By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Published in the Atlanta (Georgia) Constitution, February 22, 1920.
Oliver Elephant had been reading fairy stories which Uncle Abner had secured in a rather remarkable fashion. It must have been remarkable, for he said so himself, and fairy books are not common in the jungles of Africa by any means. But if I am to get on with my story I’ll have to leave out this remarkable part.
The fact remains that Oliver had begun to believe in fairies and stay up at nights to get a sight of some.
“But the only thing that bothers me,” he complained to Johnny Giraffe, “is that I’ll never see any!”
Oliver was a bit shortsighted, and having his long trunk to look down was sort of a disadvantage, too. “Then, I’m liable to scare them,” he added miserably, and Johnny was forced to admit that they both were rather big and ugly, according to fairy standards.
But Johnny Giraffe had very sharp eyes and was also on good terms with the birds (having so long a neck), and Johnny agreed to help Oliver find a fairy. With his head among the tree tops, as he nibbled the fresh young twigs, he kept a sharp ear up for fairy news, and one day from a family of friendly parakeets he learned that the fairies were planning a merry dance for the following night in the quietest little corner of the forest.
Johnny hastened to Oliver with the good news and the two could scarcely eat, so excited did they become. Both determined to hide nearby and get a glimpse of the wonderful little people. Long before 12 o’clock the two big, little jungle boys stole away from their homes and went tiptoeing through the forest. Cautiously they concealed themselves in the thick trees and waited for the fairy folk to make their appearance.
Some one else was waiting—the old witch of the woods. Grumbling and mumbling, she crouched on the other side of the little clearing. For twenty years she had been working on a spell to destroy the fairies of the jungle and at last—at last she had found the right formula. The little creatures were always trying to keep peace among the animals of the wilds and thwarting the wicked plots of the old witch herself, so that she was determined to destroy them.
A little of the powder she had prepared would turn them all into frogs, and so anxious was she to try it that she fidgeted about and Oliver Elephant’s sharp ears caught the crackling of the twigs.
“See what it is!” he whispered to Johnny. Johnny’s bright eyes soon spotted the old witch crouched in the hedge and he was just about to tell Oliver, when up from nowhere apparently floated the fairies, their little red lanterns twinkling like fireflies in the dark. Oliver could not see them distinctly, but the little vague dancing forms delighted him. A fierce whisper in his big ear made him sneeze.
“Blow!” cried Johnny Giraffe. “Put your trunk higher than the fairies’ heads and blow!”
Without stopping to think Oliver obeyed and a mighty good thing it was, for just above the fairies flew the witch with her shaker of magic powder. Away she blew into the top of a tree and the powder was scattered in every direction, not one speck falling on the little fairies, though all of them were blown over.
An old wise man snatched out his spyglass and caught sight of the witch blowing through the air and of the giraffe and the big friendly elephant, and quickly told the queen of their deliverance. And after that Oliver Elephant and Johnny Giraffe often visited the fairies at nighttime and the little creatures perched on Oliver’s trunk and flew close, so he could see how lovely they were. As for the old witch, Oliver threw her into the deepest pool in the jungle and she was put out, for witches disappear at the first touch of water—a fact to remember if you ever meet one.
The fact remains that Oliver had begun to believe in fairies and stay up at nights to get a sight of some.
“But the only thing that bothers me,” he complained to Johnny Giraffe, “is that I’ll never see any!”
Oliver was a bit shortsighted, and having his long trunk to look down was sort of a disadvantage, too. “Then, I’m liable to scare them,” he added miserably, and Johnny was forced to admit that they both were rather big and ugly, according to fairy standards.
But Johnny Giraffe had very sharp eyes and was also on good terms with the birds (having so long a neck), and Johnny agreed to help Oliver find a fairy. With his head among the tree tops, as he nibbled the fresh young twigs, he kept a sharp ear up for fairy news, and one day from a family of friendly parakeets he learned that the fairies were planning a merry dance for the following night in the quietest little corner of the forest.
Johnny hastened to Oliver with the good news and the two could scarcely eat, so excited did they become. Both determined to hide nearby and get a glimpse of the wonderful little people. Long before 12 o’clock the two big, little jungle boys stole away from their homes and went tiptoeing through the forest. Cautiously they concealed themselves in the thick trees and waited for the fairy folk to make their appearance.
Some one else was waiting—the old witch of the woods. Grumbling and mumbling, she crouched on the other side of the little clearing. For twenty years she had been working on a spell to destroy the fairies of the jungle and at last—at last she had found the right formula. The little creatures were always trying to keep peace among the animals of the wilds and thwarting the wicked plots of the old witch herself, so that she was determined to destroy them.
