by
A. A. Milne

illustrations by
Henriette Willebeek Le Mair

The Princess and the Apple-Tree

ONCE upon a time there was a beautiful Princess, who loved all lovely things, and most she loved the flowers and the blossoming trees in her father’s garden. Now there was a humble man called Silvio, whose business it was to tend the flowers and the trees in the King’s garden, and to him also they were a never-ending happiness, because of their beauty. So it was that their love for lovely things drew them together, and Silvio loved the Princess, and sometimes they walked hand-in-hand together.

But the King was angry, for it was in his mind that the Princess should marry a greater man than this; and he came upon Silvio in the garden, and commanded him to leave that country, and never to be found there again. And Silvio said, “How can I leave the garden which I love?” Whereupon the King laughed, and said, “Stay, then,” and touched him with the wand which he carried … and in a moment there was no Silvio there, but only another apple-tree in the garden. For the King of that country was a great magician, and many were afraid of him.

The days went by, and still the Princess sought Silvio in the garden, but he did not come. So she went to her father, the King, and asked of him. And the King laughed, and said, “He was pruning an apple-tree. I did not like the way he pruned it. He will never come back.” Then the Princess said, “Which was the tree he was pruning?” And the King led her to the window, and showed her the tree.

And the Princess was astonished, for she did not know that there had been an apple-tree there. And, when she was alone, she went to the apple-tree, saying, “It is the last thing which he touched;” so she touched it with her hand. And the apple-tree trembled gently, and the blossom fell upon her head. So it was on the next day, and the next….

And Summer came, but Silvio did not come, and Autumn came, and still she thought of Silvio. One day, while she was beneath the apple-tree, she cried out suddenly, “O Silvio, let me not forget you!” — and the tree shook, and an apple fell into her lap. The Princess took a little silver knife, and peeled the apple, so that the peel was unbroken, and she threw the peel over her shoulder, saying, “See whom I love!” And she looked behind her, and there was the letter “S” upon the ground.

So it was upon the next day and the next. And upon the fourth day she took an apple from another tree, and the peel broke beneath her knife; and she picked a second apple, and the peel fell in this shape or that; whereupon she went quickly back to her own tree. And always an apple fell into her lap, and always it told her that it was Silvio whom she loved.

There came a day when there was only one apple upon the tree. Then was she afraid, for she said, “How shall I know whom I love when the tree is empty?” So she went near to it. Very close, then, she felt to Silvio, and he to her; and suddenly she stretched out her arms, and said, “Apple-tree, apple-tree, you have seen whom it is that I love. Send him back to me!” And she put her arms round the tree, and clung to it, crying, “Comfort me!” And it moved within her arms. Whereupon she was frightened, and drew her arms away, putting her hands before her eyes … and when she opened her eyes, there was Silvio waiting for her, a golden apple in his hand. But there was no apple-tree.

Then Silvio said to the Princess, “Whom is it that you love?” And she said, “Silvio.” So they kissed each other. And the King, seeing them from his window, said, “Let him marry her, for he is a greater man than I.” So they were married, and lived happily ever afterwards, walking in the garden together, hand-in-hand.

This is the story which the eldest Vanderdecken girl read aloud underneath the Umbrella Tree. And they said, “Now read us another.” But Diana, who had never had a story read to her before, said, “I’m glad they were together again.”

Sparrow Tree Square

WE will take the lady in green first. Her name is Diana Fitzpatrick Mauleverer James. She is the only child of Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick Mauleverer James, who live at Number 27. Mrs. F. M. James wanted a boy, so that he could support them in their old age; but Mr. F. M. James said loftily: “No F. M. James, my dear, was ever any good at supporting. Where the F. M. Jameses shine is at being supported. Let it be a girl, and let her marry some very rich man when she grows up. It shall be his proud privilege to tend the last of the F. M. James’s in their middle-age.” So it was a girl.

Mrs. F. M. James was very fond of Diana, but she was fond of Mr. F. M. James, too, and a time came when she found that she couldn’t look after both of them; for it would happen sometimes that, when Diana wanted to play trains, Mr. F. M. James didn’t, or that when Mr. F. M. James did, then Diana had thought of some other game. So one day she said:

“I think, dear, we had better get Diana a nurse, and then I can devote myself entirely to you.”

“Certainly, my love, you should devote yourself entirely to me,” said Mr. F. M. James, “but I cannot allow a common nurse to look after Diana Fitzpatrick Mauleverer. The F. M. James’s have their pride.”

“Then who is to look after her?” asked Diana’s Mother.

“She must look after herself.”

