Good Cheer Stories Every Child Should Know | Page 2

not suit the King. He was wise, and saw very
plainly that a monarch without subjects would be but a sorry king.
Happily, after this utter failure of the doctors, there came into the mind
of His Majesty a first-class idea: he telegraphed for Mother Mitchel, the
most celebrated of all pastry cooks. Mother Mitchel soon arrived, with
her black cat, Fanfreluche, who accompanied her everywhere. He was
an incomparable cat. He had not his equal as an adviser and a taster of

tarts.
Mother Mitchel having respectfully inquired what she and her cat could
do for His Majesty, the King demanded of the astonished pastry cook a
tart as big as the capitol--bigger even, if possible, but no smaller! When
the King uttered this astounding order, deep emotion was shown by the
chamberlains, the pages, and lackeys. Nothing but the respect due to his
presence prevented them from crying "Long live Your Majesty!" in his
very ears. But the King had seen enough of the enthusiasm of the
populace, and did not allow such sounds in the recesses of his palace.
The King gave Mother Mitchel one month to carry out his gigantic
project. "It is enough," she proudly replied, brandishing her crutch.
Then, taking leave of the King, she and her cat set out for their home.
On the way Mother Mitchel arranged in her head the plan of the
monument which was to immortalize her, and considered the means of
executing it. As to its form and size, it was to be as exact a copy of the
capitol as possible, since the King had willed it; but its outside crust
should have a beauty all its own. The dome must be adorned with
sugarplums of all colours, and surmounted by a splendid crown of
macaroons, spun sugar, chocolate, and candied fruits. It was no small
affair.
Mother Mitchel did not like to lose her time. Her plan of battle once
formed, she recruited on her way all the little pastry cooks of the
country, as well as all the tiny six-year-olds who had a sincere love for
the noble callings of scullion and apprentice. There were plenty of
these, as you may suppose, in the country of the Greedy; Mother
Mitchel had her pick of them.
Mother Mitchel, with the help of her crutch and of Fanfreluche, who
miaowed loud enough to be heard twenty miles off, called upon all the
millers of the land, and commanded them to bring together at a certain
time as many sacks of fine flour as they could grind in a week. There
were only windmills in that country; you may easily believe how they
all began to go. B-r-r-r-r-r! What a noise they made! The clatter was so
great that all the birds flew away to other climes, and even the clouds

fled from the sky.
At the call of Mother Mitchel all the farmers' wives were set to work;
they rushed to the hencoops to collect the seven thousand fresh eggs
that Mother Mitchel wanted for her great edifice. Deep was the emotion
of the fowls. The hens were inconsolable, and the unhappy creatures
mourned upon the palings for the loss of all their hopes.
The milkmaids were busy from morning till night in milking the cows.
Mother Mitchel must have twenty thousand pails of milk. All the little
calves were put on half rations. This great work was nothing to them,
and they complained pitifully to their mothers. Many of the cows
protested with energy against this unreasonable tax, which made their
young families so uncomfortable. There were pails upset, and even
some milkmaids went head over heels. But these little accidents did not
chill the enthusiasm of the labourers.
And now Mother Mitchel called for a thousand pounds of the best
butter. All the churns for twenty miles around began to work in the
most lively manner. Their dashers dashed without ceasing, keeping
perfect time. The butter was tasted, rolled into pats, wrapped up, and
put into baskets. Such energy had never been known before.
Mother Mitchel passed for a sorceress. It was all because of her cat,
Fanfreluche, with whom she had mysterious doings and pantomimes,
and with whom she talked in her inspired moments, as if he were a real
person. Certainly, since the famous "Puss in Boots," there had never
been an animal so extraordinary; and credulous folks suspected him of
being a magician. Some curious people had the courage to ask
Fanfreluche if this were true; but he had replied by bristling, and
showing his teeth and claws so fiercely, that the conversation had
ended there. Sorceress or not, Mother Mitchel was always obeyed. No
one else was ever served so punctually.
On the appointed day all the millers arrived with their asses trotting