The Enchanted Wood

  They hugged Goldilocks, and shook hands with the Three Bears. "We’ll come back and see you sometime," said Fanny. "Thank you so much for all your help!"

  Goldilocks and the bears stood at the door and waved goodbye as Moon-Face hurried the three children away down the lane to catch the train back to the Enchanted Wood. It wasn’t long before they had got to the station, waited for a train, slid off the roof and settled down in a carriage.

  When they got to the Enchanted Wood they said goodbye to Moon-Face, and Fanny gave him a kiss for being such a help. He was so pleased that he went red all over his enormous face, and Bessie laughed.

  "You look like the setting sun now," she said. "You really ought to be called Sun-Face!"

  "Goodbye, and see you soon, I hope!" called Moon-Face. Off went the children home, and got into bed just about an hour before their mother called them to get up. My goodness, they were sleepy all that day!

  XIII

  MOON-FACE GETS INTO TROUBLE

  The children didn’t really feel that they wanted to go to any of the lands at the top of the Faraway Tree for a little while. It was a bit too exciting to climb through the clouds and see what was above them!

  But they did want to see their friends in the Tree, especially dear old Moon-Face.

  So the very next time they had a day to themselves they set off through the Enchanted Wood to the Faraway Tree. There was no rope to guide them this time. It was only at night that the rope was swung through the boughs to help the wood-folk up and down.

  The children began to climb up. Every door and window in the tree seemed shut today, and not a soul was about. It was quite dull climbing up the tree. Even when they reached Silky’s house, that was shut too, and they couldn’t hear Silky singing or anything. They knocked, but there was no answer.

  So on they went up to Moon-Face’s, keeping a good look-out for Mother Washalot’s dirty water to come swishing down on them. But not even her water appeared that day! It all seemed very quiet and peaceful.

  They reached Moon-Face’s house at the top of the tree and rapped at his door. Nobody opened. But inside they could quite well hear somebody crying. It was very mysterious.

  "It doesn’t sound like Moon-Face," said Fanny, puzzled. "Let’ s go in and see who it is."

  So they opened the door and went in. And it was Silky, sitting in a corner crying bitterly!

  "Whatever’s the matter?" cried Jo.

  "And where’s old Moon-Face?" asked Fanny.

  "Oh dear!" sobbed Silky. "Moon-Face has been thrown up into some dreadfully queer land at the top of the Faraway Tree because he was rude to Mister Watzisname down below."

  "What! That old man who’s always sitting in a chair and snoring?" said Bessie, remembering that they hadn’t seen him that day. "Whatever did Moon-Face do?"

  "Oh, he was very naughty," wept Silky. "So was I. You see, we heard Mister Watzisname snoring as usual, and we crept up to him and saw that his mouth was wide open. And, oh dear, we popped a handful of acorns into it, and when he woke up he spluttered and popped, and then he caught sight of us hiding behind a branch.”

  "Goodness! Did you really dare to do such a naughty thing!" cried Bessie. "No wonder he was angry!"

  "Moon-Face is dreadfully bad sometimes," said Silky, wiping her eyes. "He makes me naughty too. Well, we ran away up the tree to Moon-Face’s house. I got in safely—but Moon-Face didn’t. And Mister Watzisname caught hold of him and threw him right through the hole in the clouds into the land that is there today."

  "Good gracious! Well, can’t he get back?" said Fanny, in alarm. "He can climb down the ladder, surely, back into the tree?"

  "Yes, he could," said Silky, "but, you see, Mister Watzisname is sitting on the ladder ready to catch him, spank him, and throw him back. So what’s the use of that?"

  "What land is up there today?" asked Jo.

  "The Land of the Old Saucepan Man," said Silky. "He lives there in his cottage with his pots and pans, and is quite harmless. But, you see, Mister Watzisname will sit on the ladder till the land swings round and another one comes. Then Moon-Face won’t be able to get back, and he may be lost forever!"

  "Oh dear!" said Jo in dismay, and the girls stared at Silky in despair, for they were very fond of old Moon-Face now.

  "Isn’t there anything we can do?" asked Jo at last.

  "Well, there’s just one hope," said Silky, fluffing out her lovely golden hair. "The Old Saucepan Man is a great friend of Mister Watzisname’s. If he knew his land was at the top of the Faraway Tree today he might come along and have a cup of tea with Mister Watzisname, and then Moon-Face could slip down the ladder back here!"

