countries where the grapes hang
in large clusters on the vines and the air is soft and mild, and about
the mountains glowing with colors more beautiful than we can think of.

"But they have no red cabbage such as we have," said the hen. "I was
once in the country with my chickens for a whole summer. There was a
large sand pit in which we could walk about and scratch as we liked.
Then we got into a garden in which grew red cabbage. Oh, how nice it
was! I cannot think of anything more delicious."

"But one cabbage stalk is exactly like another," said the swallow; "and
here we often have bad weather."

"Yes, but we are accustomed to it," said the hen.

"But it is so cold here, and freezes sometimes."

"Cold weather is good for cabbages," said the hen; "besides, we do have
it warm here sometimes. Four years ago we had a summer that lasted more
than five weeks, and it was so hot one could scarcely breathe. And then
in this country we have no poisonous animals, and we are free from
robbers. He must be a blockhead, who does not consider our country the
finest of all lands. He ought not to be allowed to live here." And then
the hen wept very much and said: "I have also traveled. I once went
twelve miles in a coop, and it was not pleasant traveling at all."

"The hen is a sensible woman," said the doll Bertha. "I don't care for
traveling over mountains, just to go up and come down again. No, let us
go to the sand pit in front of the gate and then take a walk in the
cabbage garden."

And so they settled it.

[Illustration: Look at these ... Chinese people ...]

SATURDAY

"Am I to hear any more stories?" asked little Hjalmar, as soon as
Ole-Luk-Oie had sent him to sleep.

"We shall have no time this evening," said he, spreading out his
prettiest umbrella over the child. "Look at these Chinese people." And
then the whole umbrella appeared like a large china bowl, with blue
trees and pointed bridges upon which stood little Chinamen nodding their
heads.

"We must make all the world beautiful for to-morrow morning," said
Ole-Luk-Oie, "for it will be a holiday; it is Sunday. I must now go to
the church steeple and see if the little sprites who live there have
polished the bells so that they may sound sweetly; then I must go into
the fields and see if the wind has blown the dust from the grass and the
leaves; and the most difficult task of all which I have to do is to take
down all the stars and brighten them up. I have