Flower Fables

The summer moon shone brightly down on the sleeping earth, while far from human sight, the Fairy folk danced. Fireflies hung in glowing clusters on the dewy leaves, which swayed in the cool night breeze; and the flowers watched in amazement at the little Elves, who lounged among the ferns, swung from the vine branches, floated on the lake in lily cups, or danced on the mossy ground, to the music of the harebells, ringing out their happiest chime in celebration of the night.

Under the shade of a wild rose sat the Queen and her little Maids of Honor, next to the silvery mushroom where the feast was laid out.

“Now, my friends,” she said, “to pass the time until the bright moon sets, let’s each share a story or talk about what we’ve done or learned today. I’ll start with you, Sunny Lock,” she added, turning to a lovely little Elf who was resting among the fragrant leaves of a primrose.

With a cheerful smile, “Sunny Lock” started her story.

“As I painted the vibrant petals of a bluebell, it shared this story with me.”

Three little fairies sat in the fields eating their breakfast; each one among the leaves of her favorite flower, Daisy, Primrose, and Violet, were as happy as elves could be.

The morning breeze gently rocked them back and forth, and the sun shone warmly on the dewy grass, where butterflies spread their colorful wings, and bees buzzed with their deep voices among the flowers; while the little birds hopped around happily to check them out.

On a shiny mushroom was laid out breakfast; tiny flower-dust cakes rested on a large green leaf, next to a red strawberry, which, combined with sugar from the violet and cream from the yellow milkweed, created a magical meal, and their drink was the dew from the flowers' vibrant leaves.

“Ah, me,” sighed Primrose, leaning back lazily, “how warm the sun is! Give me another piece of strawberry, and then I need to hurry off to the shade of the ferns. But while I eat, tell me, dear Violet, why does everyone seem so sad? I can hardly remember seeing a happy face since I got back from Rose Land; dear friend, what does it mean?”

“I’ll tell you,” replied little Violet, tears forming in her soft eyes. “Our good Queen is always trying to protect the lovely flowers from the cruel Frost-King; she has tried many methods, but they’ve all failed. She has sent messengers to his court with expensive gifts, but they’ve all come back weak from a lack of sunlight, tired and sad; we have taken care of them, ignoring the sun or rain, but still his dark spirits do their damage, and we are left to mourn our ruined blossoms. We have fought hard, but it’s been in vain; and tonight our Queen is having her last council. That’s why we are sad, dear Primrose, because she has worked so hard for us, and we can do nothing to help or advise her now.”

“It’s really a harsh thing,” her friend replied, “but since we can’t change it, we have to endure it patiently and not let other people’s sadness ruin our happiness. But, dear sisters, don’t you see how high the sun is getting? I need to curl my hair and get my dress ready for the evening; so I have to go, or I’ll end up looking like a dried-up leaf in this warm light.” With that, she grabbed a little mushroom to use as a parasol and flew away; Daisy soon followed, leaving Violet alone.

Then she set the table again, and the busy ant and bee, cheerful butterfly and bird came without hesitation; even the poor blind mole and humble worm were included; and with kind words she shared with all, while each learned something from their tiny teacher; and the love that brightened her own heart radiated equally to everyone.

The ant and bee learned generosity, the butterfly and bird learned contentment, the mole and worm found confidence in the love of others; and each returned home feeling improved by the time they had spent with Violet.

Evening arrived, bringing with it groups of Elves to advise their beloved Queen, who sat on her mossy throne, gazing with concern at the crowd below, whose sparkling wings and flowing robes shined like a patchwork of colorful flowers.

At last she got up, and in the deep silence said this:—

“Dear children, let’s not get tired of doing good work, even though it can be tough and exhausting; think of the many little hearts that, in their sadness, look to us for help. What would the green earth be without its beautiful flowers, and how lonely would our home be! Their beauty lights up our hearts, and their love fills us with sweet thoughts. Should we really leave them to wither away, uncared for and alone? They give us everything; shouldn’t we work tirelessly so they can thrive in peace within their quiet homes? We’ve tried to win the affection of the harsh Frost-King, but it's been pointless; his heart is as hard as his own icy territory; no love can thaw it, no kindness can bring it back to warmth and happiness. So how can we protect our delicate blossoms from his cruel spirits? Who will offer us advice? Who will be our messenger one last time? Speak, my subjects.”

