Part 2

Hedgeflower was delighted. He thought it would be great fun to tell the fairies at home all about it: Meadowsweet, and that cheeky little Eyebright, and Buttercup who stared at everything one said, and all the honeysuckle-fairies, who were such friends with the wild-rose-fairies because their families had lived close together for so long. Hedgeflower thought that to go to a Princess's party with his beautiful cousin was a nicer adventure than anything he had expected when he set out for his walk.

Meanwhile all the fairies in the garden were making their way towards the glass house.

"You must keep close to me," said Madame La France kindly. "The flower in which the Princess lives is some way from the door, and you might be lost in the crowd."

In another moment Hedgeflower found himself in a scene of the greatest splendour. The glass house was full of flowers, and every flower had of course its own special fairy, and nearly all of them were magnificently dressed and were quite different to any fairies that Hedgeflower knew. The greatest crowd was of course round the beautiful flower in which the Princess Orchid lived, and Hedgeflower and his cousin found it quite difficult to get near the Princess without crushing their wings. They were obliged to walk so slowly that Hedgeflower had plenty of time to look about him. He saw numbers of his cousins the rose-fairies, and tall lily-fairies, and fern-fairies dressed all in green. The pansy-fairies were there too, with their sad little faces and their splendid purple-and-gold dresses. Quite close to him there was a fuchsia-fairy, dressed in a stiff white petticoat with a pointed overskirt of scarlet; and standing beside her were several fairies whose crimson tunics were so fine that Hedgeflower asked who they were.

"They are the young Prince Begonias," said Madame La France. "The Princess, being a foreigner herself, has a great many foreign friends. The Begonias think a good deal of themselves, but I think myself that our own family has more reason to be proud. But come, we can speak to the Princess now."

Princess Orchid was standing on a drooping petal of the beautiful flower in which she lived. Her long robes of mauve and white swept over the flower as if they were themselves petals. Her hair was golden, and her face was the loveliest that Hedgeflower had ever seen. She smiled at him very graciously when he was introduced to her, and after he had seen that smile he took no interest in anything else that was going on. He never glanced again at any of the fairies who had seemed to him so splendid a short time before: he just sat down in a nice shady clump of ferns and watched Princess Orchid. He had been to a great many parties in his own hedge where the wild-roses grew, but he had never seen a fairy or even a butterfly receive her guests with so much sweetness and graciousness. He sat there for a long time and wished it could be for ever. Then he remembered that perhaps he would never see Princess Orchid again, and that made him sad.

A fairy party is never dull. Fairies are full of fun and enjoy everything very much. There was a great deal of talking and laughing and sipping of dew flavoured with sunshine, which is the drink fairies like instead of tea. The fairies of the Canterbury Bells had brought their music too, and gave a great deal of pleasure. It seemed as if the party were going to be a great success, when unfortunately a disaster happened which was talked about for many a day afterwards.

On the roof of the glass house, just above the Princess's head, there was a large spider who was very busy spinning his web. He was so busy that he did not look where he was going, and when people forget to look where they are going it is a very common thing for accidents to happen. The spider came lower and lower, spinning all the time, while Princess Orchid was talking very kindly to a shy little violet-fairy and was not noticing anything else. Lower and lower, nearer and nearer, came the spider.

Suddenly a shrill little voice was heard to cry out--

"Take care, Princess, take care!" and Hedgeflower, flying from his clump of ferns, flung himself against the great spider. He was too late. _Flop!_ The spider fell with all his weight upon the flower in which the Princess lived!

No flower could bear the weight of such a monster, and to the horror of all the fairies the beautiful mauve orchid trembled and drooped, and then slowly fell to pieces, petal by petal. The Princess spread her dainty wings and flew safely to the ground. Then she turned and looked sadly at the ruin of her home. It lay bruised and crushed and shapeless on the earth, and if once a fairy's flower-home falls to pieces it can never be put together again.

