# The Floating Prince and Other Fairy Tales/The Reformed Pirate

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THE REFORMED PIRATE.
IT was a very delightful country where little Corette lived. It seemed to be almost always summer-time there, for the winters were just long enough to make people glad when they were over, When it rained, it mostly rained at night, and so the fields and gardens had all the water they wanted, while the people were generally quite sure of a fine day. And, as they lived a great deal out-of-doors, this was a great advantage to them.
The principal business of the people of this country was the raising of sweet marjoram. The soil and climate were admirably adapted to the culture of the herb, and fields and fields of it were to be seen in every direction. At that time, and this was a good while ago, very little sweet marjoram was raised in other parts of the world, so this country had the trade nearly all to itself.
The great holiday of the year was the day on which the harvest of this national herb began. It was called "Sweet Marjoram Day," and the people, both young and old, thought more of it than of any other holiday in the year.
On that happy day everybody went out into the fields. There was never a person so old, or so young, or so busy, that he or she could not go to help in the harvest. Even when there were sick people, which was seldom, they were carried out to the fields and staid there all day. And they generally felt much better in the evening.
​There were always patches of sweet marjoram planted on purpose for the very little babies to play in on the great day. They must be poor, indeed, these people said, if they could not raise sweet marjoram for their own needs and for exportation, and yet have enough left for the babies to play in.
So, all this day the little youngsters rolled, and tumbled, and kicked and crowed in the soft green and white beds of the fragrant herb, and pulled it up by the roots, and laughed and chuckled, and went to sleep in it, and were the happiest babies in the world.
THE BABIES IN THE SWEET MARJORAM BEDS.
They needed no care, except at the dinner hour, so the rest of the people gave all their time to gathering in the crop and having fun. There was always lots of fun on this great harvest day, for everybody worked so hard that the whole crop was generally in the sweet marjoram barns before breakfast, so that they had nearly the whole day for games and jolity.
​In this country, where little Corette lived, there were fairies. Not very many of them, it is true, for the people had never seen but two. These were sisters, and there were never fairies more generally liked than these two little creatures, neither of them over four inches high. They were very fond of the company of human beings, and were just as full of fun as anybody. They often used to come to spend an hour or two, and sometimes a whole day, with the good folks, and they seemed always glad to see and to talk to everybody.
These sisters lived near the top of a mountain in a fairy cottage. This cottage had never been seen by any of the people, but the sisters had often told them all about it. It must have been a charming place.
The house was not much bigger than a bandbox, and it had two stories and a garret, with a little portico running all around it. Inside was the dearest little furniture of all kinds,—beds, tables, chairs, and all the furniture that could possibly be needed.
Everything about the house and grounds was on the same small scale. There was a little stable and a little barn, with a little old man to work the little garden and attend to the two little cows. Around the house were garden-beds ever so small, and little graveled paths; and a kitchen-garden, where the peas climbed up little sticks no bigger than pins, and where the little chickens, about the size of flies, sometimes got in and scratched up the little vegetables. There was a little meadow for pasture, and a grove of little trees; and there was also a small field of sweet marjoram, where the blossoms were so tiny that you could hardly have seen them without a magnifying glass.
It was not very far from this cottage to the sweet marjoram country, and the fairy sisters had no trouble at all in running down there whenever they felt like it, but none of the people had ever ​seen this little home. They had looked for it, but could not find it, and the fairies would never take any of them to it. They said it was no place for human beings. Even the smallest boy, if he were to trip his toe, might fall against their house and knock it over; and as to any of them coming into the fairy grounds, that would be impossible, for there was no spot large enough for even a common-sized baby to creep about in.
On Sweet Marjoram Day the fairies never failed to come. Every year they taught the people new games, and all sorts of new ways of having fun. The good folks would never have even thought of having such fine times if it had not been for these fairies.
One delightful afternoon, about a month before Sweet Marjoram Day, Corette, who was a little girl just old enough, and not a day too old (which is exactly the age all little girls ought to be), was talking about the fairy cottage to some of her companions.
"We never can see it," said Corette. sorrowfully.
"No," said one of the other girls, "we are too big. If we were little enough, we might go."
