Who was the Baby? 83

Fairies may not like it, but I must tell my story, and they
certainly received the baby very rudely.”

“ How did the baby treat them?” cried the Summer Fairies.

“We will ask Job’s opinion. What if some men came up
the mountain and took your house, saying, ‘We want to live
here; you can go away.’ What would you do ?”

“T would fight ’em,” said Job, promptly.

“ That is just what the Indians did,” said the Fairies.

“ But who was this baby?” asked Job.

“Don’t be in such a hurry. The world was not made in
a minute,” rejoined Nip. “In spite of the Indian enemies,
the cold and storms, this sturdy chap flourished, for he was
made of the best flesh and blood. The forest cleared a
spot here and there, yielding to the strokes of his axe,
where the spring blossoms began to bloom on the fruit-
trees and shower the grass below instead of remaining hid-
den in the folds of the West Wind’s mantle, and planted
grain to ripen under the summer sun for the harvest. The
strangest part of it was that the baby was never idle, and his
play was always work, building houses out of bits of wood,
and making bridges and roads.

“* Let those play who come after me,’ he said, cheerfully.

“So the forests thinned, the dark enemies retreated as the
bright daylight followed the path he made, chasing away the
gloom of solitude.

“ Forward he marched, always following the West Wind, who
beckoned him on to fresh: exertions, and growing from infancy
to childhood as he went on.

“« Now we will have a city, I guess, planned the baby. He