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A whipping top and a little ball lay together in a box, among other
toys, and the top said to the ball, "Shall we be married, as we live
in the same box?"
But the ball, which wore a dress of morocco leather, and thought as
much of herself as any other young lady, would not even condescend
to reply.
The next day came the little boy to whom the playthings belonged,
and he painted the top red and yellow, and drove a brass-headed nail
into the middle, so that while the top was spinning round it looked
splendid.
"Look at me," said the top to the ball. "What do you say now? Shall
we be engaged to each other? We should suit so well; you spring, and
I dance. No one could be happier than we should be."
"Indeed! do you think so? Perhaps you do not know that my father and
mother were morocco slippers, and that I have a Spanish cork in my
body."
"Yes; but I am made of mahogany," said the top. "The major himself
turned me. He has a turning lathe of his own, and it is a great
amusement to him."
"Can I believe it?" asked the ball.
"May I never be whipped again," said the top, "if I am not telling
you the truth."
"You certainly know how to speak for yourself very well," said the
ball; "but I cannot accept your proposal. I am almost engaged to a
swallow. Every time I fly up in the air, he puts his head out of the
nest, and says, 'Will you?' and I have said, 'Yes,' to myself
silently, and that is as good as being half engaged; but I will
promise never to forget you."
"Much good that will be to me," said the top; and they spoke to each
other no more.
Next day the ball was taken out by the boy. The top saw it flying
high in the air, like a bird, till it would go quite out of sight.
Each time it came back, as it touched the earth, it gave a higher
leap than before, either because it longed to fly upwards, or from
having a Spanish cork in its body. But the ninth time it rose in the
air, it remained away, and did not return. The boy searched
everywhere for it, but he searched in vain, for it could not be
found; it was gone.
"I know very well where she is," sighed the top; "she is in the
swallow's nest, and has married the swallow."
The more the top thought of this, the more he longed for the ball.
His love increased the more, just because he could not get her; and
that she should have been won by another, was the worst of all. The
top still twirled about and hummed, but he continued to think of the
ball; and the more he thought of her, the more beautiful she seemed
to his fancy.
Thus several years passed by, and his love became quite old. The
top, also, was no longer young; but there came a day when he looked
handsomer than ever; for he was gilded all over. He was now a golden
top, and whirled and danced about till he hummed quite loud, and was
something worth looking at; but one day he leaped too high, and then
he, also, was gone. They searched everywhere, even in the cellar,
but he was nowhere to be found. Where could he be? He had jumped
into the dust-bin, where all sorts of rubbish were lying:
cabbage-stalks, dust, and rain-droppings that had fallen down from
the gutter under the roof.
"Now I am in a nice place," said he; "my gilding will soon be washed
off here. Oh dear, what a set of rabble I have got amongst!" And
then he glanced at a curious round thing like an old apple, which
lay near a long, leafless cabbage-stalk. It was, however, not an
apple, but an old ball, which had lain for years in the gutter, and
was soaked through with water.
"Thank goodness, here comes one of my own class, with whom I can
talk," said the ball, examining the gilded top. "I am made of
morocco," she said. "I was sewn together by a young lady, and I have
a Spanish cork in my body; but no one would think it, to look at me
now. I was once engaged to a swallow; but I fell in here from the
gutter under the roof, and I have lain here more than five years,
and have been thoroughly drenched. Believe me, it is a long time for
a young maiden."
The top said nothing, but he thought of his old love; and the more
she said, the more clear it became to him that this was the same
ball.
The servant then came to clean out the dust-bin.
"Ah," she exclaimed, "here is a gilt top." So the top was brought
again to notice and honor, but nothing more was heard of the little
ball. He spoke not a word about his old love; for that soon died
away. When the beloved object has lain for five years in a gutter,
and has been drenched through, no one cares to know her again on
meeting her in a dust-bin.
The Top and Ball
A Classic Children's Short Story
by
Hans Christian Andersen |