"Are you sure the sisters would be glad to see us, then?" asked Corette.
"Yes, I heard them say so. But it doesn't matter at all, as we are not little enough."
"No," said Corette, and she went off to take a walk by herself.
She had not walked far before she reached a small house which stood by the sea-shore. This house belonged to a Reformed Pirate who lived there all by himself. He had entirely given up a sea-faring life so as to avoid all temptation, and he employed his time in the mildest pursuits he could think of.
When Corette came to his house, she saw him sitting in an easy chair in front of his door, near the edge of a small bluff which overhung the sea, busily engaged in knitting a tidy.
​When he saw Corette, he greeted her kindly, and put aside his knitting, which he was very glad to do, for he hated knitting tidies, though he thought it was his duty to make them.
"Well, my little maid," he said, in a strange, muffled voice, which sounded as if he were speaking under water, for he tried to be as gentle in every way as he could, "how do you do? You don't look quite as gay as usual. Has anything run afoul of you?"
"Oh no!" said Corette, and she came and stood by him, and taking up his tidy, she looked it over carefully and showed him where he had dropped a lot of stitches and where he had made some too tight and others a great deal too loose. He did not know how to knit very well.
When she had shown him as well as she could how he ought to do it, she sat down on the grass by his side, and after a while she began to talk to him about the fairy cottage, and what a great pity it was that it was impossible for her ever to see it.
"It is a pity," said the Reformed Pirate. "I've heard of that cottage, and I'd like to see it myself. In fact, I'd like to go to see almost anything that was proper and quiet, so as to get rid of the sight of this everlasting knitting."
"There are other things you might do besides knit," said Corette.
"Nothing so depressing and suitable," said he, with a sigh.
"It would be of no use for you to think of going there," said Corette. "Even I am too large, and you are ever and ever so much too big. You couldn't get one foot into any of their paths."
"I've no doubt that's true," he replied; "but the thing might be done. Almost anything can be done if you set about it in the right way. But you see, little maid, that you and I don't know enough. Now, years ago, when I was in a different line of business, ​I often used to get puzzled about one thing or another, and then I went to somebody who knew more than myself."
"Were there many such persons?" asked Corette.
"Well, no. I always went to one old fellow who was a Practicing Wizard. He lived, and still lives, I reckon, on an island about fifty miles from here, right off there to the sou'-sou'-west. I've no doubt that if we were to go to him, he'd tell us just how to do this thing."
"But how could we get there?" asked Corette.
"O!" I'd manage that," said the Reformed Pirate, his eyes flashing with animation. "I've an old sail-boat back there in the creek that's as good as ever she was. I could fix her up, and get everything all ship-shape in a couple of days, and then you and I could scud over there in no time. What do you say? Wouldn't you like to go?"
"Oh, I'd like to go ever so much!" cried Corette, clapping her hands, "if they'd let me."
"Well, run and ask them," said he, rolling up his knitting and stuffing it under the cushion of his chair, "and I'll go and look at that boat right away."
So Corette ran home to her father and mother, and told them all about the matter. They listened with great interest, and her father said:
"Well, now, our little girl is not looking quite as well as usual. I have noticed that she is somewhat pale. A sea-trip might be the very thing for her."
"I think it would do her a great deal of good," said her mother, "and as to that Reformed Pirate, she'd be just as safe with him as if she was on dry land."
So it was agreed that Corette should go. Her father and mother were always remarkably kind.
​The Reformed Pirate was perfectly delighted when he heard this, and he went hard to work to get his little vessel ready. To sail again on the ocean seemed to him the greatest of earthly joys, and as he was to do it for the benefit of a good little girl, it was all perfectly right and proper.
When they started, the next day but one, all the people who lived near enough came down to see them off. Just as they were about to sail, the Reformed Pirate said:
"Hello! I wonder if I hadn't better run back to the house and get my sword! I only wear the empty scabbard now, but it might be safer, on a trip like this, to take the sword along."
So he ran back and got it, and then he pushed off amid the shouts of all the good people on the beach.
The boat was quite a good-sized one, and it had a cabin and everything neat and comfortable. The Reformed Pirate managed it beautifully, all by himself, and Corette sat in the stern and watched the waves, and the sky, and the sea-birds, and was very happy indeed.
