“I bet you’d be scared as scared,” George said.
“I bet I wouldn’t be scared of a hundred enemies,” the little old man said. “I bet I’d just ride right into ’em and slice ’em in two with a sword like this.”
“I bet you wouldn’t slice a dog in two,” George said. “I bet you’d be scared.”
“I bet I wouldn’t,” the little old man answered. “I bet I’d just—”
“I bet you’d be scared of a tiger or a lion,” George said.
“I bet I’ve killed a hundred tigers and lions in this very forest,” the little old man said, “with a sword just like this … No, I used the sword in the war. I don’t remember what I killed the tigers and lions with. It was something else.”
“I guess you kilt ’em dodgin’ rollin’ pins and flatirons,” Alice said.
“If I was runnin’ a war,” Alice’s husband said. “I’d get me a bunch of married women and I’d blindfold ’em and I’d p’int ’em and I’d say, ‘Go right straight like you’s headed and when you hits somethin’, it’s your husband.’ That’s the way I’d conduck a war.”
“It would save money, wouldn’t it?” the little old man said, “because they could pick up the flatirons and rollingpins and throw them again, couldn’t they?”
“I’ve knowed some that don’t need no flatirons and rollin’ pins,” Alice’s husband said. “Wait twell you’s been married as freqump as I is.”
“Yaaah,” said George, “I bet if a lion jumped out from behind a tree in front of you, you’d fall dead.”
“I bet I wouldn’t,” said the little old man, waving his sword again, “I bet I’d just—”
“I wish a lion would ju—”
Dulcie screamed, and George didn’t even finish what he was saying, and Alice’s husband bellowed like a foghorn, but Alice’s voice drowned them all; and they flew down the road. Alice’s husband climbed a tree, and Alice ran carrying Dicky in one arm and dragging Dulcie by the other, and behind them came George howling at the top of his voice. But the little old man, still carrying his sword, distanced them all.
“Stop! Stop!” the redheaded boy shouted, and Alice stopped and leaned against a tree, panting for breath. There, in the middle of the road, sat the lion, and near it on his snorting pony was the redheaded boy. “Come back,” the redheaded boy called to them, “he won’t hurt you.”
“Not twell you get that thing out of here,” Alice said. “You, Dulcie! Don’t you go back up there.”
“All you have to do,” the redheaded boy said, “is for the one that wished the lion to unwish him. Who was it who wished him? It was George, wasn’t it?”
“I guess so,” George answered.
“Well, do you want him?” the redheaded boy asked.
“Not me,” replied George. “I hope I never see another one.” And as soon as George said this, the lion was gone.
“Now we can go back,” Dulcie said.
“You, Dulcie!” Alice exclaimed. “Don’t you go up there! That thing jes’ jumped behime that tree: I seen him!”
“No, no,” the redheaded boy said, “he’s gone. Come on back.”
They went back. Alice had to look behind all the trees, but the lion was really gone.
“Why, where are the ponies?” Dulcie asked.
“You all wished them away when you saw the lion,” the redheaded boy said. “When the lion jumped out, everybody wished he could run, and you can’t run while you’re sitting on a pony or in a cart.”
They all looked at one another in astonishment. “Will we have to walk?” Dulcie asked.
“Well, I haven’t got any more ponies in my satchel,” the redheaded boy replied.
“I ’speck we better walk,” Alice said. “The more we rides, the further we gets from home. They’s somethin’ mighty cur’us about this,” Alice added and she glared at the little old man, who came up with his sword.
“I’ve lost my gillypus,” the little old man said. “It fell out of my pocket, and now I can’t find it.”
“That’s too bad,” Dulcie said. “It was a nice gillypus. Don’t you wish it could walk and talk, and then you could find it.”
“I sure do,” the little old man answered. “It was the best gillypus I ever saw.” And as soon as he spoke, they heard a scuffling through the grass, and a little thin voice crying,
“Here I come, Egbert; here I come.”
“That’s my name,” the little old man said. The scuffling came nearer, and soon they saw the gillypus running through the grass.
