University of Virginia Library

A Textual History of William Faulkner's The Wishing-Tree and The Wishing Tree
by
Louis Daniel Brodsky

I

The publication history of Willam Faulkner's The Wishing Tree is byzantine and highly curious. To be precise, it spans two months more than four decades from the date of its very private, officially recorded "publication" as a personally-typed, hand-bound, single copy Faulkner gave as a birthday gift on February 5, 1927,[1] to its initial magazine appearance as a

short story, "The Wishing Tree," in the April 8, 1967 number of Saturday Evening Post vol. 240, pp. 48 ff., followed three days later by the Random House first printing as a self-contained novella, replete with elaborate illustrations commissioned for the simultaneously-issued trade and specially-bound and slip-cased, numbered edition entitled The Wishing Tree.[2]

According to definitions adopted and promulgated by the United States Copyright Office,[3] it was Faulkner himself who fixed the official dates of creation, and, by implication, publication of The Wishing Tree when he typed the phrase, "single mss. impression / oxford-mississippi-/5-february-i927", at the foot of the verso of the title page, then bound and presented his gift booklet to Lida Estelle Franklin's daughter, Victoria de Graffenried, presumably on that same day. Officially, this date satisfies the terms of the Copyright Office's statute which asserts that "a work is 'created' when it is fixed in a copy . . . for the first time." Understood is the fact that the text itself could not have sprung spontaneously and completely intact on February 5, 1927; rather, that its gestation and the revisionary process leading up to the typing and binding of this "single mss. impression," had seemingly culminated on that date.

Accepting the Copyright Office's statutory definition of "publication" as that date on which the first "distribution of . . . a work to the public by sale or other transfer of ownership . . ." is made, it would appear that February 5, 1927, also should be considered the "official" recorded date for The Wishing Tree. On the title page, below the title, THE WISHING TREE, Faulkner added the following first of two dedications: "For his dear friend / Victoria / on her eighth birthday / Bill he made / this Book". Victoria Franklin, who, with the marriage of her mother to William Faulkner on June 20, 1929, would become the author's step-daughter, had been born in Honolulu, Hawaii, on February 5, 1919. Implied in his dedication is the fact that Faulkner had made the book for the occasion of the little girl's birthday, not that he had actually "made" it on that day. Two additional assumptions as well may be extrapolated from Faulkner's wording: first, that on the actual day of the birthday, February 5, 1927, Faulkner would have physically given Victoria the book; and secondly, that in giving her the book, he would have fulfilled the dedication's promise to cause a transfer of ownership to be accomplished.

Ironically, six days later at the outside, possibly even before February 5, 1927, Faulkner would either repeat the magnanimous gesture he had made to Victoria Franklin, or make the first of what would become two such similar deeds, by personally delivering to the house of Dr. and Mrs. Calvin S. Brown, of Oxford, Mississippi, a differently typed copy of a story he had titled The Wishing-Tree.[4] Although it is impossible to date with absolute

precision the exact day on which Faulkner brought to the Brown house his gift for daughter Margaret, we do know from the entry Dr. Brown made in his diary for February 11, 1927, that he "Read a story by William Faulkner called The Wishing-Tree which he brought over to Margaret."[5] Unfortunately, the usually fastidious diarist failed to record the actual day on which Faulkner dropped off the manuscript; Dr. Brown could have been coming to the task of reading the story days after, rather than on that very day the gift arrived. Nonetheless, the fact remains that Faulkner did present Margaret Brown, who was dying of an irreversible disease, with a gift of friendship and consolation, a newly-written fairy tale entitled The Wishing-Tree (note the hyphen), which he suggested he had composed especially for her. In the upper left portion of page "1," Faulkner had inscribed in ink what amounted to a dedication: "To Margaret Brown / from her friend, / Bill Faulkner."

Unquestionably, Faulkner's two separate gifts, The Wishing Tree and The Wishing-Tree, would go unremarked for thirty years; so too would the awareness, or even the slightest suspicion by any single party, other than Faulkner himself, that more than one copy of The Wishing Tree existed. Both recipients, and, later, Margaret Brown's surviving family members, would continue to believe that the copy each possessed not only had been written exclusively for her by William Faulkner, but that it was uniquely hers to do with as she might see fit.

A first printing of Intruder in the Dust [6] which Faulkner inscribed for Mrs. Maud Morrow Brown, Margaret Brown's mother, dated December 10, 1948, may document the day on which the author came to the Brown house in Oxford to borrow the typescript of The Wishing-Tree which in 1927 he had originally given to the now long-deceased Margaret. The inscribed copy of the recently published book may have been a token of politeness for a favor he anticipated rightly Mrs. Brown would grant him. Doubtless, Faulkner's reason for his request was neither exacted by Mrs. Brown, nor was it proffered by the borrower. In fact, Faulkner's purpose for taking the typescript home was to type from it two copies, ribbon and carbon, which he could give as Christmas gifts to the children of two intimate friends: Phil Stone and Ruth Ford. Presumably, when he finished his retyping chore, Faulkner delivered to the Stone residence the recently typed 44-page, bound ribbon copy

he had made from the 47-page "Brown" carbon copy. On page "1," in the upper left hand corner, Faulkner had inscribed in ink: "For Philip Stone II, / from his god-father. / William Faulkner / Oxford. / Xmas 1948".[7] The corresponding unbound, carbon copy was mailed to its recipient. Its ink inscription read: "For Shelley Ford. / Xmas, 1948 / William Faulkner."[8]

Except for the conscious omission of the verse epigram that accompanied in slightly altered form[9] the copies Faulkner had made in 1927 for Victoria Franklin and for Margaret Brown, these two new copies resembled the original "Brown" text he had recently borrowed from Maud Morrow Brown. In fact, except for accidentals variants caused by typographical errors and not a half dozen minor alterations in diction, and with only one obviously mistaken transposition of two lines of dialogue with its concomitant misattribution of speaker in one of the two lines, the text of the Philip Stone and Shelley Ford copies remained true to the Margaret Brown copy.

Coincidentally, the previously mentioned copy of Intruder in the Dust may also contain information which documents the occasion on which Faulkner returned the borrowed typescript to Mrs. Brown. The first free front end-paper of the book not only contains the presentation inscription which Faulkner made "For Mrs. Calvin Brown / Bill Faulkner" with its accompanying provenance appearing on the title page, "William Faulkner / Oxford Miss / 10 Dec 1948", but bears beneath his first inscription, a second one to Mrs. Brown's visiting daughter, Faulkner's childhood friend, Edith Brown Douds: "For Edith / Xmas 1948 / Bill Faulkner." Quite possibly, on his appearance with the typescript, Mrs. Douds, a collector in her own right, could have requested of Faulkner his signature on the book he had left with her mother a few weeks earlier.

Neither Phil Stone nor Ruth Ford imagined that their child had received a Christmas gift from William Faulkner that was anything other than totally unique; certainly, they never questioned its originality. In fact, it was not until Maud Brown saw a copy of the Princeton University catalogue[10] high-lighting

a copy of The Wishing-Tree among the entries on display for the vast Faulkner exhibition running from May 10 through August 30, 1957, that she even surmised what Faulkner's intention had been for borrowing her copy of The Wishing-Tree that Christmas of 1948. The exhibited copy was the one Faulkner had given to Philip Stone, and had been reluctantly loaned for the occasion by Phil Stone. On July 16, 1958, expressing consternation and hurt over having become aware of the existence of a "second" copy of her daughter's story, Mrs. Brown wrote a letter to Faulkner, imploring him to grant her permission to publish the story:

Dear Billy,

After numerous unsuccessful attempts on Mrs. Brown's behalf by Professor James W. Silver to interest Life, then Random House, in publishing The Wishing-Tree, Faulkner himself finally learned of the escalating attempts and with provocation wrote to his publisher, Bennett Cerf, instructing him emphatically not to proceed:

Dear Bennett:

It is apparent that even at this late date Faulkner maintained his stance in having made for and given to Margaret Brown The Wishing-Tree: his gift had been given outright; it belonged to her, except for its copyright. Possibly at this juncture, Faulkner may have realized the potential embarrassment that could arise from publication of this story, especially were it to be discovered by his step-daughter, for whom, surely, he might have uneasily recalled, he also had made the story thirty-two years earlier.

During the Fifties, Professor James W. Silver had become friends with William Faulkner; much earlier, he had nurtured an intimate friendship with Faulkner's two step-children, Malcolm and Victoria. As coincidence would have it, Silver, who had already become quite familiar with the Brown typescript of The Wishing-Tree, was shocked to discover yet another copy of the

story. In a letter to John Cook Wyllie, dated September 1, 1961, Silver described this and other relevant revelations:

Neither Professor Silver, nor Victoria Fielden, dared mention this seemingly blatant disparity to Faulkner, who died fourteen months later. Yet, in 1964, Mrs. Fielden, fearing either Mrs. Brown or Phil Stone might press the issue of publication, thereby jeopardizing, possibly squandering her own proprietary rights to "her" story, and without any opposition from her stepsister, Jill Faulkner Summers, Faulkner's literary executrix, filed for and obtained complete copyright authority to the story, The Wishing Tree. Three years later, Random House published what soon became apparent was not merely just another copy of the story, but a distinct version of The Wishing Tree: The "Victoria" version.

II

During the Twenties, when Faulkner was developing and refining his writing techniques, style, and his literary aesthetic, and throughout his full maturation as an uncompromisingly original artist in the Thirties, it was his habit first to compose his prose in longhand, almost always printing with fountain pen, in lettering so minute as to be illegible to almost all but himself. Generally, it would require three pages of typescript to incorporate one page of handwritten manuscript. Then, Faulkner would transcribe his first draft to a typescript, which almost unfailingly he would subject to rigorous revision, some being done on the typewriter, some in holograph outside the margins as well as interlineally. Finally, he would retype that draft into a clean, presentable typescript.

Unfortunately for The Wishing Tree, neither an original holograph manuscript of presumably fifteen or sixteen pages, nor any of what surely could have been at least two early, successively-revised typescript drafts antecedent to the 47-page typescript which Faulkner gave to Margaret Brown in 1927, have survived. Yet, we must not discount the probability of this hypothetical

sequence of composition: the 47-page "Brown" carbon typescript, with its companion second manifold carbon and ribbon copies which Faulkner kept,[14] is far too polished and complete to have come into existence without precursory drafts. In fact, Faulkner had interpolated into the "Brown" typescript only one brief piece of dialogue on page "13" ("What is it?" Daphne asked), which, from context, is obviously a forgotten retort necessary to the flow, not a newly-conceived rejoinder. And, although Faulkner's holographic ink corrections, consisting of sporadic and seemingly arbitrary additions of apostrophes and quotation marks, as well as numerous typographical corrections, evidence a rereading of the typescript, they appear far from comprehensive in their proofing. In no way do they contribute to the inclusion of any new substantive matter.

Furthermore, there is little doubt that either the ribbon copy of the "Brown" typescript or the first of the two carbon copies (the corrected one given to Margaret Brown) served as the one from which at least two additional copies were retyped: matching ribbon and carbon texts which managed to economize forty-seven pages into forty-three pages,[15] while retaining the exact text of the "Brown" copy, as well as incorporating virtually all of Faulkner's holographic emendations and his single addition of dialogue on page "13." That both ribbon and carbon copies of this 43-page retype remained together in Faulkner's personal possession until their final disposition as part of the materials placed on permanent deposit at the Alderman Library of the University of Virginia, can most likely be explained by the apparent carelessness in retyping them. Page "10" of the carbon copy is missing; however, page "10" of the ribbon copy, although extant within the proper sequence of pages, is marred to the extent of carrying on its verso a duplicate

of its recto text: this obviously happened when the typist placed the carbon paper ink-side up, rather than face-down between the two sheets to be typed. In addition, page "25" is completely missing from both the ribbon and carbon copies of this 43-page typescript. The text lacking from this missing page corresponds to the text on page "27" of the "Brown" copy. It appears that in completing "Brown" page "26," the typist repeated the page number ("Brown" "26") at the foot of what sequentially should have been page "24" of the retype in progress; then, for whatever reason, he or she skipped completely "Brown" page "27," and began again with "Brown" page "28." The page, intact and identical, became page "26" of the 43-page retype. Then, the typist went back and in ink changed the first mistaken number ("26") to page "24." But, page "25" of the retype, which should have corresponded exactly in text to "Brown" page "27," never got retyped and inserted into the 43-page sequence. Finally, although the pagination runs consecutively from page "26-43," there is the equivalent of a complete page of the "Brown" manuscript (page "44") omitted between pages "40-41."

Although there is little doubt that the 47-page ribbon and its two carbon copies of the "Brown" text followed a preexisting, non-extant typescript, or that the 43-page ribbon and carbon copies were typed from one of the 47-page copies, there is uncertainty as to whom the typist might have been for either or both these sets of typescripts. In Faulkner: A Biography (1974), Joseph Blotner (pp. 431-432) documents the fact that during the period Faulkner was writing Soldiers' Pay and Mosquitoes, both composed and published within the same time-frame (1925-1927), Faulkner would customarily submit his work to others for typing and proof-reading. Mostly, these assistants were secretaries in Phil Stone's law office. There is more than a suggestion that at least the 47-page copies and most likely the 43-page copies may have been handled in this manner. The three 47-page "Brown" typescripts repeat "William Faulkner," followed by "The Wishing-Tree," across the top of each sheet; neither was this one of Faulkner's typing characteristics, nor does this format appear on any of the manuscripts whose typing can be clearly attributed to Faulkner himself from around this same period. Rather, this seems more to be in the nature of a convention congenial to the legal profession. Additionally, it was not Faulkner's habit to make three copies of any of his typescripts; conversely, this was a common legal procedure. Furthermore, with hindsight to inform us of Faulkner's easy access to his friend's, Stone's, good will in terms of providing professional services in those early years of Faulkner's writing career, it seems most likely that Faulkner could have submitted at least one, possibly both tedious and perfunctory jobs to Stone's modest "typing pool" for processing.

And, if this were the case, it might plausibly allow for the following explanation as to how the version of The Wishing Tree Faulkner gave to Victoria Franklin at about the same time in February, 1927, could have developed. First, let us assume that Faulkner had conceived the story, The Wishing-Tree, as a tribute to Margaret Brown, as he himself stated at the time he presented it to her, and reiterated in his letter to Bennett Cerf in November,

1959. Possibly, with completion of the clean 47-page typescript, the carbon of which he intended to and subsequently did give to Margaret Brown, Faulkner also realized that he might have another suitable occasion and recipient for his story. Acknowledging the fact that he would need to retain a complete copy for his files, the ribbon copy (apparently the second carbon copy was incomplete from the outset), Faulkner yet may have relinquished it to Phil Stone for retyping, with the notion of using one of the two newly-retyped copies to give to Victoria Franklin whose birthday was fast-approaching. Possibly, while what became the 43-page copies were being retyped, or even after both new copies were returned to him in a manner made seemingly unpresentable because of their problems with pages "10," "25," and "40-41," Faulkner thought better of his earlier notion of presenting both children with virtually identical gifts.