  "Oh," said the children, and looked at one another. They could quite well see that this meant one or all of them going up that ladder again and getting into another queer land.

  "I’ll go," said Bessie. "After all, Moon-Face helped us last time. We must help him now."

  "We’ll all three go," said Jo. So they set off up the topmost branch to the little ladder. There they found Mister Watzisname sitting reading his newspaper and smoking an enormous pipe that sent clouds of smoke out of the hole in the clouds.

  "Please can we pass?" asked Bessie timidly.

  "No, you can’t," said Mister Watzisname rudely.

  "Well, we’ve got to," said Jo. "So if we tread on your feet you must excuse us." A

  Mister Watzisname simply wouldn’t move. He really was a very cross old man. He slapped each of the children as they squeezed past him, and they were very glad when they had climbed through the hole and were in the land above.

  "So this is the Land of the Saucepan Man," said Fanny, when they were standing on the grass safely. "What a funny little land!"

  It was. It was an island floating in what seemed a sea of white. It really wasn’t much bigger than a large field. Bessie went to the edge and looked over.

  "Gracious!" she said, in alarm. "It’s like at cliff—and the sea is a big white cloud. Don’t go too near the edge, anybody. It wouldn’t be nice to fall off!"

  "Hie! Hie!" suddenly yelled an excited voice. They turned round—and saw Moon-Face waving to them, and running hard towards them. "Hie! How did you get here?"

  "Hallo! We came to see what we could do for you," said Jo. "We heard what had happened. Old Mister Watzisname is sitting on the ladder still, waiting for you. But Silky says this is the Land of the Saucepan Man, who is a great friend of Mister Watzisname’s—so we’ve come to see him and ask him if he’ll go and have tea with his friend. Then you can slip down safely and go home."

  "Oooh, good!" said Moon-Face joyfully. "I didn’t know what land this was, and goodness me, I was quite afraid of falling off it, it’s so small. Where do you suppose the Old Saucepan Man lives?"

  "I can’t imagine!" said Jo, looking round. All he could see was a very large stretch of grass, with no house and nobody at all in sight. Where in the world could the Saucepan Man live?

  "We’ll have to go carefully all round this funny little land," said Bessie. "His house must be somewhere. But we’d better hurry, for you never know when the land will swing away from the Faraway Tree—and we don’t want to live in this queer little place forever!" .

  They began to walk round the land. Presently they came to a cliff that was not quite so steep as the others. They peered over it. Jo pointed to some things stuck in the cliff.

  "Whatever are those?" he said.

  "They look like some sort of steps down the cliffside," said Bessie.

  "They’re saucepans!" said Fanny suddenly. "Yes—saucepans—with their handles stuck firmly into the cliff, and the pan part to tread on. How queer!"

  "Well, this must be the way down to the Saucepan Man’s house," said Jo, excited. "Come on. Be careful, girls, or you may fall and roll right over the edge of this land."

  So, very carefully, they began to climb down the cliff, treading on the saucepans stuck into the earth. It really was rather funny!

  They got down at last. And then
they heard a very curious noise indeed! It was a sound of crashings and bangings and clatterings and clangings! The children were quite alarmed.

  "The noise is coming from just round the corner," said Jo.

  They crept very cautiously to the corner and peeped round.

  There they saw a crooked little house with a saucepan for a chimney. The noise came from inside the house. The children crept to the window and looked in.

  And inside they saw the strangest little man they had ever seen, dancing the strangest dance! He had saucepans and kettles hung all over him, he wore a saucepan for a hat, and he crashed two saucepans together as he danced!

  "Do you think he is dangerous?" said Jo, in a whisper.

  XIV

  THE FUNNY OLD SAUCEPAN MAN

  "I don’t think he’s at all dangerous," said Fanny. "He has quite a kind face."

  "Let’s tap at the window," said Bessie. So she tapped. But the Saucepan Man took no notice. He just went on dancing away, crashing his saucepans together.

  Jo tapped loudly. The Saucepan Man caught sight of him at the window and looked most astonished. He stopped dancing and went to the door.

  "Come in and dance," said he.

  "Oh no, thank you," said Jo. "We’ve just come to ask you out to tea."