“Little puppy,” exclaimed Dicky, and he caught up a stick from the ground and hit the gillypus, and every time he hit it, the gillypus got larger and larger.
“Darling!” exclaimed Dulcie. “Don’t hit Egbert’s gillypus! Alice! Alice!”
“Kill little puppy,” Dicky said. The gillypus was as large as a dog, now. “Cut little puppy in two,” Dicky said, and the gillypus fell in two pieces.
“Look what you done!” said the little old man, and he hid his face in his elbow, and wept.
“I’m awful sorry,” said Dulcie. “Dicky’s a bad boy to cut your gillypus in two.”
Then another little voice wailed from the grass at their feet, and they looked down and there was Dicky, no bigger than a lead soldier.
“That’s because he made a bad wish,” the redheaded boy explained, “a wish that hurt something.”
“Don’t step on him!” shrieked Dulcie, and almost at the same moment Dulcie and Alice were little like Dicky, and Alice picked Dicky up and held Dulcie against her with the other arm.
“You old fool,” Alice shouted up to the little old man in her thin tiny voice. “Look what you done! Don’t you step on us!”
“I don’t know what to do now,” the redheaded boy said. “Dicky’ll have to stay little until he does a kind deed for someone, and Dulcie and Alice won’t get big again as long as Dicky must stay little.”
“I think we all better get little, too,” the little old man suggested, “so we can stay together.”
“All right,” the redheaded boy agreed. “That’s the best idea.”
“Not me,” said George quickly. “I don’t want to be that little. I wish I was home.” And George just disappeared.
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“I’m sorry he’s gone,” the little old man said. “I could have killed that lion, if I hadn’t been so surprised.”
Then the others were all little, like Alice and Dulcie and Dicky.
“Gee,” said the little old man. They were in a huge forest of the funniest trees. The trees were green all over, and they were flat, like huge sword blades, and they didn’t have any branches or leaves at all.
“That’s grass,” the redheaded boy explained. “We better go this way.”
They went on among the funny flat trees, and soon they came to a yellow mountain.
“This is a funny mountain,” the little old man said. “It’s made out of wood.” They walked along beside the mountain, trying to find a road up it. But the mountain went on across the path, and they couldn’t get by it.
“I know what it is,” the redheaded boy said. “It’s Egbert’s gillypus.”
“I wish I had my gillypus,” the little old man said, and they stared in astonishment, for the mountain disappeared, and then the little old man said, “Something jumped in my pocket then.” And he put his hand in his pocket and took out his gillypus. “Well,” the little old man said, “I’m certainly glad to get this gillypus back again. It’s the best gillypus I ever made.”
So they went on, and they came out of the forest into a great desert, and standing in the middle of the desert was the biggest beast Alice had ever seen, or Alice’s husband either.
“It’s bigger’n that elefump,” Alice said.
“It’s just my pony,” the redheaded boy explained. “He knows the way home, all right.”
They went on across the desert, and then all of a sudden a jaybird twice as big as an eagle fle
w down at them. Alice caught Dicky up again and grabbed Dulcie with the other hand, and the jaybird whirled about them, trying to peck Dicky up with his beak. Alice’s husband aimed his rifle and shot at the jaybird, but the jaybird kept on whirling about them, trying to eat Dicky up. The jaybird thought Dicky was a bug, because Dicky was so little.
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“Put your hat on the ground!” the redheaded boy shouted to the little old man, while Alice’s husband was fighting the jaybird, and the little old man put his hat on the ground and the redheaded boy wished the little old man’s hat was as big as a soup plate, and it was; and they all got under it. They could hear the jaybird pecking at the hat, but he couldn’t get in.
Finally they couldn’t hear the jaybird any more, and Alice’s husband raised the hat and looked out.
“He’s done gone,” Alice’s husband said. Then he dropped the hat and jumped back inside. “Lawd save us,” Alice’s husband shouted, “here comes a earthquake!”
