Thumbelina

Once there was a woman who wished for a child. She visited a wise old woman, who gave her a barleycorn and said, “Plant this, and you will see.”

She planted it, and soon a pretty flower grew. When the petals opened, a tiny girl sat inside. She was no bigger than a thumb. The woman called her Thumbelina. She made a walnut-shell cradle, a violet petal blanket, and a tulip leaf boat for her tiny girl.

One night, a big toad jumped through the window. “What a lovely bride for my son!” croaked the toad. She took sleeping Thumbelina and set her on a lily pad in the river while she and her son made a muddy home.

When Thumbelina woke, she was all alone on the wide water. She cried softly. A white butterfly fluttered by. Thumbelina tied her ribbon to the butterfly, and it pulled her leaf like a little boat. The fish in the river felt sorry for her and nibbled the stem of the lily pad so the toads could not reach her.

Just then, a cockchafer beetle swooped down. “What a curious creature!” he buzzed, and carried her to a tall tree. The other beetles said, “She has no feelers and no wings. She is not like us.” The beetle felt shy and set her gently on a daisy. Poor Thumbelina was alone again.

All summer she lived in the fields and woods. She drank dew from leaves and slept in a grass bed. Birds sang to her, and she wove herself dresses from flower petals. But when winter came, the wind grew cold, and snow fell deep. She had no warm home and no food.

At last she found a small door in the ground. It was the home of a kind field mouse. “Dear child,” said the mouse, “come in and warm yourself. If you tell me stories, you may stay.” Thumbelina told sweet stories, and the mouse shared grains and porridge.

Their neighbor was a rich mole who lived in dark tunnels. He did not like the sun or the flowers. He came to visit and said, “What a neat little girl. She should be my wife. She will live underground with me.” Thumbelina did not want to live where the sun never shines, but she was polite and said nothing.

One day the mole dug a tunnel to the mouse’s house. In the tunnel, they found a swallow lying on the ground, still and silent. “A useless bird,” said the mole. “Leave it.” But Thumbelina felt the bird’s heart softly beating. At night she brought the swallow a blanket of straw and her petal cloak. She gave it water from a leaf and sang to it. Soon the swallow opened his eyes.

When spring returned, the swallow grew strong. “Come with me to the warm lands,” he chirped. “I will carry you on my back.” Thumbelina looked at the field mouse’s cozy home and shook her head. “They have been kind to me,” she whispered. The swallow flew away.

The mole then said, “In autumn we will marry.” He gave Thumbelina heavy work and spoke of dark halls and deep rooms. She went outside to see the sun while she still could and cried, “Goodbye, bright world.”

Just then the swallow swooped down. “Little friend, are you crying? Come with me now!” Thumbelina climbed on his back and held the ribbon tight. Up they flew, over forests and lakes, over high mountains and blue seas, all the way to a land of sunshine.

There the air was soft and warm, and flowers as big as plates bloomed everywhere. The swallow set her on a white flower. Inside stood a tiny prince with clear wings and a golden crown. He was just her size.

“Welcome,” he said. “Will you be queen of the flowers?” He gave her a pair of shimmering wings so she could fly. The flower people cheered and brought her a new name like a gift. “No longer Thumbelina,” said the prince. “Your name shall be Maia.”

Thumbelina—now Maia—lived happily among the flowers. The swallow sang above the garden, telling how the brave little girl no bigger than a thumb found her true home at last.