There was a great commotion in the glass house. All the fairies flew about in a fuss, chattering angrily and trying to find the spider who had done the mischief. But he had quickly climbed up the rope that he had been spinning, and was hiding behind a leaf, so he was never found.

Now, it is a very uncommon thing to find a fairy who is not kind and anxious to help other people, so all the Princess's guests crowded round her and begged her to come and stay with them. The fuchsia-fairies declared they knew of the loveliest little fuchsia-bud which was in want of some one to take care of it: it would really be a charity if the Princess would live there. Prince Begonia objected to this, because, he said, a fuchsia-bud was not a fit place for the Princess to live in; the right home for her was in one of his magnificent palaces. The lily-fairies cried out that this was all nonsense, because any one could see that the Princess would feel more at home in a white flower than in a red one, after living so long in the pale orchid.

While all this talking was going on the Princess did not seem to be paying very much attention to it, though of course she bowed and smiled and thanked the fairies very prettily, as was only right. She looked round several times, as if she wanted some one who was not there. At last she said--

"Where is the little fairy with the kind face, who tried to save my home?"

Several fairies pushed Hedgeflower forward. He felt and looked very shy.

The Princess smiled at him, and then she held out her hand.

"I will go with you," she said, "and be a wild-rose-fairy."

Hedgeflower dropped on one knee before her.

"My home is in a common hedge," he said, "and there are thorns round it. But there is no glass between me and the open sky. I think, Princess, that a fairy should be always under the open sky and the sunshine."

"That," said the Princess, "is exactly what I think myself."

So Hedgeflower and the Princess spread their wings and took each other's hands and flew away out of the window of the glass house, and across the garden and over the hedge. They flew on and on, across field after field, till they came to the hedge with the wild roses.

There the Princess Orchid made her home, among the honeysuckles and the meadowsweet. She was no longer a princess with sweeping robes, but a quiet little wild-rose-fairy in a pink-and-white frock. But there was no glass between her and the sunshine.

_THE CLOUD THAT HAD NO LINING_

There was once a cloud that had no lining. You have often, I dare say, heard grown-up people say that every cloud has a silver lining, and so you will understand that a cloud without a lining is a very uncommon thing.

The fairies who lived in the cloud found it very uncomfortable, because, you see, it let the rain come through.

"If only our cloud had a lining," they said, "the rain would not come through, and that would be very nice for us."

"We must really have it lined," said one.

"What with?" asked another.

"Why, with silver, of course," said a third. "Every one knows that a cloud ought to be lined with silver."

"But we have no silver!"

"Then we must get some. It is ridiculous to go on living in this state of dampness. Other fairies have comfortable clouds over their heads, and why should we be always drenched? And all for want of a simple silver lining!"

"Where does one find silver?" asked one of the fairies.

"There are a good many kinds of silver," said a fairy who had been about the world a great deal. "There is the kind that is dug out of the earth,--but that is a common kind of stuff, and no use for lining clouds with. Then there is the silver stream that you can see far below, winding through the fields and shining white in the sun. That is a much better kind of silver than the other. Then, of course, moonshine makes beautiful silver: you can see it glittering on the sea whenever the moon shines. But I really don't know what would be the best kind of silver to line clouds with."

"We must try them all, and see which is the best," said another fairy.

They went on talking about it for some time, because such an important matter could not be settled in a hurry. At last it was arranged that three of them should fly away and look for some silver to line their cloud with. The names of the three fairies were Pearlywing, and Skybright, and Mist-of-the-Morning.

Now, all the time that the fairies were talking, Pearlywing was looking down at the silver stream far below, winding through the meadows. It was so white and shining that he felt sure the silver of it would make a beautiful lining for the cloud. So when he was told to fly away and look for some silver, he lost no time in wondering where to go. He spread his wings--the soft grey wings that cloud-fairies have--and he flew down and down, away from the cloud to the meadows where the silver stream was shining. The nearer he came to it the more it sparkled. He felt sure it must be made of the very best silver.

