MERRIMEG AND THE MAY-DEW
MERRIMEG AND THE MAY-DEW
“DON’T be long,” said Merrimeg’s mother.
“No, mother,” said Merrimeg, and she ran off down the village street, into the woods.
It was May-day, and she was going May-dewing. You know if you wash your face with dew, early on May-morning, it will keep you fair and sweet to look on, almost forever. That is what she was going to do.
She didn’t do it at once, however, because she had to run after a good many rabbits and squirrels. She stopped out of breath beside a pretty little brook, and then she bethought herself that she hadn’t yet washed her face with May-dew. The woods were all about her, and the brook was dropping down over its stones between moss and ferns. It was singing a little song to itself. Merrimeg stopped to listen. She dipped her bare foot in the water, and as she did so she noticed that there was a waterfall, quite a tall one, a little way up the stream, pouring down smoothly into a pool.
She thought she might as well wash her face now with dew, and she stooped down. At that moment the song of the brook became quite loud, and she looked up in surprise. From the pool at the bottom of the waterfall a head was looking out at her, the head of a little girl.