Three shrinking tales, p.5
Three Shrinking Tales, page 5
With the help of the blacksmith, the squires nailed the shoe back on the horse’s hoof. The cavalcade started off again.
When the knights rode out of the forest and along the road through the green fields, the sky was beginning to turn pink.
Rachel was walking between Scott and Chester. She had said nothing to them of Lady Isabel’s warning. Maybe if she told Scott to order her around, the women would stop thinking she had enchanted him. But Rachel was afraid Scott would make a game of it. And she was sure she’d end up screaming at him.
There was no sense in frightening them. Anyway, if anything happened to her, Rachel somehow knew that Chester would take care of Scott.
Chester had put the coins they had earned into the purse the earl had given him. He wore the brown cap with the blue feather pushed back on his red hair and strode along with his head held high. “I never knew what I wanted to do for a living,” he told the children. “I like being a minstrel better than anything I’ve ever done.”
Scott was quiet. Then he said, “Maybe you could get a job playing the mouth organ when we go home.”
“Are you thinking of going home soon?” Chester asked.
“Well, I want to see Mom and Dad,” Scott told him. “And these kids aren’t much fun. All they talk about is fighting. That’s just about the only thing anybody ever teaches them.” Scott kicked a lump of dirt. “Besides, I’d like a bowl of cornflakes for breakfast and a chocolate chip ice cream cone once in a while.”
Rachel listened in silence. Then she said, “Chester, if you had a chance, would you want to stay here?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ve heard that minstrels are welcome wherever they go. They bring the only news and music the people here have. I like ice cream just as much as Scott does, and I still remember the giant brownie you gave me for supper. But there are other things that matter more. I could be happy eating blackberries and playing my mouth organ.”
“But what about your family? Won’t they wonder what happened to you?” Scott asked.
“My mother and father were circus people,” Chester told him. “They were killed in an accident when I was twelve. I grew up taking care of myself by doing odd jobs in circuses and carnivals. I’ve been traveling around, looking for a place to call home. Now, at last, I’ve found it.”
In the distance, they could make out the tops of the square towers. They walked behind the knights and squires until they came to the outer wall of the castle. The men at arms inside opened the heavy gate, and the cavalcade rode through it onto the drawbridge.
It was nearly dark by the time Scott, Chester, and Rachel started over the bridge.
Rachel’s heart was beating fast. Would there be people inside the castle waiting for her with chains?
Chester was talking. Rachel was glad to think about something else.
“Last night I had a hard time getting to sleep,” he was saying. “I kept rolling onto something hard and lumpy on that tabletop.”
“Like The Princess and the Pea,” Scott said.
“Exactly,” Chester agreed. “I finally got hold of the thing and stuffed it into my jacket pocket. Let’s see if it’s still there.” He was carrying his jacket, and he had to unroll it to get at the pocket.
Rachel looked up to see the first star of evening shining in the sky. She made a wish.
Chester pulled something out of his pocket. “I’d like to give you a present, Rachel. I don’t know what it’s good for, except for you to remember me by.” He handed her a little two-headed hammer of clear plastic.
Rachel ran her fingers over the magic sizer. “Thank you, Chester,” she said. “I can use it.” She touched his arm. “Chester, if you really want to stay here, go into the castle and leave us outside. And if we don’t see you again, good luck!”
They had come to the other side of the bridge. Chester bent down and hugged them both at the same time. Then he walked through the open gate into the castle courtyard.
Rachel pulled Scott into the shadows. She waited until the last knight and squire had galloped over the bridge and through the gate. Then she went over to the castle wall and tapped it three times with the big hammerhead.
As soon as she touched it, the castle started to shrink.
Scott was standing next to Rachel. She had a tight grip on his arm.
In almost no time, he blinked and looked around. “Hey, Rachel, we’re back in my room!”
Rachel let go of her brother’s arm. “And there’s the castle.” She pointed to the floor.
