



Produced by Al Haines








[Frontispiece: Jack and Jill in the Witch's House.]






MORE TALES

IN THE LAND OF

NURSERY RHYME


BY

ADA M. MARZIALS



AUTHOR OF

"IN THE LAND OF NURSERY RHYME"



WITH FRONTISPIECE




LONDON: H. R. ALLENSON, LIMITED

RACQUET COURT, FLEET STREET, E.C.

1913




TO

MY LITTLE COUSINS

KATHLEEN AND DOROTHY




CONTENTS


  THE NORTH WIND DOTH BLOW
  MARY, MARY, QUITE CONTRARY
  JACK AND JILL
  LITTLE MISS MUFFET
  PUSSY CAT, PUSSY CAT
  HEY, DIDDLE, DIDDLE!




THE NORTH WIND DOTH BLOW

"_Different people have different opinions_"

  The North Wind doth blow,
  And we shall have snow,
  And what will the robin do then?  Poor thing!
  He will sit in a barn,
  And to keep himself warm
  He will hide his head under his wing.  Poor thing!


Oh, how cold it was!

The North Wind howled round the barn, whirling the snowflakes into a
little heap inside the half-open door.  Even beyond the little heap of
snow, right inside the barn among the whisps of hay and straw, and beyond
the pile of turnips piled up in one far corner, it was still bitterly
cold and draughty.

The few birds left had found their way into the old barn for shelter, and
were close together on a low bar of wood at the far end, where they sat
ruffling their feathers and shivering.

From time to time one of them would peer out at the leaden grey sky and
the falling snowflakes, and then hide its head under its wing again to
deaden the sound of the wind whistling through the crannies.

There were five of them.

A Robin, who had been blown in with the last gust of wind; a wretched
little Sparrow, who twittered helplessly from time to time, and then hid
her head ashamed at having been betrayed into such an exhibition of
weakness in public; an Owl, who, living habitually in the barn, regarded
the others with suspicion as intruders, and possibly thieves; and,
lastly, two queer Japanese birds, who had lived all the summer on the
ornamental lake in the garden.

These latter had been brought to the barn during the bad weather, as they
were considered too delicate to bear the stress of a really cold English
winter, and were looked down on and despised by the other birds as
foreigners.  They were very shy, and crouched side by side in one corner,
never venturing a remark unless first spoken to.  The Robin, though he
was the latest comer, had, by reason of his cheery good-nature, and a
certain perky self-confidence, already gained for himself a position as
leader among the other birds.  Even the old Owl blinked and winked
occasionally at his jokes, and the Sparrow was soon reduced to a helpless
state of twittering giggles.  But laughing will not keep you warm, and at
last even the Robin was forced to confess that he had never been colder
in his life; and what was the use of thinking of all the plum-puddings
and mince pies and bread crumbs and holly-berries in the world, when you
were feeling as though you had not a feather on your body to bless
yourself with!

"I wish I could make the snow stop somehow," he said.  "It is all very
well for Mother Goose to go on plucking out feathers up there, but she
does not help to make _us_ any warmer."

"Pooh!" said the Owl, who had lately condescended to join in the
conversation.  "Who told you all that rubbish about Mother Goose?  Why,
the snow has no more to do with Mother Goose than I have!...  Mother
Goose, indeed!" and she blinked twice, just to show that she could tell
more if she chose.

"Bird of Wisdom," piped the Robin, with a wink at the Sparrow, which set
her off giggling worse than ever, "enlighten us, I pray you, as to the
true cause of snow?"

"Yes, do," said the Sparrow, when she had recovered her breath.  The
Japanese birds said nothing, but stirred uneasily.

"Snow," began the Owl, sententiously, "is connected with rain and
frost----"

"Pip!  Pip!" rudely interrupted the Robin.  "If you are going to talk
science, madam, I must beg to be excused," and he promptly hid his head
under his wing, and the Sparrow followed suit.

The Owl paid no heed to this interruption, but lectured on, and having
talked for about ten minutes or so with no applause,