The field mouse, now that it was freed from its enemy, stopped short; and coming slowly up to the Woodman it said, in a squeaky little voice: Oh, thank you! Thank you ever so much for saving my life. Don’t speak of it, I beg of you, replied the Woodman. I have no heart, you know, so I am careful to help all those who may need a friend, even if it happens to be only a mouse. Only a mouse! cried the little animal, indignantly. Why, I am a Queen, the Queen of all the Field Mice! Continue Reading
-
Freed from its enemy, stopped short
-
The Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his axe
“What can I do for you?” she inquired softly, for she was moved by the sad voice in which the man spoke. Get an oil-can and oil my joints,” he answered. They are rusted so badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled I shall soon be all right again. You will find an oil-can on a shelf in my cottage. Continue Reading
-
[Link] Post with link to elsewhere