November 3, 2023 • 44 mins
"Thanksgiving Stories: A Feast for the Ears" is a captivating collection of short stories that celebrates the spirit of Thanksgiving in all its flavors. Each story in this anthology serves as a delectable dish, offering a unique and heartwarming perspective on this cherished holiday. From tales of family reunions and culinary adventures to unexpected encounters and acts of gratitude, these stories take you on a journey through the rich tapestry of Thanksgiving traditions and emotions. Whether you're a seasoned Thanksgiving enthusiast or a newcomer to the holiday, "Thanksgiving Stories: A Feast for the Ears" is a literary feast that will leave your heart warmed and your soul nourished, reminding us all of the power of gratitude and togetherness during this special time of year.
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
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Section one of good cheer stories everychild should know. This is a LibriVox
recording. All LibriVox recordings are inthe public domain. For more information or
to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dotorg. Recording by Kay Grayson. The
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Kingdom of the Greedy by P.J. Stahl, translated by Laura W.
Johnson. This fairy tale of agormandizing people contains no mention of Thanksgiving
Day, yet its connection with ourAmerican festival is obvious. Everyone who likes
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fairy tales will enjoy reading it.The Country of the Greedy, well known
in history, was ruled by aking who had much trouble. His subjects
were well behaved, but they hadone sad fault. They were too fond
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of pies and tarts. It wasas disagreeable to them to swallow a spoonful
of soup as if it were somuch sea water, and it would take
a policeman to make them open theirmouths for a bit of meat, either
boiled or roasted. This deplorable tastemade the fortunes of the pastry cooks,
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but also of the apothecaries. Familiesruined themselves in pills and powders, camomeal,
rhubarb and peppermint traveled in price,as well as other disagreeable remedies such
as castor, which I shall notname. The King of the Greedy sought
long for the means of correcting thisfatal passion for sweets. But even the
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faculty were puzzled. Your Majesty,said the great court doctor Olibrier at his
last audience. Your people look likeputty. They are incurable. Their senseless
love for good eating will bring themall to the grave. This view of
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things did not suit the King.He was wise and saw very plainly that
a monarch without subjects would be buta sorry king. Happily, after this
utter failure of the doctors, therecame into the mind of his Majesty a
first class idea he telegraphed for MotherMitchell, the most celebrated of all pastry
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cooks. Mother Michell soon arrived withher black cat, Thamfoulouche, who accompanied
her everywhere. He was an incomparablecat. He had not his equal as
an adviser and a taster of tarts. Mother Michell, having respectfully inquired what
she when her cat, could dofor his Majesty, the King demanded of
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the astonished pastry cook a tart asbig as the Capital, bigger even if
possible, but no smaller. Whenthe 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 themfrom crying, long live your majesty in
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his very ears. But the Kinghad seen enough of the enthusiasm of the
populace and did not allow such soundsin the recesses of his palace. The
King gave Mother Michel one month tocarry out his gigantic project. It is
enough, she proudly replied, brandishingher crutch. Then taking leave of the
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king, she and her cat setout for their home. On the way,
Mother Michel arranged in her head theplan of the monument which was to
immortalize her, and considered the meansof executing it. As to its form
and size. It was to beas exact a copy of the Capital as
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possible, since the King had willedit, but its outside crust should have
a beauty all its own. Thedome must be adorned with sugar plums of
all colors, and surmounted by asplendid crown of macaroons, spun sugar,
chocolate, and candied fruits. Itwas no small affair. Mother Michel did
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not like to lose her time.Her plan of battle. Once formed,
she recruited on her way all thelittle pastry cooks of the country, as
well as all the tiny six yearolds who had a sincere love for the
noble callings of scullion and a prentice. There were plenty of these, as
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you may suppose, in the countryof the greedy. Mother Michel had her
pick of them. Mother Michell,with the help of her crutch and of
Fanfarlouche, who miawed loud enough tobe heard twenty miles off, called upon
all the millers of the land,and commanded them to bring together at a
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certain time as many sacks of fineflour as they could grind in a week.
There were only windmills in that country. You may easily believe how they
all began to go bah, Whata noise they made. The clatter was
so great that all the birds flewaway to other climes, and even the
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clouds fled from the sky. Atthe call of Mother Michell, all the
farmers wives were set to work theyrushed to the hen coops to collect the
seven thousand fresh eggs that Mother Michellwanted for her great edifice. Deep was
the emotion of the fowls. Thehens were inconsolable, and the unhappy creatures
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mourned upon the palings for the lossof all their hopes. The milkmaids were
busy from morning till night in milkingthe cows. Mother Mitchell must have twenty
thousand pails of milk. All thelittle calves were put on half rations.
This great work was nothing to them, and they complained pitifully to their mothers.
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Many of the cows protested with energyagainst this unreasonable tax, which made
their young families so uncomfortable. Therewere pails upset, and even some milkmaids
went head over heels. But theselittle accidents did not chill the enthusiasm of
the laborers, and now Mother Mitchellcalled for a thousand pounds of the best
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butter. All the churns for twentymiles around began to work in the most
lively manner. Their dashers dashed withoutceasing, keeping perfect time. The butter
was tasted, rolled into pats,wrapped up and put into baskets. Such
energy had never been known before.Mother Michell passed for a sorceress. It
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was all because of her cat,Fanfarulouche, with whom she had mysterious doings
and pantomimes, and with whom shetalked 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
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a magician. Some curious people hadthe courage to ask Fanfoulouche if this were
true, but he had replied bybristling and showing his teeth and claws so
fiercely that the conversation had ended there. Sorceress or not, Mother Michell was
always obeyed. No one else wasever served so punctually. On the appointed
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day, all the millers arrived withtheir asses trotting in single file, each
laden with a great sack of flour. Mother Michell, after having examined the
quality of the flower, had everysack accurately weighed. This was head work
and hard work, and took time. But Mother Michell was untiring, and
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her cat also, For while theoperation lasted, he sat on the roof
watching. It is only just tosay that the millers of the greedy kingdom
brought flower not only faughtless, butfull of weight. They knew that Mother
Michel was not joking when she saidthat others must be as exact with her
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as she was with them. Perhapsalso they were a little afraid of the
cat, whose great green eyes werealways shining upon them like two round lamps,
and never lost sight of them forone moment. All the farm wives
arrived in turn with baskets of eggsupon their heads. They did not load
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their donkeys with them, for fearthat in jogging along they would become omelets.
On the way. Mother Michell receivedthem with her usual gravity. She
had the patience to look through everyegg to see if it were fresh.
She did not wish to run therisk of having young chickens in a tart
that was destined for those who couldnot bear the taste of any meat,
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however tender and delicate. The numberof eggs was complete, and again Mother
Michell and her cat had nothing tocomplain of. This greedy nation, though
carried away by love of good eating, was strictly honest. It must be
said that where nations are patriotic.Desire for the common good makes them unselfish.
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Mother Michell's tart was to be theglory of the country, and each
one was proud to contribute to sosuch a great work. And now the
milk maids with their pots and pailsof milk, and the butter makers,
with their baskets filled with the richyellow pats of butter, filed in long
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procession to the right and left ofthe cabin of Mother Mitchel. There was
no need for her to examine socarefully the butter and the milk. She
had such a delicate nose that ifthere had been a single pat of ancient
butter or a pail of sour milk, she would have pounced upon it instantly.