The castle was once more the one they had made with the Build-Anything Kit. The big blue box was beside it.
Rachel was still holding the magic hammer. She bent down and put it into the box with the rest of the kit. Then she put the lid on the box.
There was the sound of the front door opening downstairs. Scott and Rachel heard their mother calling them. They ran downstairs. Mr. and Mrs. Walker were in the front hall.
“Hi, kids!” Mr. Walker went to hang his coat in the hall closet.
Rachel picked up the package from the chair in the hall and gave it to her mother.
Mrs. Walker handed it to her husband.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Something I saw an ad for,” Mrs. Walker told him. “It seemed like something you would like.”
Mr. Walker held up a booklet—“Instructions.” There was another book in the package, too. Mr. Walker put both of them on the table and dug down into the box to pull out something wrapped in cotton.
“How did you know I’ve always wanted one of these? And this one is such a beauty!” He held up a shiny new mouth organ.
“This is a music book, Dad!” Scott said.
Rachel opened the book to the first page. “You can learn to play ‘Home on the Range.’ ”
“Ellen,” Ben whispered, “listen!”
Ben Sanders and his sister were lying on their stomachs on an old hunters’ platform. It was built high in an old pine tree.
Ellen heard a rustling noise. She looked over the edge of the platform.
Somebody was crawling around in the woods below. It was a woman in a green sweater and a long brown skirt. She seemed to be looking for something in the dry leaves on the ground.
“Oh dear, oh dear, why did I have to drop it?” Ben and Ellen heard her say.
The woman bent over so far, Ellen thought her nose must be on the ground. Suddenly Ellen saw her reach out and grab something. The woman dropped it into a small plastic bag. Then she jumped to her feet.
Now Ben and Ellen could see that she was tall and skinny, and her hair was gray.
The woman peeked into the plastic bag. She gave it a little pat and skipped up the path and over the top of the hill.
Ellen was surprised to see her move so fast.
“There’s something funny about her,” Ben said. “I wonder what she has in that bag.”
“Let’s see what she’s up to.” Ellen backed off the platform until her feet touched a board that was nailed to the tree. All the way down to the ground there were boards to use as steps. Ellen climbed down the tree.
Ben came after her. He was two years younger than Ellen. Last year his legs weren’t long enough to reach from one board to the next. It was still hard for him to climb down from the platform.
A narrow path led up the hill from the foot of the tree. Ben and Ellen started up the path. They tried not to make any noise.
It was dark and shadowy in the woods. Here and there a shaft of sunlight sifted down through the tall trees. A chipmunk squeaked and ran under a stone. High overhead a woodpecker was tapping on the trunk of a tree.
At the top of the hill, Ellen looked down the other side. It was like an open meadow that went down to the big lake far below. The ground was rough and covered with weeds. Ellen saw the woman in the green sweater and brown skirt halfway down the hill. “Look, Ben. There she is.”
Ben was pulling a raspberry off a bush that grew just at the edge of the woods. “Try one of these.”
Ellen tasted a berry. “They’re not ripe yet.” She turned to look at the woman again.
There was no one on the hill.
“That’s funny,” Ellen said. “She was right over there a moment ago.”
“Maybe she’s hidden by the bushes.” Ben stepped out of the woods.
Ellen ran down the slope and jumped over a tiny stream. “Watch your step, Ben.”
Ben had already stepped into a marsh. His sneakers were all wet. “I never knew there was so much water here.”
The two children walked through patches of daisies and around clumps of purple bee balm. On the other side of some cattails they came to a pile of rocks.
“Look, Ben,” Ellen said, “there’s a little pool here.”
Plop! A green frog jumped from a rock into the pool.
Ben bent down to look into the water. “I can’t see him. He must be hiding.”
Ellen got down on her hands and knees at the edge of the pool. She brushed against something that was lying on a rock.
It was a small plastic bag.
