The Elf and the Dormouse

Under a toadstool   Crept a wee Elf, Out of the rain,   To shelter himself. Under the toadstool,   Sound asleep, Sat a big Dormouse   All in a heap. Trembled the wee Elf,   Frightened, and yet Fearing to fly away   Lest he get wet. To the next shelter—   Maybe a mile! Sudden the wee Elf   Smiled a wee smile, Tugged till the toadstool   Toppled in two. Holding it over him,   Gayly he flew. Soon he was safe home,   Dry as could be. Soon woke the Dormouse—   “Good gracious me! “Where is my toadstool?”   Loud he lamented. —And that ’s how umbrellas   First were invented.