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 cradle, under the pale pink rose leaf.

"How beautiful the little maiden is," she croaked. "She will make a
lovely bride for my handsome son." And she lifted the little cradle,
with Thumbelina in it, and hopped out through the broken window-pane,
and down into the little garden.

At the foot of the garden was a broad stream. Here, under the muddy
banks, lived the old toad with her son.

How handsome she thought him! But he was really very ugly. Indeed, he
was exactly like his mother.

When he saw little Thumbelina in her tiny cradle, he croaked with
delight.

"Do not make so much noise," said his mother, "or you will wake the tiny
creature. We may lose her if we are not careful. The slightest breeze
would waft her away. She is as light as gossamer."

Then the old toad carried Thumbelina out into the middle of the stream.
"She will be safe here," she said, as she laid her gently on one of the
leaves of a large water lily, and paddled back to her son.

"We will make ready the best rooms under the mud," she told him, "and
then you and the little maiden will be married."

Poor little Thumbelina! She had not seen the ugly big toad yet, nor her
ugly son.

When she woke up early in the morning, how she wept! Water all around
her! How could she reach the shore? Poor little Thumbelina!

Down under the mud the old toad was very busy, decking the best room
with buttercups and buds of water-lilies to make it gay for her little
daughter-in-law, Thumbelina.

"Now we will go to bring her little bed and place it ready," said the
old toad, and together she and her son swam out to the leaf where little
Thumbelina sat.

"Here is my handsome son," she said, "he is to be your husband," and she
bowed low in the water, for she wished to be very polite to the little
maiden.

"Croak, croak," was all the young toad could say, as he looked at his
pretty little bride.

Then they took away the tiny little bed, and Thumbelina was left all
alone.

How the tears stained her pretty little face! How fast they fell into
the stream! Even the fish as they swam hither and thither thought, "How
it rains today," as the tiny drops fell thick and fast.

They popped up their heads and saw the forlorn little maiden.

"She shall not marry the ugly toad," they said, as they looked with
eager eyes at the pretty child. "No, she shall not marry the ugly toad."

But what could the little fish do to help Thumbelina?

They found the green stem which held the leaf on which Thumbelina sat.
They bit it with their little sharp teeth, and they never stopped
biting, till at last they bit the green stem through; and away, down the
stream, floated the leaf, carrying with it little Thumbelina.

"Free, free!" she sang, and her voice tinkled as a chime of fairy bells.
"Free, free!" she sang merrily as she floated down the stream, away, far
away out of reach of the ugly old toad and her ugly son.

And as she floated on, the little wild birds sang round her, and on the
banks the little wild hare-bells bowed to her.

Butterflies were flitting here and there in the sunshine. A pretty
little white one fluttered onto the leaf on which sat Thumbelina. He
loved the tiny maiden so well that he settled down beside her.

Now she was quite happy! Birds around her, flowers near her, and the
water gleaming like gold in the summer sunshine. What besides could
little Thumbelina wish?

She took off her sash and threw one end of it round the butterfly. The
other end she fastened firmly to the leaf. On and on floated the leaf,
the little maiden and the butterfly.

Suddenly a great cockchafer buzzed along. Alas! he caught sight of
little Thumbelina. He flew to her, put his claw round her tiny little
waist and carried her off, up onto a tree.

Poor little Thumbelina! How frightened she was! How grieved she was,
too, for had she not lost her little friend the butterfly?

Would he fly away, she wondered, or would her sash hold him fast?

The cockchafer was charmed with the little maiden. He placed her
tenderly on the largest leaf he could find. He gathered honey for her
from the flowers, and as she sipped it, he sat near and told her how
beautiful she looked.

But there were other chafers living in the tree, and when they came to
see little Thumbelina, they said, "She is not pretty at all."

"She has only two legs," said one.

"She has no feelers," said another.

Some said she was too thin, others that she was too fat, and then they
all buzzed and hummed together, "How ugly she is, how ugly she is!" But
all the time little Thumbelina was the prettiest little maiden that ever
lived.

And now the cockchafer who had flown off with little Thumbelina thought
he had been rather foolish to admire her.

He looked at her again. "Pretty? No, after all she was not very pretty."
He would have nothing to do with her, and away he and all the other
chafers flew. Only first they carried little Thumbelina down from the
tree and placed her on a daisy. She wept because she was so ugly--so
ugly that the chafers could not live with her. But all the time, you
know, she was the prettiest little maiden in the world.

She was living all alone in the wood now, but it was summer and she
could not feel sad or lonely while the warm golden sunshine touched her
so gently, while the birds sang to her, and the flowers bowed to her.

Yes, little Thumbelina was happy. She ate honey from the flowers, and
drank dew out of the golden buttercups and danced and sang the livelong
day.

But summer passed away and autumn came. The birds began to whisper of
flying to warmer countries, and the flowers began to fade and hang their
heads, and as autumn passed away, winter came, cold, dreary winter.

Thumbelina shivered with cold. Her little frock was thin and old. She
would certainly be frozen to death, she thought, as she wrapped herself
up in a withered leaf.

Then the snow began to fall, and each snow-flake seemed to smother her.
She was so very tiny.

Close to the wood lay a corn-field. The beautiful golden grain had been
carried away long ago, now there was only dry short stubble. But to
little Thumbelina the stubble was like a great forest.

She walked through the hard field. She was shaking with cold. All at
once she saw a little door just before her.

The field-mouse had made a little house under the stubble, and lived so
cozily there. She had a big room full of corn, and she had a kitchen and
pantry as well.

"Perhaps I shall get some food here," thought the cold and hungry little
maiden, as she stood knocking at the door, just like a tiny beggar
child. She had had nothing to eat for two long days. Oh, she was very
hungry!

"What a tiny thing you are!" said the field-mouse, as she opened the
door and saw Thumbelina. "Come in and dine with me."

How glad Thumbelina was, and how she enjoyed dining with the
field-mouse.

She behaved so prettily that the old field-mouse told her she might live
with her while the cold weather lasted. "And you shall keep my room
clean and neat, and you shall te

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