But all was perfectly fresh. Inthat golden age, they did not
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understand the art now so well knownof making milk out of flour and water.
Real milk was necessary to make cheesecakesand ice cream and other delicious confections
much adored in the greedy kingdom.If anyone had made such a despicable discovery,
he would have been chased from thecountry as a public nuisance. Then
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came the grocers with their aprons ofcoffee bags, and with the jolly,
mischievous faces the rogues always have,each one clasped to his heart a sugar
loaf, nearly as large as himself, whose summit, without its paper cap,
looked like new fallen snow. Upona pyramid. Mother Michel, with
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her crutch for a baton, sawthem all placed in her store rooms,
upon shelves put up for the purpose. She had to be very strict,
for some of the little fellows couldhardly part from their merchandise, and many
were indiscreet with their tongues behind theirgreat mountains of sugar. If they had
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been let alone, they would neverhave stopped till the sugar was all gone.
But they had not thought of theimplacable eye of old Fauvrelouche, who
posted upon a water spout, tooknote of all their misdeeds. From another
quarter came a whole army of countrypeople, rolling wheelbarrows and carrying huge baskets,
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all filled with cherries, plums,peaches, apples, and pears.
All these fruits were so fresh,in such perfect condition, with their fair,
shining skins, that they looked likewax or painted marble. But their
delicious perfume proved that they were real. Some little people hidden in the corners
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took pains to find this out.Between ourselves. Mother Michel made believe not
to see them, and took theprecaution of holding Faumfeluche in her arms so
that he could not spring upon them. The fruits were all put into bins,
each kind by itself, and nowthe preparations were finished, there was
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no time to lose before setting towork. The spot which Mother Michel had
chosen for her great edifice was apretty hill on which a plateau formed a
splendid site. This hill commanded thecapital city, built upon the slope of
another hill close by. After havingbeaten down the earth till it was as
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smooth as a floor, they spreadover it loads of bread crumbs brought from
the baker's and leveled it with rakeand spade, as we do gravel in
our garden walks. Little birds asgreedy as themselves came in flocks to the
east. But they might eat asthey liked. It would never be missed.
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So thick was the carpet. Itwas a great chance for the bold
little things. All the ingredients forthe tart were now ready. Upon order
of Mother Michel, they began topeel the apples and pears, and to
take out the pips. The weatherwas so pleasant that the girls sat out
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of doors upon the ground in longrows. The sun looked down upon them
with a merry face. Each ofthe little workers had a big earthen pan
and peeled incessantly the apples, whichthe boys brought them. When the pans
were full, they were carried away, and others were brought. They had
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also to carry away the peals,or the girls would have been buried in
them. Never was there such apealing before. Not far away the children
were stoning the plums, cherries andpeaches. This work, being the easiest,
was given to the youngest and mostinexperienced hands, which were all first
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carefully washed. For Mother Mitchell,though not particular about her own toilet,
was very neat in her cooking.The schoolhouse long unused for in the country
of the greedy, they had forgotten. Everything was arranged for this second class
of workers, and the cat wastheir inspector. He walked round and round,
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growling if he saw the fruit poppinginto any of the little mouths,
if they had dared, how theywould have pelted him with plum stones,
but no one risked it. FaanFraleouche was not to be trifled with.
In those days, powdered sugar hadnot been invented, and to grate it
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all was no small affair. Itwas the work that the grocers used to
dislike the most. Both lungs andarms were soon tired, but Mother Michel
was there to sustain them with herunequaled energy. She chose the laborers from
the most robust of the boys.With mallet and knife, she broke the
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cones into round pieces, and theygrated them till they were too small to
hold. The bits were put intobaskets to be pounded. One would never
have expected to find all the thousandpounds of sugar again, but a new
miracle was wrought by Mother Mitchell.It was all there. It was then
the turn of the ambitious Scullions toenter the lists and break the seven thousand
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eggs for Mother Michell. It wasnot hard to break them. Any fool
could do that. But to separateadroitly the yolks and the whites demand some
talent and above all great care.We dare not say that there were no
accidents here, no eggs too wellscrambled, no baskets upset. But the
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experience of Mother Michell had counted uponsuch things, and it may truly be
said that there were never so manyeggs broken at once, or ever could
be again. To make an omeletof them would have taken a saucepan as
large as a skating pond, Andthe fattest cook that ever lived could not
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hold the handle of such a saucepan. But this was not all. Now
that the yolks and whites were oncedivided, they must each be beaten separately
in wooden bowls to give them thenecessary lightness. The egg beaters were marshaled
into two brigades, the yellow andthe white. Every One preferred the white,
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for it was much more amusing tomake those snowy masses that rose up
so high than to beat the yolks, which knew no better than to mix
together like so much sauce. MotherMichel, with her usual wisdom, had
avoided this difficulty by casting lots.Thus those who were not on the white
side had no reason to complain ofoppression, And truly, when all was
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done, the whites and the yellowswere equally tired. All had cramps in
their hands. Now began the reallabor of Mother Michell. Till now she
had been the commander in chief,the head. Only now she put her
own finger in the pie. First, she had to make sweetmeats and jam
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out of all the immense quantity offruit she had stored. For this,
as she could only do one kindat a time, she had ten kettles,
each as big as a dinner table. During forty eight hours, the
cooking went on. A dozen scullionsblew the fire and put on the fuel.
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Mother Mitchell, with a spoon thatfour modern cooks could hardly lift,
never ceased stirring and trying the boilingfruit. Three expert tasters, chosen from
the most dainty, had orders toreport progress every half hour. It is
unnecessary to state that all the sweetmeatswere perfectly successful, or that they were
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of exquisite consistency, color, andperfume. With Mother Michell, there was
no such word as fail. Wheneach kind of sweetmeat was finished, she
skimmed it and put it away tocool in enormous bowls before potting. She
did not use for this the usuallittle glass or earthen jars, but great
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stone ones like those in the fortythieves. Not only did these take less
time to fill, but they weresafe from the children. The scum and
the scrapings were something to be sure. But there was little Toto who thought
this was not enough. He wouldhave jumped into one of the bowls if
they had not held him. MotherMitchell, who thought of everything, had
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ordered two hundred great kneading troughs,wishing that all the utensils of this great
work should be perfectly new. Thesetwo hundred troughs, like her other materials,
were all delivered punctually and in goodorder. The pastry cooks rolled up
their sleeves and began to knead thedough, with cries of high high that
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could be heard for miles. Itwas odd to see this army of bakers
in serried ranks, all making thesame gestures at once, like well disciplined
soldiers, stooping and rising together intime, so that a foreign ambassador wrote
to his court that he wished hispeople could load in fire as well as
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these could. Need such praise apeople never forgets. When each troughful of
paste was approved, it was moldedwith care into the form of bricks,
and with the aid of the engineerin chief, a young genius who had
gained the first prize in the schoolof architecture, the majestic edifice was begun.