Then a loud murmuring began, and many people spoke, some advocating for more expensive gifts, some for war; and those who were afraid advised patience and compliance.

Long and eagerly they talked, and their soft voices soared high.

Then sweet music filled the air, and the loud sounds faded away, as the Fairies waited in curious silence for what would happen next.

Through the crowd came a small figure, a wreath of pure white violets resting in the bright hair that softly framed the gentle face, which glowed with a deep blush as, kneeling at the throne, little Violet said:—

“Dear Queen, we have submitted to the Frost-King’s power, we have brought gifts to feed his pride, but have we approached him with trust and spoken boldly about his evil deeds? Have we surrounded his cold heart with the warm glow of unwavering love, and with gentle patience shown him how bright and beautiful love can make even the darkest circumstances?”

“Our messengers have gone apprehensively, and with icy stares and formal words offered him valuable gifts, things he didn't care about, and with the same level of pride, he sent them back.”

“Then let me, the weakest of your group, go to him, trusting in the love I know is hidden in the coldest heart.”

“I will only bring a crown made of our most beautiful flowers; I will weave them around him, and their bright faces, gazing lovingly into his, will bring sweet thoughts to his dark mind, and their soft scent will come in like gentle words. Then, when he sees them wilting on his chest, won't he sigh that there is no warmth there to keep them fresh and beautiful? This is what I will do, dear Queen, and I won't leave his gloomy home until the sunlight shines on flowers as lovely as those that bloom in our beloved land.”

Silently, the Queen had listened, but now, standing up and placing her hand on little Violet’s head, she said, turning to the crowd below:— “In our pride and power, we have made mistakes, while this, the weakest and humblest of our subjects, has advised us more wisely than the noblest among us, using the innocence of her pure heart. All who are willing to support our brave little messenger, raise your wands, so we can see who will put their trust in the Power of Love.”

Every fairy wand sparkled in the air, as with shimmering voices they exclaimed, “Love and little Violet.”

Then down from the throne, hand in hand, came the Queen and Violet, and until the moon set, the Fairies worked hard to create a wreath of the most beautiful flowers. They carefully collected them, with the night dew still fresh on their leaves, and as they wove, they sang sweet spells and whispered fairy blessings on the bright messengers they sent out to perish in a bleak land, so that their gentle relatives could bloom unharmed.

At last it was done; and the beautiful flowers lay glowing in the soft starlight, while beside them stood the Fairies, singing to the music of the wind-harps:—

We’re sending you, dear flowers,
Going off to disappear,
Where your gentle sisters won't cry
Over the cold graves where you rest;
But you’re going to bring them everlasting life
In the bright houses where they live,
And you gently smile that it’s so,
As we sadly say farewell.

O please, speak softly for us,
And whisper sweet nothings
About the generous love to that distant heart,
And it will reply;
And even if you fade in a gloomy home,
Still, loving hearts will connect
The joy and peace you’ve brought:
Farewell, dear flowers!

The morning sun shone gently on the wide green earth, which, like a grand altar, was releasing fragrant clouds from its surface. Flowers swayed joyfully in the summer breeze, and birds sang their morning songs among the cool green leaves. Meanwhile, high above, a tiny figure soared on shining wings. The sunlight gently illuminated her silky hair, the winds caressed her bright face, and carried the sweetest scents to uplift her spirit.

Thus went Violet through the clear air, and the earth looked smiling up at her, as, with the bright wreath folded in her arms, she flew among the soft, white clouds.