And all of a sudden the ground rose up beneath them and they tumbled over one another and fell down a big hill, and the hat rolled over, and down they went tumbling, and they could see the earthquake going on past them. They could see the ground hunching up like something was burrowing along under it.
“It’s a mole,” the redheaded boy said, “that’s what it was. Come on, we better get back into the forest and think what to do.”
They ran back among the funny flat trees again.
“I think,” the redheaded boy said, “that we’d better wish Alice’s husband big again, and we’ll all get in his hat and he can carry us home.”
So they wished Alice’s husband big again, and he put his hat on the ground and picked them up one at a time very carefully and put them in the hat.
“You big fool,” Alice shouted at him in her tiny high voice, “you pick me and this baby up easy, or I’ll tear your head clean off and unravel your backbone down to your belt.”
Then Alice’s husband picked up his hat and went on. Dulcie and Dicky and Alice and the redheaded boy and the little old man sat in the hat. They couldn’t see anything except Alice’s husband’s head and the sky and the treetops, and after a while Dicky went to sleep, and Dulcie began to get drowsy. But she couldn’t get comfortable, because there wasn’t a pillow in Alice’s husband’s hat.
I wish I was in my nice soft bed, Dulcie said to herself. “No I don’t! No I don’t!” she screamed, but it was too late, for she was again in her bed at home, in her room by herself. “I don’t want to be here!” Dulcie wailed. “I want to find Mr. Egbert so he can tell me where the others went!”
And once more she was in front of a gray cottage with roses growing over the door. “This is not where I left them!” Dulcie said. “I want to be where Alice and Dicky and Maurice and Mr. Egbert and Exodus are.” But nothing happened, and Dulcie remembered her colored leaf, and she put her hand in the pocket of her dress. The leaf was gone.
Dulcie didn’t know what to do. She stood in the road in front of the cottage, and then she heard somebody chopping wood behind the house, and she opened the gate and entered the front yard. The door of the cottage was closed, and on the ground near the door were some slivers of wood where someone had been whittling with a knife, and scattered about the yard were a flatiron and a rollingpin and an alarm clock. Dulcie went on around the house and there was a little old man with a long gray beard, chopping wood. Dulcie went up to the little old man.
“Where are the others, Mr. Egbert?” Dulcie asked.
The little old man dropped his axe and whirled around. “Ma’am?” the little old man said.
“I’ve lost them,” Dulcie explained. “We were all together there, and now I can’t find them,” she wailed.
“Was it a picnic?” the little old man asked. “I used to go to a lot of picnics.”
“Why, you were with us. Did you get lost, too?” asked Dulcie.
The little old man had the kindest blue eyes. “I used to go to a lot of picnics,” the little old man said. “But I ain’t been to one now in a long while.”
“Why, you were with us this morning!” Dulcie exclaimed with surprise. “Don’t you remember? You had apple pie and ice cream!”
“Did I now?” the little old man said. He waggled his long gray beard. “I used to be a great hand for ice cream, in my day. But we don’t have ice cream very often, now.” The little old man pushed the wood he had been chopping aside. “Won’t you have a seat on this log?” the little old man said politely.
Dulcie sat down sadly. “Then you don’t know where they are?” she asked.
The little old man sat down also. “Lordy, Lordy,” he said. “it’s been a power of years since I went to a picnic. But then, I ain’t as young as I once was, and I’ve kind of got lazy. That’s the reason I chop wood, you see, for a little exercise.”
“How old are you?” Dulcie asked.
“I’m ninety two this past gone April a year,” the little old man replied.
“And so you don’t know where they are,” Dulcie said. “I was with them, and then I got l-lost, and now I c-can’t f-find them, and I’m sc-scared,” Dulcie wept.
The little old man jumped up nervously, and he made a clicking sound with his tongue. Suddenly he reached into his pocket. “Look what I made,” he said.
Dulcie wiped her eyes and looked. “Why, it’s the gillypus!” she exclaimed.
“Is that what it is?” the little old man said, pleased. “I didn’t know what it was. You can have it, if you want,” he added.
“I want Alice and Dicky,” Dulcie said, weeping again.