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Mother Michel herself drew the plan infollowing her directions, the young engineers
showed himself modest beyond all praise.He had the good sense to understand that
the architecture of tarts and pies hadrules of its own, and that therefore
the experience of Mother Mitchel was worthall the scientific theories in the world.
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The inside of the monument was dividedinto as many compartments as there were kinds
of fruits. The walls were noless than four feet thick. When they
were finished. Twenty four ladders wereset up, and twenty four experienced cooks
ascended them. These first class artistswere, each of them armed with an
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enormous cooking spoon. Behind them onthe lower rounds of the ladders followed the
kitchen boys, carrying on their headspots and pans filled to the brim with
jam and sweetmeats, each sort readyto be poured into its destined compartment.
This colossal labor was accomplished in oneday, and with wonderful exactness. When
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the sweetmeats were used to the lastdrop. When the great spoons had done
all their work, the twenty fourcooks descended to earth again. The intrepid
Mother Michel, who had never quittedthe spot, now ascended, followed by
the noble Fanfarouche, and dipped herfinger into each of the compartments to assure
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herself that everything was right. Thispart of her duty was not disagreeable,
and many of the scullions would haveliked to perform it, but they might
have lingered too long over the enchantingtask. As for Mother Michell, she
had been too well used to sweetsto be excited. Now she only wished
to do her duty and to insuresuccess all went on well. Mother Michel
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had given her approbation. Nothing wasneeded now but to crown the sublime and
delicious edifice by placing upon it thecrust, that is the roof or dome.
This delicate operation was confided to theengineer in chief, who now showed
his superior genius. The dome,made beforehand of a single piece, was
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raised in the air by means oftwelve balloons, whose force of ascension had
been carefully calculated. First it wasdirected by ropes exactly over the top of
the tart. Then, at theword of command, it gently descended upon
the right spot. It was nota quarter of an inch out of place.
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This was a great triumph for MotherMitchel and her able assistant. But
all was not over. How shouldthis colossal tart be cooked? That was
the question that agitated all the peopleof the greedy country, who came in
crowds, lords and commons to gazeat the wonderful spectacle. Some of the
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envious or ill tempered declared it wouldbe impossible to cook the edifice which Mother
Michel had built, and the doctorswere no one knows why. The saddest
of all, Mother Mitchell, smilingat the general bewilderment, mounted the summit
of the tart. She waved hercrutch in the air, and while her
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cat meowed in his sweetest voice.Suddenly there issued from the woods a vast
number of masons, drawing wagons ofwell baked bricks, which they had prepared
in secret. This sight silenced theill wishers and filled the hearts of the
greedy with hope. In two days, an enormous furnace was built around and
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above the colossal tart, which founditself shut up in an immense earthen pot.
Thirty huge mouths, which were connectedwith thousands of winding pipes for conducting
heat all over the building, weresoon choked with fuel by the help of
two hundred charcoal burners, who,obeying a private signal, came forth in
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long array from the forest, eachcarrying his sack of coal. Behind them
stood Mother Michel with a box ofmatches, ready to fire each oven as
it was filled. Of course,the kindlings had not been forgotten, and
was all soon in a blaze.When the fire was lighted in the thirty
ovens. When they saw the cloudsof smoke rolling over the dome that announced
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that the cooking had begun, thejoy of the people was boundless. Poets
improvised odes, and musicians sung verseswithout end in honor of the superb prince,
who had been inspired to feed hispeople in so dainty a manner,
when other rulers could not give themeven enough of dry bread. The names
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of Mother Michel and of the illustriousengineer were not forgotten in this great glorification
next to His Majesty, They werecertainly the first of mankind, and their
names were worthy of going down withhis to the remotest posterity. All the
envious ones were thunderstruck. They triedto console themselves by saying that the work
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was not yet finished, and thatan accident might happen at the last moment,
but they did not really believe aword of this. Notwithstanding all their
efforts to look cheerful, it hadbeen acknowledged that the cooking was possible.
Their last resource was to declare thetart a bad one, but that would
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be biting off their own noses.As for declining to eat it, envy
could never go so far as thatin the country of the greedy. After
two days, the unerring nose ofMother Michel discovered that the tart was cooked
to perfection. The whole country wasperfumed with its delicious aroma. Nothing more
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remained but to take down the furnaces. Mother Michel made her official announcement to
His Majesty, who was delighted andcomplimented her upon her punctuality. One day,
was still wanting to complete the month. During this time, the people
gave their eager help to the engineerin the demolition, wishing to have a
hand in the great national work,and to hasten the blessed moment. In
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the twinkling of an eye, thething was done. The bricks were taken
down one by one, counted carefully, and carried into the forest again to
serve for another occasion. The tartunveiled appeared at last, in all its
majesty and splendor. The dome wasgilded and reflected the rays of the sun
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in the most dazzling manner. Thewildest excitement and rapture ran through the land
of the greedy. Each one leftwith open nostrils the appetizing perfume, their
mouths watered, their eyes filled withtears. They embraced, pressed each other's
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hands, and indulged in touching pantomimes. Then the people of town and country,
united by one rapturous feeling, joinedhands and danced in a ring around
the grand confection. No one daredto touch the tart before the arrival of
his majesty. Meanwhile, something mustbe done to allay the universal impatience,
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and they resolved to show Mother Michelthe gratitude with which all hearts were filled.
She was crowned with the laurel ofConquerors, which is also the laurel
of sauce, thus serving a doublepurpose. Then they placed her with her
crutch and her cat, upon asort of throne, and carried her all
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round her vast work. Before hermarched all the musicians of the town,
dancing, drumming, fifing, andtooting upon all instruments, while behind her
pressed an enthusiastic crowd, who rentthe air with their plaudits and filled it
with a shower of caps. Herfame was complete, and a noble pride
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shone on her countenance. The royalprocession arrived. A grand stairway had been
built so that the king and hisministers could mount to the summit of this
monumental tart. Then the king,amid a deep silence, thus addressed his
people, my children, He said, you adore tarts. You despise all
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other food. If you could,you would even eat tarts in your sleep.
Very well, eat as much asyou like. Here is one big
enough to satisfy you. But knowthis that while there remains a single crumb
of this august tart, from theheight of which I am proud to look
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down on you. All other foodis forbidden you, on pain of death.
While you are here, I haveordered all the pantries to be emptied,
and all the butchers, bakers,pork and milk dealers, and fishmongers
to shut up their shops. Whyleave them open? Why indeed have you
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not here at discretion? What youlove best and enough to last you ever
ever so long, devote yourselves toit with all your hearts. I do
not wish you to be bored withthe sight of any other food. Greedy
ones, behold your tart? Whatenthusiastic aplyaly claws, What frantic hurrahs rent
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the air? In answer to thiseloquent speech from the throne, long live
the king, Mother Michell and hercat. Long live the tart. Down
with soup, down with bread,to the bottom of the sea, with
all beef, steaks, mutton,chops and roasts. Such cries came from
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every lip. Old men gently strokedtheir chops, children patted their little stomachs.