  "Ask me for a bee?" said the Saucepan Man, looking surprised. "I’m so sorry, but I don’t keep bees, only saucepans."

  "Not bees," said Jo. "To ask you out to TEA."

  "But I don’t want to go to sea," said the Saucepan Man. "I don’t like the water at all. Never did. Very kind of you, I’m sure, but I hate the sea.”

  "Not the sea, but TEA, TEA, TEA!" cried Jo.

  "Oh, tea," said the Saucepan Man. "Well, why didn’t you say that before? Then I should have understood.”

  "I did say it before," said poor Jo.

  "What? Shut the door?" said the Saucepan Man. "Certainly, if you want to. Give it a push."

  "He can’t hear very well," said Fanny. "He must be deaf."

  "No, I’m not," said the Saucepan Man, hearing perfectly all of a sudden. "Not a bit deaf. Only sometimes when my saucepans have been crashing round me rather a lot I get noises in my ears afterwards. But I’m not deaf."

  "I’m glad of that," said Jo politely.

  "Cat? No, I haven’t got a cat," said the Saucepan Man, looking all round. "Did you see one?"

  "I didn’t say anything about a cat," said Jo patiently.

  "You did. I heard you," said the Saucepan Man, vexed. "I don’t encourage cats. I keep mice instead. I shall look for that cat."

  And then, with his saucepans clanging round him he began to look for a cat that certainly wasn't there. "Puss, Puss, Puss!" he called. "Puss, Puss, Puss!"

  "There’s no cat in your house!" shouted Moon-Face.

  "Mouse? Where did you see a mouse?" said the old man, alarmed. "I wouldn’t like one of my mice to be caught by your cat."

  "I tell you we haven’t GOT a cat!" cried Jo, feeling quite cross. "We’ve come to tell you about your friend, Mister Watzisname."

  For a wonder the Saucepan Man heard Jo, and he at once stopped looking for the cat. "Mister Watzisname!" he cried. "Where is he? He’s a great friend of mine." .

  "Well, wouldn’t you like to go and have tea with him then?" said Jo.

  "Yes, certainly I would," said the Saucepan Man. "Please tell me where he is."

  "He’s sitting on the ladder leading from the Faraway Tree to your land," shouted Jo. "He’s waiting there."

  "Yes—for me!" said Moon-Face, in a whisper.

  "Sh!" said Fanny. The Saucepan Man gave a yell of joy when he heard where his old friend was, and he set off for the cliff, shouting in delight.

  "Hurrah! I’ve come to the Faraway Tree! And I can see my friends again! And Mister Watzisname is waiting for me to have tea with him! Come on! Come on!"

  Up the cliff he went, treading on the saucepan steps, his own saucepans and kettles rattling and banging all round him. The children and Moon-Face followed. The Saucepan Man ran helter-skelter to the hole that led down to the topmost branch of the Faraway Tree, dropping a few saucepans on the way.

  When he got there he peered down and saw Mister Watzisname sitting on the ladder, watching for Moon-Face. But the Saucepan Man didn’t know that, of course! He thought that his friend was waiting for him!

  "Hie, hie, hie!" he yelled, dropping a saucepan on top of Mister Watzisname in his excitement. "Hie, old friend!"

  Mister Watzisname watched the saucepan bouncing off his foot, down the branch of the Faraway Tree, and wondered who it would hit. He looked up in amazement when he heard his friend’s shouts.

  "Saucepan!" he yelled. “Dear old Saucepan! Fancy seeing you!"

  "Glue?" said the Saucepan Man, suddenly hearing all wrong again. "Glue?—No—I’ve not got glue with me. But I can soon make some

  for you."

  "Still the same silly old Saucepan, aren’t you!" cried Mister Watzisname. "Come down here. I didn’t say anything about glue. Come and have a cup of tea with me. The kettle’s boiling."

  "I don’t want oiling," said the Saucepan Man, though he really sounded as if he did, he was so full of clangs and clatters! "I’ll come and have tea and a talk with you. Hurrah!"

  He put his foot on the ladder, but unfortunately he stepped on a kettle that had got round his leg, and down he went, clatter, bang, crash, smash, clang! Mister Watzisname caught at him as he went past, and down he went too, rolling off the ladder, down the branch, past Moon-Face’s door and down the tree!