But how could he carry it? A fairy's cap is not very large, and he had nothing else.

"I must just carry up a capful at a time, and empty it, and come back for another. I must go on till there is enough silver to line the cloud with," he said to himself.

So he filled his tiny cap with the silver of the stream, and flew up again to his cloud, carrying the cap very carefully for fear of spilling the silver. Then he went round to the back of the cloud where the lining ought to have been, and poured the silver out of his cap.

Now, as I dare say you have guessed, the silver of the stream was really nothing but water. So when it was poured out of the cap it fell right through the cloud, and made the fairies on the other side much wetter than they had ever been before! I need not say that they were very much annoyed. They made so much commotion, spluttering and grumbling and scolding, that Pearlywing heard them through the cloud, and went round to see what was the matter.

"What we want," said one of them angrily, shaking the water off his wings, "is something to keep us dry, not something to make us wet!"

"I am so sorry!" said Pearlywing; "but I thought it was such good silver! And now, I suppose, you don't want any more of it."

"Certainly not!" said all the fairies very quickly.

"It is most unfortunate," said Pearlywing. "I can't understand it at all. The silver looked so _very_ nice."

He was not a very clever fairy, I am afraid.

"I hope Skybright will have more sense," grumbled the wet fairies.

Skybright meanwhile was waiting on the sea-shore, far below the clouds. He was waiting for the moon to rise above the sea. He had to wait a long time, but he did not mind that, because there are always such nice fairies to talk to on the sea-shore.

At last the big round moon sailed slowly up into the sky. At the same moment a hundred thousand moonshine-fairies rushed out across the sea towards Skybright, flying and dancing on the water, and turning it into a sheet of silver as they came. For the moonshine-fairies carry silver with them wherever they fly, and scatter it as they go.

This was the moment that Skybright had been waiting for.

"Please, pretty moonshine-fairies," he cried, running to the water's edge and holding out his arms, "give me some of your silver to line my cloud with, and keep the rain from coming through!"

Then the moonshine-fairies danced towards him across the sea, with their tiny hands full of silver.

"Take our silver, little cloud-fairy," they said, "and line your cloud with it, and dip your wings in it, and scatter it over the earth as you fly, for everything is made more beautiful by our silver."

Then they poured the silver out of their hands into his, and because the silver of the moonshine-fairies is very light he was able to carry a great deal of it. He filled the pockets of his pretty grey coat with it, and he filled his cap, and took a quantity of it in his hands. And he said Good-bye to the moonshine-fairies, and flew away up to the clouds.

When the other cloud-fairies saw the beautiful silver he had brought with him they were delighted. They all set to work to line the cloud with it, spreading it out carefully and making it nice and tidy at the edges. When the lining was finished it looked lovely, and the fairies were much pleased with it. They sat down under the cloud, feeling quite safe from the rain.

But unfortunately their satisfaction did not last long. Presently it began to rain. The fairies smiled and nodded at each other, and agreed that it was very pleasant to be safe from a wetting. Then a big heavy drop fell right through the cloud and lining and all--and another--and another, and soon the fairies were as wet and uncomfortable and cross as if the cloud had never been lined. It was really very annoying.

The truth is that the silver of the moonshine-fairies is rather thin--altogether too thin to keep the rain out, and of very little use for lining clouds with.

"It is really too bad!" cried the poor cloud-fairies, wringing the water out of their nice little grey coats. "What are we to do? Any one would have thought that such beautiful silver would keep the rain out!"

"Perhaps," said one of them who liked to be cheerful, "Mist-of-the-Morning may bring us a better kind of silver even than this."

So they decided to grumble no more till Mist-of-the-Morning came home.

Now, when Mist-of-the-Morning started out to look for silver he did not fly down to the earth at all.

"Every cloud but ours has a silver lining," he said to himself; "so the best way to find the right kind of silver will be to ask the fairies who live in the other clouds."