A little of the powder she had prepared would turn them all into frogs, and so anxious was she to try it that she fidgeted about and Oliver Elephant’s sharp ears caught the crackling of the twigs.
“See what it is!” he whispered to Johnny. Johnny’s bright eyes soon spotted the old witch crouched in the hedge and he was just about to tell Oliver, when up from nowhere apparently floated the fairies, their little red lanterns twinkling like fireflies in the dark. Oliver could not see them distinctly, but the little vague dancing forms delighted him. A fierce whisper in his big ear made him sneeze.
“Blow!” cried Johnny Giraffe. “Put your trunk higher than the fairies’ heads and blow!”
Without stopping to think Oliver obeyed and a mighty good thing it was, for just above the fairies flew the witch with her shaker of magic powder. Away she blew into the top of a tree and the powder was scattered in every direction, not one speck falling on the little fairies, though all of them were blown over.
An old wise man snatched out his spyglass and caught sight of the witch blowing through the air and of the giraffe and the big friendly elephant, and quickly told the queen of their deliverance. And after that Oliver Elephant and Johnny Giraffe often visited the fairies at nighttime and the little creatures perched on Oliver’s trunk and flew close, so he could see how lovely they were. As for the old witch, Oliver threw her into the deepest pool in the jungle and she was put out, for witches disappear at the first touch of water—a fact to remember if you ever meet one.
Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, January 19, 1919.
Supposyville Doings
The giant who lives next door
To our dear Supposyville,
All sudden, unexpected
And gigantically fell ill!
His wife had gone to visit
Some tremendous tall relations,
And there the poor old fellow lay
With none to cook his rations.
Old Solomon Tremendous Wise,
A-walking near the border
Of Supposyville, heard noises
That suggested some disorder.
It sounded like deep thunder—
“Great Supposyvillish sake!”
The sage exclaimed, “It may be some
Approaching cyclone quake.”
He hurried to his towers,
And he fixed his seer-like eye
On the far-away-off mountains
And the cloudy winter sky.
He put his ear-scope on his head
And listened with great care;
And that’s a sort of telescopic
Ear that tells one where
All noises come from. “Ha!” he cried;
“ ’Tis starting up next door.
I’d better warn that giant man
And every one before
It strikes us!” Off he hurried.
As he reached the giant’s halls
The rumbles grew so loud and long
They shook the very walls.
He peered in through a window
And in bed that giant lay,
A-groaning loud and hard enough
To blow a man away!
“So that’s the trouble.” Solomon,
With firm grip on the railing,
Called in: “Heigh-ho! What’s this? Are you
In bed, great sir, and ailing?
“Take heart, old man, and I’ll return
With several hundred of us.
But don’t groan quite so loudly
I do beg, sir, if you love us!”
The giant turned a grateful eye
Upon is tiny friend
And muffled his great groans, and soon
They had him on the mend!
Those busy, gay Supposies,
Though it took a very troupe,
Stirred up the monster biscuits and
Made barrels full of soup!
To our dear Supposyville,
All sudden, unexpected
And gigantically fell ill!
His wife had gone to visit
Some tremendous tall relations,
And there the poor old fellow lay
With none to cook his rations.
Old Solomon Tremendous Wise,
A-walking near the border
Of Supposyville, heard noises
That suggested some disorder.
It sounded like deep thunder—
“Great Supposyvillish sake!”
The sage exclaimed, “It may be some
Approaching cyclone quake.”
He hurried to his towers,
And he fixed his seer-like eye
On the far-away-off mountains
And the cloudy winter sky.
He put his ear-scope on his head
And listened with great care;
And that’s a sort of telescopic
Ear that tells one where
All noises come from. “Ha!” he cried;
“ ’Tis starting up next door.
I’d better warn that giant man
And every one before
It strikes us!” Off he hurried.
As he reached the giant’s halls
The rumbles grew so loud and long
They shook the very walls.
He peered in through a window
And in bed that giant lay,
A-groaning loud and hard enough
To blow a man away!
“So that’s the trouble.” Solomon,
With firm grip on the railing,
Called in: “Heigh-ho! What’s this? Are you
In bed, great sir, and ailing?
“Take heart, old man, and I’ll return
With several hundred of us.
But don’t groan quite so loudly
I do beg, sir, if you love us!”
The giant turned a grateful eye
Upon is tiny friend
And muffled his great groans, and soon
They had him on the mend!
Those busy, gay Supposies,
Though it took a very troupe,
Stirred up the monster biscuits and
Made barrels full of soup!
Copyright © 2026 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.
