CHAPTER XXXIII

MARY FRANCES VISITS THIMBLE LAND

“TO-DAY I am to know all about where your dresses went, my dear Mary Marie, and I’m so excited I can hardly wait,” said Mary Frances, hugging the dolly close to her as she went into the sewing room.

Sewing Bird did not look up at her, nor seem to notice what she said.

“I wonder why Sewing Bird doesn’t glance at me,” she thought. “Dear little bird, she may be tired. I’m tired, too, really! Hu―hm,” she yawned, and leaned back in her chair, holding her arms closely about Mary Marie. “I believe I’ll just shut my eyes and wait for Sewing Bird to ‛come to.’”

Everything was quiet for a while, then suddenly a voice―the voice of Sewing Bird―

“She’s just in time! A minute more― She never could Get in the door!”

Mary Frances looked at Sewing Bird.

“How do you do, Sewing Bird, dear,” she said.

“Come,” said Sewing Bird, “we must hurry. Come!”

“We’re here!” laughed Mary Frances. “Why ‘hurry,’ or why ‘come’?”

“Don’t spend time talking,” exclaimed Sewing Bird rather impatiently.

Mary Frances remembered it was the first time she had ever spoken other than most gently to her.

“If you do, you may think we’re there now.”

“Why, she must be crazy,” thought Mary Frances. “What a way to talk!”

“No,” she said aloud, “I think we’re here now―but when we’re there, we’re―

“Don’t you want to go?” asked Sewing Bird.

“Of course!” said Mary Frances, although she’d no notion where.

“Well, that’s good,” said the little bird.

“Good!” said Scissors Shears.

“Let us be off,” said Sewing Bird.

“Off!” said Scissors Shears.

“Sounds as though we were off,” said Mary Frances.

“Not yet,” said Sewing Bird. “Here!” And she jumped up and pecked Mary Frances between her shoulders.

The little girl had the strangest sensation. She suddenly felt as light as air,―as though her body weighed nothing. Her nose felt strange, and she thought she ought to find her handkerchief.

“It was in my pocket, I am sure,” she said, and started to find her pocket. Imagine her surprise when she couldn’t find her hand.

“Why, where can it be?” she thought. “I’ll see if I can move my arm!”

She raised one arm, and then the other, and away she flew. Out the window―and across the blue sky―she, nearly as blue as the sky itself, if she had known it.

“How lovely!” she tried to say aloud, but what she heard herself singing was:

“To float away, Far, far away, In clouds of blue And every hue― I flit my wing And sing and sing!”

Then came another voice:

“I’m so glad, dear little friend, My trouble now is at an end; ’Twas indeed my task of love To turn you to a burnished dove.”

She looked around, and there was Sewing Bird flying beside her, and another tiny little blue bird, keeping close to Sewing Bird.

“What a dear little Bird of blue! Is she, dear friend, A friend of you?”

she asked.

“A friend she is Indeed of me― But more of you― It’s Miss Marie!”

answered Sewing Bird.

“My dear sweet dolly, I declare! She makes a beauteous bird― And rare!”

sang Mary Frances.

“Now, turn again To the right wing― To Thimble Land We safely bring,”

sang Sewing Bird. And Mary Frances, the Dove; and Mary Marie, the Blue Bird; and Sewing Bird Fairy Lady stood before a golden gate.

“You’ll have to become a Thimble Person to enter,” smiled Fairy Lady, and she touched Mary Frances’ right wing with her bodkin wand; and Mary Frances felt herself stiffen and stiffen.

“What am I now, please?” she asked Fairy Lady.

“You’re a Work Basket,” said Fairy Lady.

“How curious it feels,” said Mary Frances. “And Mary Marie―what is she?” she asked.

“She’s Bees Wax,” whispered Fairy Lady.

“Who’s there?” came a voice at the gate, and before Mary Frances could look for Mary Marie, “The pass-word?” came the same voice.

“P. P. B. S.,” answered Fairy Lady.

“What’s that mean, please?” asked Mary Frances.

“Patience and Perseverance―Bring―Success,” answered Fairy Lady.

