Piccaninnies | Page 3

But Tiki was a contented little boy, and he couldn't think of anything
nicer to eat than a handful of ripe puriri berries, or the root of a young
fern.
[Illustration: "Oh, Tiki, aren't you sick of eating the same old foods for
ever and ever!"]
"But what else could we eat?" he asked, "There isn't anything else!"
"Of course there is--lots and lots," answered Swanki. "There's mince
pie and ham sandwiches and jam tarts and vinegar and plum duff and
cakes and pickled cabbages."
[Illustration: "So they all ran off and collected puriri berries."]
Tiki stared at Swanki in amazement; he had never even heard of these
foods, and thought she must be wonderfully clever to know all about
them.
Sly little Swanki did not tell him that she had lately been hidden in a
hollow tree stump near a picnic party which had come into the bush,
and that she had heard the people offering these strange foods to one
another, and they sounded as though they might be more interesting
than just berries--berries--berries--roots--roots--roots.
And that is always the way,--something we haven't got always seems
more worth having than the things we have.
When Tiki had recovered from his surprise he remembered one familiar
word in Swanki's list of things to eat, and as he was always ready to
please, he said:
"Swanki, I don't know where the mince pie and plum duff and--and

vinegar trees grow, but I can show you the pickled cabbage trees all
right."
"Oh, Tiki, can you?" cried Swanki. "Then let's go at once. I'm longing
for some pickled cabbage."
"It's a long way," said Tiki, doubtfully, "a long, long way to go;"
(though he'd never heard of the popular song, which shows how easy it
must be to write those songs).
But Swanki said it didn't matter how far it was; the sooner they started,
the sooner they'd be there, which was true in a way.
They slid down the tree, and having persuaded the kiwi to give them a
lift, which was pretty cool of them, considering, they set off and
travelled in fine style for some way.
But as they arrived near the edge of the bush and the trees grew thinner,
the kiwi, who hates the open country for his own reasons, refused to go
any farther, and the Piccaninnies had to get off and trudge the rest of
the way on foot.
And crossing a little green glade they met Miss Fantail darting round
and round the glade after flies. Now, Miss Fantail is a friendly and
harmless little bird, but she's the most inquisitive creature in the bush,
and a regular little gossip.
The Piccaninnies knew that if she got wind of where they were going it
would soon be all over the bush, and they made up their minds to
dodge her. So they pretended to be little brown lizards crawling
through the moss, but Miss Fantail wasn't taken in for a moment, but
flitted down to them and put her head on one side in her bright-eyed
inquisitive way.
[Illustration: Miss Fantail, the most inquisitive creature in the bush.]
"Now she'll begin to ask questions," muttered Swanki, and sure enough
Miss Fantail began in her usual manner:

"Whit--Whit--Whit--What? What? What? What? Where are you two
off to? Whit! What are you after? What? When are you coming back?
Why are you going so fast? Whit--Whit--Whit--What? What? What?"
And when they wouldn't answer she persisted in following them,
flitting in her restless way from tree to tree, sometimes darting ahead of
them, sometimes circling round them, and never ceasing to cry
inquisitively:
"Whit--Whit--Whit--What? What? What? What?"
On the very edge of the bush, however, she hesitated. She had been
born in the bush, and was used only to its cool green shade, and the
glare of the sun on the outside world rather scared her. So after hanging
about for a time to see what the Piccaninnies intended doing, she flitted
away after a large blue fly, and while she was busy Tiki and Swanki
gave her the slip. They, too, had been rather dismayed at the glare of
the sun and the shelterless look of the outside world, but Tiki said that
the Pickled Cabbage trees were not far away; he had seen them once
when he had climbed to the top of a rata tree, and a bush pigeon had
told him the name of them.
So, shrinking a little and keeping a sharp look-out for enemies in case
they had need to "drop dead" and pretend to be a dead stick or leaf,
they ran on hand in hand, and came after a time to the edge of the
swamp.
"There!" said Tiki proudly, "there are the Pickled Cabbage trees."
There were quite a number