FOR THE YOUNG FOLK

Northern Advocate, 24 September 1927, Page 12

FOR THE YOUNG FOLK

THE SUBSTITUTE.

(By M. G. Dorehill.)

A gay little elf came riding down by a woodland stream upon a splendid dragon fly. As lie passed a large white water lily he pulled the gaudy insect up with a jerk, for within the. lily sat a fairy, weeping bitterly and mingling her tears with the water of the stream. “Hullo! What’s the matter, Ripple?” cried the elf, as his steed alighted on the flower.

“Oh Bullrush; everything has gone wrong ” sobbed the fairy. “You know I had arranged to give a ball tonight, because it is my birthday?” “Yes, go on,” cried the elf impatiently. “I sent out invitations a week ago, and I told each fairy that some of the royal family were coming to my ball. I didn’t wait until I had asked the queen because I felt sure she or the prince would come and now I have asked her I find they are both too busy. So, what ever shall I do?”

“Will it matter much if they don’t come?” asked Bullrush.

“Yes, don’t you see? I have invited several very proud fairies, who would not dream of going to any kind of parly unless some royalty was there. I am afraid they will be very much annoyed when they find out what has happened. It will quite spoil the ball.” the fairy sobbed again. The elf scratched his head thoughtfully .for a few minutes, then cried gleefully: “I have it. It will be fun. J will be tho Prince for this evening. I will N borrow a crown from the palace and >dress up just like him. No one ■will know the difference.” “Oh Bullrush! What a splendid plan!” cried Ripple in delight. “But oh,” she suddenly added, “your hair is the wrong colour. Your’s is brown and the Prince has golden. What a misfortune! ”

'“Oh dear!” cried the elf,” I never thought of that. But I know. I wdl powder it with yellow pollen and then, it will look all right.” “That’s not a bad idea. Now, while you get ready, I will go and ask the moon to shine her best while we have our ball.” And the fairy flew off on her quest, while Bullrush hastened to the palace.

Arriving there, the elf dismounted and hid himself in a flower whPe ho had a good look round. No one was in sight except the guard of the palace and he was fast asleep.

Bullrush crept cautiously round the palace hiding under every leaf he came to, and peeping into each window in turn. .At last he found what he was seeking and flying in, he seized a gold coronet that was lying on a pink rose petal and made off. He next flew to a patch of crocuses, for he knew their golden stamens were covered with yellow pollen. But Bullrush. was sorely puzzled as to how to get it on to his hair. At last he decided to get head first into one of the flowers. This he did with some difficulty and. soon all that could be seen were the ends of his legs sticking out. These, after a minute, began to kick wildly, for, alas, the crocus was just closing up for the .night and it shut so tightly that the poor elf was firmly wedged in. At last, after struggling madly,' Bullrush managed to burst out greatly disheveled; but his head was simply covered with pollen, and his hair looked as golden as could be. Highly pleased with himself, the elf donned his grandest clothes of poppy red and placed the coronet upon his curly pate. He then started for the ball where he arrived just in time.

Midnight '.found the fairies dancing upon a mossy patch in the silver moonlight. Not one of the dainty guests doubted that Bullrush was the real prince. And the elf played his part gallantly, though he certainly made a good many blunders. It is very awk•ward being called by a different name from the one you are accustomed to, and worse still to be asked about matters which you know nothing about. “What has happened to your hair, your Royal Highness?” asked a little fairy with whom he was dancing. “It has gone so funny, it's all coming off in tine gold powder and flying about. ’ ’ “It’s the pol—l—l ” stuttered the elf, wondering what he had better say next. “Is it coming off? I didn’t know it.” he finished up. “I’ve been able to come after all,” cried the voice of the queen as she stepped out of her nutshell carnage and came towards Ripple, who said, “I am so glad, your Majesty,” although she was not at all glad really.

“The Prince could not come because he lost his crown” went on the queen. “But he has been here, your Majesty, and he flew away directly after you arrived,” cried several puzzled fairies. “Oh no, he hasn’t,” cried Ripple, greatly agitated. “I mean he has. Of course he was here.” she stammered in confusion.

“I left the Prince at the palace ten minutes ago.” said the queen, “who you can have mistaken for him I don’t know. ’ ’ But there was some one here who had a gold coronet on” said one of the guests, “and he was exactly like tlio Prince, too.” SAVED FROM RAVAGES OF STORM The mate of a coastal steamer spotted some eases of Pulmonas being shipped. “Wish those eases were open,” he said, and then explained how good they were in protecting him against cold and “Flu”, ' when ; on the “Bridge” and at sea. Pulmonas unequalled for, coughs, colds, flu, bronchitis, asthma. — 1/6 & 2/6, chemists. 2

“He borrowed the crown from the Prince,” said Ripple, getting more and more confused.

“Who did?” asked the Queen. “Why, as his Royal Highness could not come, I had a substitute; because I thought some of my guests might not like it if there was no royalty here;” burst out the fairy, to the astonishment of every one. She then told the Queen all that had occurred.

The Queen was not very angry, as Ripple had expected, and only said “Bullrush must be a very clever elf to be able to take you all in, but I don’t think he had better do it again as it might load to some serious mistakes.” Bullrush was then persuaded to come back and the rest of the ball was a great success and the fairies danced on till the sky became rosy with the light of dawn.

BLACKBIRDS AND SNAILS. In this game the players divide into two rows. One row faces the centre of the play-ground, and these are the Snails. The second row, composed of Blackbirds, is behind them, the Blackbirds standing back against the playground wall. The players in the second row commence to sing, in imitation of the birds they represent. As soon as they start singing, the Snails move forward, very, very slowly, bending almost double as they walk. Now the Blackbirds begin to tiptoe towards the Snails. Naturally the Snails do not know whether they are coming, or how near they are, because they are looking straight ahead. The birds pause when within about a yard of their prey; then suddenly each springs forward. The Snail must be very qiuck in straightening his body and running away, for if the Blackbird who is behind him succeeds in tapping him throe times upon the back before he can run away he is “ pecked/' and so must stand out. If some players escape being pecked, then the Blackbirds who fail to tap them must stand out. If there are more Blackbirds than Snails remaining, the game becomes quite exciting, for two Blackbirds may be trying to tap one poor Snail. The first Blackbird to catch, and the last Snail to be caught, are the winners.

A GAME TO PLAY. Who knows “I Love My Love 1 ?” It is a splendid indoor game. Little people can play it, or bigger ones. It all depends on whether you know lots of adjectives. Get round the fire in a cosy circle and begin. Someone thinks of a letter of the alphabet and says, “I love my love with a (whatever letter he has thought of, say S) —with an S love,” at the same time pointing to the person who looks easy to catch. Then, as quickly, as ever he can, he counts ten, and if the player has not then supplied an adjective beginning with the letter—say, simple, stupid, selfish, serene — "Down!” says the first player, ahd has another turn. Of course, the adjectives are chosen rather frantically to be in time, and the funniest homemade ones make the game all the jollier.