load my gun and shoot the sparrows,' said the gardener.

Then Little Lasse was frightened, and crept out on to the path.

'Forgive me, dear gardener!' he said. 'I wanted to get some fine boats.'

'Well, I will this time,' said the gardener. 'But another time Little
Lasse must ask leave to go and look for boats in the pea bed.'

'I will,' answered Lasse; and he went off to the shore. Then he opened
the shells with a pin, split them carefully in two, and broke small
little bits of sticks for the rowers' seats. Then he took the peas which
were in the shells and put them in the boats for cargo. Some of the
shells got broken, some remained whole, and when all were ready Lasse
had twelve boats. But they should not be boats, they should be large
warships. He had three liners, three frigates, three brigs and three
schooners. The largest liner was called Hercules, and the smallest
schooner The Flea. Little Lasse put all the twelve into the water, and
they floated as splendidly and as proudly as any great ships over the
waves of the ocean.

And now the ships must sail round the world. The great island over there
was Asia; that large stone Africa; the little island America; the small
stones were Polynesia; and the shore from which the ships sailed out was
Europe. The whole fleet set off and sailed far away to other parts of
the world. The ships of the line steered a straight course to Asia, the
frigates sailed to Africa, the brigs to America, and the schooners to
Polynesia. But Little Lasse remained in Europe, and threw small stones
out into the great sea.

Now, there was on the shore of Europe a real boat, father's own, a
beautiful white-painted boat, and Little Lasse got into it. Father and
mother had forbidden this, but Little Lasse forgot. He thought he should
very much like to travel to some other part of the world.

'I shall row out a little way--only a very little way,' he thought. The
pea-shell boats had travelled so far that they only looked like little
specks on the ocean. 'I shall seize Hercules on the coast of Asia,' said
Lasse, 'and then row home again to Europe.'

He shook the rope that held the boat, and, strange to say, the rope
became loose. Ditsch, ratsch, a man is a man, and so Little Lasse manned
the boat.

Now he would row--and he could row, for he had rowed so often on the
step sat home, when the steps pretended to be a boat and father's big
stick an oar. But when Little Lasse wanted to row there wer