THE EASTER BUNNY

      There was once a wealthy count who had a beautiful wife and a little curly-haired, blue-eyed daughter, whose name was Trudchen. Besides many other estates the count possessed an old hunting-castle in the midst of the forest, and the forest abounded in stags, does, and other game.
      As soon as the oak-trees began to be green, the count came with wife and child, servant and maid, to the forest castle and indulged in the jocund chase till late in the autumn. Then came numerous guests from the country round, and every day was full of gayety and pleasure.
      One day there was to be a great hunt. In the courtyard stood the saddled horses, stamping their feet impatiently, the dogs coupled together were tugging at the leash and could hardly be held, and the falcons flapped their wings.
      In the open doorway of the entrance-hall, which was decorated with gigantic antlers and boars' heads, stood Trudchen by the side of her maid, delighting in the beautiful horses and the spotted hounds.
      Now the count with his huntsmen stepped out into the courtyard, and Trudchen's mother followed; she wore a long riding-dress of green velvet, and waving ostrich plumes in her hat. She kissed Trudchen and mounted her white horse. The count lifted up his little daughter, caressed her, and said: “We are going to ride in the forest, where the spotted fawns leap about, and if I see the Easter rabbit I will give him my Trudchen's love, and tell him that next year he must lay a nest full of bright-colored eggs for you.” And the child laughed, and kissed her father's bearded face with her little rosy mouth. Then he swung himself upon his raven-black horse, and the train rode out at the castle gate. “Frau Ursula, take good care of the little one!” called the count to the maid, as he rode away, and he waved his hand once more. Then he passed out of sight.
      In the afternoon of the same day, Trudchen was playing in the garden. Frau Ursula had twice in succession told her the story of the ancient Easter hare and her seven little ones, and now the good woman was quietly sleeping on the stone bench under the linden, where the bees were humming about.
      The little girl had caught a lady-bug and began to count the dots on her wings; but before she had finished, the lady-bug flew away. Trudchen ran after her until she lost sight of her. Then she saw a brown butterfly with great eyes in its wings resting on a bluebell. Trudchen was just going to seize it cautiously, when all of a sudden it was gone, and on the other side of the garden wall.
      Of course Trudchen could not follow him over there; but what was the gate in the wall for? The little girl stood on tip-toe and pressed down the latch, and then she was in the oak forest.
      “So here is where the Easter hare dwells with her seven little ones,” thought Trudchen. She hunted all about, but the little hares must live deeper in the woods. So the little girl ran on as chance led her.
      She had already gone quite a little distance, and was thinking whether it would not be better to turn round, when a black and white spotted magpie flew along and stood in her way.
      “Where did you get that shining chain around your neck?” said the magpie, and looked spitefully at Trudchen, with his head on one side. “Give the chain to me, or I will peck you with my bill.”
      The poor child was frightened, and with trembling hands she unfastened the gold chain, took it off her neck, and threw it to the magpie. He seized the ornament with his bill and flew away with it.
      Now the little girl was tired of the woods. “Oh dear, my little necklace!” she sobbed; “how they will scold me at home if I go back without my chain.” Trudchen turned round and ran, as she thought, back the same way that she had come; but she only got deeper into the forest.
      “To-whoo! to-whoo!” sounded out of an old hollow tree; and when Trudchen looked up in affright, she saw an owl glaring at her with great, fiery eyes, and cracking his crooked bill. “To-whoo!” said the owl, “where did you get that beautiful veil on your head? Give the veil to me, or I will scratch you with my claws.”
      Trudchen trembled like an aspen leaf. She threw down the veil and ran as fast as she could. But the owl took the veil and put it over his face.
      Again the child wandered aimlessly about the forest. Twisted roots like brown snakes crossed her path, and the briers tore Trudchen's dress with their thorny claws. There was a rustling in the top of a tree, and a red squirrel skipped down on the trunk.
      “That will do me no harm,” thought the little one; but there she was mistaken; the squirrel was not one whit better than the magpie or the owl.
      “Ah! what a beautiful little hood you have,” it said; “it would make a soft, warm nest for my young ones. Give the hood to me, or I will bite you with my sharp teeth.”
      Then the little girl gave away her hood, and continued her wandering, weeping bitterly. Her feet could hardly carry her another step, but her distress impelled her on.
      Now the woods grew light, and Trudchen came to a sunny meadow. Bluebells and red pinks grew in the grass, and gay butterflies danced in the air. But Trudchen never thought of catching the butterflies, or gathering the flowers. She sat down on the grass, and wept and sobbed enough to melt the heart of a stone.
      Then there came out of the woods an old man with a long gray beard. He wore on his head a broad-brimmed hat with a wide band, and he carried a white staff in his hand. Behind him flew two ravens.
      There was a rushing sound in the tops of the oaks, and trees, bushes, and flowers all bowed down.
      The man came straight to Trudchen. stood still in front of her, and asked in a gentle voice, “Why are you weeping, my child?”
      Trudchen felt confidence in the old man, and told him who she was, and what the wicked creatures had done to her.
      “Never mind, Trudchen,” said the old man, kindly. “I will send you home.” He beckoned to the ravens. They flew on his shoulder, and listened attentively to the words which the old man spoke to them. Then they spread their wings and flew away as swift as arrows.
      It was not long before they came back again; but they brought something with them. It was a stork.
      When the stork saw the old man with the broad hat, he bowed so low that the end of his red bill touched the ground, and then he stood meekly like a slave, awaiting his master's command.
      And the old man said: “Beloved and trusted Master Adebar, you see here a lost child. Do you know where her home is?”
      The stork looked closely at the child, then he clapped his bill together with joy, and said: “Yes, to be sure, Herr Wode, I know the child, for I brought her myself to the count's castle four years ago.”
      “Very well,” said the man; “then carry her there once more.”
      The stork moved his neck thoughtfully to and fro. “That would be a hard piece of work,” he replied.
      “It must be,” said the old man. “Have you not often carried twins and even triplets in your bill? Quickly to work, or we are friends no more.”
      “Certainly; if it is your command, I must obey,” replied the stork, submissively, and seized the child around the waist with his bill.
      “But my little chain, my veil, and my hood,” bewailed Trudchen.
      “My ravens shall take them away from the wicked creatures and bring them back to you,” said the old man, comfortingly. “Master Stork, fulfill your task faithfully.”
      The man nodded kindly to Trudchen, and in a moment she felt herself lifted up, and the stork bore her through the air.
      Oh, they went like the wind! Trudchen looked down and saw the forest far below her like a bed of curly parsley. Then sight and hearing left her.
      When Trudchen came back to consciousness, and opened her eyes, she was lying in the grass in the castle garden, and Frau Ursula was standing before her, chiding her:-
      “Child, child, lying here asleep in the damp grass! If you catch cold, it will be again, 'Old Ursula doesn't take any care at all of the child' - and I haven't taken my eyes off from you. And there is your beautiful gold necklace lying in the middle of the path, and there lies your hood, and your veil is hanging by a thorn on the rose-bush. Get up and come into the house with me; it is growing cold in the garden. Oh, dear Heaven, what anxiety you put upon me!”
      And Trudchen got up and let her scold on, without opening her mouth.
      How fortunate that Frau Ursula did not know all that had taken place! That would have made a fine commotion.