Jack o’ cuteness, Jack o’ brains.
Seymour Barnard.
V
How Jack Found the Giant Riverrath
The king of Ireland was troubled in his mind
The king of Ireland was troubled in his mind. And that was something unusual. For he had as handsome a palace as you would wish to see, a queen as good as she was beautiful, and a fine, strapping son named Jack. The only thing that bothered him was that he could not drive to town without getting his gilt coach wheels spattered.
The horses would plunge spluttering in
Down below the palace, straight across the king’s highway, ran a little river. In the fall when it was almost dry, splashing through it was a nice adventure. The royal coach would roll down the hill with a splendid thud, and dash gurgling through the water. But in the spring it was quite another matter. Going down the hill the coachman would pull on his gilt reins, the coachboys would tuck up their gilt boots, the king would slam down the coach window, and the queen would be ready to faint with excitement. (Only the footmen did not care, for they sat up so high behind, that the water could not reach them no matter how much it splashed.)