it wings a low mournful sigh, and listening, I heard a tiny voice say plaintively, "Oh, why am I not like other flowers? The fair rose by my side gives pleasure to all who see her ; that tall white lily is admired by everyone, many a heart is gladdened, and many an eye bright ens at the sight o| her beautiful blossoms, but I am so plain and tiny ! I can do no one any good ! Why should I live any longer?" And the Mignonette drooped wearily as she ceased speaking. There had been visitors to the king's gardens that- day, and the gardener had pointed out to them the rarest and most beautiful of all tlie flowers. The lily held her stately head proudly, while the -fose blushed deeper as many paused, attracted by their surpassing loveliness. But for the lowly plant that grew beneath the shadow of the rose tree, the day had been one of sadness. All had pas.se d her ify unnoticed, and twilight found her sorrowful and discontented. Morning dawned. That day the king himself was coming to see his garden, to choose the fairest flowers to adorn his palace. The gardner's words, which aroused a tumult of . hope in many a bright-lmed blossom, f ell unheeded on poor Mignonette. "If I am not fair enough to be noticed by the gardener, the king will never see me," thought she. At length the monarch came ; many fair and beautiful, were the blossoms he chose, but he paused, unsatisfied still. "These flowers are A-ery lovely," he said, "but whence comes this rich perfume ? It does not belong to auy of the flowers I have chosen. ' ' "It is* only some common mignonette tliat, smells so sweetly," the gardener answered. "Call it not common, the fairest flowers in my garden cannot rival its sweetness. I will have no other to adorn my palace." The other blossoms scofred at this, but the little Mignonette cared not for she thought "even the king himself has need of me."