"Whenever choosing a house," Old Uncle Frog used to say,
"see that there are plenty of damp patches on the walls -
and if the roof leaks, so much the better."
When she had to find a home of her own Francesca remembered
his words. She rented
KINGCUP COTTAGE.

Kingcup Cottage would have pleased Old
Uncle Frog. It sagged oosily among 
tree roots at the edge of Heron Lake.
Snails loved it. 

And here Francesca lived happily enough among the marsh marigolds.
"I have water laid on in every room," she would say,
"so what more could I want?"

Yet sometimes she felt a trifle lonely.
Apart from snails she saw nobody -
and snails were not talkative.
Whenever she said "Good-morning "
thy popped back into their shells.

Now, as everybody knows, the best
way to get to know people is to
hold a PARTY.
So it was that just before her
birthday Francesca sat down
and wrote out a big pile 
of INVITATION CARDS. The ink ran a little on
the damp paper. Mr. Dragonfly, who was the Lake
Postman, delivered the invitations to all the best
nests and burrows in the district.

In some of these houses lived
people who could not read.
Several thought the invitation
was a letter from the landlord
asking for the rent. It made
them very unhappy. Mr. Bun
was quite bad~tempered all day!

"I'm sure it looks like a summons," thought
Mr. Mole. He decided to begin his long winter sleep very
early this year. Several people found the invitation cards, when
dried out, made useful draught stoppers.

The DAY OF THE PARTY came.
Francesca got up extra early
in order to make the cakes and
jellies in good time.

The flour in the bags seemed
to be dough already, and as there
was a shortage of currants she
dipped into her supply of
dried flies.
No expense was spared.

At last everything was ready and Francesca sat down
to await her guests. She waited - and waited.
Nobody arrived. Afternoon wore into
evening and still there wasn't
a single guest!

The jellies slowly
turned into pink and green water.

Francesca ate one of her cakes.
"I think I should have put in more flies,"
she told herself.
Then she pulled a cracker
and put on a funny hat and had some
jelly through a straw.
But it wasn't much fun.

When she got up the following morning
and saw the unused plates her feelings overcame her.
She felt she could not bear to look at them, so she went to the
far side of the lake for a quiet cry. It was here that
Pinny Needlekin came upon her.

Pinny had come to the lake looking for a lost boat.'
While sailing it the day before he had tumbled into the water and lost it.
Now he went up to Francesca and poked her gently with
his nose.

"Please, Ma'am, do dry your,
eyes and fell me your trouble" he said. 
"Perhaps I may be able to help you"?

He hated seeing anybody in tears
- especially a lady. He did wonder
if it was possible to dry eyes or anything
else with such a soggy hanky. 
He felt sure it would probably
"dry them wetter."

Between sniffs Francesca
croaked out her trouble.
Pinny, who had received one of the 
invitation cards, felt cross with
himself
- he had used it to make a sail for a boat!

"- and after all my trouble
n-nobody c-came at all! " ended Francesca.
Pinny agreed that birthday parties are not much use
without people to go to them.

He watched the swallows flying low over the lake in the morning
mist and asked himself why he had not gone to
Francesca's party.

"Why, because I don't like getting
my feet into that cold water with
all those monstrous fishes and — and
things," he told himself.

"Besides, too much damp gives me cramp
in the toes."

From out of the mist came the
harsh cry of a heron and
Francesca hopped away and
poked herself in among the
forget-me-nots.

"I think I know why nobody went
to your nice party, ma'am," said Pinny,
following her. "It was because your house
is too watery. I'm sure it's a very nice house,"
he went on quickly, "but so many folk don't like
getting wet, you know. They catch cold.
or big fish catch them — and some can't swim!"

"Not like getting wet!" croaked Francesca in amazement. "Really
I had not thought of that." All trace of woe left her face. She
knew Pinny was right. Damp places were all right for frogs and
snails but some people just did not care for them at all.

"I shall have a SECOND PARTY!" she cried, clapping her hands.
"I will start preparing for it now — and I'll hold it high above
the water in Toadstool Dell." She would have kissed Pinny, only
his prickles looked a little sharp.

Next moment there was a splash
and Francesca disappeared.

Pinny waited on the
shore until the kingcups round the
cottage began to quiver; then he
knew she had reached home.

"I'm glad there's going
to be another party after all," he nodded.
"I wonder if there will be worm sandwiches..."

The following morning Mr. Dragonfly was
delivering invitation cards once again — and this

time he took a little longer over it as Francesca
insisted he should read aloud each card as it was delivered.

Mr. Mole, already snoring
gently in his little bed,
refused to wake up.

No—one ever saw such a bustle and scurry
as there was in the kitchen of Kingcup Cottage
on the day of the Second Party.

And what a coming and going
there was later as Francesca took her good things
to the shore on her lily-leaf boat!
Luckily ducks and herons
seem to have been busy elsewhere
that day!

And what a difference this party was! Almost
everybody came. The mole did not,
neither did Mr. Dragonfly,
who had lost his voice and
declared he was "sick
of parties."

As Pinny had been thoughtful enough to place
notices here and there to direct
people to Toadstool Dell few
guests got lost
on the way

just a couple
who could not read anyway, but who managed

to party before all the fun was over.
As for the party itself, well, you can see what a success

it was! Everybody enjoyed it, even though the jellies did taste
a little of tadpole; and Francesca's party was to be talked of for many
I along day to come. As Pinny said, "I should like to go
to a party like that every day
-and twice on Sundays!"

Francesca is now looking for rooms
where she can have her less damp friends
in for aftenoon tea. If you do happen to know
of some perhaps you will tell her; but on no
account, she says, must the rooms be
puddly.

The End