Acting on this "ethical" consideration, Faulkner indeed may have returned to the typescript from which his clean 47-page text had originally been typed to make revisions extensive enough not only to satisfy his own artistic sensibility, but to assuage his sense of moral integrity. Either from this nonextant text or from another which apparently has not survived, it seems certain that Faulkner personally did retype into a "single mss. impression" the specially-bound gift booklet which he gave to Victoria Franklin. Also, it is virtually certain that Faulkner could not have possibly typed the "Victoria" copy from one of the "Brown" typescripts, because far too many major stylistic, as well as substantive variations, exist between the two for Faulkner to have transposed the alterations in his head and transcribed them intact onto the off-sized booklet pages of the "Victoria" copy; certainly not with so few typographical or punctuation flaws as are in evidence.

Finally, whether the major energy Faulkner expended to fashion the "Victoria" version of The Wishing Tree into existence was the result of his natural, self-induced tendency to continue revising his prose, or whether it had been motivated by his determination to create a different gift for her, must remain a matter of scholarly conjecture. There is little doubt that both extant versions are distinct and complete unto themselves. In point of fact, both stories have different titles: the one he presented to Margaret Brown is unequivocally called The Wishing-Tree, its idiosyncratic hyphenation carrying through in each reference within the story itself. The "Victoria" copy, lacking the hyphen, with one exception,[16] is entitled The Wishing Tree with similar consistency throughout its text. And, significantly, Faulkner has given his main female protagonist different names: in the "Brown" version, she is referred to as Daphne; in the "Victoria" version, she is called Dulcie, as though

to insure separate fictional identities with whom each of his recipients, if she so desired, might identify.

Moreover, by internally comparing the texts of both extant versions of The Wishing Tree, the "Victoria" version in its original typescript, and the "Brown" version as manifested in its most recent, though virtually unchanged, incarnation, the Philip Stone copy of 1948, this distinctiveness between the versions becomes all the more consequential.

III

Like that of most literary artists, great or merely competent, Faulkner's fundamental approach to refining his prose consisted of progressively distilling and compressing it:[17] his revision was a matter of subtracting and sharpening, and, with rare exception, he did not indulge in adding to his already layered textures. Although a purely physical word-count might not, by itself, prove adequate confirmation of this premise, it certainly provides a basis from which to begin. By actual number, the "Brown/Stone" version of The Wishing-Tree consists of 11,100 words; the "Victoria" typescript is made up of 9,858 words. Comparative textual scrutiny allows us to isolate at least four basic approaches Faulkner employed in revising The Wishing Tree. One salient technique to which he consistently resorted was that of reducing or deleting extraneous or redundant description; information which did not particularly enhance the forward thrust of his narrative. The following three examples, excerpted randomly from the two versions, make clear how Faulkner moved from the density of the "Brown/Stone" version to a more gracefully distilled style inherent in the "Victoria" version:

Seemingly in an attempt to make the "Victoria" version read less like a literary exercise, favoring, instead, a more direct, if fabulous, narrative style calculated to communicate with and captivate a child's imagination and hold his interest, Faulkner consciously pared away many of his highly-stylized figurative and literary allusions. In doing so, he was able to heighten the

"Victoria" version's simple, direct diction and repetitious phraseology. The following two examples manifest a reduction in overly-extended metaphorical comparisons:

The following excerpt demonstrates Faulkner's conscious elimination of the metaphorical comparison altogether in the interest of directness as well as artistic taste:

These final two examples highlight Faulkner's awareness of the potentially distractive effect of abstruse or overt literary allusions and influences on the mind of a child:

The effacement of this last literary allusion, referring as it does directly back to his allegory, Mayday, completed and dated January 27, 1926, as well as the image of the black trees "sorrying themselves," a blatant vestige of the Imagist movement, suggests Faulkner was reaching a turning point in his literary career. In fact, the great prose he would produce during the next dozen years would reflect this same careful concern for eliminating distractive imagery of this kind.

Yet another effort Faulkner made to streamline and balance the "Victoria" version of The Wishing Tree is exemplified by the way he succeeded in this

latter text at minimizing the roles of lesser characters in order to achieve a more sensible balance for the major participants. George's role is simply reduced; he spends less time on stage. Realizing he has dwelled inordinately on the vixenish qualities of Egbert's wife, Faulkner backs off:

Also, Dicky's babyish persiflage is reduced to a degree. Of most significance, however, is the adjustment Faulkner makes in reducing the quantity of dialogue and improving the quality of the dialect Alice and her husband, Exodus, are made to express in the "Victoria" version: Faulkner allows them to fade back into the gestalt by sophisticating their posturing. Compared with their appearances in the "Brown" version, both characters seem far less self-mocking, minstrel-show stereotypes in their behavior and demotic:

A fourth revisionary concern Faulkner heeded in sophisticating his "Victoria" version of The Wishing Tree had to do with refinement by means of giving sharper focus and definition to his qualifying verbs, adverbs, and adjectives. Just two examples might serve to suggest the pervasive nature of this intensification:

Whether the foregoing examples demonstrate a progressive revisionary evolution from the "Brown/Stone" version to the "Victoria" version of The Wishing Tree, or just a thorough reworking to insure that the gifts he was

giving almost concurrently remained "unique," cannot be decided with absolute certainty. Aside from the notion of priority of texts, both distinct versions have their own literary as well as aesthetic merits: both can be read independently with relatively equal delight.

IV

The side-by-side collation which follows, with the "Brown/Stone" version occupying the left-hand column, and the "Victoria" version in the right-hand column, preserves, with few exceptions, the two distinct texts as Faulkner himself typed them. I have chosen to transcribe the Philip Stone copy made by Faulkner in December, 1948, from the Margaret Brown 47-page typescript, because it represents the ultimate opportunity Faulkner had to handle and alter it.

I have also elected to transcribe the original typescript Faulkner gave to Victoria Franklin in 1927, rather than reprint the text of the 1967 Random House edition for a decidedly fundamental reason: the Random House text in no way can be said to represent either the text which Faulkner himself typed, or that which the "silent" editor claims in the "Publisher's Note" Faulkner would not only have agreed to, but "extended . . . if he had been present to prepare the script for 1967 publication." The anonymous editor of this edition has taken more than justifiable liberties with his role as provider of an accurate text; furthermore, he is presumptuous in having assumed Faulkner would have accepted anything other than his consistent proper placement of apostrophes in contractions, his sporadic addition of grammatically correct commas and dialogue punctuation, and the seven necessary and salutary corrections of fundamental errors in tense and agreement, continuity and spelling which Faulkner committed.[18]

Contrarily, having assiduously refined his Negro dialect in the "Victoria" version, Faulkner surely would have protested the seemingly arbitrary editing of almost all of Alice's and Exodus's speeches; notwithstanding its disclaimer, the Random House text presents a truncated and totally distorted rendition of the dialect Faulkner succeeded in making realistic, and, by doing so, grievously changes a weighty and highly pleasing aspect of the original typescript. Just as Faulkner refused to tamper with his Negro dialect in subsequent printings and editions of Sartoris, especially, and even in The Sound and the Fury, so too would he have been loath to compromise what he had written years earlier: apparently, Random House felt under no such aesthetic constraints; rather, they must have feared offending an audience which in

1967 was all too aware of the 1954 Supreme Court protocol and the 1962 James Meredith incident at Ole Miss, in Faulkner's own back yard.

Other distortions persist as well which go beyond the normal expectations of silent editing. For instance, the "editor" has supplied numerous commas where they did not exist; conversely, too frequently he has deleted commas Faulkner intended in order to maintain his rhythm. Furthermore, the Random House edition has unduly committed eight gratuitous errors by creating words which did not originally exist, or by making arbitrary deletions or by causing distortions in words and phrases ostensibly transcribed from the original.[19]

As a result of the printing of this highly unreliable text of the "Victoria" version by Random House, this article provides not only for the first publication of the "Brown/Stone" version of The Wishing-Tree, but in fact for the first authentic publication of the "Victoria" version as well. In both texts I have kept silent editing to a minimum, presenting them as "original" as possible. Such has been the rationale for not apostrophizing "aint," "dont," "cant," and "wont," as is consistent with Faulkner's idiosyncratic disregard for rendering them grammatically correct. Also, I have left intact most of the missing commas conventionally employed to set off clauses and modifiers and conjunctions. Also, I have not disturbed the texts by changing the position of existing commas or periods either inside or outside quotation marks, an inconsistency found most acutely in the "Brown/Stone" version.

On the other hand, for the sake of clarity and basic consistency, I have silently corrected dialogue punctuation to the extent of providing a missing quotation mark for an incomplete pair and an occasional comma where a period existed, or placed a period where the comma existed. Also, where necessary, I have either raised a lower case word, proper noun, or pronoun, to the status of upper case, or done the reverse for words other than proper nouns and some pronouns beginning or continuing a piece of dialogue. Also, in a few instances in both texts, I have corrected misspelled proper names that were obvious inconsistencies in Faulkner's typing ("Dulcy" for "Dulcie"; "Dickey" for "Dicky"; "the wishing tree" for "the Wishing Tree"). And, generally, I have corrected silently typographical errors resulting clearly from misstruck keys which have rendered otherwise unintelligible words. In all cases in which the typographical mistake has produced an alternatively recognizable, though incorrect, word, I have followed it with a square bracket containing the sign "i.e." followed by the appropriate word. Finally, for lapsed words, I have inserted a square bracket containing, without a denotative sign, the intended word.

       

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
THE WISHING-TREE	THE WISHING TREE
She was still asleep, but she could feel herself rising up out of sleep just like a balloon: it was like she was a goldfish in a round bowl of sleep, rising and rising through the warm waters of sleep, to the top. And then she would be awake. And so she was awake, but she didn't open her eyes at once. Instead, she lay quite still and warm in her bed, and it was like there was another little balloon inside her, getting bigger and bigger and rising and rising. Soon it would be at her mouth, then it would pop out and jump up against the ceiling as though it were laughing at her. The little balloon inside her got bigger and bigger, making all her body and her arms and legs tingle, as if she had just eaten peppermint. What can it be? she wondered, keeping her eyes shut tight, trying to remember from yesterday. What can it be?	She was still asleep, but she could feel herself rising up out of sleep, just like a balloon: it was like she was a goldfish in a round bowl of sleep, rising and rising through the warm waters of sleep to the top. And then she would be awake. And so she was awake, but she didn't open her eyes at once. Instead, she lay quite still and warm in her bed, and it was like there was still another little balloon inside her, getting bigger and bigger and rising and rising. Soon it would be at her mouth, then it would pop out and jump right up against the ceiling. The little balloon inside her got bigger and bigger, making all her body and her arms and legs tingle, as if she had just eaten a piece of peppermint. What can it be? she wondered, keeping her eyes tight shut, trying to remember from yesterday.
"It's your birthday," a voice said near her, and her eyes flew open. There, standing beside the bed, was a strange boy with a thin ugly face and hair so red that it made a glow in the room. He wore a black velvet suit with red stockings and shoes, and from his shoulder hung a huge empty booksatchel. "Who are you?" she asked, looking at the redheaded boy in astonishment. "Name's Maurice," the redheaded boy answered. His eyes had queer golden flecks in them, like sparks. "Get up." She lay still again and looked about the room. The funniest thing was, there was nobody in the room except the redheaded boy and herself. Every morning when she waked, her mother and Dicky would be in the room, and soon afterward Alice would come in to help her dress and get ready for school. But today there was nobody in the room except the strange redheaded boy standing beside her bed and looking at her with his queer yellowflecked eyes. "Get up," the redheaded boy repeated. "I'm not dressed," she said. "Yes, you are," the redheaded boy answered. "Get up." So she threw the covers back and got out of bed, and sure enough, she was fully dressed----shoes and stockings, and her new lilac dress with the ribbon that matched her eyes. It was the funniest thing! The redheaded	"It's your birthday," a voice said near her, and her eyes flew open. There, standing beside the bed was a strange boy, with a thin ugly face and hair so red that it made a glow in the room. He wore a black velvet suit and red stockings and shoes, and from his shoulder hung a huge empty booksatchel. "Who are you?" she asked, looking at the redheaded boy in astonishment. "Name's Maurice," the boy answered. His eyes had queer golden flecks in them, like sparks. "Get up." She lay still again and looked about the room. The funniest thing was, there was nobody in the room except Maurice and herself. Every morning when she waked her mother and Dicky would be in the room, and soon after Alice would come in to help her dress and get ready for school. But today there was nobody in the room except the strange redheaded boy standing beside her bed and watching her with his queer yellowflecked eyes. "Get up," the boy said again. "I'm not dressed," she said. "Yes, you are," the boy answered. "Get up." So she threw the covers back and got out of bed, and sure enough, she was dressed ---shoes and stockings, and her new lavender dress with the ribbon that matched her eyes. The redheaded boy had gone to the window

       

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
boy had gone over to the window and he stood with his face pressed to the windowpane. "Is it still raining?" she asked. "It was raining last night." "Come and see," the redheaded boy replied, and she came over beside him and saw through the window the black trees with their bare dripping branches in the rain. "They're sorrying themselves," the redheaded boy murmured.	and stood with his face preseed against the glass "Is it still raining?" she asked. "It was raining last night." "Come and see," the boy said, and she came up beside him and saw through the window the black trees with their bare dripping branches in the rain.
"I wish it wouldn't rain on my birthday," she said with disappointment. "I think it might stop raining today, don't you?" The redheaded boy glanced at her and then away, then he raised the windowsash. "Oh, don't do that!" she exclaimed, then she stopped in surprise, for as soon as the sash rose, instead of rain and black winter trees, she saw a soft gray mist that smelled of wisteria, and far down in it she heard little far voices calling, "Come down, Daphne." When she looked through the upper sash, there was the rain falling against the glass in crawling streaks, and the black sad trees; but beyond the open sash that soft wisteria scented mist and the little voices saying, "Come down, Daphne; Come down, Daphne." "Well, this is the funniest thing!" she exclaimed, looking at the redheaded boy, who was digging busily in his huge satchel. "It's because it's your birthday," the redheaded boy explained. "But nothing like this ever happened before on my birthday." "But it might have," the redheaded boy pointed out, taking something out of the satchel. "That's why birthdays are. And, on the night before your birthday---" he glanced at her with his queer goldflecked eyes "----if you get into bed left foot first and turn the pillow over before you got [i.e. go] to sleep, anything might happen," he added wisely. "That's exactly what I did last night!" she said. "But who is that calling me?"	"I wish it wouldn't rain, on my birthday," she said with disappointment. "I think it might stop raining today, dont you?" The redheaded boy glanced at her and then away, then he raised the window. "Oh, dont do that!" she exclaimed, then she stopped, for as soon as the window rose, instead of rain and black winter trees, she saw a soft gray mist that smelled of wistaria, and far down in the mist she heard little far voices calling Come down, Dulcie; Come down, Dulcie. When she looked through the upper window sash, through the glass, there was the rain, and the black sad trees, but beyond the open sash, the soft wistariascented mist and the voices saying Come down, Dulcie; Come down, Dulcie. "Well, this is the funniest thing!" she said, looking at the redheaded boy, who was digging busily in his huge satchel. "It's because it's your birthday," he explained. "But nothing like this ever happened before on my birthday." "It might have," the boy answered, taking something out of the satchel. That's why birthdays are. And, on the night before your birthday----" he glanced at her with his queer goldflecked eyes "---if you get into bed left foot first and turn the pillow over before you go to sleep, anything might happen," he added wisely. "Oh, that's exactly what I did last night," she said. "But who is that calling me?"
"Why not look down and see?" the redheaded boy suggested. So she leaned out the window into the warm, scented mist, and there, looking up at her from the ground, were Alice and Dicky, and George, a fat boy who lived across the street. "Come down, Daphne!" "Wait for me!" she cried down to them,	"Why not look down and see?" the boy suggested, so she leaned out the window into the warm scented mist, and there looking up at her from the ground were Alice and Dicky and George, who lived just across the street. "Come down, Dulcie!" "Wait for me!" she cried down to them,

