“Dear me!” said the Red Cow to herself, as she began on a Sailor’s Hornpipe. “What an extraordinary thing! I always thought dancing improper, but it can’t be since I myself am dancing. For I am a model cow.”
And she went on dancing, and thoroughly enjoying herself. At last, however, she grew tired and decided that she had danced enough and that she would go to sleep. But, to her great surprise, she found that she could not stop dancing. When she went to lie down beside the Red Calf, her legs would not let her. They went on capering and prancing and, of course, carrying her with them. Round and round the field she went, leaping and waltzing and stepping on tiptoe.
“Dear me!” she murmured at intervals with a ladylike accent. “How very peculiar!” But she couldn’t stop.
In the morning she was still dancing and the Red Calf had to take its breakfast of dandelions all by itself because the Red Cow could not remain still enough to eat.
All through the day she danced, up and down the meadow and round and round the meadow, with the Red Calf mooing piteously behind her. When the second night came, and she was still at it and still could not stop, she grew very worried. And at the end of a week of dancing she was nearly distracted.
“I must go and see the King about it,” she decided, shaking her head.
So she kissed her Red Calf and told it to be good. Then she turned and danced out of the meadow and went to tell the King.
She danced all the way, snatching little sprays of green food from the hedges as she went, and every eye that saw her stared with astonishment. But none of them were more astonished than the Red Cow herself.
At last she came to the Palace where the King lived. She pulled the bell-rope with her mouth, and when the gate opened she danced through it and up the broad garden path till she came to the flight of steps that led to the King’s throne.
Upon this the King was sitting, busily making a new set of Laws. His Secretary was writing them down in a little red notebook, one after another, as the King thought of them. There were Courtiers and Ladies-in-Waiting everywhere, all very gorgeously dressed and all talking at once.
“How many have I made today?” asked the King, turning to the Secretary. The Secretary counted the Laws he had written down in the red notebook.
“Seventy-two, your Majesty,” he said, bowing low and taking care not to trip over his quill pen, which was a very large one.
“H’m. Not bad for an hour’s work,” said the King, looking very pleased with himself. “That’s enough for today.” He stood up and arranged his ermine cloak very tastefully.
“Order my coach. I must go to the Barber’s,” he said magnificently.
It was then that he noticed the Red Cow approaching. He sat down again and took up his sceptre.
“What have we here, ho?” he demanded, as the Red Cow danced to the foot of the steps.
“A Cow, your Majesty!” she answered simply.
“I can see that,” said the King. “I still have my eyesight. But what do you want? Be quick, because I have an appointment with the Barber at ten. He won’t wait for me longer than that and I must have my hair cut. And for goodness’ sake stop jigging and jagging about like that!” he added irritably. “It makes me quite giddy.”
“Quite giddy!” echoed all the Courtiers, staring.
“That’s just my trouble, your Majesty. I can’t stop!” said the Red Cow piteously.
“Can’t stop?” Nonsense!” said the King furiously. “Stop at once! I, the King, command you!”
“Stop at once! The King commands you!” cried all the Courtiers.
The Red Cow made a great effort. She tried so hard to stop dancing that every muscle and every rib stood out like mountain ranges all over her. But it was no good. She just went on dancing at the foot of the King’s steps.
“I have tried, your Majesty. And I can’t. I’ve been dancing now for seven days running. And I’ve had no sleep. And very little to eat. A whitethorn spray or two – that’s all. So I’ve come to ask your advice.”
“H’m – very curious,” said the King, pushing the crown on one side and scratching his head.
“Very curious,” said the Courtiers, scratching their heads, too.
“What does it feel like?” asked the King.
“Funny,” said the Red Cow. “And yet,” she paused, as if choosing her words, “it’s rather a pleasant feeling, too. As if laughter were running up and down inside me.”
“Extraordinary,” said the King, and he put his chin on his hand and stared at the Red Cow, pondering on what was the best thing to do.
Suddenly he sprang to his feet and said:
“Good gracious!”
“What is it?” cried all the Courtiers.
“Why, don’t you see?” said the King, getting very excited and dropping his sceptre. “What an idiot I was not to have noticed it before. And what idiots you were!” He turned furiously upon the Courtiers. “Don’t you see that there’s a fallen star caught on her horn?”
“So there is!” cried the Courtiers, as they all suddenly noticed the star for the first time. And as they looked it seemed to them that the star grew brighter.
“That’s what’s wrong!” said the King. “Now, you Courtiers had better pull it off so that this – er – lady can stop dancing and have some breakfast. It’s the star, madam, that is making you dance,” he said to the Red Cow. “Now, come along, you!”
And he motioned to the Chief Courtier, who presented himself smartly before the Red Cow and began to tug at the star. It would not come off. The Chief Courtier was joined by one after another of the Courtiers, until at last there was a long chain of them, each holding the man in front of him by the waist, and a tug-of-war began between the Courtiers and the star.
“Mind my head!” entreated the Red Cow.
“Pull harder!” roared the King.
They pulled harder. They pulled until their faces were red as raspberries. They pulled till they could pull no longer and all fell back, one on top of the other. The star did not move. It remained firmly fixed to the horn.
“Tch, tch, tch!” said the King. “Secretary, look in the Encyclopædia and see what it says about cows with stars on their horns.”
The Secretary knelt down and began to crawl under the throne. Presently he emerged, carrying a large green book which was always kept there in case the King wanted to know anything.
He turned the pages.
“There’s nothing at all, your Majesty, except the story of the Cow Who Jumped Over the Moon, and you know all about that.”
The King rubbed his chin, because that helped him to think.
He sighed irritably and looked at the Red Cow.
“All I can say,” he said, “is that you’d better try that too.”
“Try what?” said the Red Cow.
“Jumping over the moon. It might have an effect. Worth trying, anyway.”
“Me?” said the Red Cow, with an outraged stare.
“Yes, you – who else?” said the King impatiently. He was anxious to get to the Barber’s.
“Sire,”