THE WISE MAMMA GOOSE Mamma Goose was trying to think. She had left the barnyard because it was so noisy there that she could not collect her wits, and had hidden herself between the rows of tall red hollyhocks which border one side of the garden. Here, at least, it was quiet. Thinking had always been hard work for Mamma Goose. And besides, her family kept her so busy that she had no time for it anyway. There was always something to be done for... more...

CHAPTER I. The shades of evening were closing in upon a stormy March day; rain and sleet falling fast while a blustering northeast wind sent them sweeping across the desolate-looking fields and gardens, and over the wet road where a hack was lumbering along, drawn by two weary-looking steeds; its solitary passenger sighing and groaning with impatience over its slow progress and her own fatigue. "Driver," she called, "are we ever going to arrive... more...