   

The "Brown/Stone" Version

The "Victoria" Version

and the redheaded boy was again beside her. In his hand was a toy ladder about six inches long, and he raised the ladder and put one end of it to his mouth and blew through it, and at once the ladder began to grow. The redheaded boy puffed and blew, and the ladder got longer and longer until at last the end of it touched the ground, and Alice caught it and held it steady while she climbed down to them. "Got up at last, did you, Sleepyhead?" George asked, and Dicky chanted "Sleepyhead, Sleepyhead!" He was a little boy, and he always said whatever the others did. The redheaded boy climbed down the ladder, and he bent over and pressed his finger on a little shiny button on the ladder, and the air went Whsssssshhhhhhhhhhhh out to [i.e. of] the ladder and it was once more a toy ladder about six inches long. The redheaded boy put it back in his satchel. "Name's Maurice," he said shortly, looking from Alice to Dicky and then to George with his queer yellowflecked eyes. "Come on." The mist was like a big gray tent above them and around them, and a warm little breeze blew through it, smelling of wisteria. They went across the lawn to the street, and the redheaded boy stopped again. "Well," he said, "how shall we go? walk, or in a car, or on ponies?" "Ponies! Ponies!" Daphne and George shouted, and Dicky chanted. "Wide a pony! Wide a pony!" But Alice didn't want to. "Naw, suh," Alice said, "Me and Dicky ain't goin' to ride on no hawss; and Daphne you ain't got no business with no hawss, neither." "Oh, Alice!" "Naw, suh," Alice repeated. "You knows yo' mommer don't allow you to ride no hawss." "How do you know?" Daphne said, "she didn't say I couldn't." "How could she, when she don't know you'a [A] goin' to? I reckon we kin git wherever we's goin' just like we is." "Oh, Alice!" Daphne said, and Dicky chanted, "Wide a pony, wide a pony!" "Alice and Dicky can ride in the ponycart," the redheaded boy suggested. "You aren't scared of a ponycart, are you?" "I guess I ain't," Alice answered doubtfully.

and the redheaded boy was at the window again. In his hand was a toy ladder about six inches long, and he raised the ladder to his mouth and blew on it, and at once the ladder began to get longer and bigger. The redheaded boy puffed and blew, and the ladder grew longer and longer until finally the end of it touched the ground and Alice held it steady while she climbed down to them. "Got up at last, did you, Sleepyhead?" George asked, and Dicky chanted "Sleepyhead, Sleepyhead!" He was a little boy, and he always said whatever the others did. The redheaded boy climbed down the ladder, and bent over and pressed his finger on a little shiny button on the ladder, and the air went Whishhhhhh out of the ladder, and it was once more a toy ladder about six inches long. The boy put it back in his satchel. "Name's Maurice," he said shortly, looking from Alice to Dicky and then to George with his yellowflecked eyes. "Come on." The mist was like a big tent about them and over them, and a warm little breeze blew through it, smelling of wistaria. They went across the lawn to the street, and the redheaded boy stopped again. "Well," he said, "how shall we go? walk, or in a motorcar, or on ponies?" "Ponies! Ponies!" Dulcie and George shouted, and Dicky said, "Pony! Pony! Want to wide pony!" But Alice didn't want to. "Naw, suh," Alice said, "me and Dicky aint going to ride on no hawss, and Dulcie, you aint got no business with no hawss, neither." "Oh, Alice!" "Naw, suh," Alice repeated, "You knows yo' mommer dont allow you to ride no hawss." "How do you know?" Dulcie said, "she didn't say I couldn't." "How could she, when she dont know you's goin' to? I reckon we kin git wherever we's goin' just like we is." "Oh, Alice!" Dulcie said, and Dicky chanted: "Wide a pony, wide a pony." "Alice and Dicky can ride in the ponycart," the redheaded boy suggested. "You aren't scared of a ponycart, are you?" "I guess I aint," Alice said doubtfully.

     

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
"Daphne better ride in the cart, too." "No," said Daphne, "I want to ride a pony. Please, Alice." "They're gentle ponies," the redheaded boy said. "See?" He reached into his satchel and brought out a Shetland pony no larger than a mouse, with a little red bridle with silver, tiny bells, and a red saddle on it. Daphne squealed with delight, and Dicky tried to climb right up the red headed [i.e. redheaded] boy's leg. "Mine! Mine!" Dicky shouted. "My first choss pony!" "My pony! My pony!" Dicky [i.e. George] shouted. [B] "First choice: I claim first choice!" "Here, you all wait," the redheaded boy said, holding the pony above his head while its little hooves pawed and scrambled in his hand, "Stand back, now." So they stood back and the redheaded boy knelt and set the pony on the ground, and he put his mouth to the pommel of the saddle and began to blow. And as he blew the pony began to grow larger. It got bigger and bigger, stamping its feet and shaking its bridle until the bells jingled and tinkled; and the redheaded boy rose to his knees and still puffed and blew, and the pony was as large as a dog now; and the redheaded boy blew and puffed, and he got to his feet and the pony was as large as a calf and still it got bigger and bigger. At last the redheaded boy raised his head.	"Dulcie better ride in the cart too." "No: I want to ride a pony. Please, Alice." "They're gentle ponies," the redheaded boy said. "Look." He reached into his satchel and brought forth a Shetland pony no larger than a squirrel, with a red bridle with little silver bells and a red saddle on it. Dulcie squealed with delight and Dicky tried to climb right up the boy's leg. "Mine! Mine!" George shouted. "First choice: I claim first choice!" "My pony, my pony!" Dicky shouted, "My first choss pony!" "Here, youall wait," the redheaded boy said, holding the pony above his head while its little hooves pawed and scrambled in his hand, "Stand back, now." So they stood back and the boy knelt and set the pony on the ground, and put his mouth to the pommel of the saddle and began to blow. And as he blew the pony got bigger and bigger, stamping its feet and shaking its jingling bridle; and the boy rose to his knees and still puffed and blew, and then to his feet, and the pony got bigger and bigger. At last he raised his head.
"There", he said. "Is that big enough?" "Who's dat 'un for?" Alice asked quickly. "Mine! Mine!" shouted George and Dicky together. "No, this one is Daphne's," the redheaded boy said. "Den you let some of dat air right back out," Alice said promptly. "Dat's too big for Daphne." "No, no!" Daphne protested. "Look, Alice! See how gentle he is!" She pulled up a handful of grass, and the pony nibbled it and shook his head until the silver bells on the bridle jingled like mad. Then Daphne held the reins and the redheaded boy took two more ponies from his satchel, and Dicky chanted, "First choss pony! First choss pony!" "How can your satchel hold so much,	"There," he said. "Is that big enough for you?" "Who's dat un for?" Alice asked quickly. "Mine! Mine!" shouted George and Dicky together. "No, this one is Dulcie's," the redheaded boy said. "Den you let some of dat air back out," Alice said promptly. "Dat's too big for Dulcie." "No, no!" Dulcie objected. "Look, Alice! See how gentle he is!" She pulled up a handful of grass and the pony nibbled it and shook his head until the silver bells jingled like mad. Then she held the bridlerein and the boy took two more ponies from his satchel, and Dicky chanted, "First choss pony, first choss pony!" "How can your satchel hold so much,

         

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
and yet look like it's empty?" Daphne asked. "Because I'm Maurice," the redheaded boy answered "Besides anything is likely to happen on birthdays, he added gravely.	and yet look like it's empty?" Dulcie asked. "Because I'm Maurice," the redheaded boy answered. "And besides, anything is likely to happen on birthdays," he added gravely.
"Oh," said Daphne. Then the redheaded boy blew these two ponies up and gave the reins to George to hold, and he took from his satchel a fourth pony hitched to a little wicker cart with bells all over it, and Dicky was just wild. The redheaded boy blew this one up too. Alice watched him nervously.	"Oh," said Dulcie. Then the boy blew up these two ponies and gave the reins to George to hold, and took from the satchel a fourth pony hitched to a little wicker cart, with bells all over it, and Dicky was just wild. The boy blew this one up too. Alice watched nervously.
"Don't blow him up too big now, for me and Dicky," Alice said. The redheaded boy puffed and blew. "Ain't dat plenty big enough?" suggested Alice uneasily. "Alice don't want him any bigger than a rabbit," George said. "He can't pull the cart if he's not any bigger than that, Alice." The redheaded boy puffed and blew, and soon the pony and cart were the right size. "You'll need a whip," he said, and he reached again into his satchel and got out a red whip. "Naw, suh," Alice said quickly, "we don't need no whip. You kin put dat right back." But Dicky had already seen the whip, and when the redheaded boy put the whip back in his satchel, Dicky yelled. So the redheaded boy gave Dicky the whip, and Dicky and Alice got in the cart and Dicky held the end of the reins in one hand and the whip in the other. "You mustn't hit de hawss wid yo' whup, honey," Alice said. "You'll make him run away."	"Dont blow him up too big, now, for me and Dicky," she cautioned. The redheaded boy puffed and blew. "Aint dat plenty big enough?" suggested Alice uneasily. "Alice dont want him any bigger than a rabbit," George said. "He cant pull the cart is [i.e. if] he's not any bigger than that." The redheaded boy puffed and blew, and soon the pony and cart were the right size. "You'll need a whip," he said, and he reached again into his satchel. "Naw, suh," Alice said quickly, "We dont need no whip. You kin put dat right back." But Dicky had already seen the whip, and when the boy put it back in the satchel, Dicky yelled. So the boy gave Dicky the whip, and Dicky and Alice got into the cart and Dicky held the end of the reins in one hand and the whip in the other.
"Drive first choss pony," Dicky said. "Shetland pony, darling," Daphne corrected, "Not first choice pony." "Drive Shetlun pony," Dicky said. Then Daphne and George and the redheaded boy got on their ponies and they rode down the street. They reached the end of the street and passed the last house, and then all of a sudden they rode out of the mist and into the sunshine. Behind them they could see the mist like a huge gray tent, but everywhere else the sun shone and the trees were green as summer, and the grass was green and little blue and yellow flowers were every-	"Drive first choss pony," Dicky shouted. "Shetland pony, darling," Dulcie said, "Not first choice pony." "Drive Shetland pony," Dicky said. Then Dulcie and George and the redheaded boy got on their ponies and they rode down the street. They reached the end of the street and passed the last house, and then all of a sudden they rode out of the mist. Behind them they could see the mist like a big gray tent, but everywhere else the [i.e. they] looked the trees were green as summer, and the grass was green and little blue and yellow flowers were everywhere. Birds were

         

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
where in the grass. Birds were singing in the trees, and flying from one tree to another; and the three ponies flew along the road, faster and faster, until Alice and Dicky in the cart were left far behind. They came to the edge of a forest, and they stopped here to wait for the cart. The cart came trotting up, and Alice was holding her hat one, [i.e. on,] and she looked a little alarmed. So they promised not to go fast any more, and they rode of [i.e. on] into the forest and after a while they came to a small gray cottage beside the road. The cottage had roses growing up over the door, and sitting in the door was a little old man wi[th] a long gray beard, whittling on a piece of wood.	singing in the trees, and flying from one tree to another, and the sun shone and the three ponies flew along the road, faster and faster, until Alice and Dicky in the cart were far behind. They stopped to wait for them, and the cart came trotting up. Alice was holding her hat on and she looked a little alarmed. So they promised not to go fast any more, and they rode on down the road and after a while they came to a small gray cottage. The cottage had roses above the door, and there was a little old man with a long gray beard sitting in the door, whittling a piece of wood.
"Good morning," the redheaded boy said politely. "Good morning," the little old man replied politely. "We're looking for the Wishing-Tree," the redheaded boy said. "You are?" the little old man said. He wagged his head gravely. "It's a far ways," he said. "I don't hardly believe you could find it." "We are going to ask along the road," the redheaded boy explained. "There ain't anybody in these parts that ever seen it," the little old man said. "How do you know it's so far, then?" the redheaded boy asked. "Oh, I been to it lots of times," the little old man answered. "I used to go to it every day, almost, when I was your age. But I aint been to it now in several years." "Why not come with us and show us the way?" the red headed [i.e. redheaded] boy suggested. "You can ride in the cart with Alice and Dicky." Alice was mumbling to herself, and Daphne asked,	"Good morning," the redheaded boy said politely. "Good morning," the little old man replied politely. "We're looking for the Wishing Tree," the redheaded boy said. "It's a far ways," the little old man said. He shook his head gravely. "I dont believe you could find it." "We'll ask somebody on the road," the boy said. "There aint anybody in these parts that ever saw it," the little old man said. "How do you know it's so far, then?" the redheaded boy asked. "Oh, I been to it lots of times. I used to go to it everyday almost, when I was your age. But I aint been in several years, now." "Why not come with us and show us the way?" the redheaded boy suggested. Alice was mumbling to herself and Dulcie asked,
"What did you say, Alice?" "I says, we dont want no old trash like him with us. I bet he's a tramp. I bet yo' mommer wouldn't like it if she knowed." "Could I ride in your ponycart?" the little old man asked. "Yes," the redheaded boy answered. "If you'll come and show us the way to the Wishing-Tree." The little old man looked cautiously over his shoulder into the house.	"What did you say, Alice?" "I says, we dont want no old trash like him with us. I bet he's a tramp. I bet yo' mommer wouldn't like it if she knowed." "Come on and go with us," the redheaded boy repeated. The old man looked cautiously over his shoulder into the house.
"I believe I will," he said. He shut his	"I believe I will," he said. He shut his

       