The crowd licked its thousand lips witheager joy. Even the babies danced
in their nurse's arms. So precociouswas the passion for tarts. In this
singular country. Grave professors, skippinglike kids, declaimed Latin verses in honor
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of his majesty and Mother. Mitchelland 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. Adetachment of the engineer corps arrived, armed
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with pick and cutlass, and marchedin good order to the assault. A
breach was soon opened, and thedistribution began. The King smiled at the
opening in the tart. Though vast, it hardly showed more than a mouse
hole in the monstrous wall. TheKing stroked his beard grandly. All goes
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well, said he. For himwho knows how to wait, who can
tell how long the feast would havelasted 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, andthen rushed to the river. Never had
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a nation been so besmeared. Somewere daubed the eyes, others had their
ears and hair all sticky. Asfor the little ones, they were marmalade
from head to foot. When theyhad finished their toilets, the river ran
all red and yellow and was sweetenedfor several hours, to the great surprise
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of all the fishes. Before returninghome, the people presented themselves before the
king to receive his commands. Children, said he, the feast will begin
again exactly at six o'clock. Givetime to wash the dishes and change the
tablecloths, and you may once moregive yourselves over to pleasure. You shall
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feast twice a day as long asthe tart lasts do not forget. Yes,
if there is not enough in thisone, I will even order another
from Mother Mitchel. For you know, oh, that great woman is indefatigable.
Your happiness is my only aim.Marks of universal joy and emotion were
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seen. You understand noon and sixo'clock. There is no need for me
to say be punctual. Go thenmy children be happy. The second feast
was as gay as the first andas long. A pleasant walk in the
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suburb's first exercise then a nap hadrefreshed their appetites and unlimbered their jaws.
But the keen fancied that the breachmade in the tart was a little smaller
than that of the morning. TisWell said he tis well, wait till
tomorrow, my friends, Yes,till day after tomorrow, and next week.
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The next day the feast still wenton gaily. 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 Olibrier.
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A few weak stomachs, that isall. On the next day there
were larger empty spaces. The enthusiasmvisibly abated. The eighth day the crowd
had diminished one half, the ninththree quarters. The tenth day, of
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the thousand who came at first,only two hundred remained, on the eleventh
day only one hundred, and onthe twelfth alas who would have fought it,
a single one answered to the call. Truly he was big enough.
His body resembled a hogshead, hismouth an oven, and his lips we
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dare not say what. He wasknown in the town by the name of
Patapouf. They dug out a freshlump for him from the middle of the
tart. It quickly vanished in hisvast interior, and he retired with great
dignity proud to maintain the honor ofhis name and the glory of the greedy
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kingdom. But the next day evenhe the very last, appeared no more.
The unfortunate Patapouf had succumbed, andlike all the other inhabitants of the
country, was in a very badway. In short, it was soon
known that the whole town had sufferedagonies that night from too much tart.
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Let us draw a veil over thosehours of torture. Mother Mitchel was in
despair. Those ministers who had notguessed the secret dared not open their lips.
All the city was one vast hospital. No one was seen in the
streets but doctors and apothecaries, boysrunning from house to house in frantic haste.
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It was dreadful. Doctor Olibrier wasnearly knocked out. As for the
King, he held his tongue andshut himself up in his palace, But
a secret joy shone in his eyes, to the wonder of everyone. He
waited three days without a word.The third day the king said to his
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ministers, let us go now andsee how my poor people are doing,
and feel their pulse a little.The good King went to every house without
forgetting a single one. He visited, small and great, rich and poor.
Oh, oh, your majesty saidall the tart was good, but
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may we never see it again?Plague on that better were dry bread,
your majesty, for mercy's sake,a little dry bread, Oh, a
morsel of dry bread, How goodit would be. No, indeed,
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replied the King, there is moreof that tart. What, your majesty,
must we eat it all? Youmust, sternly, replied the King,
you must by the immortal beefsteaks.Not one of you shall have a
slice of bread, and not aloaf shall be baked in the kingdom while
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there remains a crumb of that excellenttart. What misery thought these poor people
that tart? Forever the sufferers werein despair. There was only one cry
through all the town. Oh ohoh, For even the strongest and most
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courageous were in horrible agonies. Theytwisted, they writhed, they lay down,
they got up, always the inexorablecolic. The dogs were not happier
than their masters, even they hadtoo much tart. The spiteful tart looked
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in at all the windows built upona height. It commanded the town.
The mere sight of it made everybodyill, and its former admirers had nothing
but curses for it. Now Unhappily, nothing they could say or do made
it any smaller. Still formidable,it was a frightful joke for those miserable
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mortals. Most of them buried theirheads in their pillows, drew their nightcaps
over their eyes, and lay inbed all day to shut out the sight
of it. But this would notdo. They knew, they felt it
was there. It was a nightmare, a horrible burden, a torturing anxiety.
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In the midst of this terrible consternation, the king remained inexorable during eight
days. His heart bled for hispeople. But the lesson must sink deep
if it were to bear fruit infuture. When their pains were cured little
by little through fasting alone, andhis subjects pronounced these trembling words, we
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are hungry, the King sent themtrays laden with the inevitable tart. Oh,
cried they with anguish, the tartagain, always the tart, And
nothing but the tart better were death. A few who were almost famished,
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shut their eyes and tried to eata bit of the detested food, but
it was all in vain they couldnot swallow a mouthful. At length came
the happy day when the King,thinking their punishment had been severe enough and
could never be forgotten, believed themat length cured of their greediness. That
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day he ordered Mother Mitchell to makein one of her colossal pots a super
excellent soup, of which a bowlwas sent to every family. They received
it with as much rapture as theHebrews did the manna in the desert.
They would gladly have had twice asmuch, but after their long fast,
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it would not have been prudent.It was a proof that they had learned
something already, that they understood this. The next day more soup. This
time the king allowed slices of breadin it. How this good soup comforted
all all the town. The nextday there was a little more bread in
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it, and a little soup meat. Then for a few days the kind
prints gave them roast, beef andvegetables. The cure was complete. The
joy over this new diet was asgreat as ever had been felt for the
tart. It promised to last longer. They were sure to sleep soundly and
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to wake refreshed. It was pleasantto see in every house tables, surrounded
with happy, rosy faces and ladenwith good, nourishing food. The greedy
people never fell back into their oldways. Their once puffed out, sallow
faces shone with health. They becamenot fat, but muscular, ruddy and
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solid. The butchers and bakers reopenedtheir shops, the pastry cooks and confectioners
shut theirs. The country of thegreedy was turned upside down, and if
it kept its name, it wasonly from habit As for the tart,
it was forgotten. Today in thatmarvelous country there cannot be found a paper
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of sugar plums or a basket ofcakes. It is charming to see the
red lips in the beautiful teeth ofthe people. If they still have a
king, he may well be proudto be their ruler. Does this story
teach that tarts and pies should neverbe eaten? No, but there is
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reason in all things. The doctorsalone did not profit by this great revolution.
They could not afford to drink wineany longer. In a land where
indigestion had become unknown. The apothecarieswere no less unhappy. Spiders spun webs
over their windows, and their horribleremedies were no longer of use. Ask
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no more about Mother Mitchell. Shewas ridiculed without measure by those who had
adored her. To complete her misfortune, she lost her cat Alas for Mother
Mitchell, the king received the rewardof his wisdom. His grateful people called
him neither Charles the Bold, norPeter the Terrible, nor Louis the Great,
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but always by the noble name ofProsper the first. The reasonable end
of Section one
Section one of good cheer stories everychild should know. This is a LibriVox
recording. All LibriVox recordings are inthe public domain. For more information or
to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dotorg. Recording by Kay Grayson. The
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Kingdom of the Greedy by P.J. Stahl, translated by Laura W.
