spin, and weave, and sew a shirt all in
one day.

"But if you will only say at once that you will be my wife," Boots
said to Doll-in-the-Grass, "I will not go a step farther."

She was willing, and so she made haste and spun, and wove, and sewed
the shirt, but it was very, very tiny. It was no more than two inches
long. Boots went off home with it, but when he took it out he was
almost ashamed of it, it was so small. But the king was pleased with
it, and said he should have her. So Boots set off, glad and happy, to
fetch the little lassie.

When he came to Doll-in-the-Grass, he wished to take her up before him
on his horse. But she would not have that, for she said she would sit
and drive along in a silver spoon, and that she had two white horses
to draw it. So off they started, Boots on his horse, and
Doll-in-the-Grass in her silver spoon; and the two horses that drew
her were two tiny white mice. But Boots always kept on the other side
of the road, for he was afraid lest he should ride over her, she was
so little.

When they had gone a little way they came to a great piece of water.
Here Boots' horse grew frightened, and shied across the road. The
spoon upset, and Doll-in-the-Grass tumbled into the water. Then Boots
was in great distress, for he did not know how to get her out again;
but, suddenly, up came a merman with her. How wonderful;
Doll-in-the-Grass was now as tall and well grown as other girls! So
Boots took her up before him on his horse, and rode home.

All Boots' brothers had come back with their sweethearts, but not one
had woven so dainty a little shirt as had Doll-in-the-Grass, and none
was half so lovely. When the brothers saw her they were as jealous as
could be of their brother. But the king was so delighted with her that
he gave them the finest wedding feast of all. He allowed them to live
with him in his palace, and gave out word that they should succeed him
on the throne.

FABLES

THE PLOUGHMAN AND HIS SONS

A wealthy Ploughman, drawing near his end,
Called in his sons apart from every friend,
And said, "When of your sire bereft,
The heritage your father left
Guard well, nor sell a single field.
A treasure in it is concealed.
The place, precisely, I don't know,
But industry will serve to show.
The harvest past, Time's forelock take,
And search with plough, and spade, and rake;
Turn over every inch of sod,
Nor leave unsearched