He saw the clouds all about him, each with a bright rim round it, which was the edge of its lining. He went to the nearest one and spoke to the fairies that lived in it.

"Brother fairies," he said, "where can I find silver to make my cloud a lining as beautiful as yours?"

And the fairies answered--

"Go to the sunbeam-fairies. Their silver is the best for lining clouds with."

Then Mist-of-the-Morning went to one cloud after another, and asked all the fairies that lived in them the same question. And they all answered--

"Go to the sunbeam-fairies. Their silver is the very best."

So Mist-of-the-Morning flew away to the nearest sunbeam. It was crowded with fairies, who were all hard at work, for the sunbeam-fairies have more work to do than any others. As they worked they were laughing and singing, for the sunbeam-fairies are always happy.

"Please, kind sunbeam-fairies," said Mist-of-the-Morning, "I want some silver to line my cloud with. It must be the very best silver, and every one says that none but yours is good enough."

Then all the sunbeam-fairies shouted out--

"Quite right, little cloud-fairy, quite right! It is waste of time to line a cloud with any silver but ours. Our silver is the very best!"

While they were speaking they all rushed to the end of the sunbeam, and before Mist-of-the-Morning knew what they were going to do, they had cut off a great piece of it. There it lay in a shining heap! Mist-of-the-Morning had to shade his eyes, because its silvery brightness dazzled him.

"Sunbeam silver!" sang the fairies. "Sunbeam silver is the best of all!"

Then Mist-of-the-Morning spread his wings and flew home, trailing the sunbeam after him. And all the fairies in his own cloud welcomed him with shouts and singing, because they saw at once that sunbeam silver was the best of all.

They made their cloud a beautiful thick lining of it, with the silver shining all round the edge. And the rain never came through any more.

Now that I have told you this story I hope you will not forget that it is waste of time to line a cloud with any kind of silver except the kind that sunbeams are made of.

_THE FAIRIES WHO CHANGED PLACES_

This story is about something that happened long, long, and ever so long ago, before the fairies had really settled down to their work.

There was then a little fairy called Starblossom, whose business it was to take care of the earliest Spring flowers; and there was also a fairy called Drop-of-Crystal, whose work it was to make snowflakes. These two fairies were great friends.

One day Starblossom had not very much to do. She had finished sharpening the little green spikes of her flower-leaves, and had even made ready one or two white buds. But when she saw that Drop-of-Crystal was very busy making heavy drops of snow, she thought to herself that there was no need for her to be in a hurry about the Spring flowers. They would be much more comfortable underground if Drop-of-Crystal were going to fling snowflakes all over them. So she carefully covered up her buds and went off to watch the snow-fairy at work.

Drop-of-Crystal was too busy to speak. He was making an enormous quantity of snowflakes. Starblossom was silent for some time, but at last she asked--

"What are they all for?"

"For a snow-storm, of course," said Drop-of-Crystal shortly.

"Are they all to be used in one storm?" asked Starblossom. "It will be a very big storm, I'm afraid."

"It will," said Drop-of-Crystal--"very big. You'd better take care of those flowers of yours, or they'll be hurt."

"There are not many of them above ground," Starblossom answered. "I saw what you were doing. But in any case my flowers are not likely to be hurt by the snow-fairies so much as by the frost-fairies."

Drop-of-Crystal said nothing to this, but went on working busily.

Presently Starblossom spoke again.

"It seems to me that snowflakes are very easy to make. Your work is really much easier than mine. It is very difficult to make flowers nicely. One has to be so particular about the shape of them."

"I don't agree with you at all," said Drop-of-Crystal rather crossly. "My work is much harder than yours. I have to make thousands and thousands of snowflakes for the very smallest snow-storm. You can take quite a long time arranging the shape of your flowers, but I have to work in a hurry, or the storm would run short of snowflakes. And that would be very serious."

"Not half so serious as it would be if the Spring were to run short of flowers," said Starblossom indignantly.