As for her companion, he was in a state of ecstasy. As the breeze freshened, and the sails filled, and the vessel went dashing over the waves, he laughed and joked, and sang snatches of old sea-songs, and was the jolliest man afloat.
After a while, as they went thus sailing merrily along, a distant ship appeared in sight. The moment his eyes fell upon it, a sudden change came over the Reformed Pirate. He sprang to his feet and, with his hand still upon the helm, he leaned forward and gazed at the ship. He gazed and he gazed, and he gazed without saying a word. Corette spoke to him several times, but he answered not. And as he gazed he moved the helm so that his little craft gradually turned from her course, and sailed to meet the distant ship.
​As the two vessels approached each other, the Reformed Pirate became very much excited. He tightened his belt and loosened his sword in its sheath. Hurriedly giving the helm to Corette, he went forward and jerked a lot of ropes and hooks from a cubby-hole where they had been stowed away. Then he
THE REFORMED PIRATE IS THE JOLLIEST MAN AFLOAT.
pulled out a small, dark flag, with bits of skeleton painted on it, and hoisted it to the top-mast.
By this time he had nearly reached the ship, which was a ​large three-masted vessel. There seemed to be a great commotion on board; sailors were running this way and that; women were screaming; and officers could be heard shouting, "Put her about! Clap on more sail!"
But steadily on sailed the small boat, and the moment it came alongside the big ship, the Reformed Pirate threw out grapnels and made the two vessels fast together. Then he hooked a ropeladder to the side of the ship, and rushing up it, sprang with a yell on the deck of the vessel, waving his flashing sword around his head!
"Down, dastards! varlets! hounds!" he shouted. "Down upon your knees! Throw down your arms! Surrender!"
Then every man went down upon his knees, and threw down his arms and surrendered.
"Where is your Captain?" roared their conqueror.
The Captain came trembling forward.
"Bring to me your gold and silver, your jewels and your precious stones, and your rich stuffs!"
The Captain ordered these to be quickly brought and placed before the Reformed Pirate, who continued to stride to and fro across the deck waving his glittering blade, and who, when he saw the treasures placed before him, shouted again:
"Prepare for scuttling!" and then, while the women got down on their knees and begged that he would not sink the ship, and the children cried, and the men trembled so that they could hardly kneel straight, and the Captain stood pale and shaking before him, he glanced at the pile of treasure, and touched it with his sword.
"Aboard with this, my men!" he said. "But first I will divide this into,—into,—into one part. Look here!" and then he paused, glanced around, and clapped his hand to his head. He looked ​at the people, the treasure and the ship. Then suddenly he sheathed his sword, and, stepping up to the Captain, extended his hand.
"Good sir," said he, "you must excuse me. This is a mistake. I had no intention of taking this vessel. It was merely a temporary absence of mind. I forgot I had reformed, and seeing this ship, old scenes and my old business came into my head, and I just came and took the vessel without really thinking what I was doing. I beg you will excuse me. And these ladies,—I am very sorry to have inconvenienced them. I ask them to overlook my unintentional rudeness."
"Oh, don't mention it!" cried the Captain, his face beaming with joy as he seized the hand of the Reformed Pirate. "It is of no importance, I assure you. We are delighted, sir, delighted!"
"Oh yes!" cried all the ladies. "Kind sir, we are charmed! We are charmed!"
"You are all very good indeed," said the Reformed Pirate, "but I really think I was not altogether excusable. And I am very sorry that I made your men bring up all these things."
"Not at all I not at all!" cried the Captain. "No trouble whatever to show them. Very glad indeed to have the opportunity. By the by, would you like to take a few of them, as a memento of your visit?"
"Oh no, I thank you," replied the Reformed Pirate, "I would rather not."
"Perhaps, then, some of your men might like a trinket or a bit of cloth——"
"Oh, I have no men! There is no one on board but myself—excepting a little girl, who is a passenger. But I must be going. Good-by, Captain!"
"I am sorry you are in such a hurry," said the Captain. "Is there anything at all that I can do for you?"
