Біла пташка
The Little House
Oneofherarmswasextendedandthishadbotheredthemforasecond,buttheybuiltaverandahroundit,leadingtothefrontdoor.Thewindowswerethesizeofacolouredpicture-bookandthedoorrathersmaller,butitwouldbeeasyforhertogetoutbytakingofftheroof.Thefairies,asistheircustom,clappedtheirhandswithdelightovertheircleverness,andtheywereallsomadlyinlovewiththelittlehousethattheycouldnotbeartothinktheyhadfinishedit.Sotheygaveiteversomanylittleextratouches,andeventhentheyaddedmoreextratouches.
Forinstance,twoofthemranupaladderandputonachimney.
“Nowwefearitisquitefinished,”theysighed.Butno,foranothertworanuptheladder,andtiedsomesmoketothechimney.
“Thatcertainlyfinishesit,”theycriedreluctantly.
“Notatall,”criedaglow-worm,“ifsheweretowakewithoutseeinganight-lightshemightbefrightened,soIshallbehernight-light.”
“Waitonemoment,”saidachinamerchant,“andIshallmakeyouasaucer.”
Nowalas,itwasabsolutelyfinished.
Oh,dearno!
“Graciousme,”criedabrassmanufacturer,“there’snohandleonthedoor,”andheputoneon.
Anironmongeraddedascraperandanoldladyranupwithadoor-mat.Carpentersarrivedwithawater-butt,andthepaintersinsistedonpaintingit.
Finishedatlast!
“Finished!howcanitbefinished,”theplumberdemandedscornfully,“beforehotandcoldareputin?”andheputinhotandcold.
