Peasie and Beansie

Once upon a time there were two sisters, who lived together; but while

the elder, Beansie by name, was a hard quarrelsome creature, apt to

disagree with everybody, Peasie, the younger, was soft and most

agreeable.

Now, one day, Peasie, who was for ever trying to please somebody, said

to her sister, 'Beansie, my dear! don't you think we ought to pay a

visit to our poor old father? He must be dull now--it is harvest

time, and he is left alone in the house.'

'I don't care if he is!' replied Beansie. 'Go yourself! I'm not

going to walk about in the heat to please any old man!'

So kind Peasie set off alone, and on the way she met a plum-tree.

'Oh, Peasie!' cried the tree, 'stop a bit, there's a good soul, and

tidy up my thorns a little; they are scattered about so that I feel

quite uncomfortable!'

'So they are, I declare!' returned Peasie, and forthwith set to work

with such a will that ere long the tree was as neat as a new pin.

A little farther on she met a fire, and the fire cried out, 'Oh, sweet

Peasie! tidy up my hearth a bit, for I am half choked in the ashes!'

'So you are, I declare!' returned good-natured Peasie, setting herself

to clear them away, until the fire crackled and flamed with pleasure.

Farther on she met a _pîpal_ tree, and the _pîpal_ called

out, 'Oh, kind Peasie! bind up this broken branch for me, or it will

die, and I shall lose it!'

'Poor thing! poor thing!' cried soft-hearted Peasie; and tearing a

bandage from her veil, she bound up the wounded limb carefully.

After a while she met a stream, and the stream cried out, 'Pretty

Peasie! clear away the sand and dead leaves from my mouth, for I

cannot run when I am stifled!'

'No more you can!' quoth obliging Peasie; and in a trice she made the

channel so clear and clean that the water flowed on swiftly.

At last she arrived, rather tired, at her old father's house, but his

delight at seeing her was so great that he would scarcely let her away

in the evening, and insisted on giving her a spinning-wheel, a

buffalo, some brass pots, a bed, and all sorts of things, just as if

she had been a bride going to her husband. These she put on the

buffalo's back, and set off homewards.

Now, as she passed the stream, she saw a web of fine cloth floating

down.

'Take it, Peasie, take it!' tinkled the stream; 'I have carried it

far, as a reward for your kindness.'

So she gathered up the cloth, laid it on the buffalo, and went on her

way.

By and by she passed the _pîpal_ tree, and lo! on the branch she

had tied up hung a string of pearls.

'Take it, Peasie, take it!' rustled the _pîpal_; 'I caught it

from a Prince's turban as a reward for your kindness.'

Then she took the pearls, fastened them round her pretty slender

throat, and went on her way rejoicing.

Farther on she came to the fire, burning brightly, and on it was a

girdle with a nice hot sweet-cake.

'Take it, Peasie, take it!' crackled the fire; 'I have cooked it to a

turn, in reward for your kindness.'

So lucky Peasie took the nice hot cake, and, dividing it into two

pieces, put one aside for her sister, and ate the other while she went

on her way.

Now when she reached the plum-tree, the topmost branches were bending

down, covered with ripe yellow fruit.

'Take some, Peasie, take some!' groaned the laden tree; 'I have

ripened these as a reward for your kindness.'

So she gathered her veil full, and eating some, set the rest aside for

her sister; but when she arrived at home, instead of being pleased at

her little sister's good fortune and thoughtfulness, disagreeable

Beansie nearly cried with spite and envy, and was so cross, that poor

little sweet Peasie became quite remorseful over her own luck, and

suggested that her sister might be equally fortunate if she also went

to visit her father.

So, next morning, greedy Beansie set off to see what she could get

from the old man. But when she came to the plum-tree, and it cried

out, 'Oh, Beansie! stop a bit and tidy up my thorns a little, there's

a good soul!' the disobliging Beansie tossed her head, and replied, 'A

likely story! Why, I could travel three miles in the time it would

take me to settle up your stupid old thorns! Do it yourself!'

And when she met the _pîpal_ tree, and it asked her to tie up its

broken branch, she only laughed, saying, 'It doesn't hurt _me_,

and I should have walked three miles in the time it would take to set

it right; so ask somebody else!'

Then when the fire said to her, 'Oh, sweet Beansie! tidy up my hearth

a bit, for I am half choked by my ashes,' the unkind girl replied,

'The more fool you for having ashes! You don't suppose I am going to

dawdle about helping people who won't help themselves? Not a bit of

it!'

So when she met the stream, and it asked her to clear away the sand

and the dead leaves which choked it, she replied, 'Do you imagine I'm

going to stop my walk that you may run? No, no!--every one for

himself!'

At last she reached her father's house, full of determination not to

go away without a heavy load for at least two buffaloes, when, just as

she was entering the courtyard, her brother and his wife fell upon

her, and whacked her most unmercifully, crying, 'So this is your plan,

is it? Yesterday comes Peasie, while we were hard at work, and

wheedles her doting old father out of his best buffalo, and goodness

knows what else besides, and to-day _you_ come to rob us! Out of

the house, you baggage!'

With that they hounded her away, hot, tired, bruised, and hungry.

'Never mind!' said she, to console herself, 'I shall get the web of

cloth yet!'

Sure enough, when she crossed the stream, there was a web, three times

as fine as Peasie's, floating close to the shore, and greedy Beansie

went straight to get it; but, alas! the water was so deep that she was

very nearly drowned, while the beautiful cloth floated past her very

fingers. Thus all she got for her pains was a ducking.

'Never mind!' thought she, 'I'll have the string of pearls!'

Yes, there it hung on the broken branch; but when Beansie jumped to

catch it, branch and all fell right on her head, so that she was

stunned. When she came to herself, some one else had walked off with

the pearls, and she had only a bump on her head as big as an egg.

All these misfortunes had quite wearied her out; she was starving with

hunger, and hurried on to the fire, hoping for a nice hot sweet

girdle-cake.

Yes, there it was, smelling most deliciously, and Beansie snatched at

it so hastily that she burnt her fingers horribly and the cake rolled

away. Before she had done blowing at her fingers and hopping about in

pain, a crow had carried off the cake, and she was left lamenting.

'At any rate, I'll have the plums!' cried miserable Beansie, setting

off at a run, her mouth watering at the sight of the luscious yellow

fruit on the topmost branches. First she held on to a lower branch

with her left hand, and reached for the fruit with the right; then,

when that was all scratched and torn by the thorns, she held on with

her right, and tried to get the fruit with the left, but all to no

avail; and when face and hands were all bleeding and full of prickles,

she gave up the useless quest, and went home, bruised, beaten, wet,

sore, hungry, and scratched all over, where I have no doubt her kind

sister Peasie put her to bed, and gave her gruel and posset.