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
knife and he put it and the thing he was carving into his pocket. He rose, and peered again around the edge of the door into the house. "I guess I better go and show you the way, because-------" Then the little old man's wife came to the door and threw a rolling pin at the little old man, and a flatiron. "You lazy old scoundrel!" the little old man's wife shouted at him, "Sitting out here all day long, gassing with strangers, and not a stick of wood in the house to cook dinner with."	knife and put it and the thing he was carving in his pocket. He rose, and peered again around the dooredge into the house. "I guess I better go and show you the way, because------" Then the little old man's wife came to the door and threw a flatiron at him, and a rollingpin and an alarm clock. "You lazy old scoundrel!" she shouted at him, "Sitting out here and gassing with strangers, and not a stick of wood to cook dinner with in the house!"
"Mattie------" the little old man said. His wife reached her hand back into the house and she threw an alarm clock at the little old man, and so he ran around the corner of the house. The little old man's wife stood in the door and glared at them. "And you all with nothing better to do than keep folks from their honest work!" she said. She glared at them again, and slammed the door. "There now, what I tell you?" Alice said. "White trash!" "Well, I guess we'll have to ask somebody else where the Wishing-Tree is," the redheaded boy said. "Come on." They rode on past the house and along the garden fence. At the corner of the garden fence someone called cautiously to them as they passed, and they saw the little old man peering out from behind a row of tomato plants. "Is she gone?" the little old man hissed. "Yes," the redheaded boy answered. The little old man came out and climbed the garden fence. "Wait a minute for me," he said, "and I'll go with you." So they waited for him, and the little old man sneaked along the fence to the house, and grabbed up the alarm clock and the flatiron and the rollingpin and ran back down the road and climbed the garden fence again and hid the alarm clock and the rollingpin and the flatiron in the fence corner. "So she cant throw them at me when we come back," he explained cunningly. "Where can I ride?"	"Maggie," the little old man said. His wife reached into the house again and threw a shoe at him, and he turned and ran around the corner of the house. The woman stood in the door and glared at them. "And you folks with nothing better to do than keep folks from their work," she said. She glared at them again and slammed the door. "There now, what I tell you?" Alice said. "White trash!" "Well, I guess we'll have to find the Wishing Tree by ourselves," the redheaded boy said. "Come on." They rode on past the house and along the garden fence. At the corner of the fence somebody called cautiously to them as they passes, [i.e. passed,] and they saw the little old man peering out from behind a row of tomato plants. "Is she gone?" he whispered. "Yes," the redheaded boy answered. The little old man came out and climbed the fence. "Wait a minute for me, and I'll go with you." So they waited for him and he sneaked along the fence to the house and picked up the clock and the rollingpin and the iron and ran back down the road and climbed the garden fence again and hid the things in the fence corner. "So she cant throw them at me when we come back," he explained cunningly.
"You can ride in the cart with Alice and Dicky," the redheaded boy told him. Alice mumbled again, and Daphne asked. "What did you say, Alice?" "I says, me and Dicky dont want that	"You can ride in the cart with Alice and Dicky," the redheaded boy said. Alice mumbled again, and Dulcie asked, "What did you say, Alice?" "I says, me and Dicky dont want that

             

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
old trash in the cart with us. Yo' mommer wont like it." "Why, cant I ride, too?" the little old man said in a hurt tone. "I wouldn't aim to hurt." "Let him ride in the cart, Alice," the redheaded boy said. "He wont bother you and Dicky." "Of course I wont, ma'am," the little old man said quickly, "I wouldn't think of it." "Let him ride in the cart, Alice," they all said. "Well, git in, then," Alice said ungraciously. "But yo' mommer wont like it." The little old man hopped nimbly into the cart, and they rode on. Alice turned her back on him. The ponies trotted on along the road. After a while the little old man said: "I can whittle things with a knife."	old trash in the cart with us. Yo' mommer wouldn't like it." "Why, cant I ride too?" the little old man said in a hurt tone. "Let him ride in the cart, Alice," the redheaded boy said. "He wont bother you." "Of course I wont, ma'am," the little old man said. "I wouldn't think of it." "Let him ride in the cart, Alice," they said. "Well, git in, then," Alice said ungraciously. "But yo' mommer wont like it." The little old man hopped nimbly in, and they rode on. "I can whittle things with a knife," the little old man said.
Alice sniffed. "I can whittle most anything I ever seen," the little old man said. Alice sniffed. The ponies trotted on beneath the trees. There were a lot of butterflies flying around, and squirrels and rabbits and birds.	Alice sniffed.
"This is a nice pony and cart you have," the little old man said. "First choss pony," Dicky said. "Shetland pony, darling," Daphne corrected. "Not first choice pony." "Shetlun pony," Dicky said.	"This is a nice pony and cart you have," the little old man said. "First choss pony," Dicky said. "Shetland pony, darling," Dulcie corrected, "Not first choice pony."
"I used to have a lot of ponies," the little old man said. "But we got shed of them. They et too much."	"I used to have a lot of ponies," the little old man said.
Alice sniffed again. "Bet you never had nothing in your life except flati'ons throwed at you." They came to a fork in the road and [the] redheaded boy stopped. "Which way?" he asked. "That way," the little old man answered immediately, pointing. They rode on that way.	Alice sniffed again. "Bet you never had nothing except flatirons throwed at you in yo' life." They came to a fork in the road and the redheaded boy stopped. "Now, which way?" he asked. "That way," the little old man answered immediately, pointing. They rode on.
"What were you carving when we came up?" Daphne asked. The little old man reached in his pocket and took the piece of wood out, and they all crowded about the cart to see it. "Little puppy," Dicky said. "It's a lizard," George said. "No, it's a dragon," said Daphne. "Isn't it?"	"What were you carving when we came up?" Dulcie asked. The little old man reached in his pocket and took the piece of wood out, and they all crowded about the cart to look at it. "Little puppy," Dicky said. "It's a lizard," George said. "No, it's a dragon," Dulcie said. "Isn't it?"

     

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
"It aint nothing," Alice said. "He nor nobody else never saw nothing like that thing." "What is it?" Daphne asked. "I dont know," the little old man answered. "I dont know what it is, but I think it's a gillypus." "What's a gillypus?" asked George. "I dont know. But I bet it looks something like this." "Why do you call it a gillypus, then, if you dont know what a gillypus looks like?" George asked. "Well," the little old man answered, "it looks more like a gillypus than anything I ever seen." "It dont look like nothing, to me," Alice said. "Not like nothing I ever saw, even in a circus." "Did you ever go to a circus?" Daphne asked the little old man. "Alice has been." "I dont know," the little old man answered. "It used to be like I could kind of remember going to one, but that was a long time ago, and now I don't know if I remember or not." "It's in a big tent," George said. "A tent big enough to hold our house. I wish I had a circus tent." "It has flags on it," Daphne added, "colored flags flying on top of it." "I wants to go to a circus," Dicky said. "We are going to the next one," Daphne said. "Mother has already said we could. Alice is going to take us, aren't you, Alice?" "And a band," Alice added, "and a elefump bigger'n all dese ponies rolled into one, and all of us on top of 'em. That elefump was the biggest thing I ever seen in my bawn days. Lawd, Lawd."	"It aint nothing," Alice said. "He nor nobody never saw nothing like that." "What is it?" Dulcie asked. "I dont know," the little old man answered. "I dont know what it is, but I think it's a gillypus." "What's a gillypus?" asked George. "I dont know, but I expect it looks something like this." "Why do you call it a gillypus, then, if you dont know what a gillypus looks like?" "Well," the little old man answered, "it looks more like a gillypus than anything I ever saw." "It dont look like nothing, to me," Alice said. "Not like nothing I ever saw, even in a circus." "Did you ever go to a circus?" Dulcie asked the little old man. "Alice has been." "I dont know," the little old man answered. "It used to seem like I could kind of remember going to one, but that was a long time ago and now I dont know if I remember or not." "It's in a big tent," George said. "A tent big enough to hold our house. I wish I had a circus tent." "It has flags on it," Dulcie added, "colored flags flapping on top of it." "I want to go to a circus," Dicky said. "We are going to the next one. Mother has already said we could. Alice is going to take us, aren't you, Alice?" "And a band," added Alice, "and a elefump big as ten of these ponies rolled into one. That elefump was the biggest thing I ever seen in my bawn days. Lawd, Lawd."
"I wants to go to a circus, Alice," Dicky said. "So does I, honey. Spotted hawses, and folks spanglin' through de air...........Listen: dont I hear a band now?" It was a horn they heard, and they trotted on through the forest and came in sight of a huge gray castle, with a flag on top of it. A soldier stood on the wall of the castle, blowing the horn. ["]Once Alice's husband was a corporal in the army. I mean, a husband that Alice used to have was a soldier, too.["]	"I want to go to a circus, Alice," Dicky said.v "So does I, honey. Spotted hawses, and folks spanglin' through the air.......listen: dont I hear a band now?" It was a horn they heard, and they rode on and came to a huge gray castle. The redheaded boy stopped again. "Which way now?" he asked.

         

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
"I wouldn't give nothing for a whole war full of soldiers," Alice said. "Not nothing." The redheaded boy stopped again. "Which way?" he asked.
"That way," the little old man answered, pointing. They rode on that way, and soon they couldn't hear the horn any more, and still further on they found a curious tree beside the road. It was a white tree, and at first they thought it was a dogwood tree in bloom, but when they came up to it, they saw that the leaves on it were perfectly white. "What a funny tree," Daphne said. "What kind of a tree is it?" "It's a----a----it's a mellomax tree," the little old man said. "There's a lot of them in this forest." "I never saw a tree with white leaves before," Daphne said, and she pulled one of the leaves off. And as soon as she touched it, the leaf turned to a lovely blue color. "If that isn't the funniest thing!" Daphne exclaimed. "Look!" Then they each pulled a leaf from the tree. George's leaf turned purple, and the redheaded boy's was gold; and Alice took one and hers became a bright red, and she held Dicky up so he could pull one, and his was not any color especially: a kind of faint blending of all colors, with a blue the same shade as Daphne's, but paler, for the dominant note.	"That way," the little old man answered, pointing. A soldier on the wall of the castle was blowing the horn. They rode on and passed the castle, and a little further on they came to a curious tree beside the road. It was a white tree, and at first they thought it was a dogwood tree in bloom. But when they came up to it they saw that the leaves were white. "What a funny tree," Dulcie said. "What kind of tree is it?" "It's a---a mellomax tree," the little old man said. "There are a lot of them in this forest." "I never saw a tree with white leaves before," Dulcie said, and she pulled one of the leaves off, and as soon as she touched it, the leaf changed its color and became a lovely blue. Then they all pulled a leaf off the tree. George's leaf turned purple, and the redheaded boy's was gold; and Alice took one and hers became bright red, and she held Dicky up and he got one, and his was not any color especially---kind of faint pinks and greens and mostly the same shade of blue as Dulcie's, but paler.
"What color is yours?" Daphne asked of the little old man, who showed them his leaf, but his hadn't changed at all. "That's the color of everybody's wishes," the redheaded boy explained. "Daphne's are blue wishes, and Dicky's are a little of everything and not much of anything yet, because he's little, but when he's bigger they'll be blue like Daphne's because he's Daphne's brother; and Alice's are red wishes, and George's are purple ones; and yours----" he turned to the little old man "----yours are not anything, because you are satisfied with things as they are."	"What color is yours?" Dulcie asked the old man, who showed them his leaf, and it was almost exactly like Dicky's except for the blue. "That's the color of everybody's wishes," the redheaded boy told them. "Dulcie's are blue, and Dicky's are not very much of anything yet, because he's little, but they'll be blue when he gets bigger, because he is Dulcie's brother; and Alice's are red wishes, and George's are purple, and mine are gold ones; and yours---" to the little old man "---are the same as Dicky's because you dont have many wishes either."
"Why, this must be the Wishing-Tree," Daphne said. "No, no," the little old man answered, "This is not the Wishing-Tree: I've been	"Why, this may be the Wishing Tree," Dulcie said. "No, no," the little old man answered. "This is not the Wishing Tree: I've been to

             

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
to the Wishing-Tree too many times not to know it. This is just a mellomax tree." "Well, which way is the Wishing-Tree, then?" the redheaded boy asked. "That way," the little old man answered promptly. And so they went on that way.	the Wishing Tree too many times. This is a mellomax tree." "Well, which way is the Wishing Tree, then?" the redheaded boy asked. "That way," the little old man said promptly. And so they rode on.
"It's an awful long way," George said, "and I'm hungry. I wish I had a sandwich." And then George nearly fell off his pony in surprise, because there in his hand was a sandwich. George stared at the sandwich, then he smelled it, then he bit it, and whooped for joy. "Look what George has got," everybody cried, and Dicky said:	"It's an awful long way," George said, "and I'm hungry. I wish I had a sandwich." And then George nearly fell off his pony in surprise, for there in his hand was a sandwich. George stared at the sandwich, then he smelled it, then he bit it, and whooped for joy.
"I want something to eat, too." And as soon as he said it, there was something in his hand. "What you got in your hand, honey?" Alice asked. The others crowded about the cart to see too. "What in the world is it?" Daphne asked. The redheaded boy pinched a bit of it off and put it in his mouth. "What does it taste like?" asked George. "It doesn't taste like anything," the redheaded boy answered, "because it isn't anything. It's just something. That was what Dicky wished for, you see: he didn't say bread or candy, he just said he wanted something."	"I want something to eat too," Dicky said, and as soon as he said it there was something in his hand. "What you got in your hand, honey?" Alice asked. The others crowded about the cart to see also. "What in the world is it?" Dulcie asked. The redheaded boy pinched a bit of it off and put it in his mouth. "What does it taste like?" "It doesn't taste like anything," the boy said, "because it isn't anything. It's just something. That was what Dicky said he wanted, you see---he didn't say bread or candy, he just said he wanted Something."
"I wants candy," Dicky said, and immediately it was a cake of chocolate which he had in his hand. "Alice, you know he cant have candy," Daphne said.	"I want some candy," Dicky said, and immediately it was a cake of chocolate that he held in his hand. "Alice, you know he cant have candy," Dulcie said. "That's right, honey," Alice said. "You dont want no old candy, do you?"
"Wants candy," Dicky insisted. "You have something else, honey. Here, gimme yo' candy." You dont want no old candy, does you?" Alice took the candy out of Dicky's hand, but as soon as she did so, the candy disappeared.	"Wants candy," Dicky repeated. "You better have something else. Here, give me yo' candy." Alice took the candy out of his hand, but as soon as she did so, the candy disappeared.
Alice sat for a moment in astonishment. Then she whirled upon the little old man. "You old man," Alice asked. [C] "You gimme back that candy, you hear? Taking his candy right out of a baby's hand, like that! You gimme that candy, you hear?" "Why," the little old man said with surprise, "I didn't take it. You taken it yourself."	Alice sat for a moment in astonishment. Then she whirled upon the little old man. "You old man," Alice said, "You gimme back that candy, you hear? Taking right out of a baby's hand, like that. You gimme that candy, you hear?" "Why," the little old man said with surprise, "I didn't take it. You took it yourself."

