"FIDDLE-DIDDLE-DEE!"

Little Davie ran through the garden,—a great slice of bread and butter in one hand, and his spelling-book in the other. He was going to study his lesson for to-morrow.

You could not imagine a prettier spot than Davie's "study," as he called it. It was under a great oak-tree, that stood at the edge of a small wood. The little boy sat down on one of the roots and opened his book.

"But first," thought he, "I'll finish my bread and butter."

So he let his book drop, and, as he ate, he began to sing a little song with which his mother sometimes put the baby to sleep. This is the way the song began:

"I bought a bird, and my bird pleased me; I tied my bird behind a tree; Bird said——"

"Fiddle-diddle-dee!" sang something, or somebody, behind the oak. Davie looked a little frightened, for that was just what he was about to sing in his song. But he jumped up and ran around to the other side of the tree. And there was a little brown wren, and it had a little golden thread around its neck, and the thread was tied to a root of the big tree.

"Hello!" said Davie, "was that you?"

Now, of course Davie had not expected the wren to answer him. But the bird turned her head on one side, and, looking up at Davie, said:

"Yes, of course it was me! Who else did you suppose it could be?"

"Oh yes!" said Davie, very much astonished. "Oh yes, of course! But I thought you only did it in the song!"

"Well," said the wren, "were not you singing the song, and am not I in the song, and what else could I do?"

"Yes, I suppose so," said Davie.

"Well, go, then," said the wren, "and don't bother me."

Davie felt very queer. He stopped a moment, but soon thought that he must do as he was bid, and he began[Page 569] to sing again:

"I bought a hen, and my hen pleased me; I tied my hen behind a tree; Hen said——"

"Shinny-shack! shinny-shack!" interrupted another voice, so loudly that Davie's heart gave a great thump, as he turned around. There, behind the wren, stood a little Bantam hen, and around her neck was a little golden cord that fastened her to the wren's leg.

"I suppose that was you?" said Davie.

"Yes, indeed," replied the hen. "I know when my time comes in, in a song. But it was provoking for you to call me away from my chicks."

"I?" cried Davie. "I didn't call you!"

"Oh, indeed!" said the Bantam. "It wasn't you, then, who were singing 'Tied my hen,' just now! Oh no, not you!"

"I'm sorry," said Davie. "I didn't mean to."

"Well, go on, then," said the little hen, "and don't bother."

Davie was so full of wonder that he did not know what to think of it all. He went back to his seat, and sang again:

"I had a guinea, and my guinea pleased me; I tied my guinea behind a tree——"

But here he stopped, with his mouth wide open; for up a tiny brown path that led into the wood, came a little red man about a foot high, dressed in green, and leading by a long yellow string a plump, speckled guinea-hen! The little old man came whistling along until he reached the Bantam, when he fastened the yellow string to her leg, and went back again down the path, and disappeared among the trees.

Davie looked and wondered. Presently, the guinea stretched out her neck and called to him in a funny voice:

"Why in the world don't you go on? Do you think I want to wait all day for my turn to come?"

Davie began to sing again: "Guinea said——"

"Pot-rack! pot-rack!" instantly squeaked the speckled guinea-hen.

Davie jumped up. He was fairly[Page 570] frightened now. But his courage soon came back. "I'm not afraid," he said to himself; "I'll see what the end of this song will be!"—and he began to sing again:

"I bought a duck, and my duck pleased me; I tied my duck behind a tree; Duck said——"

"Quack! quack!" came from around the oak. But Davie went on:

"I bought a dog, and the dog pleased me; I tied my dog behind a tree; Dog said——"

"Bow-wow!" said a little curly dog, as Davie came around the spreading roots of the tree. There stood a little short-legged duck tied to the guinea's leg, and to the duck's leg was fastened the wisest-looking Scotch terrier, with spectacles on his nose and a walking-cane in his paw.

The whole group looked up at Davie, who now felt perfectly confident He sat down on a stone close by, and continued his song:

"I had a horse, and my horse pleased me; I tied my horse behind a tree."

Davie stopped and looked down the little brown path. Then he clapped his hands in great delight; for there came the little old man leading by a golden bridle a snow-white pony, no bigger than Davie's Newfoundland dog.

"Sure enough, it is a boy!" said the pony, as the old man tied his bridle to the dog's hind leg, and then hurried away. "I thought so! Boys are always bothering people."

"Who are you, and where did you all come from?" asked delighted Davie.

"Why," said the pony, "we belong to the court of Her Majesty the Queen of the Fairies. But, of course, when the song in which any of the court voices are wanted, is sung, they all have to go."

"I'm sure I'm very sorry," said Davie. "But why haven't I ever seen you all before?"

"Because," said the pony, "you have never sung the song down here before." And then he added: "Don't you think, now that we are all here,[Page 571] you'd better sing the song right end first, and be done with it?"

"Oh, certainly!" cried Davie, "certainly!" beginning to sing.

If you could but have heard that song! As Davie sang, each fowl or animal took up its part, and sang it, with its own peculiar tone and manner, until they all joined in.

"I had a horse, and my horse pleased me; I tied my horse behind a tree. Horse said, 'Neigh! neigh!' Dog said, 'Bow-wow!' Duck said, 'Quack! quack!' Guinea said, 'Pot-rack! pot-rack!' Hen said, 'Shinny-shack! shinny-shack!' Bird said, 'Fiddle-diddle-dee!'"

Davie was overjoyed. He thought he would sing it all over again. But just then he was sure that his mother called him.

"Wait a minute!" he said to his companions. "Wait a minute! I'm coming back! Oh, it's just like a fairy-tale!" he cried to himself, as he bounded up the garden-walk. "I wonder what mother'll think?"

But his mother said she had not called him, and so he ran back as fast as his legs would carry him.

But they were all gone. His speller lay on the ground, open at the page of his lesson; a crumb or two of bread was scattered about; but not a sign of the white pony and the rest of the singers.

"Well," said Davie, as he picked up his book, "I guess I wont sing it again, for I bothered them so. But I wish they had stayed a little longer."

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