son, who,
wonderful to relate! was not bigger than his father's thumb.

The fairy queen, wishing to see the little fellow thus born into the
world, came in at the window while the mother was sitting up in bed
admiring him. The queen kissed the child, and, giving it the name of Tom
Thumb, sent for some of the fairies, who dressed her little favorite as
she bade them.

"An oak-leaf hat he had for his crown;
His shirt of web by spiders spun;
With jacket wove of thistle's down;
His trowsers were of feathers done.

His stockings, of apple-rind they tie
With eyelash from his mother's eye:
His shoes were made of mouse's skin
Tann'd with the downy hair within."

It is remarkable that Tom never grew any larger than his father's thumb,
which was only of an ordinary size; but as he got older he became very
cunning and full of tricks. When he was old enough to play with the
boys, and had lost all his own cherry-stones, he used to creep into
the bags of his playfellows, fill his pockets, and, getting out unseen,
would again join in the game.

One day, however, as he was coming out of a bag of cherrystones, where
he had been pilfering as usual, the boy to whom it belonged chanced to
see him. "Ah, ha! my little Tommy," said the boy, "so I have caught you
stealing my cherrystones at last, and you shall be rewarded for your
thievish tricks." On saying this, he drew the string tight around his
neck, and gave the bag such a hearty shake, that poor little Tom's legs,
thighs, and body were sadly bruised. He roared out in pain, and begged
to be let out, promising never to be guilty of such bad practices again.

A short time afterwards his mother was making a batter-pudding, and Tom
being very anxious to see how it was made, climbed up to the edge of the
bowl; but unfortunately his foot slipped and he plumped over head and
ears into the batter, unseen by his mother, who stirred him into the
pudding-bag, and put him in the pot to boil.

The batter had filled Tom's mouth, and prevented him from crying; but,
on feeling the hot water, he kicked and struggled so much in the pot,
that his mother thought that the pudding was bewitched, and, instantly
pulling it out of the pot, she threw it to the door. A poor tinker, who
was passing by, lifted up the pudding, and, putting it into his budget,
he then walked off. As Tom had now got his mouth cleared of the batter,
he then began to cry aloud, which so frightened