Johnson. This fairy tale of agormandizing people contains no mention of Thanksgiving
Day, yet its connection with ourAmerican festival is obvious. Everyone who likes
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fairy tales will enjoy reading it.The Country of the Greedy, well known
in history, was ruled by aking who had much trouble. His subjects
were well behaved, but they hadone sad fault. They were too fond
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of pies and tarts. It wasas disagreeable to them to swallow a spoonful
of soup as if it were somuch sea water, and it would take
a policeman to make them open theirmouths for a bit of meat, either
boiled or roasted. This deplorable tastemade the fortunes of the pastry cooks,
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but also of the apothecaries. Familiesruined themselves in pills and powders, camomeal,
rhubarb and peppermint traveled in price,as well as other disagreeable remedies such
as castor, which I shall notname. The King of the Greedy sought
long for the means of correcting thisfatal passion for sweets. But even the
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faculty were puzzled. Your Majesty,said the great court doctor Olibrier at his
last audience. Your people look likeputty. They are incurable. Their senseless
love for good eating will bring themall to the grave. This view of
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things did not suit the King.He was wise and saw very plainly that
a monarch without subjects would be buta sorry king. Happily, after this
utter failure of the doctors, therecame into the mind of his Majesty a
first class idea he telegraphed for MotherMitchell, the most celebrated of all pastry
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cooks. Mother Michell soon arrived withher black cat, Thamfoulouche, who accompanied
her everywhere. He was an incomparablecat. He had not his equal as
an adviser and a taster of tarts. Mother Michell, having respectfully inquired what
she when her cat, could dofor his Majesty, the King demanded of
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the astonished pastry cook a tart asbig as the Capital, bigger even if
possible, but no smaller. Whenthe 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 themfrom crying, long live your majesty in
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his very ears. But the Kinghad seen enough of the enthusiasm of the
populace and did not allow such soundsin the recesses of his palace. The
King gave Mother Michel one month tocarry out his gigantic project. It is
enough, she proudly replied, brandishingher crutch. Then taking leave of the
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king, she and her cat setout for their home. On the way,
Mother Michel arranged in her head theplan of the monument which was to
immortalize her, and considered the meansof executing it. As to its form
and size. It was to beas exact a copy of the Capital as
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possible, since the King had willedit, but its outside crust should have
a beauty all its own. Thedome must be adorned with sugar plums of
all colors, and surmounted by asplendid crown of macaroons, spun sugar,
chocolate, and candied fruits. Itwas no small affair. Mother Michel did
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not like to lose her time.Her plan of battle. Once formed,
she recruited on her way all thelittle pastry cooks of the country, as
well as all the tiny six yearolds who had a sincere love for the
noble callings of scullion and a prentice. There were plenty of these, as
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you may suppose, in the countryof the greedy. Mother Michel had her
pick of them. Mother Michell,with the help of her crutch and of
Fanfarlouche, who miawed loud enough tobe heard twenty miles off, called upon
all the millers of the land,and commanded them to bring together at a
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certain time as many sacks of fineflour as they could grind in a week.
There were only windmills in that country. You may easily believe how they
all began to go bah, Whata noise they made. The clatter was
so great that all the birds flewaway to other climes, and even the
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clouds fled from the sky. Atthe call of Mother Michell, all the
farmers wives were set to work theyrushed to the hen coops to collect the
seven thousand fresh eggs that Mother Michellwanted for her great edifice. Deep was
the emotion of the fowls. Thehens were inconsolable, and the unhappy creatures
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mourned upon the palings for the lossof all their hopes. The milkmaids were
busy from morning till night in milkingthe cows. Mother Mitchell must have twenty
thousand pails of milk. All thelittle calves were put on half rations.
This great work was nothing to them, and they complained pitifully to their mothers.
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Many of the cows protested with energyagainst this unreasonable tax, which made
their young families so uncomfortable. Therewere pails upset, and even some milkmaids
went head over heels. But theselittle accidents did not chill the enthusiasm of
the laborers, and now Mother Mitchellcalled for a thousand pounds of the best
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butter. All the churns for twentymiles around began to work in the most
lively manner. Their dashers dashed withoutceasing, keeping perfect time. The butter
was tasted, rolled into pats,wrapped up and put into baskets. Such
energy had never been known before.Mother Michell passed for a sorceress. It
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was all because of her cat,Fanfarulouche, with whom she had mysterious doings
and pantomimes, and with whom shetalked 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
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a magician. Some curious people hadthe courage to ask Fanfoulouche if this were
true, but he had replied bybristling and showing his teeth and claws so
fiercely that the conversation had ended there. Sorceress or not, Mother Michell was
always obeyed. No one else wasever served so punctually. On the appointed
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day, all the millers arrived withtheir asses trotting in single file, each
laden with a great sack of flour. Mother Michell, after having examined the
quality of the flower, had everysack accurately weighed. This was head work
and hard work, and took time. But Mother Michell was untiring, and
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her cat also, For while theoperation lasted, he sat on the roof
watching. It is only just tosay that the millers of the greedy kingdom
brought flower not only faughtless, butfull of weight. They knew that Mother
Michel was not joking when she saidthat others must be as exact with her
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as she was with them. Perhapsalso they were a little afraid of the
cat, whose great green eyes werealways shining upon them like two round lamps,
and never lost sight of them forone moment. All the farm wives
arrived in turn with baskets of eggsupon their heads. They did not load
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their donkeys with them, for fearthat in jogging along they would become omelets.
On the way. Mother Michell receivedthem with her usual gravity. She
had the patience to look through everyegg to see if it were fresh.
She did not wish to run therisk of having young chickens in a tart
that was destined for those who couldnot bear the taste of any meat,
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however tender and delicate. The numberof eggs was complete, and again Mother
Michell and her cat had nothing tocomplain of. This greedy nation, though
carried away by love of good eating, was strictly honest. It must be
said that where nations are patriotic.Desire for the common good makes them unselfish.
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Mother Michell's tart was to be theglory of the country, and each
one was proud to contribute to sosuch a great work. And now the
milk maids with their pots and pailsof milk, and the butter makers,
with their baskets filled with the richyellow pats of butter, filed in long
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procession to the right and left ofthe cabin of Mother Mitchel. There was
no need for her to examine socarefully the butter and the milk. She
had such a delicate nose that ifthere had been a single pat of ancient
butter or a pail of sour milk, she would have pounced upon it instantly.
But all was perfectly fresh. Inthat golden age, they did not
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understand the art now so well knownof making milk out of flour and water.
