They called her Thumbelina. That was because she was no bigger than the woman’s thumb.
And where do you think she slept? A little walnut shell, lined with blue, that was her cradle.
When she slept little Thumbelina lay in her cradle on a tiny heap of violets, with the petal of a pale pink rose to cover her.
And where do you think she played? A table was her playground. On the table the woman placed a plate of water. Little Thumbelina called that her lake.
Round the plate were scented flowers; the blossoms lying on the edge, while the pale green stalks reached thirstily down to the water.
In the lake floated a large tulip leaf. This was Thumbelina’s little boat. Seated there she sailed from side to side of her little lake, rowing cleverly with two white horse hairs. As she rowed backward and forward she sang softly to herself. The woman listening heard, and thought she had never known so sweet a song.
And now such a sad thing happened.
In through a broken window-pane hopped a big toad—oh, such an ugly big toad! She hopped right on to the table, where Thumbelina lay dreaming in her tiny cradle, under the pale pink rose leaf.
“How beautiful the little maiden is,” she croaked. “She will make a lovely bride for my handsome son.” And she lifted the little cradle, with Thumbelina in it, and hopped out through the broken window-pane, and down into the little garden.