So from that day Diana looked after herself. She woke herself in the morning, dressed herself, took herself out for a walk, told herself to get-on-with-her-dinner-there-was-a-darling, sang herself to sleep in the afternoon, gave herself tea, brushed her hair and took herself downstairs to her Father and Mother, took herself back again if they were out, gave herself a bath, read to herself while she had her supper, and at the end of the day said good-night to herself and left herself in bed. When she was there, she made up little rhymes for herself, before going to sleep. One of them went like this:

Diana Fitzpatrick Mauleverer James
Was lucky to have the most beautiful names.
How awful for Fathers and Mothers to call
Their children Jemima! — or nothing at all!
But hers were much wiser and kinder and cleverer,
They called her Diana Fitzpatrick Mauleverer James.

I am telling you all this because I want you to understand how proud she felt on that first morning when she took herself to Sparrow Tree Square to feed the birds. There were other children there, but they had nurses with them. Sometimes the children ran away and pretended they didn’t belong to the nurses and sometimes the nurses lagged behind and pretended they didn’t belong to the children, but Diana Fitzpatrick Mauleverer James knew! She was the only entirely-all-by-herself person there. And she had given herself a bag full of bread-crusts to feed the sparrows with, and she had let herself wear the green coat with fur trimmings, and she was utterly and entirely happy.

She nodded to William and Wilhelmina Good, who were walking up and down in a very correct way, William in green, too, and Wilhelmina, who had been growing rather quickly lately, in blue. She laughed like anything at a little boy who was trying to count the sparrows, and kept making it thirty instead of thirty-one, because one of them hid between his legs. How angry he was because he couldn’t make it thirty-one! Silly little boy!

She bowed politely to the Vanderdecken girls — over-dressed as usual — and agreed with them that it was a fine morning. They were feeding the sparrows, too, but they just had little bits of bread which their nurses gave them out of their pockets. Not like Diana, who had her crusts in a real grown-up bag!

Now then!

The sparrows flew round Diana Fitzpatrick Mauleverer James, and sat waiting for her.

“All right, darlings,” she said as she opened her bag.

Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!

She had forgotten to put the bread-crusts in!

The Twins

THEY are twins, and their names are William and Wilhelmina Good. When Mr. Good was told about them, he lit a cigar, and said, “I shall call the boy William — after myself;” and then he thought for a long time, and said, “And I shall call the girl Wilhelmina — after her brother.” He threw his cigar away, and went and told Mrs. Good, who had wanted to call them John and Jane.

Mrs. Good said, “Very well, dear, but I don’t like the name of William, and I shall call my dear little boy Billy for short.” And Mr. Good said, “Certainly, my love, but if it comes to that, I don’t much care about the name of Wilhelmina, not for shouting up the stairs with, so my dear little girl had better be called Billy, too.” Mrs. Good said, “Very well, dear, but won’t it be rather confusing?” And Mr. Good said, “No, dear, not to people of any intelligence;” and he took out his watch at the end of its chain, and swung it round and round and round, and looked at it, and said, “My watch is a fortnight fast,” and put it back in his pocket, and returned to his library.

The twins grew up, and they were so like each other that nobody knew which was which. Of course they ought to have had their names on their vests — William Good, Wilhelmina Good — but Nurse made a mistake about this. She bought the tape and marking ink, and she wrote the names, and she stitched them on; and, when all the vests were marked, she showed them proudly to Mrs. Good.

And then it was discovered that by an accident she had marked them all “Billy Good.” When Mr. Good was told about this, he lit a cigar, and said, “Have people no intelligence at all? Next year, when they have grown out of these vests, I will mark the new ones myself.” So next year he marked them all, in very neat printing, W. Good.

Luckily by this time Wilhelmina’s hair had begun to curl. Every night Nurse spent ten minutes with a wet comb, combing it round her finger. William’s hair curled naturally, too, but not so naturally as this, and in a little while you could tell at once which was Wilhelmina and which wasn’t. If you will look at the picture, you will see how right I am about this. Mr. Good always says that he and I are the only people of any real intelligence left in the world … and that I am not what I was. However, I do my best; and I know I am right about this. The one with the curly hair is Wilhelmina.

One night when they were fast-asleep-like-good-children, Wilhelmina said:

“I’m very clever, I can hear in the dark I’m so clever.”

“I’m as clever as anything,” said William. “I’m too clever.”

“I can hear snails breathing,” said Wilhelmina.

“I can hear snails not breathing,” said William.

Wilhelmina thought again.

“I can hear somebody out of the window calling Billy,” she said.

“I told him to do it,” said William.

“I’m going to see what he wants,” said Wilhelmina….

“Yes, I am,” said Wilhelmina….

“Shall I?” said Wilhelmina….

“I think he meant you,” said Wilhelmina.

“He meant you,” said William. “He says it in a different sort of voice when he means me.”

“You’re afraid to go,” said Wilhelmina.

“I’m not afraid, but he gets very angry when the wrong person goes.”

“He has a long red cap with a tassel on it,” said Wilhelmina.