“Enter,” said Big Thimble, opening the gates, and Mary Frances and Mary Marie, and Fairy Lady walked in.

Everybody was there! Scissors Shears, Silver Thimble, Pen Cil, Needle Book, and all the others.

My! they were delighted to see them, and gathered about, asking all kinds of questions.

“How does it seem to be a basket?” asked Scissors Shears.

“I feel just a little wooden,” said Mary Frances, “and rather too large around for my arms,―but very contented.”

“Oh, Bees Wax,” laughed Tommy Pin Cushion, talking to Mary Marie, “you always had a waxen look to me.”

“It is lovely to be able to speak,” said Bees Wax, otherwise Mary Marie. “I would like to thank Mamma, and you all―”

“Here comes His Majesty!” exclaimed Scissors Shears. Everybody bowed toward the ground except Fairy Lady, and Mary Frances Work Basket, and Mary Marie Bees Wax.

Mary Frances looked up.

Coming between two huckleberry bushes (trees, Mary Frances thought them) was an airship made of golden basketry. Gracefully down it floated, with a little zdud! zdud! sound, and in it sat―Mary Frances knew him in a minute―the King of Fairy Thimble Land!

His coat was of green and gold, but it was so glossy and fine that Mary Frances thought it was spun of cobwebs. He held a long golden needle in his hand.

Mary Frances was herself again―but a very tiny self and fine that Mary Frances thought it was spun of cobwebs. He held a long golden needle in his hand.

“Where are they?” he asked.

“Your Majesty,” said Fairy Lady, “here they are!”

“Oh,” said the King of Thimble Land to Mary Frances Work Basket, and Mary Marie Bees Wax. “Step up and bow!”

Mary Frances tried to kneel, thinking this was proper, but the King touched her with his wand; then he touched Bees Wax.

Mary Frances was herself again―but a very tiny self―not so large as Sewing Bird Fairy Lady,―and beside her was a little girl with golden curls, just half as tall as Fairy Lady.

“Mother!” said the tiny little thing, smiling to Mary Frances.

“Attention!” roared the King of Thimble Land.

“I beg your Majesty’s pardon,” said Mary Frances, “but she’s never spoken to me before―and”―

“That will do,” said the King. “If a doll is more important than I,―sew her up!”

“In what, Your Majesty?” asked Bod Kin.

“Oh, no, no!” exclaimed Mary Frances. “I didn’t mean it that way!”

“You better not!” said the King. “But I understand,”―he added, seeing Mary Frances look sad. “You must know I understand how you feel,

“When you see All her lost dresses, On this tree,”

and he pointed to a little tree nearby. There were all Mary Marie’s pretty lost clothes!

“You may take them with you,” said the King, smiling.

“Never in all the years of Thimble History,” he went on, “have we been so interested in any little girl. I borrowed these to show some other little girls what patience and perseverance will do.

“Now, I am going to bestow on you one of my loveliest gifts; for I saw all your beautiful work, and the Grand Sampler! A prize indeed, you shall have! From to-day, the Needle-of-Don’t-Have-to-Try is yours―to keep! We give one something like it to all good girls who try to do their best, but yours is the Fairy Needle-of-Don’t-Have-to-Try.

“And one more surprise! You may tell your mother about us, and explain about the dolly’s clothes. Please pack them all, attendants!”

“Here’s the suit case!” said Fairy Lady, handing out Mary Marie’s little suit case, “and over there is the trunk. Put the caps in the tray, remember!”

“You have saved us from being Never-Nevers,” continued the King, “because you kept the secret until you finished the lessons. And now, that you are going―here is a bag of useful gifts for you to open when you reach home. Pack the bag in the suit case, attendants.”

“We’d love to keep you longer―you, and sweet Mary Marie―but your Grandma has called you twice. You may show her all the pretty things you’ve made, when you get home. Let us know when you want us again, unless you wish” (and the King laughed) “to say forever―Good-bye. Who’ll say Good-bye forever?” he asked.

“Oh, Your Majesty, not I!” said Mary Frances.

“Not I!” answered every one of the Thimble People.

* * * * *

Mary Frances opened her eyes. Did Sewing Bird or Dick Canary sing,

“Not I!”