       

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
"Dont you try to prank wid us!" Alice exclaimed. "Didn't somebody took it right outen my hand?" "Why, Alice!" said Daphne, "He didn't take it!" "Somebody did, then. And he is the closest!" Alice glared at the little old man. "I never taken it," the little old man repeated.	"Dont you try to prank with me!" Alice exclaimed. "Didn't somebody took it right out of my hand?" "Why, Alice!" said Dulcie. "He didn't take it!" "Somebody did, then. And he is the closest." Alice glared at the little old man.
"It just went," the redheaded boy explained. "Dicky was the one who wished it, and when Alice took it, it just went, because Alice hadn't wished for any candy." "Well, I dont like no such goingson around me," Alice said. "I think we better turn around a [i.e. and] go home." "I'm hungry," Dicky said. "I wants-------" "Don't you want some bread and butter and sugar?" Daphne asked quickly. "Or cookies?" "Wants cookies," Dicky said, and as soon as he said it, he had a cookie in each hand. "Well, if that isn't the funniest thing!" Daphne exclaimed. "That must have been the Wishing-Tree back there." "No, no," the little old man said, "I know the Wishing-Tree too well. That was just a mellomax tree." "Well," the redheaded boy said, "Whatever it was, I'm hungry too. Suppose we stop and all wish ourselves something to eat," he suggested. So they stopped and got down and hitched the ponies, and they sat in a circle beneath a tree. "Now, Daphne," the redheaded boy said, "You wish first."	"It just went," the redheaded boy explained. "Dicky was the one who wished it, and when Alice took it, it just went, because Alice hadn't wished for candy." "Well, I dont like no such goingson around me. I think we better turn around and go home." "I'm hungry," Dicky said. "I want--" "Dont you want some bread and butter and sugar?" Dulcie said quickly. "Or cookies?" "Wants cookies," Dicky said, and as soon as he said it, he had one in each hand. "Well, if that isn't the funniest thing!" Dulcie exclaimed. "That must have been the Wishing Tree back there." "'No, no," the little old man said, "I know the Wishing Tree too well. That was just a mellomax tree." "Well, whatever it was, I'm hungry too. Suppose we stop and all wish ourselves something to eat," the redheaded boy suggested. So they stopped and hitched the ponies. "Now, Dulcie, you wish first."
"I want------I want-------Let me think what I want. Oh, yes: I want some green peas and lady-fingers and an alligator pear and a chocolate malted milk." And as soon as she said it, there they were on the grass in front of her. "Now, Dicky," said the redheaded boy. "Alice will have to wish for him," Daphne said. "What do you want, darling?" "You wants some rice and gravy, dont you, honey?" asked Alice. "Wants wice and gwavy," said Dicky, and there it was in front of him. "Now, George," said the redheaded boy. "I want so much strawberries and chocolate cake that I'll be sick for a week." And immediately there was a huge bowl of strawberries and a fresh chocolate cake in front of him.	"I want----I want......Let me think what I want. Oh, yes: I want some green peas and ladyfingers and an alligator pear and a chocolate malted milk." And as soon as she spoke, there they were on the grass before her. "Now, Dicky," said the redheaded boy. "Alice, you'll have to wish for him," Dulcie said. "What do you want, darling?" "You wants some rice and gravy, dont you honey?" asked Alice. "Wants wice and gravy," said Dicky, and there it was before him. "Now, George," said the redheaded boy. "I want so much strawberries and chocolate cake that I'll be sick for a week." And immediately there was a huge bowl of strawberries and a fresh chocolate cake before him.

           

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
"Now, Alice," said the redheaded boy. "I wants some ham and gravy and a piece of cornbread and a cup of coffee," Alice said, and there it was in front of her. Now, you choose," the redheaded boy said to the little old man. "I'll take apple pie and icecream," the little old man said. "We dont have icecream very much at home," he explained. "Now, it's my turn," the redheaded boy said. "I want some hot gingerbread and an apple." They sat on the grass and ate, and Alice helped Dicky because he was little.	"Now, Alice," said the redheaded boy. "I wants some ham and gravy and cornbread and a cup of coffee," Alice said, and there it was. "Now, you choose," the redheaded boy said to the little old man. "I'll take apple pie and ice cream," the little old man said. "We dont have ice cream very much at home," he explained. "Now it's my turn," the redheaded boy said. "I want some hot gingerbread and an apple." They sat on the ground and ate.
"George," Daphne said, "You're going to be terribly sick if you eat all those strawberries and that cake by yourself." "Dont care," mumbled George. "That's what I want." When they had all finished, they got on the ponies again. The redheaded boy turned to the little old man. "Which way now?" he asked.	"George, you're going to be terribly sick if you eat all that cake and those strawberries," Dulcie said. "Dont care," George mumbled. "That's what I want." When they had all finished they got on the ponies again. The redheaded boy turned to the old man. "Which way now?" he asked.
"That way," the little old man answered, and they went on that way through the forest. "I ate too much," George said. "I wish now I hadn't."	"That way," the little old man answered, and they went on through the forest. "I wish I hadn't eaten so much," George said.
"I wish we'd find the Wishing-Tree pretty soon. That's what I wish," Daphne said. A little further on the road forked again.	"I wish we'd find the Wishing Tree pretty soon. That's what I wish," Dulcie said. A little further on the road forked again.
"That way," the little old man said, and they went on that way. "I dont feel good," George said. "Why, there's that white tree again," Daphne said in surprise, "We've come back to it." "No, no," the little old man said quickly. "That's not the same tree. That's just another mellomax tree. There's a lot of them in this forest." "I believe it's the same tree, myself," the redheaded boy said. "So does I," Alice agreed. "I don't think he knows where that Wishing-Tree is not [i.e. no] more than I does. Did you ever see the Wishing-Tree?" "I've been to it more than a million times," the little old man answered hotly. "I know exactly where it is." "Have you been to it, really?" Daphne asked.	"That way," the little old man said, and they went on. "I dont feel good," George said. "Why, there's that white tree again," Dulcie said with surprise. "We've come back to it." "No, no," the little old man said. "That's not the same one. That's just another mellomax tree. There's a lot of them in this forest." "I believe it's the same one, myself," the redheaded boy said. "So does I," Alice agreed. "I dont believe he knows where that Wishing Tree is no more than we does. Did you ever see that Wishing Tree?" "I've been to it more than a hundred times," the little old man answered. "I know exactly where it is." "Have you been to it, really?" asked Dulcie.

       

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
"I cross my heart, I have," the little old man said. "I used to go to it every day when I was a young man. Cross my throat and hope to die." "Well, this certainly looks like the same tree to me," the redheaded boy repeated. "Which way, then?" "Dont you all pay no more mind to him," Alice said, "He dont no more know where that tree is than I does," Alice's voice mumbled on, and Daphne asked, "What did you say, Alice?" "I says, He aint no better than a ole tramp, that's what I says." She turned and glared at the little old man, who cringed back into the corner of the cart and began to talk to Dicky.	"I cross my heart, I have," the little old man said. "I used to go to it every day when I was a young man. Cross my heart and hope to die." "Well, this certainly looks like the same tree, to me," the redheaded boy said. "Which way, now?" "Dont youall pay no more mind to him," Alice said. "He dont no more know where that tree is than I does." Alice's voice mumbled on, and Dulcie asked, "What did you say, Alice?" "I says, he aint no better than a ole tramp, that's what I says." She turned and glared at the little old man, who cringed back into the corner of the cart.
"If we just had a gun," the little old man said, "we could shoot some of these squirrels and rabbits and birds, couldn't we, now? There's a sight of game in this forest." "I wants a gun," said Dicky, and Alice flung up her hands and shrieked, for there was the gun in Dicky's hands, a gun so big that Dicky couldn't hold it, and it dropped on the little old man's foo[t.] "You----" said Alice, and she shrieked again. "You, young redheaded man, you take us right back home this minute, 'fo' dis ole fool kills us all dead. You come here and get dis here gun away from him. Look at him, pullin' a gun on me and dis baby!" "Why, Alice!" exclaimed Daphne, "he didn't do it! It was Dicky himself that wished the gun!" "I dont care who done it," Alice replied. "Just look at him yonder, grinnin' at us like a 'possum, waitin' a chance to rob and kill us all." She glared at the little old man. "Honest, ma'am," the little old man said, bewildered, "I never done it. I wouldn't even think-------" "Hush yo' mouf and get dat gun outen dis cart." The little old man stooped and put his hand on the gun, but as soon as he touched it, it disappeared, because he hadn't wished the gun. "Well," said Alice, watching him, "where is it? What you done with it? Take it right out from under yo' coat, 'fo' I calls a policeman."	"If we just had a gun," he said to Dicky, "we could shoot some of these squirrels and birds, couldn't we, now? There's lots of game in this forest." "I want a gun," Dicky said, and Alice flung up her hands and shrieked, for there was a gun in Dicky's hands, a gun so big that he couldn't hold it and so it dropped right on the little old man's foot. "You-----" said Alice, and she shrieked again. "You, young redheaded man, you take us right back home 'fore this ole fool kills us all dead. You come here and get dis gun. Look at him, pullin' a gun out on me and this baby!" "Why, Alice!" exclaimed Dulcie, "he didn't do it! It was Dicky that wished the gun!" "I dont care who done it. Just look at him there, grinnin' at us, waitin' a chance to rob and kill us all." She turned and glared at the little old man. "Honest, ma'am," the little old man said, "I never done it. I wouldn't even think-----" "Hush your mouf and get that gun out of this cart." The little old man stopped and put his hand on the gun, but as soon as he touched it, it disappeared, because he hadn't wished for the gun. "Well," Alice said, "where is it? Take it right out from under yo' coat, 'fore I calls a policeman."
"Alice!" Daphne exclaimed. "Dont' you	"Alice!" Dulcie exclaimed, "Dont you

     

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
see it's gone? It's gone, Alice! He didn't wish for the gun: It was Dicky who wished for a gun." Alice flopped around on the seat. "We's goin' right straight home: you tell that redhead[ed] boy to pick out the first road he kin find. I'se had about all this goingson I kin stand." Alice fell to mumbling again, and they rode on, and after a while they came again to the gray castle. There were some soldiers marching through the gate of the castle, with a flag at the head of the company. "Look at the soldiers," Daphne said. "I dont feel very good," George said. "Soldiers is de most triflin' folks in de Lord's creatium," Alice said. "Eatin' all day and on de prowl half de night. Thank de Lawd de army dont depend on me be [i.e. to] boa'd um."	see it's gone? It's gone, Alice. He didn't wish for a gun, it was Dicky who wished for the gun." Alice flopped around on the seat. "We's goin' right straight home: you tell that redheaded boy to pick out the first road. I'se had about all of this goin' on I can stand." Alice went to mumbling again, and they rode on, and soon they came to the gray castle again. There were some soldiers marching through the gate. "Look at the soldiers," Dulcie said. "I dont feel very good," George said. The soldiers marched through the gate, with a flag at the head of the company. ["]Once Alice had a husband who was a corporal in the army. I mean, a husband that Alice used to have was a soldier also.["] "A soldier's life is awful hard," Alice said.
"I want a soldier," Dicky said. "You black nigger," Alice exclaimed, "Where you been?" The soldier that Dicky had wished for touched his soldier hat. "Why, if it aint Alice," he said. "And I'll Alice you!" Alice shouted at him. "If I jes' had a stick of stovewood in my hand-----" Alice blinked her eyes at the stick of wood, then she threw it at the soldier, but as soon as it touched him, it disappeared. "Jes' gimme one mo' stick," Alice said, and there was another stick in her hand and she threw it and it disappeared also. The soldier jumped behind a tree. "Lawd a mussy, woman," the soldier said, "what is you chunkin's me wid? Hants?" "You triflin' villyun," said Alice, and she started to climb out of the cart. "Alice!" exclaimed Daphne, "What in the world!" "It's dat husband I used to have. The one dat run off on me and lef' me wid a month house rent and not even a hunk of sidemeat in de house, and me payin' a lawyer to fin' out what de gov'ment done wid him. Him and his army! I'll war him, I wil[l]: he aint never seen no war like what I kin aggravoke. You come out from behine that tree, nigger man." "Don't you hurt my soldier!" Dicky shouted.	"I want a soldier," Dicky said. "You black nigger," Alice exclaimed, "where you been?" The soldier that Dicky had wished for touched his soldier hat. "Why, if it aint Alice," he said. "And I'll Alice you," Alice shouted, "if I jes' had a stick of stovewood in my hand-----" Alice blinked her eyes at the stick of wood, then she threw it at the soldier, but as soon as it touched him, it disappeared. "Jes' gimme one mo' stick," and there was another in her hand, and she threw it and it disappeared too. The soldier ducked behind a tree. "Lawd a mussy, woman," he said. "What is you chunkin' at me? Birds?" "You triflin' vilyun," said Alice, and she started to climb out of the cart. "Alice!" exclaimed Dulcie. "What in the world!" "It's that husban' I used to have. The one that run off on me and lef' me with a month houserent and not even a hunk of sidemeat in the house, and me paying a lawyer to fin' out what the gov'ment done with him. Him and his army! I'll war him, I will: he aint never seen no war like what I kin aggravoke. You come out from behime that tree, nigger man." "Dont you hurt my soldier!" Dicky shouted.

       

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
"She aint got a flatiron nor a rollinpin neither," the little old man called to the soldier. "And I dont need none," Alice said. "I dont need-----"	"Run, run," the little old man said, "She aint got a flatiron or a rollingpin."
"Hol' up," the soldier said, "I kin explain how come I never come back." "I bet you kin," Alice retorted. "You come right up here and git in this buggy and save yo' explainin' twell we gits home." The soldier came and got in the cart. "Don't you hurt my soldier," Dicky repeated. "He's Alice's soldier, darling," Daphne said. "Is that the soldier you lost in the war, Alice?" "He's de one," Alice answered. "And a good losin', too. Look at 'im! Even de war dont want him!" They rode on. The soldier and the little old man sat side by side in the back of the cart. "What's your husband's name, Alice?" asked Daphne. "Name Exodus," Alice answered. "De one before him was name Genesis. I never did know what become of him. But you kin bet yo' money dat if meanness aint kilt him, de law's got 'im somewhere."	"Hol' up," the soldier said, "I kin explain how come I never got back." "I bet you kin," Alice retorted. "You come right here and git in this buggy and save yo' explainin' twell we git home." The soldier came up and got in the cart. "Dont you hurt my soldier," Dicky repeated. "He's Alice's soldier, darling," Dulcie said. "Is that the soldier you lost in the war, Alice?" "He's de one," Alice answered. "And a good losin', too. Look at 'im! even de war dont want 'im!" They drove on. The soldier and the little old man sat side by side at the back of the cart. "What's your husband's name, Alice?" Dulcie asked. "Name Exodus," Alice answered. "Dey was two of 'em. The other one wus name Genesis, but meanness kilt him 'fore he wuz ten years old."
"I was in a war once," the little old man said to Alice's husband. "Which one?" Alice's husband asked. "I never did know," the little old man answered. "There was a lot of folks in it, I remember." "Sounds like de one I wuz at," Alice's husband said. "They're all about alike, I reckon," the little old man said. "I 'speck you's right," Alice's husband agreed. "Wuz it across de water?" "Across the water?" the little old man repeated. "Across de big up and down water," Alice's husband explained. "Man, man, dat wuz a war. A hundred days, and jes' water, up and down and up and down, and when ever you looked out de window, all you seen wuz dat restless water. Not even no sagegrass to look at and tell how far you come. I heard day killed folks in dat war, but it seemed like day after day I jes' couldn't die. I dont know how in de worl' folks ever	"I was in a war," the little old man said to Alice's husband. "Which one?" Alice's husband asked. "I never did know," the little old man answered. "There was a lot of folks in it, I remember." "Sound like the one I wuz at," Alice's husband said. "They're all about alike, I reckon," the little old man said. "I 'speck you's right," Alice's husband agreed. "Wuz it across de water?" "Across the water?" the little old man repeated. "Across de big up and down water," Alice's husband explained. "Man, man, dat wuz a war. A hundred days, and jes' water, up and down and up and down, and when you looked out you never seen nothing. Not even sagegrass. I knowed dey killed folks in wars, but it seemed like day after day that I jes' couldn't die. I dont know how in de world folks ever dammed up a pond dat big. Nor what dey kin do wid it. Dat water

             