Real milk was necessary to make cheesecakesand ice cream and other delicious confections
much adored in the greedy kingdom.If anyone had made such a despicable discovery,
he would have been chased from thecountry as a public nuisance. Then
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came the grocers with their aprons ofcoffee bags, and with the jolly,
mischievous faces the rogues always have,each one clasped to his heart a sugar
loaf, nearly as large as himself, whose summit, without its paper cap,
looked like new fallen snow. Upona pyramid. Mother Michel, with
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her crutch for a baton, sawthem all placed in her store rooms,
upon shelves put up for the purpose. She had to be very strict,
for some of the little fellows couldhardly part from their merchandise, and many
were indiscreet with their tongues behind theirgreat mountains of sugar. If they had
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been let alone, they would neverhave stopped till the sugar was all gone.
But they had not thought of theimplacable eye of old Fauvrelouche, who
posted upon a water spout, tooknote of all their misdeeds. From another
quarter came a whole army of countrypeople, rolling wheelbarrows and carrying huge baskets,
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all filled with cherries, plums,peaches, apples, and pears.
All these fruits were so fresh,in such perfect condition, with their fair,
shining skins, that they looked likewax or painted marble. But their
delicious perfume proved that they were real. Some little people hidden in the corners
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took pains to find this out.Between ourselves. Mother Michel made believe not
to see them, and took theprecaution of holding Faumfeluche in her arms so
that he could not spring upon them. The fruits were all put into bins,
each kind by itself, and nowthe preparations were finished, there was
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no time to lose before setting towork. The spot which Mother Michel had
chosen for her great edifice was apretty hill on which a plateau formed a
splendid site. This hill commanded thecapital city, built upon the slope of
another hill close by. After havingbeaten down the earth till it was as
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smooth as a floor, they spreadover it loads of bread crumbs brought from
the baker's and leveled it with rakeand spade, as we do gravel in
our garden walks. Little birds asgreedy as themselves came in flocks to the
east. But they might eat asthey liked. It would never be missed.
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So thick was the carpet. Itwas a great chance for the bold
little things. All the ingredients forthe tart were now ready. Upon order
of Mother Michel, they began topeel the apples and pears, and to
take out the pips. The weatherwas so pleasant that the girls sat out
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of doors upon the ground in longrows. The sun looked down upon them
with a merry face. Each ofthe little workers had a big earthen pan
and peeled incessantly the apples, whichthe boys brought them. When the pans
were full, they were carried away, and others were brought. They had
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also to carry away the peals,or the girls would have been buried in
them. Never was there such apealing before. Not far away the children
were stoning the plums, cherries andpeaches. This work, being the easiest,
was given to the youngest and mostinexperienced hands, which were all first
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carefully washed. For Mother Mitchell,though not particular about her own toilet,
was very neat in her cooking.The schoolhouse long unused for in the country
of the greedy, they had forgotten. Everything was arranged for this second class
of workers, and the cat wastheir inspector. He walked round and round,
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growling if he saw the fruit poppinginto any of the little mouths,
if they had dared, how theywould have pelted him with plum stones,
but no one risked it. FaanFraleouche was not to be trifled with.
In those days, powdered sugar hadnot been invented, and to grate it
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all was no small affair. Itwas the work that the grocers used to
dislike the most. Both lungs andarms were soon tired, but Mother Michel
was there to sustain them with herunequaled energy. She chose the laborers from
the most robust of the boys.With mallet and knife, she broke the
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cones into round pieces, and theygrated them till they were too small to
hold. The bits were put intobaskets to be pounded. One would never
have expected to find all the thousandpounds of sugar again, but a new
miracle was wrought by Mother Mitchell.It was all there. It was then
the turn of the ambitious Scullions toenter the lists and break the seven thousand
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eggs for Mother Michell. It wasnot hard to break them. Any fool
could do that. But to separateadroitly the yolks and the whites demand some
talent and above all great care.We dare not say that there were no
accidents here, no eggs too wellscrambled, no baskets upset. But the
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experience of Mother Michell had counted uponsuch things, and it may truly be
said that there were never so manyeggs broken at once, or ever could
be again. To make an omeletof them would have taken a saucepan as
large as a skating pond, Andthe fattest cook that ever lived could not
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hold the handle of such a saucepan. But this was not all. Now
that the yolks and whites were oncedivided, they must each be beaten separately
in wooden bowls to give them thenecessary lightness. The egg beaters were marshaled
into two brigades, the yellow andthe white. Every One preferred the white,
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for it was much more amusing tomake those snowy masses that rose up
so high than to beat the yolks, which knew no better than to mix
together like so much sauce. MotherMichel, with her usual wisdom, had
avoided this difficulty by casting lots.Thus those who were not on the white
side had no reason to complain ofoppression, And truly, when all was
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done, the whites and the yellowswere equally tired. All had cramps in
their hands. Now began the reallabor of Mother Michell. Till now she
had been the commander in chief,the head. Only now she put her
own finger in the pie. First, she had to make sweetmeats and jam
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out of all the immense quantity offruit she had stored. For this,
as she could only do one kindat a time, she had ten kettles,
each as big as a dinner table. During forty eight hours, the
cooking went on. A dozen scullionsblew the fire and put on the fuel.
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Mother Mitchell, with a spoon thatfour modern cooks could hardly lift,
never ceased stirring and trying the boilingfruit. Three expert tasters, chosen from
the most dainty, had orders toreport progress every half hour. It is
unnecessary to state that all the sweetmeatswere perfectly successful, or that they were
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of exquisite consistency, color, andperfume. With Mother Michell, there was
no such word as fail. Wheneach kind of sweetmeat was finished, she
skimmed it and put it away tocool in enormous bowls before potting. She
did not use for this the usuallittle glass or earthen jars, but great
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stone ones like those in the fortythieves. Not only did these take less
time to fill, but they weresafe from the children. The scum and
the scrapings were something to be sure. But there was little Toto who thought
this was not enough. He wouldhave jumped into one of the bowls if
they had not held him. MotherMitchell, who thought of everything, had
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ordered two hundred great kneading troughs,wishing that all the utensils of this great
work should be perfectly new. Thesetwo hundred troughs, like her other materials,
were all delivered punctually and in goodorder. The pastry cooks rolled up
their sleeves and began to knead thedough, with cries of high high that
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could be heard for miles. Itwas odd to see this army of bakers
in serried ranks, all making thesame gestures at once, like well disciplined
soldiers, stooping and rising together intime, so that a foreign ambassador wrote
to his court that he wished hispeople could load in fire as well as
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these could. Need such praise apeople never forgets. When each troughful of
paste was approved, it was moldedwith care into the form of bricks,
and with the aid of the engineerin chief, a young genius who had
gained the first prize in the schoolof architecture, the majestic edifice was begun.
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Mother Michel herself drew the plan infollowing her directions, the young engineers
showed himself modest beyond all praise.He had the good sense to understand that
the architecture of tarts and pies hadrules of its own, and that therefore
the experience of Mother Mitchel was worthall the scientific theories in the world.
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The inside of the monument was dividedinto as many compartments as there were kinds
of fruits. The walls were noless than four feet thick. When they
were finished. Twenty four ladders wereset up, and twenty four experienced cooks
ascended them. These first class artistswere, each of them armed with an
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enormous cooking spoon. Behind them onthe lower rounds of the ladders followed the
kitchen boys, carrying on their headspots and pans filled to the brim with
jam and sweetmeats, each sort readyto be poured into its destined compartment.