“Why do people have to leave trash around?” Ellen stuffed the plastic bag into the pocket of her jeans. She could throw it away when she got home.
Ben was still looking for the frog. “See if you can find a stick, Ellen. I want to poke under these rocks.”
“You might hurt the frog.” Ellen leaned over the pool. “Look at those little jelly lumps. Do you think they’re frog’s eggs, Ben?”
Ben had an idea. “Hey, maybe that was the mother frog! There she is!”
Ellen stared into the pool. “Where?”
The frog was peeking out of a little underwater cave. Ben reached into the pool and made a sudden grab. “Got her!”
The frog wiggled, but Ben held her fast.
“You’re scaring her, Ben,” Ellen said. “Put her back into the water.”
The frog stopped wiggling and looked at Ben with her big eyes. He set her down on a stone at the edge of the pool. The frog sat there without moving.
“There’s something wrong with her,” Ben said. “Why doesn’t she jump back into the water?”
Ellen looked hard at the frog. “Maybe you squeezed her too tight.”
“I didn’t squeeze her at all,” Ben said. “I just held on to her.”
Ellen heard a faraway sound. “Listen!”
Now Ben heard it, too.
Bong! Bong! Bong!
Ellen got to her feet. “We’d better go home. Let’s take the shortcut over the cliff.”
“What about the frog? If she stays out in the open a bird will eat her. There’s a kingfisher that hangs around the cliff. I’m going to take her with me.” Ben picked up the frog. “The eggs don’t need the frog to sit on them.”
Bong! Bong! Bong!
Ellen ran across the hillside. Ben followed her. They went up an old truck trail that curved around another hill. Clumps of small trees hid them from the road and the parking lot by the lake below.
Ellen reached out to touch the fuzzy red fruit of a sumac tree.
Bong! Bong! Bong!
“Hurry!” Ben started to climb the steep hill. Ellen came up after him. They dived into the woods on the other side of the hill. A path went straight down. Ben and Ellen skidded down it. At the bottom of the hill they came out of the woods onto a dirt road.
They raced along till they reached a row of cottages. Their mother was standing on the road near cottage number eight. Mrs. Sanders was banging a big gong. Bong! Bong! Bong!
She looked at Ben and Ellen. “What took you so long?”
“Ben,” Mrs. Sanders said, “you know I don’t let you keep wild things as pets. It isn’t fair to them. They belong outdoors.”
Ben was quiet. He looked down at the little green frog he was holding. The frog looked back at him with big sad eyes.
Ellen followed her mother down the steps from the road and along the path to the cottage. “The frog is hurt, Mother. We want to take care of her until she’s better.”
Mrs. Sanders crossed the wooden runway to the porch. Ben came running down the path. He caught up to his mother. “What can we feed the frog, Mom?”
Mrs. Sanders stopped and took another look at the frog. “Maybe they sell fish food in the supermarket in Hawley,” she said. “Your frog will probably eat that.”
Mr. Sanders was stretched out on a deck chair on the porch. He looked up. “Better put that frog in a pail with some water, Ben. And give it a stone to sit on.”
“Be quick about it. Supper’s almost ready.” Mrs. Sanders hung the gong on the knob of the screen door. She went into the cottage.
Ben made a little home for the frog in the scrub pail beside the kitchen sink. Then they all sat down at the big table.
The Sanders family had driven to the cottage from Brooklyn in the morning.
Most of the day had been spent unpacking the car.
When supper was over, Mr. and Mrs. Sanders walked down to the dock. Mr. Sanders wanted to check over the motorboat. Both the boat and the canoe had been stored in a boat house since last summer.
Ellen and Ben stayed in the cottage. Tonight was Ellen’s turn to wash the dishes. Ben dried them.
“I saved a piece of meat loaf for the frog.” Ellen pulled it out of the pocket of her jeans. She put it on the stone in the pail beside the frog. The frog looked at the meat but didn’t eat it.