​"No, thank you. But stop!—there may be something. Do you sail to any port where there is a trade in tidies?"
"Oh, yes! To several such," said the Captain.
"Well, then, I would be very much obliged to you," said the Reformed Pirate, "if you would sometimes stop off that point of land that you see there, and send a boat ashore to my house for a load of tidies."
"You manufacture them by the quantity, then?" asked the Captain.
"I expect to," said the other, sadly.
The Captain promised to stop, and, after shaking hands with every person on deck, the Reformed Pirate went down the side of the ship, and taking in his ladder and his grapnels, he pushed off.
As he slowly sailed away, having lowered his flag, the Captain looked over the side of his ship, and said:
"If I had only known that there was nobody but a little girl on board! I thought, of course, he had a boat-load of pirates."
Corette asked a great many questions about everything that had happened on the ship, for she had heard the noise and confusion as she sat below in the little boat; but her companion was disposed to be silent, and said very little in reply.
When the trip was over, and they had reached the island, the Reformed Pirate made his boat fast, and taking little Corette by the hand, he walked up to the house of the Practicing Wizard.
This was a queer place. It was a great rambling house, one story high in some places, and nine or ten in other places; and then, again, it seemed to run into the ground and re-appear at a short distance—the different parts being connected by cellars and basements, with nothing but flower-gardens over them.
Corette thought she had never seen such a wonderful building; but she had not long to look at the outside of it, for her ​companion, who had been there before, and knew the ways of the place, went up to a little door in a two-story part of the house and knocked. Our friends were admitted by a dark cream-colored slave, who informed them that the Practicing Wizard was engaged with other visitors, but that he would soon be at leisure.
So Corette and the Reformed Pirate sat down in a handsome room, full of curious and wonderful things, and, in a short time, they were summoned into the Practicing Wizard's private office.
"Glad to see you," said he, as the reformed Pirate entered. "It has been a long time since you were here. What can I do for you, now? Want to know something about the whereabouts of any ships, or the value of any cargoes?"
"Oh, no! I'm out of that business now," said the other. "I've come this time for something entirely different. But I'll let this little girl tell you what it is. She can do it a great deal better than I can."
So Corette stepped up to the Practicing Wizard, who was a pleasant, elderly man, with a smooth white face, and a constant smile, which seemed to have grown on his face instead of a beard, and she told him the whole story of the fairy sisters and their cottage, of her great desire to see it, and of the difficulties in the way.
"I know all about those sisters," he said; "I don't wonder you want to see their house. You both wish to see it?"
"Yes," said the Reformed Pirate; "I might as well go with her, if the thing can be done at all."
"Very proper," said the Practicing Wizard, "very proper indeed. But there is only one way in which it can be done. You. must be condensed."
"Does that hurt?" asked Corette.
"Oh, not at all! You'll never feel it. For the two it will be ​one hundred and eighty ducats," said he, turning to the Reformed Pirate; "we make a reduction when there are more than one."
"Are you willing?" asked the Reformed Pirate of Corette, as he put his hand in his breeches' pocket.
"Oh, yes!" said Corette, "certainly I am, if that's the only way."
Whereupon her good friend said no more, but pulled out a hundred and eighty ducats and handed them to the Practicing Wizard, who immediately commenced operations.
Corette and the Reformed Pirate were each seated in a large easy chair, and upon each of their heads the old white-faced gentleman placed a little pink ball, about the size of a pea. Then he took a position in front of them.
"Now then," said he, "sit perfectly still. It will be over in a few minutes," and he lifted up a long thin stick, and, pointing it toward the couple, he began to count: "One, two, three, four——"
As he counted, the Reformed Pirate and Corette began to shrink, and by the time he had reached fifty, they were no bigger than cats. But he kept on counting until Corette was about three and a half inches high, and her companion about five inches.
Then he stopped, and knocked the pink ball from each of their heads with a little tap of his long stick.
"There we are," said he, and he carefully picked up the little creatures and put them on a table in front of a looking-glass, that they might see how they liked his work.
It was admirably done. Every proportion had been perfectly kept.
"It seems to me that it couldn't be better," said the Condensed Pirate, looking at himself from top to toe.