On and on she went, over hills and valleys, wide rivers and swaying forests, until the warm sunlight disappeared, the winds turned chilly, and the air filled with falling snow. Then, far below, she saw the Frost-King’s home. Pillars of hard, gray ice held up the tall, arched roof, which was draped with crystal icicles. Dreary gardens surrounded it, filled with wilted flowers and bare, drooping trees; while heavy clouds hung low in the dark sky, and a cold wind whispered sadly through the wintry air.

With a pounding heart, Violet held her fading wreath tightly to her chest and, feeling exhausted, flew on toward the gloomy palace.

Here, before the closed doors, stood many figures with dark faces and harsh, jarring voices, who sternly asked the trembling little Fairy why she had come to them.

Gently, she replied, explaining her purpose and asking them to let her through before the cold wind ruined her delicate flowers. Then they opened the doors wide, and she stepped inside.

Walls of ice, etched with odd shapes, surrounded her; sparkling icicles hung from the tall ceiling, and fluffy white snow covered the hard floors. On a throne draped in clouds sat the Frost-King; a crown of crystals adorned his white hair, and a dark cloak intricately designed with frost patterns was draped over his cold chest.

His serious expression couldn't hold back little Violet, and she continued down the long hall, oblivious to the snow that piled on her feet and the cold wind that whirled around her; while the King watched in amazement at the golden light that danced across the dark walls as she went by.

The flowers, as if they understood their role, opened their vibrant petals and released their sweetest scent, while, kneeling at the throne, the brave little Fairy said,—

“O King of despair and sadness, don't send me away until I’ve brought back the light and joy that will make your dark home bright and beautiful again. Allow me to bring back to the empty gardens the lovely figures that have departed, and their gentle voices will bless you and fill your heart with endless joy. Lay aside your cold crown and scepter, and let the warmth of love gently touch your heart.”

“Then the earth will bloom again in all its beauty, and your weary eyes will rest only on beautiful shapes, while music fills these dull halls, and the love of grateful hearts will be yours. Have mercy on the gentle flower spirits, and don’t condemn them to an early death when they could blossom in everlasting beauty, making us wiser with their gentle lessons, and brightening the earth with their lovely forms. I place these beautiful flowers, with the prayers of all Fairy Land, before you; please don’t send me away until they are answered.”

And with tears streaming down heavily onto their delicate leaves, Violet placed the wreath at his feet, while the golden light became even brighter as it shone on the small figure kneeling there so humbly.

The King’s serious demeanor softened as he looked at the gentle Fairy, and the flowers seemed to plead with him; their sweet voices whispered softly in his ear about their dying sisters and the happiness it brings to help those who are weak and hurting. But he pulled the dark cloak tighter around himself and replied coldly,—

“I can’t grant your request, little Fairy; I want the flowers to die. Go back to your Queen and tell her that I won’t give up my power just to satisfy these silly flowers.”

Then Violet hung the wreath above the throne and, feeling tired, stepped out into the cold, dark gardens again. The golden shadows still followed her, and wherever they touched, flowers bloomed and green leaves rustled.

Then came the Frost-Spirits, and under their cold wings the flowers died, while the Spirits took Violet to a dark, low cell, telling her as they left that their King was upset that she had dared to stay after he told her to leave.

So she sat all alone, sad memories of her happy home flooding back to her, and she cried bitterly. But soon, images of the delicate flowers dying in their forest homes appeared, their voices echoing in her ear, begging her to save them. Then she stopped crying and patiently waited for whatever might happen next.

Soon the golden light softly shone through the cell, and she heard small voices calling for help. High up among the thick cobwebs, poor little flies hung, struggling to escape, while their cruel enemies sat in their webs, observing their suffering.

With her wand, the Fairy broke the ties that held them, gently wrapped their broken wings, and healed their wounds; while they rested in the warm light, weakly humming their gratitude to their kind rescuer.

