|A Child's Book of Stories|
|by Penrhyn W. Coussens|
|A choice collection of favorite fairy tales, to delight children of all ages. The 86 stories selected for this collection include folk tales from England, Norway, and India, as well as the best fairy tales from Grimm, Andersen, and Perrault. The volume also contains a handful of fables from Aesop and several tales from the Arabian Nights. Ages 5-9 |
TIRED OF BEING A LITTLE GIRL
H, dear me," sighed little Eva one fine morning, "I am
tired of being a little girl. I wish I could be
"Well," said a voice near her, "what would you like to
Eva looked about in surprise. She saw no one, but the
voice repeated the words, "What would you like to be?"
Just to see what would happen, Eva spoke up quite loud
and said, "I should like to be a rosebud."
The words were hardly out of her mouth before she felt
her skirts twisting close around her body in a very
queer way. She had on a little pink cambric frock, but
when she touched it she found it was not cambric any
longer, it was made of rose-leaves. She looked down at
her feet. They felt very queer; they seemed to be
turning green, and up and down her legs were funny
little sharp things.
The next moment Eva knew she was a rosebud. She was
growing on a bush in the garden. The wind swayed her
gently back and forth. It was charming. Although she
was a rosebud she knew everything that went on around
her. Suddenly she saw a lovely fairy bending over her.
"Ah," said the fairy, "this rose-petal is filled with
dew. First I will drink the dew, then I will eat the
tender end of the bud for breakfast."
"Don't, don't," cried Eva, "if you do you will eat my
head." The fairy began to laugh.
 "Please make me something else, quick," cried
Eva, "make me into a bird."
Before Eva knew how it happened she was hopping round
among the daisies, a real live bird.
"This is great fun," she cried, "but I begin to feel
"Do you?" cried a voice beside her, "then I'll feed
To her horror in front of her stood a frightful little
elf, holding in his hand an ugly worm, which he wanted
to force into her mouth. Eva tried to scream; she
looked round, hoping to see a friendly face, but the
only faces she saw were those of some dreadful green
apples, which seemed to be jeering at her from a tree.
"I won't eat that worm," she screamed; "I'm not a real
bird! I'm a —I'm a —" Just then the sky grew dark, the
wind blew fiercely; Eva put her hands to her head,
frightened, yet glad, glad to find that she had hands
and head, that she was not a bird.
"Why, it's raining hard," she said; "where have I been?
I must have fallen asleep under the apple tree." And
then Eva ran into the house as fast as she could go, to
tell her strange dream to her mother.
"And, oh, mamma," she cried, "I've decided that I would
rather be a little girl than anything."
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