"No," said the Practicing Wizard, smiling rather more than usual, "I don't believe it could."
​"But how are we to get away from here?" said Corette to her friend. "A little fellow like you can't sail that big boat."
"'IT SEEMS TO ME THAT IT COULDN'T BE BETTER,' SAID THE CONDENSED PIRATE."
"No," replied he, ruefully, "that's true. I could n't do it. But perhaps, sir, you could condense the boat."
"Oh no!" said the old gentleman, "that would never do. Such a little boat would be swamped before you reached shore, if a big fish did n't swallow you. No, I'll see that you get away safely."
So saying, he went to a small cage that stood in a window and took from it a pigeon.
"This fellow will take you," said he. "He is very strong and swift, and will go ever so much faster than your boat."
​Next he fastened a belt around the bird, and to the lower part of this he hung a little basket, with two seats in it. He then lifted Corette and the Condensed Pirate into the basket, where they sat down opposite one another.
"Do you wish to go directly to the cottage of the fairy sisters?" said the old gentleman.
"Oh, yes!" said Corette.
So he wrote the proper address on the bill of the pigeon, and opening the window, carefully let the bird fly.
"I'll take care of your boat," he cried to the Condensed Pirate, as the pigeon rose in the air. "You'll find it all right, when you come back."
And he smiled worse than ever.
The pigeon flew up to a great height, and then he took flight in a straight line for the Fairy Cottage, where he arrived before his passengers thought they had half finished their journey.
The bird alighted on the ground, just outside of the boundary fence; and when Corette and her companion had jumped from the basket, he rose and flew away home as fast as he could go.
The Condensed Pirate now opened a little gate in the fence, and he and Corette walked in. They went up the graveled path, and under the fruit-trees, where the ripe peaches and apples hung as big as peas, and they knocked at the door of the fairy sisters.
When these two little ladies came to the door, they were amazed to see Corette.
"Why, how did you ever?" they cried. "And if there isn't our old friend, the Reformed Pirate!"
"Condensed Pirate, if you please," said that individual. "There's no use of my being reformed while I'm so small as this. I couldn't hurt anybody if I wanted to."
​"Well, come right in, both of you," said the sisters, "and tell us all about it."
So they went in, and sat in the little parlor, and told their story. The fairies were delighted with the whole affair, and insisted on a long visit, to which our two friends were not at all opposed.
They found everything at this cottage exactly as they had been told. They ate the daintiest little meals off the daintiest little dishes, and they thoroughly enjoyed all the delightful little things in the little place. Sometimes, Corette and the fairies would take naps in little hammocks under the trees, while the Condensed Pirate helped the little man drive up the little cows, or work in the little garden.
On the second day of their visit, when they were all sitting on the little portico after supper, one of the sisters, thinking that the Condensed Pirate might like to have something to do, and knowing how he used to occupy himself, took from her basket a little half-knit tidy, with the needles in it, and asked him if he cared to amuse himself with that.
"No, ma'am!" said he, firmly but politely. "Not at present. If I find it necessary to reform again, I may do something of the kind, but not now. But I thank you, all the same."
After this, they were all very careful not to mention tidies to him.
Corette and her companion stayed with the fairies for more than a week. Corette knew that her father and mother did not expect her at home for some time, and so she felt quite at liberty to stay as long as she pleased.
As to the sisters, they were delighted to have their visitors with them.
But, one day, the Condensed Pirate, finding Corette alone, led ​her with great secrecy to the bottom of the pasture field, the very outskirts of the fairies' domain.
"Look here," said he, in his lowest tones. "Do you know, little Corette, that things are not as I expected them to be here? Everything is very nice and good, but nothing appears very small to me. Indeed, things seem to be just about the right size. How does it strike you?"
"Why, I have been thinking the same thing," said Corette, "The sisters used to be such dear, cunning little creatures, and now they're bigger than I am. But I don't know what can be done about it.
"I know," said the Condensed Pirate.
"What?" asked Corette.
"Condense 'em," answered her companion, solemnly.
"Oh! But you couldn't do that!" exclaimed Corette.
"Yes, but I can—at least, I think I can. You remember those two pink condensing balls?"
"Yes," said Corette.