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
dammed up a pond dat big, nor what dey can do wid it. Dat water 'ud hole all de inscursion boats in de rentire world."	'ud hol' all de excursion boats in de rentire world."
"No, this wasn't that war," the little old man said. "They come right down in my pappy's pasture and fit the war I used to go to."	"No, this wasn't that war. They came right down in my pappy's pasture and fought the war I went to."
"Well, now," said Alice's husband, "If dat aint makin' war conveniump!" "And there was another war I went to," the little old man added, "It was the Seven Pines war."	"Well, now," said Alice's husband, "If dat aint makin' war comvenient!" "And there was another war I went to. It was at a place named Seven Pines."
"Were you behind one of the trees?" asked Daphne. "No, ma'am," the little old man answered. "There were a lot of generals at that war." "Well, now," said Alice's husband again. "Wars dont change much, does dey?" "I don't feel good," George said. "I think......." George's eyes had a far away look in them. "I think I'm going to be sick," George said.	"Were you behind one of them?" Dulcie asked. "No, ma'am," the little old man answered. "There were more than seven generals in that war." "Well, now," said Alice's husband, "Wars dont change, does dey?" "I dont feel good," George said. "I think......." George's eyes had a far away look in them. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"Who won the war you went to?" Daphne asked the little old man. "I dont know, ma'am," the little old man answered. "I didn't". "Dat's right, too", Alice's husband agreed. "I never seed a soldier yet dat ever won anything in a war except trouble gittin' in and mo' trouble gittin' loose. But den, white folks' wars is always run funny. Next time de white folks has a war, I think I aint goin'. I think I'll jes' stay in de army instead."	"Who won the war you were in?" Dulcie asked. "I dont know, ma'am," the little old man answered. "I didn't." "Dat's right, too," Alice's husband agreed. "I never seed a soldier yet dat ever won anything in a war. But den, whitefolks' wars is always run funny. Next time de whitefolks has a war, I think I aint goin'. I think I'll jes' stay in de army instead."
"I reckon that's better," the little old man agreed. "I think," said George, "that I'm going to be sick." And George sat right on his pony and became dreadfully ill. "He sho' did," Alice's husband said, "He couldn't be got no sicker goin' to the far offest war in de whole world." They all stopped, and pretty soon George stopped being ill, and they helped him into the cart. "Can I ride on this pony, mister?" the little old man asked the redheaded boy, and the redheaded boy said he could, and the little old man hopped out of the cart and mounted the pony. "Why didn't you wish for a pony before, if you wanted to ride on one?" Daphne asked the little old man. "You haven't	"I guess that's better," the little old man agreed. "I think," said George, "that I'm going to be sick." And George sat right on his pony and got dreadfully sick. "He sho' did," Alice's husband said. "He couldn't a got no sicker goin' to de far offest war in de whole worl'." They all stopped, and presently George got a little better, and they helped him into the cart. "Can I ride his pony, mister?" the little old man said to the redheaded boy. The redheaded boy said Yes, and the little old man hopped out of the cart and mounted the pony. "Why didn't you wish for a pony before, if you wanted to ride on one?" Dulcie asked the little old man. "You haven't wished for

       

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
wished for anything except apple pie and icecream. Cant you think of anything you'd like to wish for?" "I don't know," the little old man said. "I hadn't thought about it. But I will think of something to wish for. Let's see. . .I wish we all had a bag of pink and white candy." And as soon as he said it, everyone had a sack of candy in his hand. "Dicky cant have candy, Alice," Daphne said "You know we have to promise not to let anybody give him candy when we're walking." So Alice took Dicky's sack, and they all thought up something for Dicky, and the little old man wished Dicky some more cookies. The little old man opened his sack.	anything except apple pie and icecream. Cant you think of something you'd like to wish for?" "I dont know," the little old man said. "I hadn't thought about it. But I will think of something. Let's see.......I wish we all had a sack of pink and white striped candy." And as soon as he said it, everyone had a sack of candy in his hand.
"Mine are soft ones," the little old man said. "I'm glad of that. I used to like the hard ones best, but now I have to eat soft ones, because my teeth aint what they used to be when I was a young man." "Let me see your teeth," Daphne said, and the little old man opened his mouth. He had no teeth at all. "Why dont you wish for some false teeth?" Daphne asked. "What are false teeth?" the little old man asked. "Wish for some, and see," Daphne suggested. "All right," the little old man agreed. "I wish I had some false teeth", he said, and he clapped his hand to his mouth and looked at Daphne in astonishment. "Dont you like them?" Daphne asked. "I dont really believe I do," the little old man answered. "I've kind of got used to not having any, you see." He took the false teeth out and looked at them. "They're right pretty, now, aint they? They'd look right nice on the mantleshelf, wouldn't they? I think I'll just keep them for that." They rode on through the forest, under the huge oak trees, eating their candy. Except George. George didn't want any candy right now, and he put his sack in his pocket to take home with him. There were a lot of birds in the trees chirping to one another, and squirrels scudded across the grass from one tree to another, and there were flowers of all kinds and colors in the grass.	"Mine are soft ones," the little old man said. "I used to like the hard ones best, but now I have to eat the soft kind, because my teeth aint what they used to be when I was a young man." "Let me see your teeth," Dulcie said, and the little old man opened his mouth. He didn't have any teeth at all. "Why dont you wish for some false teeth?" Dulcie asked. "What are false teeth?" asked the little old man. "Wish for some, and see," Dulcie suggested. "All right. I wish I had some false teeth," the little old man said, and he clapped his hand to his mouth and looked at Dulcie with astonishment. "Dont you like them?" Dulcie asked. "I dont really believe I do," the little old man answered. "I've got used to not having any, you see." He took the teeth out and looked at them. "They're right pretty, aint they? They'd look right nice on the mantle piece, now, wouldn't they? I think I'll just keep them for that." They rode on through the forest, under the huge oak trees. There were a lot of birds in these trees, chirping to one another, and squirrels scudded across the grass from one tree to another, and there were flowers of all kinds and colors in the grass.
The little old man kicked his pony with his heels until he lept and pranced and the	The little old man kicked his pony with his heels until it lept and pranced, and the

     

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
little silver bells on the bridle jingled madly. "We rode horses in that war I used to go to," the little old man said. "This is the way I used to do." And he made the pony dash down the road until the little old man's beard streamed out behind him in the wind, then he made the pony whirl around and come dashing back. "I bet you never went to no war in your life," Alice said. "I bet so too," George said. George was feeling better now. "I bet if you ever saw a enemy, you'd run." "I bet I wouldn't", the little old man replied quickly. "I bet I'd cut a enemy right in two with my sword. If I just had a sword in my hand-----------" And there was the sword in his hand---a new shiny one, with a gold handle, and the little old man looked at the sword, and then he rubbed it on his coat until it shone like a mirror, and he showed his sword to Alice's husband. Alice's husband said it was a fine sword, but he said it was a little too long to suit him, because he liked a knife you could hang on a string down your back, inside your shirt. "This is the way I used to do at a war," the little old man said. "Look at me". And he waved his sword and made the pony dash dow[n] the road again and then come flying back. "I bet you'd be scared as scared," George said. "I bet I wouldn't be scared of a hundred enemies," the little old man said, "with a fine sword like this. I bet I'd just ride right into 'em and slice 'em right in two." "I bet you couldn't slice a----a----rabbit in two," George said. "I bet you'd be scared."	little bells on the bridle jingled like mad. "We rode horses in that war I used to go to," the little old man said. "This is the way I used to do." And he made the pony dash down the road until the little old man's beard streamed out behind him in the wind, then he made the pony whirl and come dashing back. "I bet you never went to no war in your life," Alice said. "I bet so too," George said. George was feeling better now. "I bet if you ever saw a enemy, you'd run." "I bet I wouldn't," the little old man replied. "I bet I'd cut him right in two with my sword. If I just had a sword in my hand, I'd show you exactly how I'd do." And there was the sword in his hand---a new shiny one, with a gold handle, and the little old man looked at the sword and rubbed it on his coat until it shown like a mirror, and he showed his sword to Alice's husband. Alice's husband said it was a fine sword, but he said it was a little too long to suit him; because he liked a knife you could hang on a string down your back, inside your shirt. "This is the way I used to do at the war," the little old man explained. "Watch me." And he waved his sword and made his pony dash down the road again and then come flying back. "I bet you'd be scared as scared," George said. "I bet I wouldn't be scared of a hundred enemies," the little old man said. "I bet I'd just ride right into 'em and slice 'em in two with a sword like this." "I bet you wouldn't slice a dog in two," George said. "I bet you'd be scared." "I bet I wouldn't," the little old man answered. "I bet I'd just------"
"I bet you'd be scared of a tiger or a lion," George said. "I bet I've killed a hundred tigers and lions in this very forest," the little old man said, "with a sword just like this....No, I used the sword at them wars. I dont remember what I killed the tigers and lions with. It was something else." "I guess you kilt 'um dodgin' rollin' pins and flati'ons," Alice said. "If I wuz runnin' a war," Alice's husband said, "I'd git me a bunch of married	"I bet you'd be scared of a tiger or a lion," George said. "I bet I've killed a hundred tigers and lions in this very forest," the little old man said, "with a sword just like this.......No, I used the sword in the war. I dont remember what I killed the tigers and lions with. It was something else." "I guess you kilt 'em dodgin' rollin' pins and flatirons," Alice said. "If I wuz runnin' a war," Alice's husband said, "I'd git me a bunch of married

   

The "Brown/Stone" Version

The "Victoria" Version

women and I'd blindfold 'em and I'd p'int 'um and I'd say, 'Go right straight like you's headed and when you hits somethin', it's yo' husband'. That's de way I'd conduck a war." "It would save a lot of money, wouldn't it?" the little old man agreed, "because they could pick up the rollingpins and flatirons and use them again. couldn't they?" "I've knowed 'um dat dont need no flati'ons and rollin'pins," Alice's husband said. "Wait twell you's been married as frequent [E] as I is." "I don't believe I'll marry any more," the little old man said. "Even if I could, I mean." "All husbands thinks dat," Alice's husband said. "De trouble is, convincin' de womenfolks. De man what's got any business sayin' he dont think he'll marry no mo' is dead." "Yaah," said George. "I bet if a lion jumped out from behind that tree, you'd fall dead." "I bet I wouldn't," the little old man answered, waving his sword again, "I bet I'd just--------" "I wish a lion would ju---------" Daphne screamed, and George didn't even complete his wish, and Alice's husband bellowed like a foghorn and climbed a tree. But Alice's voice drowned them all, and she caught Dicky up in one arm and dragged Daphne by the other and flew down the road. Behind them came George howling at the top of his voice, but the little old man, still carrying his sword, distanced them all. "Stop! Stop!" the redheaded boy shouted, and Alice stopped and leaned against a tree, panting for breath. There, in the middle of the road, was the lion, and beside it the redheaded boy on his snorting pony. "Come back," the redheaded boy called to them, "He wont hurt you." "Not twell you gits dat thing outen here!" Alice said. "You Daphne! Dont you go back up there." "All you have to do," the redheaded boy said, "Is for the one who wished the lion, to unwish him. Who was it that wished him? It was George, wasn't it?" "I guess so," answered George, who was hiding behind Alice.

women and I'd blindfold 'em and I'd p'int 'em and I'd say, 'Go right straight like you's headed and when you hits somethin', it's yo' husband.' That's de way I'd conduck a war." "It would save money, wouldn't it?" the little old man said, "because they could pick up the flatirons and rollingpins and throw them again, couldn't they?" "I've knowed some dat dont need no flatirons and rollin' pins," Alice's husband said. "Wait twell you's been married as freqump as I is." "Yaaah," said George, "I bet if a lion jumped out from behind a tree in front of you, you'd fall dead." "I bet I wouldn't," said the little old man, waving his sword again, "I bet I'd just--------" "I wish a lion would ju-------" Dulcie screamed, and George didn't even finish what he was saying, and Alice's husband bellowed like a foghorn, but Alice's voice drowned them all; and they flew down the road. Alice's husband climbed a tree, and Alice ran carrying Dicky in one arm and dragging Dulcie by the other, and behind them came George howling at the top of his voice. But the little old man, still carrying his sword, distanced them all. "Stop! Stop!" the redheaded boy shouted, and Alice stopped and leaned against a tree, panting for breath. There, in the middle of the road, sat the lion, and near it on his snorting pony, was the redheaded boy. "Come back," the redheaded boy called to them, "he wont hurt you." "Not twell you git dat thing out of here," Alice said. "You, Dulcie! Dont you go back up there." "All you have to do," the redheaded boy said, "is for the one that wished the lion to unwish him. Who was it who wished him? It was George, wasn't it?" "I guess so," George answered.

             

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
"Well, do you want him any longer?" the redheaded boy asked. "Not me," George replied. "I hope I never see another lion as long as I live." And as soon as George said this, the lion was gone. "Now we can go back," Daphne said. "You, Daphne!" Alice exclaimed. "Dont you go up there! Dat thing jes' jumped back behind that tree: I seen him!" "No, no," the redheaded boy said, "He's gone. Come on back." They went back, and the little old man who had run still further down the road, came back too, with his sword; and Alice's husband climbed down from the tree and came back also. The lion was gone, but Alice wasn't satisfied until she had looked behind all the trees. But the lion was really gone.	"Well, do you want him?" the redheaded boy asked. "Not me," replied George. "I hope I never see another one." And as soon as George said this, the lion was gone. "Now we can go back," Dulcie said. "You, Dulcie!" Alice exclaimed. "Dont you go up there! That thing jes' jumped behime that tree: I seen him!" "No, no," the redheaded boy said, "he's gone. Come on back." They went back. Alice had to look behind all the trees, but the lion was really gone.
"Why didn't he run after us?" Daphne asked. "Because none of you wished he would," the redheaded boy explained. "You certainly didn't look like you were wishing he'd run after you. And now the ponies are gone, too. You all wished them away when you saw the lion. Everybody wished they could run, you know, and you cant run when your're [i.e. you're] sitting on a pony or in a cart."	"Why, where are the ponies?" Dulcie asked. "Youall wished them away when you saw the lion," the redheaded boy said. "When the lion jumped out, everybody wished he could run, and you cant run while you're sitting on a pony or in a cart."
They looked at one another in astonishment. "Will we have to walk?" Daphne asked.	They looked at one another in astonishment. "Will we have to walk?" Dulcie asked.
"Well, I haven't any more ponies in my satchel," the redheaded boy replied. "I 'speck us better walk," Alice said. "De mo' us rides, de further us gits from home. Dey's somethin' mighty curious about this," Alice added and she glared at the little old man, who now wore his sword thrust through his left gallus. "And you kin jes' do somethin' wid dat knife, too," Alice said.	"Well, I haven't got any more ponies in my satchel," the redheaded boy replied. "I 'speck us better walk," Alice said. "De mo' us rides, de further us gits from home. Dey's something mighty cur'us about dis," Alice added and she glared at the little old man, who came up with his sword.
"I aint going to hurt no one with it," the little old man [said]. "Besides, I've lost my gillypus. It fell out of my pocket and now I cant find it."	"I've lost my gillypus," the little old man said. "It fell out of my pocket, and now I cant find it."
"That's too bad," Daphne said. "It was a nice gillypus. Don't you wish it could walk and talk, and then you could find it." "I sure do," the little old man said. "It was the best gillypus I ever seen." And then they heard a rustling in the grass, and a little thin voice crying: "Here I come, Egbert; here I come."	"That's too bad," Dulcie said. "It was a nice gillypus. Dont you wish it could walk and talk, and then you could find it." "I sure do," the little old man answered. "It was the best gillypus I ever seen." And as soon as he spoke, they heard a scuffling through the grass, and a little thin voice crying, "Here I come Egbert; here I come."