  "There they go!" said Moon-Face, in delight. "All mixed up with kettles and saucepans. What a joke! They’ll give old Mother Washalot a fright if they fall into her wash-tub!"

  The children laughed till they cried. The Old

  Saucepan Man was really so funny, and they couldn’t imagine what people in the tree would think as he rolled down with such a clanging and banging.

  "It’s quite safe to go down now," said Jo, peering down the ladder. "They’ve disappeared. I shouldn’t wonder if they’re at the bottom of the tree by now. Come on, Moon-Face."

  So down the ladder they all went, slid down the topmost branch, and opened Moon-Face’s door. Silky was still there, looking scared out of her life. She gave a scream of joy when she saw them.

  "Why are you looking so frightened?" asked Moon-Face, giving her a hug.

  "Oh, goodness, a thunderbolt or something fell out of the sky just now and rolled crashing down the tree!" said Silky.

  "That was only the Saucepan Man and Mister Watzisname," said Jo, laughing, and he told her the whole story. Silky laughed till her sides ached. She ran out of the door and peeped down the tree.

  "Look!" she said, pointing. "Can you see far down there, between the branches?"

  They all looked—and they saw Mister Watzisname and the Old Saucepan Man climbing painfully up to Mister Watzisname’s home, both talking together at the top of their voices.

  "They’ve forgotten all about us," said Jo joyfully. "Now for goodness’ sake, Moon-Face, don’t go putting acorns into Watzisname’s mouth again. Let’ s have something to eat, and then we must go home down your slippery-slip."

  So they all five sat round Moon-Face’s funny room and ate some Pop biscuits that Silky fetched, and drank acornade, which was made of acorns and was most delicious. Then it was time for the children to go, and they chose cushions, sat at the top of the big tree-slide, pushed off and flew down the inside of the tree, sliding round and round and round till they shot out of the trapdoor at the bottom on to the cushion of moss. Then they ran home as fast as they could, for they were late.

  "I expect the Old Saucepan Man’s gone back to his queer little land by now," said Jo, as they turned in at their gate.

  But he hadn’t. He came to see them the very next day, his saucepans clanging so loudly that Mother looked quite alarmed.

  "Whoever in the world is that?" she said, as the Saucepan Man came in at the gate.

  XV

  T
HE SAUCEPAN MAN GOES TO THE WRONG LAND!

  Mother and the children stared at the queer Old Saucepan Man as he came in at the gate. He wore an extra-large-sized saucepan for a hat, and, as he came, he knocked two pans together, and sang a queer nonsense song that went like this:

  "Two beans for a pudding,

  Two cherries for a pie,

  Two legs for a table,

  With a hi-tiddle-hi!"

  At the last "hi" he banged on the door with a saucepan. Mother opened it.

  "Don’t make such a noise," she said.

  "No, I haven’t seen any boys," said the Saucepan Man, and he clashed his pans together so loudly that Mother jumped. Then he caught sight of the children and waved to them eagerly. "Oh, there you are! Moon-Face told me where you lived."

  "Whoever is he?" said Mother, in wonder. "Children, is this queer old man all right?"

  "Oh yes," said Jo, hoping that Mother wouldn’t ask them too many questions. "Can we take him into the garden and talk to him, Mother? He makes such a noise indoors."

  "Very well," said Mother, who wanted to get on with her washing. “Take him along.”

  "A song?" said the Saucepan Man obligingly. "Did you say you wanted a song, Madam?" he began to sing again, and crashed his pans in time to his song:

  "Two pigs for the pantry,

  Two shoes for the horse,

  Two hats for the tigers,

  Pink ones, of course."

  The children hustled him out into the back- garden. "That’s a very, very silly song of yours," said Bessie loudly, right in his ear. "What’s it

  called?"

  "It hasn’t got a name," said the Saucepan Man. "I make it up as I go along. It’s quite easy. Every line but the last one begins with the word ‘two’. I’m sorry you think it’s silly." He looked rather offended. Then suddenly he smiled again and said, "I’ve come to ask you all to tea in my cottage."

  "Will Mister Watzisname be there?" asked Jo, who wasn’t at all anxious to meet him again.

  "Yes, you’d better brush your hair," said the Saucepan Man, looking at Jo’s untidy hair.