Tiny laughed gayly at the idea.
“I’ll wait here for a minute or two to see if anybody comes out of the door,” she said, taking a seat on the twisted roots of a nearby tree; but, although she waited patiently for several minutes, no one appeared.
“How I wonder who lives in such a dear little home!” she thought. “It must be fun to live in such a beautiful little house. My, isn’t the whole town too sweet for anything! How I’d like to live there!”
She put her toe on the gravel walk which led across the tiny little town, and, in a second she was no longer a big girl; she was as little as a pin herself, only, of course, not so thin as a pin, but just the right size for the house.
Tiny is Put in the Lock-up
Tiny rubbed her tiny little eyes with her tiny little hand, and looked about her in amazement. She was very near the cottage she had so much admired. “I’d love to peep in the windows,” she thought, “but it would be so rude. I guess I’ll walk over toward the fountain.”
“Oh, here comes a hand-organ and a little monkey!” Tiny put her hand in her pocket to find a penny, but all she found there were three chestnuts, each no bigger than a period. “Poor little monkey!” said Tiny as he came up to her, lifting his hat, “you must be tired. I wonder if you’d like these nuts.”
The monkey smelled of the nuts, lifted his hat, looked at his master, and nodding his thanks, began to eat them.
“He no tired,” said the Italian organ-grinder. “He work only two hours a day.”