This colossal labor was accomplished in oneday, and with wonderful exactness. When
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the sweetmeats were used to the lastdrop. When the great spoons had done
all their work, the twenty fourcooks descended to earth again. The intrepid
Mother Michel, who had never quittedthe spot, now ascended, followed by
the noble Fanfarouche, and dipped herfinger into each of the compartments to assure
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herself that everything was right. Thispart of her duty was not disagreeable,
and many of the scullions would haveliked to perform it, but they might
have lingered too long over the enchantingtask. As for Mother Michell, she
had been too well used to sweetsto be excited. Now she only wished
to do her duty and to insuresuccess all went on well. Mother Michel
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had given her approbation. Nothing wasneeded now but to crown the sublime and
delicious edifice by placing upon it thecrust, that is the roof or dome.
This delicate operation was confided to theengineer in chief, who now showed
his superior genius. The dome,made beforehand of a single piece, was
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raised in the air by means oftwelve balloons, whose force of ascension had
been carefully calculated. First it wasdirected by ropes exactly over the top of
the tart. Then, at theword of command, it gently descended upon
the right spot. It was nota quarter of an inch out of place.
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This was a great triumph for MotherMitchel and her able assistant. But
all was not over. How shouldthis colossal tart be cooked? That was
the question that agitated all the peopleof the greedy country, who came in
crowds, lords and commons to gazeat the wonderful spectacle. Some of the
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envious or ill tempered declared it wouldbe impossible to cook the edifice which Mother
Michel had built, and the doctorswere no one knows why. The saddest
of all, Mother Mitchell, smilingat the general bewilderment, mounted the summit
of the tart. She waved hercrutch in the air, and while her
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cat meowed in his sweetest voice.Suddenly there issued from the woods a vast
number of masons, drawing wagons ofwell baked bricks, which they had prepared
in secret. This sight silenced theill wishers and filled the hearts of the
greedy with hope. In two days, an enormous furnace was built around and
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above the colossal tart, which founditself shut up in an immense earthen pot.
Thirty huge mouths, which were connectedwith thousands of winding pipes for conducting
heat all over the building, weresoon choked with fuel by the help of
two hundred charcoal burners, who,obeying a private signal, came forth in
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long array from the forest, eachcarrying his sack of coal. Behind them
stood Mother Michel with a box ofmatches, ready to fire each oven as
it was filled. Of course,the kindlings had not been forgotten, and
was all soon in a blaze.When the fire was lighted in the thirty
ovens. When they saw the cloudsof smoke rolling over the dome that announced
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that the cooking had begun, thejoy of the people was boundless. Poets
improvised odes, and musicians sung verseswithout end in honor of the superb prince,
who had been inspired to feed hispeople in so dainty a manner,
when other rulers could not give themeven enough of dry bread. The names
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of Mother Michel and of the illustriousengineer were not forgotten in this great glorification
next to His Majesty, They werecertainly the first of mankind, and their
names were worthy of going down withhis to the remotest posterity. All the
envious ones were thunderstruck. They triedto console themselves by saying that the work
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was not yet finished, and thatan accident might happen at the last moment,
but they did not really believe aword of this. Notwithstanding all their
efforts to look cheerful, it hadbeen acknowledged that the cooking was possible.
Their last resource was to declare thetart a bad one, but that would
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be biting off their own noses.As for declining to eat it, envy
could never go so far as thatin the country of the greedy. After
two days, the unerring nose ofMother Michel discovered that the tart was cooked
to perfection. The whole country wasperfumed with its delicious aroma. Nothing more
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remained but to take down the furnaces. Mother Michel made her official announcement to
His Majesty, who was delighted andcomplimented her upon her punctuality. One day,
was still wanting to complete the month. During this time, the people
gave their eager help to the engineerin the demolition, wishing to have a
hand in the great national work,and to hasten the blessed moment. In
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the twinkling of an eye, thething was done. The bricks were taken
down one by one, counted carefully, and carried into the forest again to
serve for another occasion. The tartunveiled appeared at last, in all its
majesty and splendor. The dome wasgilded and reflected the rays of the sun
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in the most dazzling manner. Thewildest excitement and rapture ran through the land
of the greedy. Each one leftwith open nostrils the appetizing perfume, their
mouths watered, their eyes filled withtears. They embraced, pressed each other's
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hands, and indulged in touching pantomimes. Then the people of town and country,
united by one rapturous feeling, joinedhands and danced in a ring around
the grand confection. No one daredto touch the tart before the arrival of
his majesty. Meanwhile, something mustbe done to allay the universal impatience,
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and they resolved to show Mother Michelthe gratitude with which all hearts were filled.
She was crowned with the laurel ofConquerors, which is also the laurel
of sauce, thus serving a doublepurpose. Then they placed her with her
crutch and her cat, upon asort of throne, and carried her all
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round her vast work. Before hermarched all the musicians of the town,
dancing, drumming, fifing, andtooting upon all instruments, while behind her
pressed an enthusiastic crowd, who rentthe air with their plaudits and filled it
with a shower of caps. Herfame was complete, and a noble pride
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shone on her countenance. The royalprocession arrived. A grand stairway had been
built so that the king and hisministers could mount to the summit of this
monumental tart. Then the king,amid a deep silence, thus addressed his
people, my children, He said, you adore tarts. You despise all
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other food. If you could,you would even eat tarts in your sleep.
Very well, eat as much asyou like. Here is one big
enough to satisfy you. But knowthis that while there remains a single crumb
of this august tart, from theheight of which I am proud to look
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down on you. All other foodis forbidden you, on pain of death.
While you are here, I haveordered all the pantries to be emptied,
and all the butchers, bakers,pork and milk dealers, and fishmongers
to shut up their shops. Whyleave them open? Why indeed have you
(30:34):
not here at discretion? What youlove best and enough to last you ever
ever so long, devote yourselves toit with all your hearts. I do
not wish you to be bored withthe sight of any other food. Greedy
ones, behold your tart? Whatenthusiastic aplyaly claws, What frantic hurrahs rent
(31:02):
the air? In answer to thiseloquent speech from the throne, long live
the king, Mother Michell and hercat. Long live the tart. Down
with soup, down with bread,to the bottom of the sea, with
all beef, steaks, mutton,chops and roasts. Such cries came from
(31:23):
every lip. Old men gently strokedtheir chops, children patted their little stomachs.
The crowd licked its thousand lips witheager joy. Even the babies danced
in their nurse's arms. So precociouswas the passion for tarts. In this
singular country. Grave professors, skippinglike kids, declaimed Latin verses in honor
(31:48):
of his majesty and Mother. Mitchelland 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. Adetachment of the engineer corps arrived, armed
(32:12):
with pick and cutlass, and marchedin good order to the assault. A
breach was soon opened, and thedistribution began. The King smiled at the
opening in the tart. Though vast, it hardly showed more than a mouse
hole in the monstrous wall. TheKing stroked his beard grandly. All goes
(32:35):
well, said he. For himwho knows how to wait, who can
tell how long the feast would havelasted 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, andthen rushed to the river. Never had
(32:57):
a nation been so besmeared. Somewere daubed the eyes, others had their
ears and hair all sticky. Asfor the little ones, they were marmalade
from head to foot. When theyhad finished their toilets, the river ran
all red and yellow and was sweetenedfor several hours, to the great surprise
(33:19):
of all the fishes. Before returninghome, the people presented themselves before the
king to receive his commands. Children, said he, the feast will begin
again exactly at six o'clock. Givetime to wash the dishes and change the
tablecloths, and you may once moregive yourselves over to pleasure. You shall
(33:45):
feast twice a day as long asthe tart lasts do not forget. Yes,
if there is not enough in thisone, I will even order another
from Mother Mitchel. For you know, oh, that great woman is indefatigable.