Then she approached the ugly brown spiders and gently told them how in Fairy Land, their relatives spun all the magical cloth. In return, the Fairies provided them with food, and they happily lived among the green leaves, crafting garments for their neighbors. “And you too,” she said, “will spin for me, and I will give you better food than helpless insects. You will live in peace and spin your delicate threads into a cloak for the stern King; and I will weave golden threads among the gray so that when it’s wrapped around his cold heart, kind thoughts can come in and make it their home.”

And while she happily sang, the little weavers spun their silky threads, the flies with shiny wings fluttered lovingly above her head, and the golden light shone softly down on everything.

When the Frost-Spirits told their King, he was very curious and often sneaked away to watch the sunny little room where friends and foes worked peacefully together. Still, the light grew brighter and floated out into the chilly air, where it hung like bright clouds over the bleak gardens, which all the Spirits’ power couldn't overcome; and green leaves sprouted on the bare trees, and flowers blossomed; but the Spirits piled snow on them, causing them to bow their heads and die.

At last, the cloak was complete, and among the gray threads, golden ones gleamed, giving it a vibrant look; she sent it to the King, asking him to wear it, as it would bring peace and love into his heart.

But he dismissively tossed it aside and told his spirits to take her to a colder cell, deep underground; and there, with cruel words, they abandoned her.

Still she sang happily on, and the falling drops kept time so melodically, that the King in his cold ice halls wondered at the soft, sweet sounds that drifted up to him.

Thus Violet lived, and each day the golden light got brighter; and from the cracks in the rocky walls came groups of little velvet-coated moles, hoping they could hear the sweet music and bask in the warm light.

“We lead,” they said, “a bleak life in this cold earth; the flower roots are dead, and no gentle dew falls for us to drink, no little seed or leaf can we find. Oh, good Fairy, let us be your servants: give us just a few crumbs of your daily bread, and we will do everything we can to serve you.”

And Violet said, "Yes"; so day after day they worked to create a path through the frozen ground so she could reach the roots of the dead flowers. Before long, wherever she wandered through the dark tunnels, a soft light shone on the roots of the flowers, and they began to come back to life in the warm soil, sending fresh sap up to the blossoms above. They bloomed brightly and danced in the gentle light, while the Frost Spirits tried unsuccessfully to harm them, because when they ventured beneath the bright clouds, their ability to do harm was gone.

From his dark castle, the King looked out at the cheerful flowers, who happily nodded at him and tried to express their gratitude for the good little Spirit working hard below so they could thrive. When he turned away from the bright scene outside to his grand palace, it felt so cold and gloomy that he wrapped Violet’s cloak around himself and sat beneath the faded garland on his ice-carved throne, pondering the unusual warmth it brought him. Finally, he ordered his Spirits to bring the little Fairy from her gloomy prison.

Soon they rushed back and asked him to come and see how beautiful the dark cell had become. The rough floor was covered with deep green moss, and flowering vines grew over the walls and roof, filling the air with their sweet scent. Above, soft, clear light played, casting rosy shadows on the sparkling drops that rested among the fragrant leaves; and beneath the vines stood Violet, tossing crumbs to the little fluffy moles who ran around fearlessly and listened to her sing.

When the old King saw how much more beautiful she had made the gloomy cell than his palace rooms, gentle thoughts whispered to him to grant her wish and let the little Fairy return to her friends and home; but the Frost-Spirits blew on the flowers and made him realize how fragile they were and how useless to a King. Then the harsh, cold thoughts returned, and he coldly ordered her to follow him.

With a heavy heart, she said goodbye to her little friends and followed him, standing before the throne, waiting for his command. When the King noticed how pale and sad her gentle face had become, how thin her robe was, and how weak her wings looked, yet still saw how lovingly the golden shadows danced around her and brightened as they rested on the wand, which, through patient love, had turned his once desolate home into a bright place, he couldn’t be cruel to the one who had done so much for him, and in a compassionate tone he said,—

“Little Fairy, I have two things to offer you, and you can choose between them. If I promise never to harm the flowers you care about, will you return to your own kind and let me and my Spirits do as we wish with all the other flowers that bloom? The earth is vast, and we can find flowers anywhere, so why should you be concerned about what happens to their relatives if your own are safe? Will you accept this?”

