HONEY

Southland Times, Issue 20445, 24 March 1928, Page 23 (Supplement)

HONEY

—First Prize.— Once upon a time, there lived a princess called Acidia. She was unlike the usual run of princesses, for she was neither a curly-headed beauty, nor a sedate, sweettempered little maid. The princess, gossips whispered, for they didn’t want the king to hear, was not quite right in the head. It certainly seemed like it; for she hated pretty or nice things. Her poor little maid, Mesee, led a very unhappy life, for the princess insisted on Laving everything about her ugly. So Mesee was forced to smooth back her curls, whiten her eyebrows (hers were beautifully black) and altogether make herself as freakish as possible. Acidia, to make matters worse, was very fond of snakes and spiders, but Mesee after having endured for six months the feeling of snakes creeping over her body, and having to sleep in the company of spiders, was beginning to become used to the queer ways of her queer princess. Every day Acidia went for a ride in her carriage. I am sure she could not have enjoyed herself much for the only things she took interest in were her own face, which was reflected in the mirror that was always in front of her when she went riding, and the ugly things Mesee indicated to her. The king had offered a large reward to the person who could change his daughter’s taste before the princess was 18; for a princess must marry, and there seemed little chance for Acidia as she was, crabby, queer and ugly. Nothing had happened however, and the king and queen were feeling very angry with their naughty daughter, when the day of her birthday dawned fair and bright. “Can’t you be nice,” they cried in desperation, but Acidia laughed scornfully and went on playing with her snakes. Now, despite the fact that Acidia was very unkind to Mesee, Mesee was very fond of her mistress and longed to change her nature. With this end in view she consulted her grandmother, an old lady bending under the weight of many years, but for all that beautiful with the beauty that radiates from a kindly nature. Her greatest delight was to befriend humble creatures. Insects of every kind were her friends and among these were hundreds of bees. She was particularly fond of the bees and had been trying for long years to give them a useful place on the earth. Now she saw her opportunity “Could you not,” she said to an’ old Queen bee, “get permission from the Fairy Queen to gather the sweets of all the flowers, and with them make a nectar such as is the food of fairies?” The old bee was delighted, and straight away begged such a gift from the Fairy Queen. Pleased to grant anything to benefit the world the Fairy Queen consented. All the bees were called together and sent buzzing over field and garden to gather in the precious sweets. Each brought its small load and left it with the old grandmother until she had quite a jar full. This she gave to little Mesee, with a sincere wish that it would be successful. Mesee on her return went for a walk with Acidia in the park. From beneath her cloak she drew the jar. “Princess,” she said, “my grandmother sent you this. Will you taste it?” Without a word Acidia snatched the jar from Mesee, and dipped her fingers into the sticky creamish substance. She sucked them, then with a howl of rage flung the jar and its contents at Mesee. “It is sweet, you wretch, it is sweet,” she shrieked, and dashed to the palace. Once inside her room, however, she calmed down, and cautiously licked her still sticky fingers. “Hm! not so bad after all,” she murmured, and licked again. In a little while her fingers were quite clean and she jumped up, a tiny smile, the first happy smile she had ever smiled, playing round her mouth. That night her parents were much surprised and pleased, to see Acidia coming down to dinner wearing quite a pretty frock. After awhile dinner was begun. Pages ran here and there, bearing soups and meats to the guests. Acidia’s favourite soup, lemon and Castor oil, was placed before her. “No!” she said, pushing it impatiently away. “I want the sweet stuff.” “Sweet stuff!” echoed the king. “Bring it, quick.” Never was there such an uproar. Everyone rushed to bring sweets before the princess, but she would have none of them. “No!” she said, “I want Mesee’s sweet stuff.” “Bring Mesee,” shouted the king, and Mesee was rushed into the room, the jar in her arms. In a moment Acidia had finished the contents of the jar, and with a happy smile gazed round at the astonished people. “What is it Mesee? It is nice,” she said. “That,” said Mesee, “is honey.” Not long after the pricess was married. Never has there been such a wedding, and the bride looked charming. “What,” asked the people who had been absent from the birthday feast, “has changed the princess so?” “Ah!” murmured someone, “it was honey. The sweetness of God’s creation; for what but sweetness can drive away that which is sour and ugly?” —5/- and 4 marks to Cousin Betty Griffiths (15), 23 Passmore Crescent, Maori Hill, Dunedin. —Second Prize.— Fairyland was downcast. For days a certain portion of its subjects liad been grieving, and these were the flower fairies. Theirs was the duty to see that all flowers in the lands of the mortal grew and flowered and were odourous. Now, it was very unusual for the flower fairies to be downcast—usually they were the merriest, brightest little things imaginable, and the reason for this state of mind was that in Fairyland the flowers blossomed perpetually. Their petals and leaves never fell, and their soft delicate colours never faded. Yet, when the flower fairies transplanted them in Mortal-land they blossomed for a little while then drooped and faded, and died Then the flower fairies had to breath new life into them or they would never have blossomed again. It was as the Fairy Queen had said. No flower, however strong, could breath the same air as mortals and live for long. “And when they fade and die,” she had ended sorrowfully,” they turn to dust. There is nothing left to tell of their beauty and sweetness! They are forgotten, and when next season other blooms take their place, mortals never give a thought to the blooms of the year before!” And so the flower fairies were unhappy. One tender-hearted sprite, the spirit of a clover, was especially heart-broken. She mourned and grieved, planned and thought, and did everything she could think of to make her clover grow live longer. It was all in vain. “Couldn’t we,” suggested one fairy,, “couldn’t we just leave something to remind mortals of the sweetness of the faded flowers that were gone?” But the fairies shook their heads hopelessly. They could think of nothing. Then the clover sprite jumped up and danced a little. “Why, oh sister sprites, did we never think of this before?” she cried, her little face flushing daintily in delight and enthusiasm. The other flower fairies crowded round her delightedly. “What is it?” they cried. “Do tell us!” Then clover-sprite spoke, her words tumbling excitedly over each other in her eagerness to get them out. “Yes, yes, I have an idea, such an idea! Listen, oh ye who are my fellows, why cannot we turn the sweetness of the flowers’ scent into sweetness to eat? Then the mortals could not but remember the flowers!” “But,” cried the others, “we have fruit, which is the sweetness of the flowers in solid form!” “Ah, yes,” cried clover-sprite, “but it is not that kind of sweetness, I mean. I do not mean to change the flowers at all. I mean,” she continued her plan formulating and extending, “I mean that some of us flower sprites be turned into other sprites —sprites that mortals can see, but in a different form. Then we would fly about Mortal-land and gather the sweetness from the flowers, and give it to the mortals to eat. Then you see the mortals would, by imbibing the sweetness of the flowers, become, perhaps, more like flowers themselves.” The other flower fairies were delighted. Off they went to tell their queen. “Why clover-sprite, you have done well indeed. You shall be queen of these ‘sprites’—but what shall they be called?” With a little laugh, clover-sprite answered: “Why not call them ‘Bees?’ I should love to be Queen of the ‘Bees’ ” “Then so you shall b—,” here she laughed, as also did the other fairies. “And the nectar you shall gather for the mortals—there is but one name for that. The old, old fairy word that means ‘pure heavenly sweetness’ —‘Honey.’ ” And so it was that bees came into our Mortal-land to gather from our sweetest possessions, the sweetest, purest food we have —“honey.” —2/6 and 3 marks to Cousin Eileen Mclntosh (17), 91 Scandrett street, South Invercargill.