long, long ago mrs. frog lived on the hillsides. she was a goddess worshiped by all the fairies because she ruled the sunshine and the rain, and she was a friend to them all, being generous and dutiful.

with her seventy daughters, she spent the days in spinning the most beautiful cloth of gold for the fairies to wear, and the flax which she spun was as yellow as the biggest and ripest pumpkin you ever saw.

all the years that she served the fairies by her industry, and was dutiful in calling down the rains to refresh the earth, she was in great favor with the world, and no one was so much beloved by all the animals as mrs. frog.

but the seventy daughters who were so handsome, and who spun such miles of yellow thread, grew restless, and kept begging their mother for a holiday. she, too, owned to being a little weary, and would often remark with a yawn that it wasn't the spinning, nor yet the weaving, which tired her, but the lack of diversion.

"and think, dear mother," they would say, "think of our lazy brothers, who do nothing but admire their shapely legs all day, and spend the whole night dancing and singing and eating suppers. it isn't fair!"

on speaking thus the daughters were very artful. for if there was one thing which angered mrs. frog, it was the laziness of her sons. years and years ago she had given up trying to get them to do a single useful thing. and it was no consolation to observe that they got along in the world somehow, whether they did anything or not.

"look at their awful stomachs," she would exclaim. "the lazy creatures, always eating and singing. what a life!"

it was thus that the seventy daughters played upon her feelings of disgust, urging her to adopt a change and give up spinning. each one spoke to her alone, seven times a week, when she would reply:

"yes, my daughter, i am listening, and i don't know but what you are quite right."

and then, when all the whole seventy spoke together, as they made a point of doing when they knew she was tired out and had the headache, she could only clasp her hands to her ears and flee to her bedroom.

at last the daughters won and mrs. frog began her holiday. she meant to take but a single evening and a day, hoping to get back to work there-after, rested and refreshed. but alas! once she began her career of dancing, and feasting, and staying up till morning to sing and laugh and watch the sun come up, the day never came that she was willing to spin the yellow flax.

forty of the lovely daughters danced themselves to death within a week, but mrs. frog was so busy waltzing and marching and singing that in each instance, as the sad news came to her that another daughter was dead, she was too gay to care or even to ask, "which one?"

terrible disaster began to come upon the land. all the birds and plants were dying for water. clouds passed by, but mrs. frog was too lazy to make the rain fall. if she wasn't dancing, she was sleeping, and so no time remained for her duties.

one day the animals from the forest came to call on mrs. frog, to plead for rain. the mother rabbits came from long distances to tell mrs. frog how their babies were perishing for water and for tender bits of green grass.

but mrs. frog had become hardened and told them to leave her alone.

"please give us rain! please give us rain!" the birds all pleaded; but mrs. frog only frowned at having been awakened.

then came all the bees and the butterflies from the hillsides, tired, hot, and dusty.

"we are your neighbors and friends," they cried. "do give us rain! the flowers are all dead and we have no honey to eat!"

"go away!" croaked mrs. frog. "i must sleep during the day, and i have no time to worry with you! if you don't like the way i manage this hillside, go to the swamp lands!"

next came the fairies for their yellow dresses, which mrs. frog was to have spun from the yellow flax. mrs. frog was fast asleep, but when they called and called her she awoke. she rubbed her sleepy eyes and awakened all the family to help her spin the flax; but the sun shone down on the hot, dry earth so burningly that all her spinning-wheels caught on fire and everything in her house was burned up.

"oh, for a drop of water!" the birds and the animals were calling. "help us, mrs. frog! do help us!"

but it was too late. even mrs. frog's wand, with which she called forth the rain from the clouds, was burned up. and mrs. frog was so terribly hot and thirsty that she didn't know what to do.

as a last resort she started for the swamp lands, thirty of her exhausted daughters trailing after her. they were all so tired they could no longer walk, and finally, being faint and bent over to the ground, they took to hopping.

down, down, down, through the hills they hopped until at last they reached the dark, damp swamp. the daughters had become as lazy as the sons; and mrs. frog herself desired nothing in the world but a cool, muddy bed at night, and a good log or a lily pad to sit on throughout the livelong day.

but in her muddy bed she doesn't sleep; for all night long one may hear her calling: "more rain! more rain! more rain!"

while mr. frog croaks: "knee deep! knee deep! knee deep!"

and all the little frogs: "wade in! wade in! wade in!"