The merry little queen took it from him, looked at it closely, saying to herself: "Humph! I didn't think he could, but he did,"—and, turning to Jim, said, much more graciously than before: "I suppose you think yourself quite a cobbler; and so you are—for a mortal. Since you have done your work so well, I will do as I said. Now," she continued, handing him a little package about as big as a baby's thumb, "plant these melon-seeds, and——"
"Are these little things melon seeds? They look too small," interrupted Jim,—for he had made no ceremony, even in the queen's presence, about peeping into the package,—and it must be confessed that they were very small indeed.
"Certainly they are, or I would not tell you so. They are the magic melons of fairy-land. As I was about to say when you rudely interrupted, plant——"
"I beg your pardon, your majes——"
"Will you keep still? Was there ever such a chatterbox!" said she. "I say, plant these melon-seeds to-morrow at sunrise, and you will have your wish, foolish boy." And, while Jim was thinking of melons and wealth, she skipped away up the moonbeam, singing:
"Nimble Jim is quite demented,—
Wants to be a melon-king!
Silly mortal! not contented
With the riches home-joys bring!
Oh! ho!