Ellen felt something else in her pocket. She took it out.
“What do you have there?” Ben asked.
“Trash,” Ellen said. “Don’t you remember I found it by the pool in the rocks?”
Ben took a good look at the plastic bag. “Ellen,” he said, “the woman in the woods was carrying a bag like that.”
“There’s something in it.” Ellen opened the bag. She took out a little gray-brown thing that looked like a crocus bulb.
“Let me see it.” Ben reached for the little bulb. It fell out of Ellen’s hand into the pail with the frog.
The frog made a dive for it. But Ben snatched it away. “You can’t eat this, you silly frog. Eat your meat loaf.”
The frog gave a low croak.
Ben was holding the curly little bulb on the palm of his hand. “Look, Ellen!”
Ellen stared. Very slowly the bulb was opening. It spread out six brown points like a star. In the center of the star was a small white puffball.
“It’s magic!” Ben whispered.
“I’ve seen a picture of something like this,” Ellen said. “It was in a book.”
Ben had been thinking. “Ellen,” he said, “we never did find out where that woman went. She just disappeared. You know what I think?”
Ellen was still looking at the brown star with the puffball in the middle. “What do you think, Ben?”
“The woman in the woods was a witch,” Ben said in a low voice.
Ellen laughed. “Don’t be silly, Ben. She was just an old lady picking mushrooms. That’s what this thing is. I remember now where I saw the picture. It was in Mother’s mushroom book. Come on. I’ll show you.”
Ben put the little brown star on the drainboard by the sink. He followed Ellen into their parents’ bedroom.
There was a stack of books on the dresser. Ellen picked up the bird guide. Under it was a book about wildflowers. Next there was one on trees in America. At the very bottom of the pile was a book as thick as a Brooklyn telephone book.
“One Thousand American Fungi,” Ellen read.
Ben looked over Ellen’s shoulder. She started to leaf through the book. Suddenly they heard the screen door bang.
“Mom and Dad must have come back,” Ben said.
“Mother,” Ellen called, “can you help us find something in your mushroom book?”
There was no answer.
“Please,” Ellen said.
Still no answer.
Ellen and Ben went out of the bedroom into the big living-dining room. No one was there. But they were both sure they had heard someone open and close the screen door. The children looked around.
“That’s funny.” Ellen put the mushroom book on the big table. She went to look out of the kitchen window. It was getting dark outside. But Ellen could see someone skipping up the steps to the road.
It was a woman in a green sweater and a long brown skirt.
“Look, Ben.” Ellen stared through the window into the darkness.
Ben ran to the window and looked out. The woman was at the top of the steps now. She walked quickly away up the dirt road.
“That’s the woman we saw in the woods,” Ellen said. “What’s she doing here?”
“I told you she was a witch,” Ben said. “She came back to get the magic mushroom.”
Ellen looked at the drainboard. “It’s gone. Maybe it rolled onto the floor.” She bent down to look for it.
The screen door opened. Mr. and Mrs. Sanders came into the cottage.
“What are you looking for?” Mr. Sanders asked. “Did your frog get loose?”
“She’s right here,” Ben said. He looked into the pail. “No she isn’t!”
“Look behind the stone,” his father said.
But the frog wasn’t there.
Ellen had been thinking. “The frog must have jumped onto the drainboard to eat the mushroom,” she said.
The whole family searched the cottage. Mrs. Sanders looked on the kitchen shelves and on top of all the dressers. Ellen looked under the two sofas in the living-dining room. She used her little red flashlight to see under the beds.
Ben checked behind the hot water heater in the kitchen and in back of the toilet in the bathroom. Mr. Sanders shook all the shoes and slippers that were on the floor. And everybody looked in the shower.
There wasn’t a sign of the frog anywhere.
“I told you wild things like to be outdoors,” Mrs. Sanders said. “The frog went back where it belongs.”
“Ellen,” Ben whispered, “you know what I think?”
