Story: A Handsome Maid

The fair maid who, the first of May,

Goes to the fields at break of day,

And washes in dew from the hawthorn tree,

Will ever after handsome be.

(traditional nursery rhyme)

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Polly’s mother was very vain, and Polly herself was very plain, which quite distressed her poor mother. She could hardly stand to be seen going about the town with such a scrawny, unexceptional youth. However, Polly’s mother was well versed in lore, and knew that if she only sent Polly to wash in dew on the first of May, her vainglory would be satisfied.

Accordingly, as the strawberries grew plump and the flowers started smiling, down waltzed Polly to the hawthorn tree near Farmer Tom’s sunflower field.

But, as she drew near she heard sobs from the field, and there was Tom’s son Johnny, looking as distraught as a four year old can for he had lost his bear. Softhearted Polly helped Johnny to look in the field, down the well, and around the barn ‘til the fugitive was found under the red wheelbarrow. (Johnny claimed to be innocent as to how he got there, and as Polly didn’t press him, nor shall we.)

By the time Polly progressed to the tree the dew had melted, and her chance was gone.

But Polly’s mother was not to be deterred so easily, and the next year as the apple trees blossomed Polly again found herself on her way down to the hawthorn tree.

“Excuse me, dear,” came a strained voice behind her. There was a woman with a baby on her hip and a couple more little ones trailing behind her. “I’m here to visit my brother, James Baker, but seem to have lost my way. Would you point me in the right direction?”

“I’ll do you one better,” replied Polly cheerily, and she walked her the whole way to the bakery. By the time she returned to the hawthorn tree, the sun had burned off the moisture, with the year’s opportunity evaporating with it.

But Polly’s mother still wanted a beautiful, well-admired daughter, so back she sent her when the grass turned deep green the next year. Polly made it to the tree this time! But there, high in the branches, was a kitten mewing, unable to climb down, so up went Polly to help the poor thing. The kitten squirmed with fright as Polly gently took it down, and she finally arrived on the ground with not a few scratches from its sharp little claws. Polly quickly hurried to Farmer Tom’s door to ask for a bowl of milk, which she set before the cat. She softly stroked it as it drank, ‘til it began to purr, then ran off happily. And Polly missed her chance.

The next year she would have made it, had the merchant’s wagon wheel not broken just then, and the following year all was going well until Susan took ill at just the wrong moment.

And so it continued, year after year, until Polly’s mother despaired of ever having a beautiful daughter. Polly would forget herself (and her poor, vain mother) in order to help another, and miss her hope for beauty. In fact, the pattern continued until Polly was the most admired, well liked, and handsome girl in the village.

("Hawthorn tree on the Hill" by Nigel Brown.  Source: SH6914.)

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Author's Note:  For this story I wanted to combine the idea of the original nursery rhyme with a theme that comes up regularly in fairy tales: that of the beauty and reward of the virtuous.  The rhyme ended up coming true, but not at all in the way that the vain mother would have expected (or been able to see!)  It was enjoyable to think about what kind of twist I could put into a traditional superstition.

Bibliography:  I based this story on a nursery rhyme on page 83 of The Nursery Rhyme Book, edited by Andrew Lang.