In the night-time the king’s brave soldiers had driven his enemies from his land, and opened the doors of the prison-house in which he and the queen lay, and the king had ridden with them in haste to find his darling child, who was worth his crown and his kingdom.

The sight of her face was the sunshine to lighten their hearts, and they sent the glad news far and near, with blast of trumpet and shouts of joy.

But in all their great happiness the child did not forget the rabbit, and she said to it, “Come with me and I will take care of you, for my father the king is here.”  But the rabbit thanked her and wanted to go home.

“My babies are waiting,” it said, “and I have my work to do in the world.  I pray you let me go.”

So the child kissed it and bade it go; and she, too, went to her own dear home.  There she grew lovelier every day, for the light grew with her; and when, long years afterward, she was queen of the country, the foxes and wolves and tigers dared not harm her people, for her good knights drove evil from her land; but to loving gentle creatures she gave love and protection, and she lived happily all the days of her life.

THE LITTLE GRAY PONY

    MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER

    The humblest workman has his place,
    Which no one else can fill.

There was once a man who owned a little gray pony.

Every morning when the dewdrops were still hanging on the pink clover in the meadows, and the birds were singing their morning song, the man would jump on his pony and ride away, clippety, clippety, clap!

The pony’s four small hoofs played the jolliest tune on the smooth pike road, the pony’s head was always high in the air, and the pony’s two little ears were always pricked up; for he was a merry gray pony, and loved to go clippety, clippety, clap!

The man rode to town and to country, to church and to market, up hill and down hill; and one day he heard something fall with a clang on a stone in the road.  Looking back, he saw a horseshoe lying there.  And when he saw it, he cried out:—­

    “What shall I do?  What shall I do? 
    If my little gray pony has lost a shoe?”

Then down he jumped, in a great hurry, and looked at one of the pony’s fore-feet; but nothing was wrong.  He lifted the other forefoot, but the shoe was still there.  He examined one of the hindfeet, and began to think that he was mistaken; but when he looked at the last foot, he cried again:—­

    “What shall I do?  What shall I do? 
    My little gray pony has lost a shoe!”

Then he made haste to go to the blacksmith; and when he saw the smith, he called out to him:—­

    “Blacksmith!  Blacksmith!  I’ve come to you;
    My little gray pony has lost a shoe!”

But the blacksmith answered and said:—­

    “How can I shoe your pony’s feet,
    Without some coal the iron to heat?”