"THE LITTLE BLUE CUSHION."

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 43, 20 February 1926, Page 26

"THE LITTLE BLUE CUSHION."

Once, in an old castle, the q ueen \» candles in the queen's roonf Tfa e k * had ridden away on hia great hi , g horse on fitate* business, l^, k process, with dark hair and blue eW had gone to bed, and the birds inT' castle garden were tucking th e r LaJi under their wings. In one of the high towera was a l itt i c round room with no windows T ° reach this room was a stairway BQ long and winding that people grew tired half-way, and went down a -ai£ The room was filled with cushions 'of all colours, shapes and sizes, but every ° n Kv W J a3 \ liUle worn ' Their edges were rubbed the lace was soiled, anT some w,.,* badly torn and spotted. Not one was perfect, for this was the ro Om Z, iworn-out royal cushions. As no human being could hear a. great purple velvet cushion, with a slit down its middle, began to speak "Oh, dear!" she sighed, "I can rem em . ber the day when all the ladies and gentlemen bowed as I entered the room. I used to carry the king-'s crown" "I was once used by the queen" moaned an emerald satin cushion "She rested her pretty feet on mc when she rode in her carriage." "When the king did his gardening he knelt on mc," said a cherry-coloured cushion, now ragged and soiled. "The queen once laid her lovely cheek on mc," chimed in another, "but now my lace has become yellow and crumpled." A little pillow of yellow silk, nowsplashed with mud. sighed softly: "-\V e are most unfortunate creatures. No one wants us now."' "Ah, but we are still beautiful," said a white cushion embroidered in gold. "Yes, yes, we are beautiful still/ they all said, and began to plump themselves anl fluff out their little frills and ruffles. "We come from a line of distinguished cushions, let us remember that," they said, and stared rudely at a little cushion of blue linen in the corner. They stuck up their noses and flipped their tassels at her. ' "Look at that ugly little cushion with dusty spots. She has no ancestors, not even a tassel," said one. "Pooh, she probably came from the kitchen." said another. "Don't notice her," said a third, shaking her large rufile. All this time the little blue cushion lay quietly in her corner, trying to be brave, and not to be hurt by these rude remarks. "It really doesn't matter." it wlmpered to itself. "I've Iwcn a good cushion, and I've nothing to bp ashamed of, even if I did belong to the coachman'.s daughter. Anyway, I'm still soft." Just then into the room came the princess' white kitten. It stepped daintily over the brilliant cushions, every one —lace, and velvet, and silk. There was only the little blue cushion in the corner left. The kitten gave a contented sniff, then curled itself up in the middle of the little cushion with the crumpled blue cover.—Exchange.