Long, long ago, in the mountains of

Long, long ago, in the mountains of Switzerland, there lived a rich miller who was very mean. Even when people were starving and pleading for food, he would not help them. One cold winter’s day there was a knock on the mill door. “What do you want?” barked the miller. 

“Please, Sir, could you give me just one small bag of fl our?” pleaded a tiny man dressed in a red cap and little green suit. “We need it so badly.”  
“Buzz off!” shouted the miller. “I’ve no time for beggars!” As the dwarf began his long walk back to the mountains, he met a young boy carrying a bag of fl our in his arms. It was Peter, the miller’s son. 
“Take this,” he whispered, “but don’t let my father know I’ve given it to you.” The dwarf took the bag and tucked it inside his coat. “Thank you, young sir,” he said. “I’ll not forget your kindness.” Then he continued on his way. One spring morning, several months later, Peter was fi shing in a lake up in the mountains when he felt a strong pull on his line. He tugged and tugged, until suddenly, a little fi gure appeared out of the water. It was the dwarf! 

“Why, if it isn’t the miller’s son!” he said, drying himself on a huge leaf. “I’ve been having my annual bath in honour of the Great Day.” 
“Great Day?” asked Peter. 
“Didn’t you know? Today’s our Great Day of Feasts and Sports. Why don’t you come and join us? It’s great fun and there’s heaps to eat!” 

The dwarf dived into the long grass, and pulled out his red cap and green clothes. Then he led the way through a hollow tree trunk to a huge cave in the hillside. This was where all the mountainy people – the elves, the dwarfs and the fairies – make their home. In the huge cave hundreds of little folk dressed in gaily coloured clothes sat at long, low tables munching cake, jellies and ice-cream. And there were great bowls of fruit and tall jugs of juice. The dwarf banged on the table for silence. Immediately the chattering and music stopped. 

“Dwarfs, goblins, and fairies, this is Peter, the boy who gave us the bag of fl our last Winter. He’s here as my special guest for the Great Day!” The mountainy people clapped and cheered, as Peter sat down at the head table and began to eat, and eat … and eat. But, long before he had fi nished, the games began. 

There was hurdling over the benches and pole-vaulting over the tables. The leprechauns played and a big crowd gathered to watch the darts match played with goose feathers. Skittles were played with a marble and big fi r cones, and for javelin-throwing they used long twigs. Peter was invited to join in the fun, but refused politely. “I don’t really think it would be fair. After all, I’m so much bigger than you … and stronger.” 

“I wouldn’t count on that,” said a goblin – and he lifted up the bench, Peter and all! 

The miller’s son at entranced as the elves rode bareback on racing mice, and the fairies used little wooden boats to race down a stream running through the cave. And all the time there were dwarfs doing handstands and somersaults, sometimes for prizes but mostly for fun. Then, after a tug-of-war between the goblins and the gremlins, everyone ran out to the top of the mountain and back – and fell down exhausted. 

Peter picked his way through the tired little bodies, taking care not to step on the fairies’ wings. He crept out of the cave and climbed up the tree trunk back to the lake. Just as he picked up his fi shing rod he heard a voice calling to him. “Wait, Peter, wait for me!” It was the mountainy man. “You’re leaving without your presents.” 

“Presents? But it isn’t my birthday.” 
“I know it isn’t. I mean your thank-you presents. You gave us fl our when we were starving, so please take this whistle in return for your kindness. Just blow it loudly three times and we’ll bring you whatever you want.” 

Amazed at all he had seen, Peter could scarcely fi nd words to thank the little man. “And this,”  said the dwarf taking a bag from inside his coat, “is a fl our bag for your father.” 
As the sun was sinking, Peter reached the mill, gave his father the bag and told him that the  dwarf had given it to him. 

“You mean you sneaked out and gave one of my bags of fl our to that little beggar?” shouted the miller. But then he peeped inside the bag … and found a hundred shining pearls, with a note: We hope this makes you happy not sad, Mountainy folk return good for bad. 

The miller felt so ashamed he promised Peter that never again would he turn away anyone in need of help. So, ever after that, when the first winter snow fell high on the mountains, all the little people visited their friends, the miller and Peter. And they always found the miller’s table laden with delicious food.