Good Cheer Stories Every Child Should Know | Page 7

indeed? Have you not here at discretion what you love best, and
enough to last you ever, ever so long? Devote yourselves to it with all
your hearts. I do not wish you to be bored with the sight of any other
food.
"Greedy ones! behold your TART!"
What enthusiastic applause, what frantic hurrahs rent the air, in answer
to this eloquent speech from the throne!
"Long live the King, Mother Mitchel, and her cat! Long live the tart!
Down with soup! Down with bread! To the bottom of the sea with all
beefsteaks, mutton chops, and roasts!"
Such cries came from every lip. Old men gently stroked their chops,
children patted their little stomachs, the crowd licked its thousand lips
with eager joy. Even the babies danced in their nurses' arms, so
precocious was the passion for tarts in this singular country. Grave
professors, skipping like kids, declaimed Latin verses in honour of His
Majesty and Mother Mitchel, and the shyest young girls opened their
mouths like the beaks of little birds. As for the doctors, they felt a joy
beyond expression. They had reflected. They understood. But--my
friends!--
At last the signal was given. A detachment of the engineer corps
arrived, armed with pick and cutlass, and marched in good order to the
assault. A breach was soon opened, and the distribution began. The
King smiled at the opening in the tart; though vast, it hardly showed
more than a mouse hole in the monstrous wall.
The King stroked his beard grandly. "All goes well," said he, "for him
who knows how to wait."
Who can tell how long the feast would have lasted if the King had not
given his command that it should cease? Once more they expressed
their gratitude with cries so stifled that they resembled grunts, and then
rushed to the river. Never had a nation been so besmeared. Some were

daubed to the eyes, others had their ears and hair all sticky. As for the
little ones, they were marmalade from head to foot. When they had
finished their toilets, the river ran all red and yellow and was sweetened
for several hours, to the great surprise of all the fishes.
Before returning home, the people presented themselves before the
King to receive his commands.
"Children!" said he, "the feast will begin again exactly at six o'clock.
Give time to wash the dishes and change the tablecloths, and you may
once more give yourselves over to pleasure. You shall feast twice a day
as long as the tart lasts. Do not forget. Yes! if there is not enough in this
one, I will even order ANOTHER from Mother Mitchel; for you know
that great woman is indefatigable. Your happiness is my only aim."
(Marks of universal joy and emotion.) "You understand? Noon, and six
o'clock! There is no need for me to say be punctual! Go, then, my
children--be happy!"
The second feast was as gay as the first, and as long. A pleasant walk in
the suburbs--first exercise--then a nap, had refreshed their appetites and
unlimbered their jaws. But the King fancied that the breach made in the
tart was a little smaller than that of the morning.
"'Tis well!" said he, "'tis well! Wait till to-morrow, my friends; yes, till
day after to-morrow, and next week!"
The next day the feast still went on gayly; yet at the evening meal the
King noticed some empty seats.
"Why is this?" said he, with pretended indifference, to the court
physician.
"Your Majesty," said the great Olibriers, "a few weak stomachs; that is
all."
On the next day there were larger empty spaces. The enthusiasm visibly
abated. The eighth day the crowd had diminished one half; the ninth,
three quarters; the tenth day, of the thousand who came at first, only

two hundred remained; on the eleventh day only one hundred; and on
the twelfth--alas! who would have thought it?--a single one answered to
the call. Truly he was big enough. His body resembled a hogshead, his
mouth an oven, and his lips--we dare not say what. He was known in
the town by the name of Patapouf. They dug out a fresh lump for him
from the middle of the tart. It quickly vanished in his vast interior, and
he retired with great dignity, proud to maintain the honour of his name
and the glory of the Greedy Kingdom.
But the next day, even he, the very last, appeared no more. The
unfortunate Patapouf had succumbed, and, like all the other inhabitants
of the country, was in a very bad way. In short, it was soon known that
the whole town had suffered agonies that night from too much tart. Let
us draw a veil over those hours of torture. Mother Mitchel was in
despair.