A CHILD’S DREAM

It had been a beautiful day in early spring. It was warm enough to pay outside without even so much as a jacket or sweater. The smell of wild plum blossoms and new green things growing was in the air, air so fresh and balmy that you wanted to jump high into it. Jenny and Margaret and Mother and Daddy had gone over to Uncle Joe’s that Sunday afternoon, just yesterday. Often when they went visiting, they went to the corner north of the windmill and would turn west to go to Uncle Joe’s or east to go to Uncle George’s, but they always turned off at the corner. Beyond the corner was a narrow, seldom traveled road, grown high with last summer’s weeds on either side. Jenny wondered where it led and and thought it must be to some enchanted place.

That night, after Mother had tucked her into bed, Jenny thought of the road past the corner. Suddenly it seemed as though she and Margaret and their cousin Amy Lou had gone with Daddy to the windmill. He told them they could walk around or play for a while, as he needed to check something on the windmill and it might take a while.

So hand in hand, the three little girls started off up the road, dancing and laughing in the sunshine. They walked and walked until they came to the corner. At that point, there was no question but what they should venture up the lane that led beyond. The tall dried up weeds turned to grass and flowers. Amy Lou held up the corners of her pinafore apron and they filled it with flowers as they walked along. Bright birds flew right over their heads, singing splendid songs. A rabbit hopped beside them so closely, they could have touched him. Maybe it was the Easter rabbit.

In a small green valley at the bottom of the lane, was a wonderful pink stone cottage with a steep tiled roof. Here the flowers grew higher than the roof top, tall as trees. They walked single file up a cobblestone path between the flowers. There stood a little old wizened up woman. She wore a lace cap and a long sleeved brown printed dress that reached her ankles. Her feet were encased in old fashioned buttoned shoes. On her arm she carried a basket of peaches that were as shriveled as herself.

“Why,” thought Jenny, “It’s the Wee Wee Woman.”


The old woman spoke to them in a sweet kindly voice. “Won’t you come into my house for some cookies and hot cocoa?”

Jenny and Amy Lou started for her house at once, but Margaret stopped them and whispered . “No! It’s the old witch from Hansel and Gretel”

They turned and fled, their hearts pounding, their feet barely touching the ground. In an instant they were back at the windmill. Amy Lou dumped an apron full of dried up weeds by the roadside.