Old Mother West Wind came down from the Purple Hills in the golden light of early morning. Over her shoulder she carried a bag. A great big bag. And inside that bag were all of her children — the Merry Little Breezes.
As she walked, she sang:
"Ships upon the ocean wait — I must hurry, hurry on! Mills are idle if I'm late — I must hurry, hurry on!"
When she reached the Green Meadows, Old Mother West Wind opened her bag and turned it upside down and gave it a shake. Out tumbled the Merry Little Breezes! WHOOOOSH! They spun round and round with joy. They were going to play in the Green Meadows all day long, until Old Mother West Wind came back at night to take them home behind the Purple Hills.
First they raced over to see Johnny Chuck. Johnny Chuck was sitting just outside his door, eating his breakfast. One little Breeze — SNATCH — grabbed the green leaf of corn right out of Johnny Chuck's mouth and ran away with it. Another tugged his whiskers. Another rumpled up his hair.
Johnny Chuck pretended to be very cross. But really he didn't mind at all. He loved the Merry Little Breezes and played with them every day.
They teased Johnny Chuck, but they were good to him too. Whenever Farmer Brown came across the Green Meadows with a gun, one little Breeze would dance over and whisper in Johnny Chuck's ear. Then Johnny Chuck would hide away, deep, deep down in his snug little house underground. And Farmer Brown could never, never get close enough.
When the Merry Little Breezes left Johnny Chuck, they raced across the Green Meadows to the Smiling Pool. They wanted to say good morning to Grandfather Frog, who sat on a big lily pad watching for green flies.
"Chug-arum," said Grandfather Frog. That was his way of saying good morning.
Just then — a fat green fly buzzed past.
Up jumped Grandfather Frog!
When he sat down again on the lily pad, the fat green fly was nowhere to be seen. Grandfather Frog looked very happy. He rubbed his white belly with one hand.
"What is the news, Grandfather Frog?" cried the Merry Little Breezes.
"Mrs. Redwing has a new speckled egg," said Grandfather Frog. "In her nest. In the bulrushes."
"We must see it!" cried the Merry Little Breezes. And away they all ran to the swamp where the bulrushes grow.
Now. Someone else had heard about Mrs. Redwing's little nest. Someone who had started out bright and early that morning to find it. He wanted to steal those pretty speckled eggs, just because they were pretty.
It was Tommy Brown. The farmer's boy.
When the Merry Little Breezes reached the swamp, they found poor Mrs. Redwing fluttering and afraid. Tommy Brown was close. Very, very close. And his eyes were very, very sharp.
"Oh no," whispered the Merry Little Breezes. "We have to help her."
So one little Breeze swooped down and — YANK — whisked Tommy Brown's old straw hat right off his head! It went sailing out over the Green Meadows.
Tommy ran after it. He bent down to grab it — and WHOOSH — another little Breeze snatched it away. They took turns. First one Breeze, then another. Every time Tommy Brown's fingers almost touched that hat — WHOOSH — off it flew again.
Past the Smiling Pool. Across the Laughing Brook. Tommy Brown chased and chased. He was very cross. Very red in the face. Breathing very hard.
The Merry Little Breezes ran all the way across the Green Meadows to the edge of the wood, where they hung that old straw hat right in the middle of a thorn tree.
By the time Tommy Brown got his hat back on his head, he had forgotten all about Mrs. Redwing and her little nest. And just then — the breakfast horn blew. So off he went, up the Lone Little Path through the wood.
And all the Merry Little Breezes danced back across the Green Meadows to the swamp where the bulrushes grow. They peeked into the dear little nest. There it was. The new speckled egg, warm and still.
Mrs. Redwing sang. The Merry Little Breezes danced among the bulrushes. And inside that pretty speckled egg, a tiny baby Redwing was already beginning to grow.
