y prince, and he only looked like a mud turtle,
because we did not have the right kind of eyes with which to see him or
else because we had no faith in him. It is always so, in fairy stories.
You must believe, or you can't see the beautiful things."

"Well, I'd rather have some snails to eat," said Jimmie. "You don't care
how they look; it's how they taste. I'm never going to bother with fairies
again."

It was about three days after this that Jimmie and Lulu were walking in
the deep, green woods, under the trees, picking tender leaves and roots to
eat. They were hoping they might meet Johnnie and Billie Bushytail, the
squirrels whom they had not seen for some time. Alice stayed home to curl
her feathers.

All at once, as they were walking along, the little boy and girl duck
heard a funny noise.

"What's that?" cried Jimmie.

"I don't know," answered Lulu. "It sounds like some one calling."

And, sure enough, it was. As they stopped to listen they could hear some
one crying: "Help! Help! Oh, help!"

"Let's go and see who it is," suggested Jimmie.

"Maybe it's a dog, or a bad rat, or a fox," objected Lulu.

"No," said her brother, "they would never call for help. Come on."

[Illustration:]

So they walked on, looking this way and that, to see what they could see;
on and on through the woods, until, just as they came from behind a big
oak tree, what should they catch sight of, but poor, Grandfather
Goosey-Gander, caught fast in the middle of a pile of brush.

"Oh dear me! Oh my goodness me sakes alive! Oh, floppy! floppy! floppy!
Oh, a bag of salt and some corn meal!" cried the poor old gentleman duck.
"I am in a terrible state! Help me!"

Then Lulu and Jimmie ran right up to him, and asked him what was the
matter.

"Oh dear," he said, "I really can't say. I've lost my glasses, and I can't
see very well. All I know is that I was walking in the woods, thinking
what a nice day it was, when, all of a sudden, in about a quack and a
half, I found myself caught fast. And the worst part of it is that I can't
get loose!"

"Let me take a look," said Jimmie.

So he went quite close and looked, and he saw that Grandfather
Goosey-Gander's right leg was held in between two sticks. The old
gentleman duck was in great pain.

"Is my leg broken?" he asked Jimmie.

"No," answered the little boy duck, "but some of the skin is scraped off."

"I knew it!" cried Grandfather Goosey-Gander. "Now I won't be able to go
fis