Your happiness is my only aim.Marks of universal joy and emotion were
(34:09):
seen. You understand noon and sixo'clock. There is no need for me
to say be punctual. Go thenmy children be happy. The second feast
was as gay as the first andas long. A pleasant walk in the
(34:30):
suburb's first exercise then a nap hadrefreshed their appetites and unlimbered their jaws.
But the keen fancied that the breachmade in the tart was a little smaller
than that of the morning. TisWell said he tis well, wait till
tomorrow, my friends, Yes,till day after tomorrow, and next week.
(34:54):
The next day the feast still wenton gaily. 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 Olibrier.
(35:15):
A few weak stomachs, that isall. On the next day there
were larger empty spaces. The enthusiasmvisibly abated. The eighth day the crowd
had diminished one half, the ninththree quarters. The tenth day, of
(35:36):
the thousand who came at first,only two hundred remained, on the eleventh
day only one hundred, and onthe twelfth alas who would have fought it,
a single one answered to the call. Truly he was big enough.
His body resembled a hogshead, hismouth an oven, and his lips we
(36:00):
dare not say what. He wasknown in the town by the name of
Patapouf. They dug out a freshlump for him from the middle of the
tart. It quickly vanished in hisvast interior, and he retired with great
dignity proud to maintain the honor ofhis name and the glory of the greedy
(36:21):
kingdom. But the next day evenhe the very last, appeared no more.
The unfortunate Patapouf had succumbed, andlike all the other inhabitants of the
country, was in a very badway. In short, it was soon
known that the whole town had sufferedagonies that night from too much tart.
(36:45):
Let us draw a veil over thosehours of torture. Mother Mitchel was in
despair. Those ministers who had notguessed the secret dared not open their lips.
All the city was one vast hospital. No one was seen in the
streets but doctors and apothecaries, boysrunning from house to house in frantic haste.
(37:09):
It was dreadful. Doctor Olibrier wasnearly knocked out. As for the
King, he held his tongue andshut himself up in his palace, But
a secret joy shone in his eyes, to the wonder of everyone. He
waited three days without a word.The third day the king said to his
(37:31):
ministers, let us go now andsee how my poor people are doing,
and feel their pulse a little.The good King went to every house without
forgetting a single one. He visited, small and great, rich and poor.
Oh, oh, your majesty saidall the tart was good, but
(37:55):
may we never see it again?Plague on that better were dry bread,
your majesty, for mercy's sake,a little dry bread, Oh, a
morsel of dry bread, How goodit would be. No, indeed,
(38:15):
replied the King, there is moreof that tart. What, your majesty,
must we eat it all? Youmust, sternly, replied the King,
you must by the immortal beefsteaks.Not one of you shall have a
slice of bread, and not aloaf shall be baked in the kingdom while
(38:38):
there remains a crumb of that excellenttart. What misery thought these poor people
that tart? Forever the sufferers werein despair. There was only one cry
through all the town. Oh ohoh, For even the strongest and most
(39:01):
courageous were in horrible agonies. Theytwisted, they writhed, they lay down,
they got up, always the inexorablecolic. The dogs were not happier
than their masters, even they hadtoo much tart. The spiteful tart looked
(39:21):
in at all the windows built upona height. It commanded the town.
The mere sight of it made everybodyill, and its former admirers had nothing
but curses for it. Now Unhappily, nothing they could say or do made
it any smaller. Still formidable,it was a frightful joke for those miserable
(39:46):
mortals. Most of them buried theirheads in their pillows, drew their nightcaps
over their eyes, and lay inbed all day to shut out the sight
of it. But this would notdo. They knew, they felt it
was there. It was a nightmare, a horrible burden, a torturing anxiety.
(40:10):
In the midst of this terrible consternation, the king remained inexorable during eight
days. His heart bled for hispeople. But the lesson must sink deep
if it were to bear fruit infuture. When their pains were cured little
by little through fasting alone, andhis subjects pronounced these trembling words, we
(40:32):
are hungry, the King sent themtrays laden with the inevitable tart. Oh,
cried they with anguish, the tartagain, always the tart, And
nothing but the tart better were death. A few who were almost famished,
(40:55):
shut their eyes and tried to eata bit of the detested food, but
it was all in vain they couldnot swallow a mouthful. At length came
the happy day when the King,thinking their punishment had been severe enough and
could never be forgotten, believed themat length cured of their greediness. That
(41:20):
day he ordered Mother Mitchell to makein one of her colossal pots a super
excellent soup, of which a bowlwas sent to every family. They received
it with as much rapture as theHebrews did the manna in the desert.
They would gladly have had twice asmuch, but after their long fast,
(41:42):
it would not have been prudent.It was a proof that they had learned
something already, that they understood this. The next day more soup. This
time the king allowed slices of breadin it. How this good soup comforted
all all the town. The nextday there was a little more bread in
(42:04):
it, and a little soup meat. Then for a few days the kind
prints gave them roast, beef andvegetables. The cure was complete. The
joy over this new diet was asgreat as ever had been felt for the
tart. It promised to last longer. They were sure to sleep soundly and
(42:27):
to wake refreshed. It was pleasantto see in every house tables, surrounded
with happy, rosy faces and ladenwith good, nourishing food. The greedy
people never fell back into their oldways. Their once puffed out, sallow
faces shone with health. They becamenot fat, but muscular, ruddy and
(42:51):
solid. The butchers and bakers reopenedtheir shops, the pastry cooks and confectioners
shut theirs. The country of thegreedy was turned upside down, and if
it kept its name, it wasonly from habit As for the tart,
it was forgotten. Today in thatmarvelous country there cannot be found a paper
(43:15):
of sugar plums or a basket ofcakes. It is charming to see the
red lips in the beautiful teeth ofthe people. If they still have a
king, he may well be proudto be their ruler. Does this story
teach that tarts and pies should neverbe eaten? No, but there is
(43:36):
reason in all things. The doctorsalone did not profit by this great revolution.
They could not afford to drink wineany longer. In a land where
indigestion had become unknown. The apothecarieswere no less unhappy. Spiders spun webs
over their windows, and their horribleremedies were no longer of use. Ask
(43:58):
no more about Mother Mitchell. Shewas ridiculed without measure by those who had
adored her. To complete her misfortune, she lost her cat Alas for Mother
Mitchell, the king received the rewardof his wisdom. His grateful people called
him neither Charles the Bold, norPeter the Terrible, nor Louis the Great,
(44:22):
but always by the noble name ofProsper the first. The reasonable end
of Section one
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