There was Tom dodging the cow’s teeth, and roaring as loud as he could: 

“Mother!  Mother!  Help!  Help!”

“Lawks-a-mercy-me,” cried his mother, “where’s the child got to now?  Where are you, you bad boy?”

“Here!” roared Tom, “in the red cow’s mouth!”

With that his mother began to weep and wail, not knowing what else to do; and Tom, hearing her, roared louder than ever.  Whereat the red cow, alarmed—­and no wonder!—­at the dreadful noise in her throat, opened her mouth, and Tom dropped out, luckily into his mother’s apron; otherwise he would have been badly hurt falling so far.

Adventures like these were not Tom’s fault.  He could not help being so small, but he got into dreadful trouble once for which he was entirely to blame.  This is what happened.  He loved playing cherry-stones with the big boys, and when he had lost all his own he would creep unbeknownst into the other players’ pockets or bags, and make off with cherry-stones enough and galore to carry on the game!

Now one day it so happened that one of the boys saw Master Tom on the point of coming out of a bag with a whole fistful of cherry-stones.  So he just drew the string of the bag tight.

“Ha! ha!  Mr. Thomas Thumb,” says he jeeringly, “so you were going to pinch my cherry-stones, were you?  Well! you shall have more of them than you like.”  And with that he gave the cherry-stone bag such a hearty shake that all Tom’s body and legs were sadly bruised black and blue; nor was he let out till he had promised never to steal cherry-stones again.

So the years passed, and when Tom was a lad, still no bigger than a thumb, his father thought he might begin to make himself useful.  So he made him a whip out of a barley straw, and set him to drive the cattle home.  But Tom, in trying to climb a furrow’s ridge—­which to him, of course, was a steep hill—­slipped down and lay half stunned, so that a raven, happening to fly over, thought he was a frog, and picked him up intending to eat him.  Not relishing the morsel, however, the bird dropped him above the battlements of a big castle that stood close to the sea.  Now the castle belonged to one Grumbo, an ill-tempered giant who happened to be taking the air on the roof of his tower.  And when Tom dropped on his bald pate the giant put up his great hand to catch what he thought was an impudent fly, and finding something that smelt man’s meat, he just swallowed the little fellow as he would have swallowed a pill!

He began, however, to repent very soon, for Tom kicked and struggled in the giant’s inside as he had done in the red cow’s throat until the giant felt quite squeamish, and finally got rid of Tom by being sick over the battlements into the sea.

And here, doubtless, would have been Tom Thumb’s end by drowning, had not a big fish, thinking that he was a shrimp, rushed at him and gulped him down!