k she slept? A little walnut shell, lined with
blue, that was her cradle.

When she slept little Thumbelina lay in her cradle on a tiny heap of
violets, with the petal of a pale pink rose to cover her.

And where do you think she played? A table was her playground. On the
table the woman placed a plate of water. Little Thumbelina called that
her lake.

Round the plate were scented flowers, the blossoms lying on the edge,
while the pale green stalks reached thirstily down to the water.

In the lake floated a large tulip leaf. This was Thumbelina's little
boat. Seated there she sailed from side to side of her little lake,
rowing cleverly with two white horse hairs. As she rowed backwards and
forwards she sang softly to herself. The woman listening heard, and
thought she had never known so sweet a song.

And now such a sad thing happened.

In through the broken window-pane hopped a big toad, oh! such an
ugly big toad. She hopped right on to the table, where Thumbelina lay
dreaming in her tiny cradle, under the pale pink rose leaf.

She peeped at her, this ugly old toad.

"How beautiful the little maiden is," she croaked. "She will make a
lovely bride for my handsome son." And she lifted the little cradle,
with Thumbelina in it, and hopped out through the broken window-pane,
down into the garden.

At the foot of the garden was a broad stream. Here, under the muddy
banks lived the old toad with her son.

How handsome she thought him! But he was really very ugly. Indeed, he
was exactly like his mother.

When he saw little Thumbelina in her tiny cradle, he croaked with
delight.

"Do not make so much noise," said his mother, "or you will wake the
tiny creature. We may lose her if we are not careful. The slightest
breeze would waft her far away. She is as light as gossamer."

Then the old toad carried Thumbelina out into the middle of the
stream. "She will be safe here," she said, as she laid her gently on
one of the leaves of a large water lily, and paddled back to her son.

"We will make ready the best rooms under the mud," she told him, "and
then you and the little maiden will be married."

Poor little Thumbelina! She had not seen the ugly big toad yet, nor
her ugly son.

When she woke up early in the morning, how she wept! Water all around
her! How could she reach the shore? Poor little Thumbelina!

Down under the mud the old toad was very busy, decking the best room
with buttercups and buds of water-li