THE Rainbow Cat went on and on until at last he came to the country of the Tree-goblins. The Tree-goblins are happy people; they live in the trees like birds, though they can’t fly. They are indeed very friendly with the birds, and they understand the bird language, so that they are able to send one another messages without any need of the post—which is very convenient! When winter comes the goblins go and live in their caves underground. It is a great change after the trees, and they are always delighted when spring returns again.
There are no animals in Tree-goblin-land, but the Rainbow Cat was an old friend here too, and was received as kindly as in Cloud-land.
The Tree-goblins are rather funny little creatures; they like to keep themselves to themselves, as the saying goes, and there are not even any fairies living in their country. But they are on very friendly terms with the fairy folk, and[43] their principal occupation is making fairy clothes.
These are the tiniest, finest little garments imaginable, and they are made of all sorts of pretty things. Spider thread, of course, and moonbeams, and softest silk from silk-worms, and flower-petals dipped in magic wells so that they cannot fade, and thistledown, and moss-velvet, and foam, and lichen—oh, there is no end to the things that are used to make clothes for the fairies.
 
And when they are finished the birds carry them to the fairies and bring back orders. Sometimes, when it’s a very special occasion, the fairies come to be fitted or to choose the stuffs and the styles, but not often.
They are easy to fit and easy to suit, and the birds do the ordering most satisfactorily.
The Rainbow Cat liked being in Tree-goblin-land very much indeed.
He lived in a beautiful copper-beech. When the morning sun shone through the leaves his little house was filled with a lovely rosy light[44] which was most pleasing and becoming. Every morning a chorus of little birds sang songs to him for his delight, and every evening they lulled him to sleep with soft lullabies.
They thought him a very grand and beautiful person, and so indeed he was.
When he had been in Tree-goblin-land for two or three days the Chief of the Goblins came to see him one morning early. He was in great trouble.
The Queen of the Fairies had sent an order for rose-coloured shoes, dozens and dozens of pairs. She wanted all the Court to wear rose-coloured shoes at her next party, and her next party was to take place in three days.
“We could get the work done,” said the Chief Goblin anxiously, “it isn’t that. But we haven’t got the material. You see, the roses aren’t out yet. There’s been a great run on pink lately and we’ve used up all the pink flowers and all our other stuffs of that colour. We’ve scarcely got an inch of rose-colour of any kind, and we ought to start at once. It’ll take us all our time to get them made. It would be dreadful to disappoint the Queen. What are we to do?”
The Rainbow Cat was more than willing to help, but he felt that it was a difficult matter.
“How soon must you have the stuff?” he asked.
“This afternoon would be the very latest,” said the goblin.
[45]“I’ll see what I can do,” said the Rainbow Cat. “I have an idea or two. Don’t worry, it’ll be all right. Meet me here at noon, and I’ll let you know what I’ve done.”
The Chief Goblin went away feeling considerably relieved. The Rainbow Cat seemed so wise, just the kind of person to think of something helpful in an emergency.
And sure enough at twelve o’clock he came to meet the Chief of the Goblins with a cheerful twinkle in his dark blue eye.
“I’ve been making a few inquiries,” he said. “But I want to make sure that my information is correct. Sit down, and let us have a little quiet talk.”
The Chief of the Goblins sat down and waited eagerly. He felt more and more hopeful.
“Is it true,” said the Rainbow Cat, “is it true that the crooked hawthorn tree in the Weeshy Glen is very bad-tempered?”
“Quite true,” said the Chief Goblin. “Nobody dares go near him, he’s such a cross, cantankerous creature. Lots of the hawthorns are very nice indeed, and we’re very fond of them. But he’s unbearable. He’ll give any one a nasty scratch if he gets half a chance, he’s so spiteful.”
“Is it true,” continued the Rainbow Cat, “that he’s jealous of the other trees because he can’t[46] grow tall and big like them, and reach up to the sky?”
“Quite true,” said the Chief Goblin. “He makes every one round him miserable with his grumbling and scolding.”
“H’m,” said the Rainbow Cat, and he folded his arms and sat lost in thought for a few minutes.
“Would the petals of the hawthorn tree do to make fairy shoes of?” he said at last.
“Beautifully,” said the Chief Goblin. “But they’re white.” (For at that time all hawthorn blossom was white, both in Fairyland and everywhere else.)
“Quite true,” said the Rainbow Cat. “Can you lend me a mandolin?”
“Yes, I think I can,” said the goblin, and he ran off and came back very soon with a beautiful mandolin all inlaid with silver and ivory and mother-of-pearl.
“Thank you,” said the Rainbow Cat. “I think that in half an hour or so I shall be able to let you have all the rose-coloured petals you want.” And he hung the mandolin round his neck and set off into the forest.
Presently he came to the Weeshy Glen, sat down a little way off from the hawthorn tree where its thorns could not possibly touch him,[47] tuned up his mandolin, and began to sing this little song:
“The oak tree raises his arms on high,
The pine tree reaches up to the sky,
The slender birch is a lady fair,
The poplar has a most elegant air.
But tell, oh tell me now, who is this
Small and stunted and all amiss?
Who can he be? oh, who can he be?
This squat little, odd little, strange little tree?”
It wasn’t very kind of the Rainbow Cat, but the hawthorn tree was a very disagreeable fellow, you must remember, and nobody could ever do anything to punish him because every one was so afraid of his sharp thorns.
Anyway, by the time the Rainbow Cat had got to the end of the first verse, the hawthorn tree was very angry. He could hardly contain himself, and he trembled all over with the temper he was in.
The cat hardly looked at him, but went cheerfully on with his song.
This was the second verse:
“The elm tree stands like a stately king,
The leaves of the alder dance and sing,
My lady beech is a courtly dame,
The chestnut’s lamps are a shining flame.
But tell me, tell me, who can he be
That scarcely reaches up to their knee?
Hoary of head and crooked of limb,
What on earth is the matter with him?”
[48]The hawthorn tree had grown more and more furious as the song went on. The Rainbow Cat finished up with a beautiful trill when he got to “the matter with him,” but the hawthorn tree was in no mood to admire his fine singing. So great was his rage that he grew pinker and pinker and pinker, and he shook so violently that all his petals were shaken down. They fell all round him like a shower of rosy rain.
The Rainbow Cat waited no longer. He ran off as hard as he could to the Chief of the Goblins, still singing as he went, and told him that he would find all the stuff he wanted in the Weeshy Glen.
So the Queen got the rose-coloured shoes after all, and the Tree-goblins were most grateful to the Rainbow Cat, and begged him to stay with them as long as he liked.
But he thanked them and said he must continue his travels.
They wanted to load him with presents, but all he would take was a little bottle of water from the magic well. This water has fairy powers. If you rub it on your eyes you can see through stone walls, which is sometimes very convenient, and the Rainbow Cat was quite pleased to have some.
They also insisted that he should keep the mandolin. This he finally consented to do. And ever since that time there have always been pink hawthorn trees as well as white.