       

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
"That's my name," the little old man said, stooping down to see where the gillypus was. The rustling came nearer, and soon they saw the gillypus running through the grass. "Little puppy," said Dicky, and he caught up a stick from the ground and hit the gillypus, and the gillypus got larger, and Dicky hit it again, and the gillypus got larger still.	"That's my name," the little old man said. The scuffling came nearer, and soon they saw the gillypus running through the grass. "Little puppy," exclaimed Dicky, and he caught up a stick from the ground and hit the gillypus, and every time he hit it, the gillypus got larger and larger.
"Darling!" Daphne exclaimed. The gillypus was as big as a rabbit now, and Dicky hit it again. "Dont hit Mr. Egbert's gillypus!" Daphne cried. The gillypus was as big as a dog now, and Dicky hit it again. "Alice! Alice!" Daphne exclaimed, trying to catch the stick Dicky was hitting the gillypus with.	"Darling!" exclaimed Dulcie, "Dont hit Egbert's gillypus! Alice! Alice!"
"Kill little puppy," Dicky said, and the gillypus fell dead. "Cut little puppy in two," Dicky said, and the gillypus flew in two pieces. "Look what you done!" the little old man said, and he hid his face in the bend of his arm, and wept. "I'm awful sorry," said Daphne. "Dicky's a bad boy to kill your gillypus." Then another little voice wailed up from the grass at their feet, and they looked down and there was Dicky, no bigger than a lead soldier in a clump of grass. "That's because he made a bad wish," the redheaded boy explained. "A wish that hurt something." "Dont step on him!" Daphne shrieked, and almost at the same moment Daphne and Alice were little like Dicky, and Alice picked Dicky up and drew Daphne to her with the other arm. "You ole fool," Alice shouted up to the little old man in her thin tiny voice, "Look what you done! Dont you step on us!" "I dont know what to do, now," the redheaded boy said. "Dicky'll have to stay little until he does a good deed for somebody, and Daphne and Alice wont wish themselves big again as long as Dicky must stay little." "I think we all better get little, too," the little old man said, "so we can stay together." "I guess that's the best idea," the redheaded boy agreed. "But before we do, let's	"Kill little puppy," Dicky said. The gillypus was as large as a dog, now. "Cut little puppy in two," Dicky said, and the gillypus fell in two pieces. "Look what you done!" said the little old man, and he hid his face in his elbow, and wept. "I'm awful sorry," said Dulcie. "Dicky's a bad boy to cut your gillypus in two." Then another little voice wailed from the grass at their feet, and they looked down and there was Dicky, no bigger than a lead soldier. "That's because he made a bad wish," the redheaded boy explained, "a wish that hurt something." "Dont step on him!" shrieked Dulcie, and almost at the same moment Dulcie and Alice were little like Dicky, and Alice picked Dicky up and held Dulcie against her with the other arm. "You ol' fool," Alice shouted up to the little old man in her thin tiny voice, "look what you done! Dont you step on us!" "I dont know what to do, now," the redheaded boy said. "Dicky'll have to stay little until he does a kind deed for someone, and Dulcie and Alice wont get big again as long as Dicky must stay little." "I think we all better get little, too," the little old man suggested, "so we can stay together." "All right," the redheaded boy agreed. "That's the best idea."

           

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
be sure we still have our colored leaves, so we can get big again." "Not me," said George quickly. "I dont want to be that little. I wish I was home." And George just disappeared. "I'm sorry he's gone," the little old man said. "I could have killed that lion, if I hadn't been so surprised." The redheaded boy and the little old man had their leaves in their pockets, but Alice's husband didn't have a leaf, so they had to wish for him; and they did, and then they were all little like Alice and Daphne and Dicky.	"Not me," said George quickly. "I dont want to be that little. I wish I was home." And George just disappeared. "I'm sorry he's gone," the little old man said. "I could have killed that lion, if I hadn't been so surprised." Then the others were all little, like Alice and Dulcie and Dicky.
"Golly," said the little old man. They were in a huge forest of the funniest trees. The trees were green all over, and they were flat, like huge sword blades stuck into the ground, and there were no branches and leaves on them at all.	"Gee," said the little old man. They were in a huge forest of the funniest trees. The trees were green all over, and they were flat, like huge sword blades, and they didn't have any branches or leaves at all.
"That's grass," the redheaded boy explained. "We better go this way." They went on among the funny flat trees, and soon they came to a yellow mountain. "This is a funny mountain," the little old man said. "It's made out of wood, like somebody whittled it with a big knife." They went on along the foot of the mountain, looking for a road that went over it or around it. But there didn't seem to be any way that they could get around it.	"That's grass," the redheaded boy explained. "We better go this way." They went on among the funny flat trees, and soon they came to a yellow mountain. "This is a funny mountain," the little old man said. "It's made out of wood." They walked along beside the mountain, trying to find a road up it. But the mountain went on across the path, and they couldn't get by it.
"I know what it is," the redheaded boy said, "It's Mr. Egbert's gillypus." "I wish I had my gillypus," the little old man said, and they stopped in astonishment, because the mountain disappeared, and then the little old man clapped his hand to his pocket and said, "Something jumped into my pocket." And he put his hand in his pocket and took out his gillypus. "Well," the little old man said, "I'm certainly glad to get this gillypus back again. It's the best gillypus I ever made."	"I know what it is," the redheaded boy said, "It's Egbert's gillypus." "I wish I had my gillypus," the little old man said, and they stared in astonishment, for the mountain disappeared, and then the little old man said, "Something jumped in my pocket then." And he put his hand in his pocket and took out his gillypus. "Well," the little old man said, "I'm certainly glad to get this gillypus back again. It's the best gillypus I ever made."
So they went one, [i.e. on,] and they came out of the flat forest into a great wide desert, and standing in the middle of the desert was the biggest beast Alice had ever seen, or Alice's husband either. "It's bigger'n dat elefump," Alice said. "It's just my pony," the redheaded boy explained. "But he'll come on home by himself: he always does that." They went on across the desert, and all	So they went on, and they came out of the forest into a great desert, and standing in the middle of the desert was the biggest beast Alice had ever seen, or Alice's husband either. "It's bigger'n that elefump," Alice said. "It's just my pony," the redheaded boy explained. "He knows the way home, all right." They went on across the desert, and then

   

The "Brown/Stone" Version

The "Victoria" Version

of a sudden something whooshed through the air and a jaybird as big as two eagles flew down at them. Alice caught Dicky up and caught Daphne to her, and the jaybird whirled about them, trying to peck Dicky up with his beak. Alice's husband aimed his soldier gun and shot at the jaybird, but the jaybird kept on whirling around them trying to eat Dicky up. The jaybird thought Dicky was a bug, because Dicky was so little. "Put your hat on the ground!" the redheaded boy shouted to the little old man, while Alice's husband was fighting with the jaybird, and the little old man put his hat on the ground and the redheaded boy wished it was as big as a soup plate, and it was, and they all got under it. They could hear the jaybird pecking at the hat, but he couldn't get in. After a while they couldn't hear the jaybird any more, and Alice's husband raised the hat and looked out. "He's gone," Alice's husband said. Then he dropped the hat and jumped back inside. "Lawd save us," he shouted. "Here comes a earthquake!" And before he finished saying it, the ground rose up under them and they tumbled over one another and rolled down a hill, and the hat rolled off of them and they could see the earthquake going on past them. They could see the ground hunching up like there was something burrowing along under it. "It's a mole," the redheaded boy said. "That's what it was. Come on, we better get back into the forest and think what to do." They ran back among the flat funny trees again, and Alice sat down against one of the trees to get her breath. "I think," the redheaded boy said, "that we'd better wish Alice's husband big again, and we'll all get in his hat and he can carry us." So they wished Alice's husband big again, and he put his hat on the ground and picked them up carefully and put them in the hat. "You big fool," Alice shouted at him in her tiny thin voice, "you pick me and dis baby up careful, or I'll tear yo' head off and unravel yo' backbone clean down to yo' belt." So Alice's husband put them in carefully,

all of a sudden a jaybird twice as big as an eagle flew down at them. Alice caught Dicky up again and grabbed Dulcie with the other hand, and the jaybird whirled about them, trying to peck Dicky up with his beak. Alice's husband aimed his rifle and shot at the jaybird, but the jaybird kept on whirling about them, trying to eat Dicky up. The jaybird thought Dicky was a bug, because Dicky was so little. "Put your hat on the ground!" the redheaded boy shouted to the little old man, while Alice's husband was fighting the jaybird, and the little old man put his hat on the ground and the redheaded boy wished the little old man's hat was as big as a soup plate, and it was; and they all got under it. They could hear the jaybird pecking at the hat, but he couldn't get in. Finally they couldn't hear the jaybird any more, and Alice's husband raised the hat and looked out. "He's done gone," Alice's husband said. Then he dropped the hat and jumped back inside. "Lawd save us," Alice's husband shouted, "here comes a earthquake!" And all of a sudden the ground rose up beneath them and they tumbled over one another and fell down a big hill, and the hat rolled over, and down they went tumbling, and they could see the earthquake going on past them. They could see the ground hunching up like something was burrowing along under it. "It's a mole," the redheaded boy said, "that's what it was. Come on, we better get back into the forest and think what to do." They ran back among the funny flat trees again. "I think," the redheaded boy said, "that we'd better wish Alice's husband big again, and we'll all get in his hat and he can carry us home." So they wished Alice's husband big again, and he put his hat on the ground and picked them up one at a time very carefully and put them in the hat. "You big fool," Alice shouted at him in her tiny high voice, "you pick me and dis baby up easy, or I'll tear your head clean off and unravel yo' backbone down to yo' belt." Then Alice's husband picked up his hat

         

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
and he picked up his hat and went on. Daphne and Dicky and Alice and the redheaded boy and the little old man sat in the hat. They couldn't see anything except Alice's husband's head, and the sky and the treetops, and the hat had a kind of swinging motion like a hammock when Alice's husband walked; and after a while Dicky went to sleep, and Daphne began to get drowsy, too. But she couldn't get comfortable, because there wasn't [i.e. weren't] any pillows in Alice's husband's hat. I wish I was in my nice soft bed, Daphne said to herself. "No, I don't! I dont!" she screamed, but it was too late, for she was once more at home in her bed, in her room by herself. "I dont want to be here!" Daphne wailed. "I want to find Mr. Egbert so he can tell me where they went to!" And once more she stood in the road before a small gray cottage with roses growing over the door. "This is not where I left them!" Daphne said. "I want to be where Alice and Dicky and Maurice and Mr. Egbert and Alice's husband are." But nothing happened. Daphne waited a moment, then she wished again. But still nothing happened, and then she remembered her blue leaf and put her hand in the pocket of her dress. The leaf was gone.	and went on. Dulcie and Dicky and Alice and the redheaded boy and the little old man sat in the hat. They couldn't see anything except Alice's husband's head and the sky and the treetops, and after a while Dicky went to sleep, and Dulcie began to get drowsy. But she couldn't get comfortable, because there wasn't a pillow in Alice's husband's hat. "I wish I was in my nice soft bed," Dulcie said to herself. "No I dont! No I dont!" she screamed, but it was too late, for she was again in her bed at home, in her room by herself. "I dont want to be here!" Dulcie wailed. "I want to find Mr Egbert so he can tell me where the others went!" And once more she was in front of a gray cottage with a rose growing over the door. "This is not where I left them!" Dulcie said. "I want to be where Alice and Dicky and Maurice and Mr Egbert and Exodus are." But nothing happened, and Dulcie remembered her colored leaf, and she put her hand in the pocket of her dress. The leaf was gone.
Daphne didn't know what to do, but she expected she was going to cry. She stood in the road in front of the house, and then she heard somebody chopping wood behind the house, and she opened the gate and entered the yard. The door of the house was shut, and on the ground near the stoop were some slivers of wood where someone had been whittling, and scattered about the yard were a flatiron and a rollingpin and an alarm clock. The axe was still chopping behind the house, and Daphne went on around the corner toward the sound, and there at the woodpile a little old man with a long white beard worked busily. Daphne flew across the yard to him.	Dulcie didn't know what to do. She stood in the road in front of the cottage, and then she heard somebody chopping wood behind the house, and she opened the gate and entered the front yard. The door of the cottage was closed, and on the ground near the door were some slivers of wood where someone had been whittling with a knife, on [i.e. and] scattered about the yard were a flatiron and a rollingpin and an alarm clock. Dulcie went on around the house and there was a little old man with a long white beard, chopping wood. Dulcie went up to the little old man.
"Where are the others, Mr. Egbert?" Daphne asked. The little old man stopped in the middle of a stroke and turned with the axe held about [i.e. above] his head. Then he lowered the axe. "Ma'am?" the little old man said.	"Where are the others, Mr Egbert?" Dulcie asked. The little old man dropped his axe and whirled around. "Ma'am?" the little old man said.
"I've lost them," Daphne explained.	"I've lost them," Dulcie explained. "We

         

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
"We were all together there, and I got lost, and now I dont know where they are," she wailed. The little old man dropped the axe, "Was it a picnic?" he asked with interest. "I used to go to a lot of picnics, in my time." "Why, you were with us," said Daphne in surprise. "Did you get lost, too?" The little old man had the kindest blue eyes, bright and innocent and kind. "I used to go to a lot of picnics," the little old man said. "But I aint been to one now in a long while." "Why, you were with us this morning!" Daphne exclaimed. "Dont you remember? You had apple pie and icecream!" "Did I, now?" the little old man said with pleasure. Then he wagged his long white beard. "I used to be a great hand for icecream, in my day. But we dont have icecream very often now, icecream and apple pie. Well, sir." He pushed the wood he had been chopping aside. "Wont you have a seat on this log?" he said politely.	were all together there, and now I cant find them," she wailed. "Was it a picnic?" the little old man asked. "I used to go to a lot of picnics." "Why, you were with us. Did you get lost, too?" asked Dulcie. The little old man had the kindest blue eyes. "I used to go to a lot of picnics," the little old man said. "But I aint been to one now in a long while." "Why, you were with us this morning!" Dulcie exclaimed with surprise. "Dont you remember? You had apple pie and icecream!" "Did I, now?" the little old man said. He waggled his long white beard. "I used to be a great hand for icecream, in my day. But we dont have icecream very often, now." The little old man pushed the wood he had been chopping aside. "Wont you have a seat on this log?" the little old man said politely.
Daphne sat down sadly. "Then you dont know where they are?" she asked. The little old man sat down also. "Lordy, Lordy," he said, and he wagged his beard again, "It's been a power of years since I went to a picnic. But then, I aint as spry as I once was, and I've kind of got lazy. That's the reason I chop wood, you see. We got a nigger to do it, but I like to chop ocasionally for a little exercise."	Dulcie sat down sadly. "Then you dont know where they are?" she asked. The little old man sat down also. "Lordy, Lordy," he said, "it's been a power of years since I went to a picnic. But then, I aint as young as I once was, and I've kind of got lazy. That's the reason I chop wood, you see, for a little exercise."
"How old are you?" Daphne asked. "Well," the little old man answered, "one April I turned ninety two, but that's been........let's see.....Well, I dont think it's been so long ago, and so I expect I'm still about ninety two."	"How old are you?" Dulcie asked. "I'm ninety two this past gone April a year," the little old man replied.
"And so you dont know where they are," Daphne said. "I was with them, and then I got l-lost, and now I c-cant f-find them, and I'm sc-cared," [i.e. sc-scared,"] Daphne wept. The little old man jumped up nervously, and he made a clucking sound with his tongue. Suddenly he reached into his pocket. "Look what I got," he said. Daphne dried her eyes and looked. "Why, it's the gillypus!" she exclaimed. "Is that what it is?" the little old man said, pleased. "I made it myself, but I didn't know what it was. You can have it, if you want," he added.	"And so you dont know where they are," Dulcie said. "I was with them, and then I got l-lost, and now I c-cant f-find them, and I'm sc-scared," Dulcie wept. The little old man jumped up nervously, and he made a clicking sound with his tongue. Suddenly he reached into his pocket. "Look what I made," he said. Dulcie wiped her eyes and looked. "Why, it's the gillypus!" she exclaimed. "Is that what it is?" the little old man said, pleased. "I didn't know what it was. You can have it, if you want," he added.

