The Crimson Crab was to be married to the Eldest Frog. The wedding guests were assembled on the great water-lily leaf, in their best dresses and best spirits. There were lizards and water-beetles, dragon-flies and butterflies,—in fact, all the best people of the neighbourhood. The musicians, young frogs of remarkable talent, were stationed with their instruments in the pink buds of the lily; in the largest blossom the bride was completing her toilet. But she wept as she polished her shining claws, and her feelers shook with grief; for she did not wish to marry the Eldest Frog. He was gray and grizzly, had no voice save a dismal croak, and was known to have an odious temper. The Crimson Crab thought of the gallant young Green Frog, whom she had met at the Pollywogs’ Ball. How handsome he was! She had danced nearly every dance with him, and he had pressed her claw tenderly, and whispered sweet words in her ear. Then, the next evening, he came and sang beneath her window; ah, how he sang! When the song was over he leaped lightly upon the window-sill, poured out his tale of love, and gained her promise to be his bride. Ah, moment of rapture! She thrilled even now with the recollection of it. But he vanished, and—she had never seen him since. She was told that he had disappeared, had probably gone to the Muskrat War, and been killed in battle. Alone she sat and wept, till her stern father came and told her that she was to be the bride of the Eldest Frog. Vain were her tears, vain her entreaties. Preparations for the wedding were at once begun, the fine clothes were ordered, and now the fatal day was come. “Alas!” cried the Crimson Crab, “why am I beautiful? Why does this lovely carmine mantle in my shining shell? If I were a plain green crab the Eldest Frog would not have sought me out, and I might still sit in my lonely bower and weep for my lost love.” At this moment her father’s summons came, and she was forced to dry her tears. “Console yourself, noble Lady!” cried her faithful Attendant Lizard. “See the beautiful gifts your bridegroom has sent you. A girdle of pearls! a mantle of glittering fish-scales! webs of gossamer, the finest that ever were seen! Never was bride so richly decked. So generous a bridegroom as the Eldest Frog is sure to make a kind husband.” But the bride only sighed the more, and sadly took her way toward the great leaf, whereon the wedding guests were assembled. The Eldest Frog was dressed in his best. His speckled coat was new, and his yellow breeches fitted to perfection; but for all that he was old and ugly. He leered at the bride with his goggle-eyes, and grinned till the two ends of his mouth nearly met behind. “Croak! croak!” he said, laying his hand on his heart. “Ah! the fair bride! Ah! the lovely Crimson! What happiness to win the love of such an exquisite creature!” He held out his withered hand, and advanced a step or two; but at the same instant a voice was heard, crying, “Villain! do not dare to touch her!” and leaping across the lily-leaf, his eyes flashing fire, his bulrush spear in his hand, came the Green Frog. With one thrust he sent the Eldest Frog sprawling on the floor. Then, while all the company looked on aghast, he caught the Crimson Crab in his arms, and hailed her as his bride. “This villain lay in wait for me,” he cried, “and captured me All the guests followed,—that is, all who could swim,—to see what would become of the venturous young couple. The old Crab went into his hole and sulked; while as for the Eldest Frog, he just lay on his back where his rival had thrown him, gasping and gurgling, and nobody took any notice of him, till at last a fat brown duck came along, and—gobbled him up! |