Barbara Ensor - Thumbelina: Tiny Runaway Bride

H ow could such a thing happen?

Thumbelina was a friendly and considerate girl, so how could she leave bridegroom after bridegroom in the lurch like that? (And just because some of these men were animals in no way excuses it.) Except for her heightexactly one and five-eighths inches in her stocking feetThumbelina was a girl very much like you. In fact, you would have been glad to call her your friend.

By his own account, Hans Christian Andersen first heard Thumbelina's story from a swallow that landed on his windowsill in Denmark, about a hundred and seventy-five years ago. He wrote it down, the story was translated into dozens of other languages, and people have scarcely stopped talking about it ever since. What's odd, though, is that for all the talk, hardly anyone seems to remember what actually happened. Even with all those books and movies and songs.

If you ask me, Thumbelina's cute-nessher dainty charm and the sheer novelty of her sizehas stopped people from taking her seriously. She deserves to be right up there with Romeo's Juliet Cinderella, and the Little Mermaid. The pluck and courage with which Thumbelina faced obstacles were extraordinary, even by the standards of people more than two inches tall. I hope this longer version of her story, complete with never-before-published excerpts from her diary, will show her to be so much more than a cute little plaything. Thumbe-lina can be an inspiration, not just to small Scandinavian girls, but to all of us, large and small, male and female, all over the world.

Getting to know Thumbelina has changed my perspective in some important ways. Perhaps, as you step into her shoes, it will alter yours too. It might start when you take a second look at a pistachio shell you happen to pick up, to see if it might work for Thumbelina as a bowl. Maybe a kitten that once seemed fluffy and adorable in your eyes will now strike you as menacing, with those vicious claws and sharp teeth. You might even find yourself completely unable to read with the sound of that lawn mower in the background until you have checked to be absolutely sure that any persons of Thumbelina's stature are safely out of harm's way.

Certainly you will discover that Thumbelina's problems were anything but small.

For your convenience, we have printed Thumbelina: Tiny Runaway Bride as a regular-sized book. And now, dear reader, we are ready to begin.

W ithout a father, you can't have a babyeverybody in Denmark knows that, and the whole world as well. And Anne Marie knew it too. But she wanted a baby so badly. She wanted one every minute of every day.

And so she decided to see a witch.

It's not like she didn't know what the risks werehow witches often give you what you ask for technically, but it isn't really what you want. Still, Anne Marie went and knocked on the black door of the gray house that her friends had once pointed out to her on the way to school.

As she waited for someone to answer, Anne Marie considered the terrible things that could happen. Maybe the witch would give her a baby bat and it would eat her, starting with her eyes. Although this was the kind of thought that might make another person run, Anne Marie noticed that her own two feet stayed still.

Just then the door opened and a witch with a pointy hat and a clipboard appeared.

My fee is twelve kroner, and I do insist on cash up front, she said.

Before handing over such a large sum of money, Anne Marie wanted to be sure the witch could help her.

I'll listen to what you have to say in a private room, said the witch. Even though I already know what it is, she muttered to no one in particular.

Anne Marie fished in her pockets for the money. Twelve kroner was more than she had ever spent on anything. It was a lifetime of savings. But compared to jumping into a cauldron of boiling water or chopping off a finger, it didn't seem so bad.

Anne Marie took a seat in the waiting room. A handful of people were already sitting there in silence. Two had covered baskets on their laps, from which small rustling, squeaking, and peeping sounds could be heard.

After attending to a few other matters, the witch came over to Anne Marie, glanced at the clipboard again, and ushered her into a tiny dark room.

Anne Marie knew that this was her one chance to make things clear.

A baby alligator or even a baby snake is really cute in its own way, but she began.

Miss, I have a lot of other people waiting out there.

Remembering the serious looks on the faces of those people and the odd sounds coming from their baskets, Anne Marie became silent.

I'm going to give you something, the witch went on. And listen carefully, because I don't want to have to go through all this again. She sounded like Anne Marie's high school math teacher.