There was once a little goblin woman who had six sons. They were very ugly little boys with brown, wizened faces, and eyes as black as sloes. They had very big heads, and though they were so fat, their legs were so thin you wouldn’t believe!

Now, the little goblin woman thought the world of her six little sons, and she had given them all pretty flower names—Clover, Buttercup, Sorrel, Bluebell, Cowslip, and Dandelion.

The little goblin woman was very poor, but the way she managed was something wonderful! She and her little family lived in a hollow tree, with a little garden round it. There were three floors inside and a little string ladder connected the rooms. The first floor was a kitchen. It was ever so clean and cosy, and it was here that the family had meals, and sat in the cold winter evenings round the little twig fire, listening to the wind and rain outside.

The next floor was a bedroom, and the top floor was the drawing-room. Its walls were decorated with colored leaves, and it was here that visitors were received.

Well, one cold, rainy evening the whole family was sitting round the kitchen fire drinking broth, when the little goblin woman said, “Dandelion, it’s your turn to fetch the water to-night, dearie.”

“Yes, Mum,” said Dandelion; and taking his last drink of broth he ran to wash his acorn cup and put it away.

“You do make lovely broth, Mum,” said Clover, smacking his lips.

“Not half!” cried the other five little goblins all together.

“That’s right,” said the little goblin woman. “Good-bye, Dandelion lovie; don’t be gone all night.”

“Good-bye, Mum,” cried Dandelion, nearly hugging the little woman’s head off; and away he ran with the wooden bucket over his head.

He had not gone far through the forest when he heard a sound of crying. So he took the bucket from over his head and looked about. Then it was that he saw a great big shoe standing in a puddle, and it was from this shoe that the sound of crying came. Dandelion crept nearer, and, looking through a little hole in the heel, was just in time to see an old woman smacking a wee girl about his own size.

“Hi!” cried Dandelion, “stop that!”

In her astonishment the old woman stopped, and the little girl scuttled into the toe of the shoe.

“May I come in?” said Dandelion, and without waiting for an answer he scrambled through the hole and dropped into the shoe. The old woman looked at him for a minute very angrily, then burst into tears.

“Oh, the little wretches!” she cried; “they do lead me a life! Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear! I’ve got so many children I don’t know what to do!”

“How many?” asked Dandelion.

“FIVE, if you’ll believe me!” cried the little dame; “and them always getting into mischief.”

“There’s six of us,” said Dandelion.

“Oh, your poor ma!” cried the old woman with uplifted hands and upturned eyes.

“She likes it,” said Dandelion.

“Don’t tell me!” cried the old woman. “I know what children are—always disobedient. Why this very night E. and D. walked through the puddle a-purpose.”

“Who did?” asked Dandelion, thinking he had not heard aright.

“E. and D., my dear,” answered the little woman. “I calls ’em by the letters of the alphabet. It saves the trouble of thinking o’ names. I called my eldest Arabella—Aida—Alice; but when they come so quick letters was good enough.

“Now, C.,” she broke off, “back to bed at once with you or I’ll whip you again and you shan’t have any broth to-morrow.”

Dandelion turned quickly and saw five little tear-stained faces peeping at him from the toe of the shoe.

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “if you didn’t whip ’em, they’d do as they were told.”

The old dame looked at him in astonishment.

“And perhaps the broth isn’t so nice as what Mum makes,” added Dandelion. “They couldn’t cry if they had a cup of her broth.”

“Dear me!” cried the old woman; “what next!”

“You come and see my Mum,” said Dandelion, “and have a talk to her. I’ll call for you when I’ve fetched the water.”

“Well, now,” said the old dame, “it ain’t often I goes on a little visit. It’ll be a change.” And she put on her bonnet.

That night the old woman woke the children up and gave them each a kiss, which surprised them very much; but they were still more astonished when she gave them each some broth with bread.

“My dears,” she said, “you’re going to have bread in your broth every night. And I’ve got a new soup recipe in my pocket. What’s more, we’ve all been asked out to tea to-morrow, so I’m going to put your hair in curl-papers.”

“Oh, no, no!” screamed the children; “you’ll pull, and then we shall cry and you’ll beat us!”

“I ain’t going to beat you no more, my dears,” said the old woman, kissing them all again. “I’ve learnt a lesson.”

“Come in, my dear, come in!” cried Mrs. Goblin. “I’ve lit a fire in the drawing-room, so we can have a little talk while the children play in the kitchen. And now, my dear,” she added, when they were alone, “now you are here what’s to hinder you from stopping?”

The old woman was crying for joy. “But so many children!” she said presently.

“The more the merrier! We’ll all live together and be as happy as the night is short!”

And so they did.