he said 'Yes' to the noble Prince. And out of
each flower came a lady and gentleman, each so tiny and pretty that it
was a pleasure to see them. Each brought Thumbelina a present, but the
best of all was a beautiful pair of wings which were fastened on to
her back, and now she too could fly from flower to flower. They all
wished her joy, and the swallow sat above in his nest and sang the
wedding march, and that he did as well as he could; but he was sad,
because he was very fond of Thumbelina and did not want to be
separated from her.

'You shall not be called Thumbelina!' said the spirit of the flower to
her; 'that is an ugly name, and you are much too pretty for that. We
will call you May Blossom.'

'Farewell, farewell!' said the little swallow with a heavy heart, and
flew away to farther lands, far, far away, right back to Denmark.
There he had a little nest above a window, where his wife lived, who
can tell fairy-stories. 'Tweet, tweet!' he sang to her. And that is
the way we learnt the whole story.

_THE NIGHTINGALE_

In China, as I daresay you know, the Emperor is a Chinaman, and all
his courtiers are also Chinamen. The story I am going to tell you
happened many years ago, but it is worth while for you to listen to
it, before it is forgotten.

The Emperor's Palace was the most splendid in the world, all made of
priceless porcelain, but so brittle and delicate that you had to take
great care how you touched it. In the garden were the most beautiful
flowers, and on the loveliest of them were tied silver bells which
tinkled, so that if you passed you could not help looking at the
flowers. Everything in the Emperor's garden was admirably arranged
with a view to effect; and the garden was so large that even the
gardener himself did not know where it ended. If you ever got beyond
it, you came to a stately forest with great trees and deep lakes in
it. The forest sloped down to the sea, which was a clear blue. Large
ships could sail under the boughs of the trees, and in these trees
there lived a Nightingale. She sang so beautifully that even the poor
fisherman who had so much to do stood and listened when he came at
night to cast his nets. 'How beautiful it is!' he said; but he had to
attend to his work, and forgot about the bird. But when she sang the
next night and the fisherman came there again, he said the same thing,
'How beautiful it is!'

From all the countries round came travellers to the Emperor's