"Well, I've got mine."
"You have!" cried Corette. "How did you get it?"
"Oh! when the old fellow knocked it off my head, it fell on the chair beside me, and I picked it up and put it in my coat-pocket It would just go in. He charges for the balls, and so I thought I might as well have it."
"But do you know how he works them?"
"Oh yes!" replied the Condensed Pirate. "I watched him. What do you say? Shall we condense this whole place?"
"It won't hurt them," said Corette, "and I don't really think they would mind it"
"Mind it! No!" said the other. "I believe they'd like it"
So it was agreed that the Fairy Cottage, inmates and grounds ​should be condensed until they were, relatively, as small as they used to be.
That afternoon, when the sisters were taking a nap, and the little man was at work in the barn, the Condensed Pirate went up into the garret of the cottage and got out on the roof. Then he climbed to the top of the tallest chimney, which overlooked everything on the place, and there he laid his little pink ball.
He then softly descended, and, taking Corette by the hand, (she had been waiting for him on the portico), he went down to the bottom of the pasture field.
When he was quite sure that he and Corette were entirely outside of the fairies' grounds, he stood up, pointed to the ball with a long, thin stick which he had cut, and began to count: "One, two, three——"
And as he counted the cottage began to shrink. Smaller and smaller it became, until it got to be very little indeed.
"Is that enough?" said the Condensed Pirate, hurriedly, between two counts.
"No," replied Corette. "There is the little man, just come out of the barn. He ought to be as small as the sisters used to be. I'll tell you when to stop."
So the counting went on until Corette said, "Stop!" and the cottage was really not much higher than a thimble. The little man stood by the barn, and seemed to Corette to be just about the former size of the fairy sisters; but, in fact, he was not quite a quarter of an inch high. Everything on the place was small in proportion, so that when Corette said "Stop!" the Condensed Pirate easily leaned over and knocked the pink ball from the chimney with his long stick. It fell outside of the grounds, and he picked it up and put it in his pocket.
Then he and Corette stood and admired everything! It was ​charming! It was just what they had imagined before they came there. While they were looking with delight at the little fields, and trees, and chickens,—so small that really big people could not have seen them,—and at the cute little house, with its vines and portico, the two sisters came out on the little lawn.
When they saw Corette and her companion, they were astounded.
"Why, when did you grow big again?" they cried. "Oh! how sorry we are! Now you cannot come into our house and live with us any longer."
Corette and the Condensed Pirate looked at each other, as much as to say, "They don't know they have been made so little."
Then Corette said: "We are sorry too. I suppose we shall have to go away now. But we have had a delightful visit."
"It has been a charming one for us," said one of the sisters, "and if we only had known, we would have had a little party before you went away; but now it is too late."
The Condensed Pirate said nothing. He felt rather guilty about the matter. He might have waited a little, and yet he could not have told them about it. They might have objected to be condensed.
"May we stay just a little while and look at things?" asked Corette.
"Yes," replied one of the fairies; "but you must be very careful not to step inside the grounds, or to stumble over on our place. You might do untold damage."
So the two little big people stood and admired the fairy cottage and all about it, for this was indeed the sight they came to see; and then they took leave of their kind entertainers, who would have been glad to have them stay longer, but were really trembling ​with apprehension lest some false step or careless movement might ruin their little home.
As Corette and the Condensed Pirate took their way through the woods to their home, they found it very difficult to get along, they were so small. When they came to a narrow stream, which Corette would once have jumped over with ease, the Condensed Pirate had to make a ferry-boat of a piece of bark, and paddle himself and the little girl across.
"I wonder how the fairies used to come down to us," said Corette, who was struggling along over the stones and moss, hanging on to her companion's hand.
"Oh! I expect they have a nice smooth path somewhere through the woods, where they can run along as fast as they please; and bridges over the streams."
"Why didn't they tell us of it?" asked Corette.
"They thought it was too little to be of any use to us. Don't you see?—they think we're big people and wouldn't need their path."
"Oh, yes!" said Corette.
In time, however, they got down the mountain and out of the woods, and then they climbed up on one of the fences and ran along the top of it toward Corette's home.
