the moon, of course, is a big golden penny hung up in the sky. every month when it is at the full the fairies stand in the fields and gaze at it and feel in their empty pockets. there are so many things they want to buy. rainbow ribbon from the weather clerk for sashes, silken thread from the spider for weaving into shawls, pearl varnish from the snail for doing up their wings, and little red feathers from the robin for wearing in their sunday bonnets.
at last they can bear it no longer. they all go flying into the sky and unhook the moon and carry it off to go marketing with. and when they’re tired of spending they hang what is left of it up again in the sky and go home to bed. but the next night they fetch it again and spend a little more.
they go on doing this night after night for nearly a fortnight, and the moon gets smaller and smaller, till at last there’s nothing left of it at all. and when the fairies realise what they have done, they get frightened.
[61]“we’ve spent all the moon,” they say. “suppose it never grew again! wouldn’t it be dreadful?” and they all hide away in the forest and don’t come out for several nights.
but at last one of them takes courage and puts his head out, and he sees a little tiny bit of moon shining in the sky. whereupon he gives a shout and claps his hands and goes running round to the houses of all the other fairies to tell them the good news.
“the moon’s growing again,” he says. “come quick and look.” and they all come out to look at it, and caper about and are as pleased as pleased can be.
“we’ll never take it again,” they say. “it might not grow next time.” but at the end of a fortnight they have worn all their pretties a little shabby, and they want some more. and by that[62] time the moon has grown so big that they feel that they must spend a little of it. and—would you believe it?—they end up by doing all over again just exactly what they did before.
they’ve been going on like this for ages, and what’s more, they’re beginning to take it for granted that the moon will grow again, and so i don’t suppose they’ll ever get cured. but it’s very tiresome of them.
we could quite well do with all the moon always. besides, some day it really might not grow again. and what then...?