The little old man clicked his tongue and put his hands in his pockets again. “Look here what I found in the road this morning. I thought at first it was a leaf, but now I believe it’s a dragon’s scale or a roc’s feather.”
Dulcie looked at the leaf and clapped her hands. While the old man held it, it was not any color especially, just a faint pinkish greenish color. “You can have it, if you want,” the little old man said.
“Oh, thank you, thank you!” Dulcie exclaimed, grasping the leaf tight in her palm. “If we go on another picnic soon, we’ll come for you,” Dulcie promised. “Thank you, thank you!”
“I used to be a great hand for picnics,” the little old man said, and then his wife opened the kitchen door.
“You, Egbert!” she shouted, and slammed the door again. The little old man caught up the axe and chopped wood furiously.
“Now,” said Dulcie, clasping her blue leaf tightly in her hand and shutting her eyes, “I want to be where Dicky and Alice and Maurice and Exodus—”
“Hello, Dulcie, hello, Dulcie!” they all cried, and Dulcie hugged Dicky and Alice, and Alice and Dicky hugged Dulcie, and Alice’s husband gashed his mouth from ear to ear until all his teeth showed, and the redheaded boy watched them with his queer yellowflecked eyes.
“How did Dicky get big again?” Dulcie asked.
“That old tramp los’ his gillymus in one of the wrinkles in Exodus’ hat, and Dicky foun’ it for him,” Alice explained. And Dulcie hugged Dicky and Alice again, and Alice and Dicky hugged Dulcie again.
“Come on,” the redheaded boy said. They were in a valley now, and pretty soon they would reach a river. The valley was full of sweet odors, and they walked on and soon they saw a tree covered with leaves of a thousand different colors.
“It’s the Wishing Tree!” Dulcie exclaimed.
“I guess that’s what it is,” the redheaded boy agreed, but when they got close to the tree the leaves flew up into the air and whirled about the tree, and then they saw that the tree was a tall old man with a long shining beard like silver, and the leaves were birds of all colors and kinds.
“Good morning, Father Francis,” the redheaded boy said.
“Good morning, Maurice,” the good Saint Francis replied, and the colored birds whirled and sang about him, lighting on his shoulders and head and arms.
“This is Dulcie, and D
icky, and Alice and Alice’s husband,” the redheaded boy said.
“We are looking for the Wishing Tree,” Dulcie explained.
The good Saint Francis looked at them and his eyes twinkled. “And did you find it?”
“We don’t know,” Dulcie replied. “We thought perhaps this is it.”
The good Saint Francis thought a while, and the birds settled about him like a colored cloud. Then he spoke, and the birds whirled again into the air and spun around his head.
“Didn’t you each pick a leaf from a tree back there in the forest?” the good Saint Francis asked.
“Yes, Father Francis,” Dulcie said.
“Well, that was the Wishing Tree. But suppose there had been a thousand leaves on it, and a thousand boys and girls had each taken one, when the next one came along, there wouldn’t be any leaf for him, would there?”
“No, Father Francis,” Dulcie said.
“So a wish you make that way is a selfish wish, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Father Francis.”
“Then,” the good Saint Francis said, “give me your leaves so I can put them back, and instead I’ll give you each one of my birds. And if you’ll feed it and care for it, you’ll never make a selfish wish, because people who care for and protect helpless things cannot have selfish wishes. Will you do this?”
“Yes, Father Francis,” they all answered. So they gave the good Saint Francis their leaves, and in exchange he took from beneath his gown a wicker cage and he put a bluebird in it for Dulcie, and he took another cage and put an oriole in it for the redheaded boy, and he gave Alice a red-bird, and to Dicky a little white bird with pale blue feathertips, because he was little and because he was Dulcie’s brother.
“What about Alice’s husband?” Dulcie asked.
“He will help Alice feed her redbird,” the good Saint Francis replied. “Because if he leaves her again, he’ll only be a selfish wisher.”
“And George?” Dulcie asked.
The Wishing Tree Page 3
