FAIRY SHOES

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 92, 9 July 1927, Page 27

FAIRY SHOES

Long, long ago Peter the Ploughman led his horse every morning to the forest pool for a drink. On his way he passed a fairy forge, hidden deep in a sandy hollow beneath a great oalk, and there he heard the gnomes at work, their hammers ringing on the anvil while they sang: O, the yellow leaves are falling, Ding-a-dong, clink, clink! over and over again. Said Peter: “Such a good tune deserves a better song,’’ and he too sang lustily: “When the yellow leaves are falling, Ding-a-dong, clink, clink! You may lead your horse to water, But you cannot make him drink.” There was a sound of clapping and laughter in the forest as he ended, and the little people took up the song merrily, and tossed it to and fro among the trees. That night Peter heard his horse stamping in the stable. However, the dog did not bark, so Peter said “Let well alone,” and fell asleep. But next morning he found that the horse was newly shod. And wonderful shoes they were, for in them the horse never slipped on the frozen road, nor grew weary in the muddy furrows, and every field that Peter ploughed yielded a double crop of corn. , * No\\*» Michael of the Mill, rich but greedy, heard the tale, and, said he: “What man has done, man may do.” So he lay awake one night inventing a new line to the gnomes’ song, and in the morning he got up and led his horse to the forest pool. As he passed the fairy forge he sang: “When the yellow leaves are falling, Ding-a-dong, clink, clink! You may lead your horse to water. But you cannot make him drink. For the fairy shoes will pinch him, Ding-a-dong, clink, clink!” There was dead silence in the forest when he ceased, and Michael wondered for a moment if he could have made some mistake, but that night he heard his horse stamping in the stable,V and he patted himself on the back (as w r ell as he could in bed) for a clever fellow. And the next morning he was up before the sun, and peeping in at the stable door. Yes, sure enough, the horse was newly shod. Michael flung open the door, and —would yOu believe it? —the horse sprang out, leapt the yard gate, raced down the hill through the sleeping village, past the church, across the bridge, and up the side of the down as if he were bewitched. On he bounded, up and up to Chanctonbury Ring, and there he vanished from sight. And as Michael watched him with wide-open eyes and mouth, a little man put his head round the stable door.and sang in a very little voice: “For the fairy shoes have pinched him, Ding-a-dong, clink, clink”