IN MY BED?” and the middling Bear said, “WHO’S BEEN SLEEPING IN MY BED?” and the little Bear said, “Who’s been sleeping in my bed?—­and see here he is!” So then the Bears came and wondered what they should do with him; and the big Bear said, “Let’s hang him!” and then the middling Bear said, “Let’s drown him!” and then the little Bear said, “Let’s throw him out of the window.”  And then the Bears took him to the window, and the big Bear took two legs on one side and the middling Bear took two legs on the other side, and they swung him backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, and out of the window.  Poor Scrapefoot was so frightened, and he thought every bone in his body must be broken.  But he got up and first shook one leg—­no, that was not broken; and then another, and that was not broken; and another and another, and then he wagged his tail and found there were no bones broken.  So then he galloped off home as fast as he could go, and never went near the Bears’ Castle again.

The Pedlar of Swaffham

In the old days when London Bridge was lined with shops from one end to the other, and salmon swam under the arches, there lived at Swaffham, in Norfolk, a poor pedlar.  He’d much ado to make his living, trudging about with his pack at his back and his dog at his heels, and at the close of the day’s labour was but too glad to sit down and sleep.  Now it fell out that one night he dreamed a dream, and therein he saw the great bridge of London town, and it sounded in his ears that if he went there he should hear joyful news.  He made little count of the dream, but on the following night it come back to him, and again on the third night.

Then he said within himself, “I must needs try the issue of it,” and so he trudged up to London town.  Long was the way and right glad was he when he stood on the great bridge and saw the tall houses on right hand and left, and had glimpses of the water running and the ships sailing by.  All day long he paced to and fro, but he heard nothing that might yield him comfort.  And again on the morrow he stood and he gazed—­he paced afresh the length of London Bridge, but naught did he see and naught did he hear.

Now the third day being come as he still stood and gazed, a shopkeeper hard by spoke to him.

“Friend,” said he, “I wonder much at your fruitless standing.  Have you no wares to sell?”

“No, indeed,” quoth the pedlar.

“And you do not beg for alms.”

“Not so long as I can keep myself.”

“Then what, I pray thee, dost thou want here, and what may thy business be?”

“Well, kind sir, to tell the truth, I dreamed that if I came hither, I should hear good news.”

Right heartily did the shopkeeper laugh.