Once upon a time there was a wee little boy who slept in a tiny trundle-bed near his mother’s great bed. The trundle-bed had castors on it so that it could be rolled about, and there was nothing in the world the little boy liked so much as to have it rolled. When his mother came to bed he would cry, “Roll me around! roll me around!” And his mother would put out her hand from the big bed and push the little bed back and forth till she was tired. The little boy could never get enough; so for this he was called “Little Jack Rollaround.”
One night he had made his mother roll him about, till she fell asleep, and even then he kept crying, “Roll me around! roll me around!” His mother pushed him about in her sleep, until she fell too soundly aslumbering; then she stopped. But Little Jack Rollaround kept on crying, “Roll around! roll around!”
By and by the Moon peeped in at the window. He saw a funny sight: Little Jack Rollaround was lying in his trundle – bed, and he had put up one little fat leg for a mast, and fastened the corner of his wee shirt to it for a sail, and he was blowing at it with all his might, and saying, “Roll around! roll around!” Slowly, slowly, the little trundle-bed boat began to move; it sailed along the floor and up the wall and across the ceiling and down again!
“More! more!” cried Little Jack Rollaround; and the little boat sailed faster up the wall, across the ceiling, down the wall, and over the floor. The Moon laughed at the sight; but when Little Jack Rollaround saw the Moon, he called out, “Open the door, old Moon! I want to roll through the town, so that the people can see me!”
The Moon could not open the door, but he shone in through the keyhole, in a broad band. And Little Jack Rollaround sailed his trundle-bed boat up the beam, through the keyhole, and into the street.
“Make a light, old Moon,” he
said; “I want the people to see me!”
So the good Moon made a light and went along with him, and the little trundle – bed boat went sailing down the streets into the main street of the village. They rolled past the town hall and the schoolhouse and the church; but nobody saw little Jack Rollaround, because everybody was in bed, asleep.
“Why don’t the people come to see me?” he shouted.
High up on the church steeple, the Weather-vane answered, “It is no time for people to be in the streets; decent folk are in their beds.”
“Then I’ll go to the woods, so that the animals may see me,” said Little Jack. “Come along, old Moon, and make a light!”
The good Moon went along and made a light, and they came to the forest. “Roll! roll!” cried the little boy; and the trundle – bed went trundling among the trees in the great wood, scaring up the chipmunks and startling the little leaves on the trees. The poor old Moon began to have a bad time of it, for the tree-trunks got in his way so that he could not go so fast as the bed, and every time he got behind, the little boy called, “Hurry up, old Moon, I want the beasts to see me!”
But all the animals were asleep, and nobody at all looked at Little Jack Rollaround except an old White Owl; and all she said was, “Who are you?”
The little boy did not like her, so he blew harder, and the trundle-bed boat went sailing through the forest till it came to the end of the world.
“I must go home now; it is late,” said the Moon.
“I will go with you; make a path!” said Little Jack Rollaround.
The kind Moon made a path up to the sky, and up sailed the little bed into the midst of the sky.
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