When the people saw them, they cried out: "Oh, here come our dear little fairies, who have not visited us for so many days!" But when they saw them close at hand, and perceived that they were little Corette and the Pirate who had reformed, they were dumbfounded.
Corette did not stop to tell them anything; but still holding her companion's hand, she ran on to her parents' house, followed by a crowd of neighbors.
Corette's father and mother could hardly believe that this little ​being was their daughter, but there was no mistaking her face and her clothes, and her voice, although they were all so small; and when she had explained the matter to them, and to the people who filled the house, they understood it all. They were overcome with joy to have their daughter back again, little or big.
When the Condensed Pirate went to his house, he found the door locked, as he had left it, but he easily crawled in through a crack. He found everything of an enormous size. It did not look like the old place. He climbed up the leg of a chair and got on a table, by the help of the table-cloth, but it was hard work. He found something to eat and drink, and all his possessions were in order, but he did not feel at home.
Days passed on, and while the Condensed Pirate did not feel any better satisfied, a sadness seemed to spread over the country, and particularly over Corette's home. The people grieved that they never saw the fairy sisters, who indeed had made two or three visits, with infinite trouble and toil, but who could not make themselves observed, their bodies and their voices being so very small.
And Corette's father and mother grieved. They wanted their daughter to be as she was before. They said that Sweet Marjoram Day was very near, but that they could not look forward to it with pleasure. Corette might go out to the fields, but she could only sit upon some high place, as the fairies used to sit. She could not help in the gathering. She could not even be with the babies; they would roll on her and crush her. So they mourned.
It was now the night before the great holiday. Sweet Marjoram Eve had not been very gay time, and the people did not expect to have much fun the next day. How could they if the fairy sisters did not come? Corette felt badly, for she had never told that the sisters had been condensed, and the Condensed ​Pirate, who had insisted on her secrecy, felt worse. That night he lay in his great bed, really afraid to go to sleep on account of rats and mice.
He was so extremely wakeful that he lay and thought, and thought, and thought for a long time, and then he got up and dressed and went out.
It was a beautiful moonlight night, and he made his way directly to Corette's house. There, by means of a vine, he climbed up to her window, and gently called her. She was not sleeping well, and she soon heard him and came to the window.
He then desired her to bring him two spools of fine thread.
Without asking any questions, she went for the thread, and very soon made her appearance at the window with one spool in her arms, and then she went back for another.
"Now, then," said the Condensed Pirate, when he had thrown the spools down to the ground, "will you dress yourself and wait here at the window until I come and call for you?"
Corette promised, for she thought he had some good plan in his head, and he hurried down the vine, took up a spool under each arm, and bent his way to the church. This building had a high steeple which overlooked the whole country. He left one of his spools outside, and then, easily creeping with the other under one of the great doors, he carried it with infinite pains and labor up into the belfry.
There he tied it on his back, and getting out of a window, began to climb up the outside of the steeple.
It was not hard for him to do this, for the rough stones gave him plenty of foot-hold, and he soon stood on the very tip-top of the steeple. He then took tight hold of one end of the thread on his spool and let the spool drop. The thread rapidly unrolled, and the spool soon touched the ground.
THE CONDENSED PIRATE CLIMBS UP THE OUTSIDE OF THE STEEPLE.
​Now our friend took from his pocket the pink ball, and passing the end of the thread through a little hole in the middle of it, he tied it firmly. Placing the ball in a small depression on the top of the steeple, he left it there, with the thread hanging from it, and rapidly descended to the ground. There he took the other spool and tied the end of its thread to that which was hanging from the steeple.
He now put down the spool and ran to call Corette. When she heard his voice, she clambered down the vine to him.
"Now, Corette," he said, "run to my house and stand on the beach, near the water, and wait for me."
Corette ran off as he had asked, and he went back to his spool. He took it up and walked slowly to his house, carefully unwinding the thread as he went The church was not very far from the sea-shore, so he soon joined Corette. With her assistance he then unwound the rest of the thread and made a little coil. He next gave the coil to Corette to hold, cautioning her to be very careful, and then he ran off to where some bits of wood were lying, close to the water's edge. Selecting a little piece of thin board, he pushed it into the water, and taking a small stick in his hand, he jumped on it, and poled it along to where Corette was standing. The ocean here formed a little bay where the water was quite smooth.
