“Yes, I will help you,” cried the Cloud once more.  “Take me to yourselves; I will give my life for you!”

As she said the words a wonderful light glowed from her heart, the sound of thunder rolled through the sky, and a love greater than words can tell filled the Cloud; down, down, close to the earth she swept, and gave up her life in a blessed, healing shower of rain.

That rain was the Cloud’s great deed; it was her death, too; but it was also her glory.  Over the whole country-side, as far as the rain fell, a lovely rainbow sprang its arch, and all the brightest rays of heaven made its colours; it was the last greeting of a love so great that it sacrificed itself.

Soon that, too, was gone, but long, long afterward the men and animals who were saved by the Cloud kept her blessing in their hearts.

FOOTNOTES: 

[10] Adapted from the German of Robert Reinick’s Maerchen-, Lieder-und Geschichtenbuch (Velhagen und Klasing, Bielefeld and Leipsic).

THE LITTLE RED HEN

The little Red Hen was in the farmyard with her chickens, when she found a grain of wheat.

“Who will plant this wheat?” she said.

“Not I,” said the Goose.

“Not I,” said the Duck.

“I will, then,” said the little Red Hen, and she planted the grain of wheat.

When the wheat was ripe she said, “Who will take this wheat to the mill?”

“Not I,” said the Goose.

“Not I,” said the Duck.

“I will, then,” said the little Red Hen, and she took the wheat to the mill.

When she brought the flour home she said, “Who will make some bread with this flour?”

“Not I,” said the Goose.

“Not I,” said the Duck.

“I will, then,” said the little Red Hen.

When the bread was baked, she said, “Who will eat this bread?”

“I will,” said the Goose.

“I will,” said the Duck.

“No, you won’t,” said the little Red Hen.  “I shall eat it myself.  Cluck! cluck!” And she called her chickens to help her.

THE GINGERBREAD MAN[11]

Once upon a time there was a little old woman and a little old man, and they lived all alone in a little old house.  They hadn’t any little girls or any little boys, at all.  So one day, the little old woman made a boy out of gingerbread; she made him a chocolate jacket, and put raisins on it for buttons; his eyes were made of fine, fat currants; his mouth was made of rose-coloured sugar; and he had a gay little cap of orange sugar-candy.  When the little old woman had rolled him out, and dressed him up, and pinched his gingerbread shoes into shape, she put him in a pan; then she put the pan in the oven and shut the door; and she thought, “Now I shall have a little boy of my own.”