"Look here," said Drop-of-Crystal, losing his temper, "if you like my work so much I wish you'd do it! You can set to work and make a few thousand snowflakes while I take a rest."

"I shall be delighted to do such easy work," said Starblossom; "but of course if I make your snowflakes you must make my flowers. That is only fair."

"Very well," said Drop-of-Crystal, "I don't mind. After all, work of that kind is just the same as resting."

So he flew off to the place where Starblossom's flowers were beginning to show their spiky leaves above ground. He had never made a flower before, and did not know how to set about it, but he was much too proud to ask Starblossom how it ought to be done. So he did the best he could by himself.

It was a long time before he had finished a flower-bud. When the first one was done he thought it looked rather odd.

"There is something peculiar about that flower-bud," he said to himself. "It is really more like a big drop of snow than a flower! I suppose that comes of making snowflakes for so long. I must try again."

So he tried again, and again, and again. But every time the flower-bud was exactly like a big drop of snow.

"I can't help it," he said at last. "They _will_ keep on being like drops of snow. But, after all, there is no reason why a flower should not be like a drop of snow. They are dear little flowers, anyway, and I shall go on making them like this."

So he went on for a long time making flowers that were like drops of snow, and dear little flowers they were.

In the meantime Starblossom was hard at work making snowflakes. She knew no more about making snowflakes than Drop-of-Crystal knew about making flowers, but, like Drop-of-Crystal, she determined to do the best she could without asking for help. She took a long time to make the first snowflake, because she was accustomed to finish her flowers very carefully, and she liked everything she made to be pretty. She laughed to herself as she put down the first finished snowflake.

"That is what comes of making nothing but flowers," she said. "That snowflake is exactly like a flower!"

She was quite right. The snowflake was like a delicate, starry flower, light as air, and clear as crystal, and glistening in the sunshine.

"I like that kind of snowflake," said Starblossom. "I shall make some more."

So she made a great number of snowflakes, and they were all like feathery flowers, all different in shape, but all beautiful.

"I should like to go on making snow-flowers always," she said to herself.

At that moment Drop-of-Crystal flew up to her in a great hurry.

"Oh, do come and see my nice new flowers," he cried. "They are quite a new kind, and they are so pretty--just like drops of snow!"

"And my drops of snow are just like flowers!" cried Starblossom. "And I want to go on making them always, because they are so beautiful."

"Well then," said Drop-of-Crystal, clapping his hands, "suppose you and I change places! You shall go on making snowflakes, and I'll go on making flowers!"

So that was the way they settled it.

And because Drop-of-Crystal was a snow-fairy, the flowers he made were always like drops of snow; and because Starblossom was a flower-fairy, the snowflakes she made were always like flowers.

That is the reason why, to this day, the first flowers of Spring are like drops of snow, and the snowflakes are like beautiful, starry flowers. You must often have noticed it yourself.

_THE MAKING OF THE OPAL_

The opal was the last of the precious stones to be made. And this was how it happened.

Long, long ago--so long ago that no one had ever seen a ruby or a sapphire or an emerald--there was a Princess who had a great many friends among the fairies. Because they loved her they called her the Dear Princess, and the country in which she lived was known as the Crystal Mountain. It was the delight of the fairies to do her bidding, to fly and fly over hill and dale to fetch her anything she wished to have. Sometimes she wished to have very curious things, because all the ordinary things that Princesses like to have had been brought to her long ago by the fairies. If she wanted things that no one had ever heard of before, the fairies would set to work to make them for her. One day she said--

"Oh, Fairies dear, I am going to be married. I am going to marry the Prince of the Far Land over the Hill, and the wedding is to be the grandest ever seen. My dress is lovely: it was cut out of a rainbow on purpose for me, and trimmed with the edge of a sunset cloud. But what _am_ I to wear in my hair?"

Now, the Princess's hair hung over her in dark waves, like a long cloak.

"Flowers!" cried the fairies. "Quick--quick--let us fly for flowers to twist in the Dear Princess's hair!"