"Now, Corette," said the Condensed Pirate, "we must be very careful. I will push this ashore, and you must step on board, letting out some of the thread as you come. Be sure not to pull it tight. Then I will paddle out a little way, and as I push, you must let out more thread."
Corette did as she was directed, and very soon they were standing on the little raft a few yards from shore. Then her companion put down his stick, and took the coil of thread.
​"What are you going to do?" asked Corette. She had wanted to ask before, but there did not seem to be time.
"Well," said he, "we can't make ourselves any bigger—at least, I don't know how to do it, and so I'm going to condense the whole country. The little pink ball is on top of the steeple, which is higher than anything else about here, you know. I can't knock the ball off at the proper time, so I've tied a thread to it to pull it off. You and I are outside of the place, on the water, so we won't be made any smaller. If the thing works, everybody will be our size, and all will be right again."
"Splendid!" cried Corette. "But how will you know when things are little enough?"
"Do you see that door in my house, almost in front of us? Well, when I was of the old size, I used just to touch the top of that door with my head, if I didn't stoop. When you see that the door is about my present height, tell me to stop. Now then!"
The Condensed Pirate began to count, and instantly the whole place, church, houses, fields, and of course the people who were in bed, began to shrink! He counted a good while before Corette thought his door would fit him. At last she called to him to stop. He glanced at the door to feel sure, counted one more, and pulled the thread. Down came the ball, and the size of the place was fixed!
The whole of the sweet marjoram country was now so small that the houses were like bandboxes, and the people not more than four or five inches high—excepting some very tall people who were six inches.
Drawing the ball to him, the Condensed Pirate pushed out some distance, broke it from the thread, and threw it into the water.
"No more condensing!" said he. He then paddled himself ​and Corette ashore, and running to his cottage, threw open the door and looked about him. Everything was just right! Everything fitted! He shouted with joy.
It was just daybreak when Corette rushed into her parents' house. Startled by the noise, her father and mother sprang out of bed.
"Our daughter! Our darling daughter!" they shouted, "and she has her proper size again!!"
In an instant she was clasped in their arms. When the first transports of joy were over, Corette sat down and told them the whole story—told them everything.
"It is all right," said her mother, "so that we are all of the same size," and she shed tears of joy.
Corette's father ran out to ring the church-bell, so as to wake up the people and tell them the good news of his daughter's restoration. When he came in, he said:
"I see no difference in anything. Everybody is all right."
There never was such a glorious celebration of Sweet Marjoram Day as took place that year.
The crop was splendid, the weather was more lovely than usual, if such a thing could be, and everybody was in the gayest humor.
But the best thing of all was the appearance of the fairy sisters. When they came among the people, they all shouted as if they had gone wild. And the good little sisters were so overjoyed that they could scarcely speak.
"What a wonderful thing it is to find that we have grown to our old size again! We were here several times lately, but somehow or other we seemed to be so very small that we couldn't make you see or hear us. But now it's all right. We have forty two new games!"
​And at that, the crop being all in, the whole country, with a shout of joy, went to work to play.
There were no gayer people to be seen than Corette and the Condensed Pirate. Some of his friends called this good man by his old name, but he corrected them.
"I am reformed, all the same," he said, "but do not call me by that name. I shall never be able to separate it from its associations with tidies. And with them I am done for ever. Owing to circumstances, I do not need to be depressed."
The captain of the ship never stopped off the coast for a load of tidies. Perhaps he did not care to come near the house of his former captor, for fear that he might forget himself again, and take the ship a second time. But if the captain had come, it is not likely that his men would have found the cottage of the Condensed Pirate, unless they had landed at the very spot where it stood.
And it so happened that no one ever noticed this country after it was condensed. Passing ships could not come near enough to see such a very little place, and there never were any very good roads to it by land.
But the people continued to be happy and prosperous, and they kept up the celebration of Sweet Marjoram Day as gayly as when they were all ordinary-sized people.
In the whole country there were only two persons, Corette and the Pirate, who really believed that they were condensed.