       

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
"I want Alice and Dicky," Daphne wa[i]led, and she wept again. The little old man clicked his tongue again and put his hands back into his pockets. "Look", he said, "Look here what I found in the road this morning. I thought at first it was a leaf, but now I believe it's a dragon's scale or a roc's feather." Daphne looked at the leaf, and clapped her hands. In the old man's hand the leaf was white, but as soon as Daphne touched it, it began to turn blue. "You can have it, if you want," the little old man said. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" Daphne exclaimed, clutching the leaf tight in her palm. "And when we go on another picnic, we'll come for you," Daphne promised the little old man. "Thank you, thank you!" "I used to go to a sight of picnics," the little old man said, and the little old man's wife opened the kitchen door and glared at the little old man.	"I want Alice and Dicky," Dulcie said, weeping again. The little old man clicked his tongue and put his hands in his pocket again. "Look here what I found in the road this morning. I thought at first it was a leaf, but now I believe it's a dragon's scale or a roc's feather." Dulcie looked at the leaf and clapped her hands. While the old man held it, it was not any color especially, just a faint pinkish greenish color. "You can have it, if you want," the little old man said. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" Dulcie exclaimed, grasping the leaf tight in her palm. "If we go on another picnic soon, we'll come for you," Dulcie promised. "Thank you, thank you!" "I used to be a great hand for picnics," the little old man said, and then his wife opened the kitchen door.
"You, Egbert!" the little old man's wife shouted, and she glared at him again and slammed the door. The little old man caught up the axe again and began chopping wood furiously.	"You, Egbert!" she shouted, and slammed the door again. The little old man caught up the axe and chopped wood furiously.
"Now," said Daphne, clasping her blue leaf tightly and shutting her eyes, "I want to be where Dicky and Alice and Maurice and Alice's husband--------------" "Hello, Daphne, hello, Daphne!" they all shouted, and Daphne hugged Dicky and Alice, and Alice and Dicky hugged Daphne, and Alice's husband gashed his mouth from ear to ear until all his teeth shown, and the redheaded boy watched them with his queer yellowflecked eyes. "How did Dicky get big again?" Daphne asked. "Dat ole tramp los' his gillymus in one of de wrinkles in Exodus' hat, and Dicky foun' it for him," Alice explained, and Daphne hugged Alice and Dicky again, and Dicky and Alice hugged Daphne again. "Come on," the redheaded boy said. And they went on and passed from out the forest, into a valley. This was the valley through which, in the old days, young Sir Galwyn of Arthgyyl, with the green design called Hunger at his right hand and the red design called Pain at his left hand, had ridden. It was full of sweet odors, and gray, and presently they would reach a river; and they	"Now," said Dulcie, clasping her blue leaf tightly in her hand and shutting her eyes, "I want to be where Dicky and Alice and Maurice and Exodus-----" "Hello, Dulcie, Hello, Dulcie!" They all cried, and Dulcie hugged Dicky and Alice, and Alice and Dicky hugged Dulcie, and Alice's husband gashed his mouth from ear to ear until all his teeth showed, and the redheaded boy watched them with his queer yellowflecked eyes. "How did Dicky get big again?" Dulcie asked. "Dat ole tramp los' his gillymus in one of de wrinkles in Exodus' hat, and Dicky foun' it for him," Alice explained. And Dulcie hugged Dicky and Alice again, and Alice and Dicky hugged Dulcie again. "Come on," the redheaded boy said. They were in a valley now, and pretty soon they would reach a river. The valley was full of sweet odors, and they walked on and soon they saw a tree covered with leaves of a thousand different colors.

     

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
went on and in a while they saw a tree covered with leaves of a thousand different colors. "It's the Wishing-Tree!" Daphne exclaimed. "I guess that's what it is," the redheaded boy agreed, but when they drew near the tree the leaves whirled up into the air and spun about it, and they saw that the tree was a tall old man with a long shining beard like silver, and that the leaves were birds of all kinds and colors. "Good morning, Father Francis," the redheaded boy said. "Good morning, Maurice," the good Saint Francis replied, and the colored birds spun and whirled and sang about his head. "This is Daphne, and Dicky, and Alice, and Alice's husband," the redheaded boy said. "We are looking for the Wishing-Tree," Daphne explained. The good Saint Francis looked at them, and his eyes twinkled. "And did you find it?" "We dont know," Daphne replied. "We thought perhaps this was it." The good Saint Francis thought a while, and the birds settled again about him like a colored cloud. Then he spoke, and once more the birds whirled up into the air and spun and sang around his head.	"It's the Wishing Tree!" Dulcie exclaimed. "I guess that's what it is," the redheaded boy agreed, but when they got close to the tree the leaves flew up into the air and whirled about the tree, and then they saw that the tree was [a] tall old man with a long shining beard like silver, and the leaves were birds of all colors and kinds. "Good morning, Father Francis," the redheaded boy said. "Good morning, Maurice," the good Saint Francis replied, and the colored birds whirled and sang about him, lighting on his shoulders and head and arms. "This is Dulcie, and Dicky, and Alice and Alice's husband," the redheaded boy said. "We are looking for the Wishing Tree," Dulcie explained. The good Saint Francis looked at them and his eyes twinkled. "And did you find it?" "We dont know," Dulcie replied. "We thought perhaps this is it." The good Saint Francis thought a while, and the birds settled about him like a colored cloud. Then he spoke, and the birds whirled again into the air and spun around his head.
"Didn't each of you pull a leaf from [a] white tree back yonder in the forests?" [i.e. forest?"] the good Saint Francis asked. "Yes, Father Francis." "Well, that was the Wishing-Tree. But suppose there are a thousand leaves on that tree, and a thousand boys and girls come along and pull a leaf off; when the next boy or girl comes to it, there wont be any leaves for them, will there?" "No, Father Francis." "So a wish you make this way, is a selfish wish, isn't it?" "Yes, Father Francis." "Then," the good Saint Francis said, "Let each of you give me the leaf you pulled from the Wishing-Tree so I can put them back, and instead I'll give each of you a bird. And a bird is better than a leaf, because if you'll feed it and care for it, you'll never make a selfish wish, because people who care for and protect helpless things can	"Didn't you each pick a leaf from a tree back there in the forest?" the good Saint Francis asked. "Yes, Father Francis," Dulcie said. "Well, that was the Wishing Tree. But suppose there had been a thousand leaves on it, and a thousand boys and girls had each taken one, when the next one came along, there wouldn't be any leaf for him, would there?" "No, Father Francis," Dulcie said. "So a wish you make that way is a selfish wish, isn't it?" "Yes, Father Francis." "Then," the good Saint Francis said, "give me your leaves so I can put them back, and instead I'll give you each one of my birds. And if you'll feed it and care for it, you'll never make a selfish wish, because people [who] care for and protect helpless things cannot have selfish wishes. Will you do this?"

     

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
not have selfish wishes. Will you do this?" "Yes, Father Francis," they all answered. So they gave their leaves to the good Saint Francis, and the good Saint Francis took from beneath his gown four wicker cages, and he put a bluebird in a cage for Daphne, and an oriole in a cage for the redheaded boy, and he gave Alice a redbird, and to Dicky a little white bird with pale blue feathertips, because Dicky was little and because he was Daphne's brother. "What about Alice's husband?" Daphne asked. "He will help Alice take care of her redbird," the good Saint Francis replied, "Because if he leaves her again, he will be a selfish wisher and he wont deserve a bird." "And George?" Daphne asked. "Wishing is not good for George," the good Saint Francis replied. "The first wish George made, he made himself sick and was punished for it; the second wish he made, he frightened you all and himself too for no reason whatever; and the third wish he made, he deserted you when you were in trouble."	"Yes, Father Francis," they all answered. So they gave the good Saint Francis their leaves, and in exchange he took from beneath his gown a wicker cage and he put a bluebird in it for Dulcie, and he took another cage and put an oriole in it for the redheaded boy, and he gave Alice a redbird, and to Dicky a little white bird with pale blue feathertips, because he was little and because he was Dulcie's brother. "What about Alice's husband?" Dulcie asked. "He will help Alice feed her redbird," the good Saint Francis replied. "Because if he leaves her again, he'll only be a selfish wisher." "And George?" Dulcie asked. "Wishing is not good for George," the good Saint Francis replied. "The first wish he made, he was punished for, the second wish he made, frightened you all for no reason whatever, and the third wish he made, he deserted you while you were in trouble."
"But Mr. Egbert," Daphne said. "He deserves one, doesn't he?" "Ah," answered the good Saint Francis, "he already has more than I can give him: he is old, and so he no longer has any wishes at all. What became of him, by the way?" "His wife came and got him," Alice answered. "Then," the good Saint Francis said, "he doesn't even need anything else." He ceased speaking, and birds settled down again about his head and shoulders. "Goodbye, Father Francis," the [i.e. they] said. "And thank you." But the good Saint Francis only smiled at them from amid his birds, and they went on. They came to the bank of the river. But the funniest t[h]ing was, it wasn't a flat river, but it stood up on its edge, like a gray wall. "If that isn't the funniest thing!" Daphne said, because the river was like a mist, it was like the mist this morning had been, and in it she could see a dim thing like a street in a fog stretching on between rows of houses, and the mist smelled of wisteria.	"But Mr Egbert," Dulcie said. "He deserves one, doesn't her [i.e. he]?" "Ah," answered the good Saint Francis, "he already has more than I can give him: he is old, and he no longer has any wishes at all. What became of him, by the way?" "His wife come and got him," Alice answered. "Then," the good Saint Francis said, "he doesn't even need anything else." He ceased to speak, and the birds settled down again about his head and shoulders. "Goodbye, Father Francis," they said. "And thank you." But the good Saint Francis only smiled at them from amid his birds, and they went on. They came to the bank of the river. But the funniest thing was, it wasn't a flat river, but it stood up on its edge, like a gray wall. "If that isn't the funniest thing!" Dulcie said, because the river was like the mist had been, and in it they could see a dim thing like a street stretching on between houses, straight in front of them, and the water smelled like wistaria.

       

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
"We'll have to go through it," the redheaded boy said. "Oh, but I'm afraid to," Daphne said, "Wait." But the redheaded boy had already stepped into it, and Alice and Dicky and Alice's husband followed him. "Wait!" called Daphne again, but they had passed into the mist and were only dim shapes fading on into the mist, and the redheaded boy turned his thin ugly face and his queer yellowflecked eyes, and his hair made a faint glow about them, and beckoned to her. "Wait," called Daphne a third time, and she too passed into the mist, carrying her bluebird in one hand and stretching the other before her, feeling her way. But the others had gone on and disappeared, and the glow of the redheaded boy's hair was gone too; and it was like she was in a round bowl, rising and rising through warm water like sleep, to the top. And then she would be awake.	"We'll have to go through it," the redheaded boy said. "Oh, I'm afraid to," Dulcie said, "Wait." But the redheaded boy had already stepped into it, and Alice and Dicky and Alice's husband followed. "Wait!" called Dulcie again, but they were only dim shapes, and the redheaded boy turned his thin ugly face and his queer goldflecked eyes, while his hair made a little glow about him, and beckoned to her. "Wait," called Dulcie again, and she stepped into the mist too, and felt with her hands before her. But the others had disappeared ahead of her, and she could see only the faint glow of the redheaded boy's hair in the mist, and it was like she was in a round bowl of sleep, rising and rising through the warm waters of sleep, to the top. And then she would be awake.
And she was awake, but she didn't open her eyes at once, and she lay there and her body and arms and legs tingled as though she had just eaten peppermint. What is it? she thought. What can it be?	And she was awake, and it was like there was another little balloon inside her, getting bigger and bigger, making her body and arms and legs tingle as though she had just eaten a piece of peppermint. What is it? she thought, What can it be?
"Birthday! Birthday!" cried a voice, and her eyes flew open, and there was Dicky jumping up and down on her bed, and leaning over her, her mother. Daphne's mother was awfully beautiful, so slim and tall, with her grave unhappy eyes changeable as seawater, and her slender hands that came so softly about you when you are [i.e. were] sick. "Look", her mother said, and she held out a wicker cage with a bluebird in it, and Daphne squealed with delight. "I wants a bird, mamma," Dicky chanted, "I wants a bird, mamma." "You can have half of mine, darling," Daphne said, and she let Dicky hold the cage and she closed her eyes again and her mother's hand came onto her face and smoothed the hair back from her brow, and she remembered the good Saint Francis, and Maurice with his queer eyes and his flaming hair, and Mr. Egbert and his gillypus; and dreams and birthdays seemed beautiful and sad to her, but being Daphne was beautifullest and saddest of all. Well, she still had her bluebird, even	"Birthday, birthday!" cried a voice near her, and her eyes flew open, and there was Dicky jumping up and down on the bed beside her, and leaning over her was her mother. Dulcie's mother was beautiful, so slim and tall, with her grave unhappy eyes changeable as seawater and her slender hands that came so softly about you when you are [i.e. were] sick. "Look," her mother said, and she held out a wicker cage with a bluebird in it, and Dulcie squealed with delight. "I wants a bird, mamma," Dicky said, "I wants a bird, mamma." "You can have half of mine, darling," Dulcie said, and she let Dicky hold the cage, and she closed her eyes again and her mother's hand came on her forehead, and Dulcie remembered the good Saint Francis, and Maurice, with his queer eyes and his flaming hair. Well, she had her bluebird, even if it had been just a dream, and the good Saint Francis had said that if you were kind to helpless things, you dont need a Wishing Tree to make things come true. And next year she would have another birthday, and

   

The "Brown/Stone" Version	The "Victoria" Version
if it had been all a dream; and the good Saint Francis had said that if you are kind to helpless creatures, you dont need a Wishing-Tree to make things come true. And next year she would have another birthday, and if she just remembered to get into bed left foot first and to turn the pillow over before she went to sleep, who knows [i.e. knew] what might happen?	if she just remembered to get into bed left foot first and to turn the pillow over before she went to sleep, who knows [i.e. knew] what might happen?

The following collation between the ribbon typescript transcribed above, which Faulkner gave to Philip Stone in 1948, and the carbon typescript he gave to Margaret Brown in 1927, lists only the substantive variants. The accidentals variants between the two typescripts, consisting predominately of typographical errors and inconsistent punctuation, have been omitted. For convenience, the substantive variants have been keyed to references signified by superior bracketed capital letters in the text. The reading to the left of the bracket is that of the "Brown" typescript: to the right the reading is that of the "Stone" typescript.

Notes