all dead and buried, and the little old man and
woman lived all alone-ty-donty. It had bright green blinds, bright red
sides, a bright blue door, and bright yellow steps. On the bright blue
door there was a bright brass knocker, which was polished up at such a
rate that you could see your face in it, looking as l-o-n-g as anything;
and underneath that was a bright brass door plate, with the old
showman's name, "Timmy Timmens," on it, which was also polished up until
you could see your face in it, looking as b-r-o-a-d as anything. Did you
_ever_? Well, I _never_ did!

Inside there was a rag carpet of all the colors of the rainbow; a little
old four-post bedstead, with a patchwork counterpane; two high-backed
rocking chairs, with patchwork covers over the backs; a table with an
oil cloth cover, that had a little old tea tray on it, set up against
the wall; two bright brass candlesticks, and a china tea set; and in one
corner was a glass cupboard, which contained the other plates and
dishes. Hung against the wall over the mantlepiece was a sampler worked
by Mrs. Timmy Timmens when she was a girl, which represented Noah's ark,
with all the animals, of exactly the same size, done in cross stitch, in
such bright grass-green worsted that it quite set your teeth on edge to
look at it. Besides these, there was a little round stove, with a long
stove pipe, that came out on top of the caravan, and ended with a
flourishing weathercock, representing a fat old woman in a high gale,
with her umbrella turned inside out; which moved when the smoke came
puffing up harder than usual, and had no connection whatever with any
wind that blew.

Now, Mr. Timmy Timmens and his wife, being mighty simple old people,
were fond of reading fairy stories, and believed entirely in every word
of them. They hadn't the smallest doubt that sprites and fairies were as
common as peas this very minute, and would have thought it quite a
matter of course if a wonderful gift had suddenly tumbled down the very
stove pipe, or a beautiful lady come bursting through the wall, and
offered to carry them off to fairy land in a mother-of-pearl chariot,
drawn by milk-white doves. If a cat looked hard at her and mewed
piteously, the little old woman would sigh, "Well, this _is_ fairy work,
I'll bet a crooked sixpence! She looks like an enchanted princess, poor
thing! don't she, Timmy, dear?" If a donkey brayed louder than usual,
and seemed more obstinate than ever befor