“Ah!” Violet replied sadly, “don’t you realize that under the bright leaves of the flowers is a little heart that loves and feels pain just like us? And can I, ignoring their beauty, condemn them to suffering and sorrow just to protect my own beloved blooms from the cruel enemies I’m leaving them with? Oh no! I would rather stay forever in your darkest cell than lose the love of those warm, trusting hearts.”

“Then listen,” said the King, “to the task I’m giving you. You need to build a palace even more beautiful than this one, and if you can pull off that miracle, I’ll grant your wish or give up my crown. Now go, and start your work; my Spirits won’t harm you, and I’ll wait until it’s finished before I destroy another flower.”

Then Violet stepped out into the gardens with a heavy heart; she had worked so hard, and her strength was almost gone. But the flowers whispered their thanks and closed their petals as if to bless her. When she saw the garden filled with loving friends who tried to cheer her up and thank her for her care, her courage and strength came back. Raising thick clouds of mist that hid her from the wondering flowers, she began her work alone and with trust.

As time passed, the Frost-King worried that the task had been too difficult for the Fairy; sounds were heard behind the misty walls, bright shadows were seen moving inside, but the little voice was never heard. In the meantime, the golden light had disappeared from the garden, the flowers drooped, and everything was dark and cold, just as it had been when the gentle Fairy arrived.

And to the stern King, his home felt even more empty and sad; he missed the warm light, the cheerful flowers, and, most of all, the lively voice and bright face of little Violet. So he roamed through his gloomy palace, reflecting on how he had ever been happy living without sunlight and love.

And little Violet was mourned as if she had died in Fairy-Land, and many tears were shed because the gentle Fairy was loved by everyone, from the Queen down to the simplest flower. They sadly took care of every bird and blossom she had loved and tried to be like her in kind words and actions. They wore cypress wreaths and talked about her as someone they would never see again.

So they lived in deep sorrow until one day an unknown messenger appeared, wrapped in a dark cloak. He gazed in wonder at the bright palace and the flower-crowned elves, who welcomed him warmly and brought fresh dew and rosy fruit to refresh the tired stranger. He told them he came from the Frost-King, who asked the Queen and all her subjects to visit the palace little Violet had built. The mist would soon clear, and since she could not create a more beautiful home than the ice castle, the King wanted her loved ones nearby to comfort her and take her home. While the Elves wept, he shared how patiently she had worked, how her everlasting love had brightened and beautified the dark cell.

These and many other things he shared with them; for little Violet had earned the affection of many of the Frost-Spirits, and even when they destroyed the flowers she had worked so hard to nurture into life and beauty, she spoke kind words to them and tried to show them how beautiful love can be. The messenger stayed for a long time, increasingly amazed that the Fairy could have left such a lovely home to toil in the dreary palace of his cruel master, enduring cold and fatigue to bring life and happiness to the weak and sorrowful. Once the Elves had promised they would come, he said goodbye to joyful Fairy-Land and flew home with a heavy heart.

At last, the time came, and out in his empty garden, under a curtain of dark clouds, sat the Frost-King in front of the misty wall, behind which soft, sweet sounds could be heard, like rustling trees and singing birds.

Soon, colorful groups of Elves appeared in the air. First came the Queen, recognizable by the silver lilies on her white robe and the shiny crown in her hair. Next to her flew a group of Elves dressed in red and gold, playing lovely tunes on their flower-trumpets, while all around them, with joyful faces and bright eyes, fluttered her adoring subjects.

On they came, like a swarm of colorful butterflies, their shining wings and vibrant outfits sparkling in the dim light; soon the bare trees were bright with living flowers, and their lovely voices filled the gardens with music. Like his subjects, the King gazed at the beautiful Elves and no longer found it strange that little Violet cried and missed her home. His grand home felt darker and more desolate, and when the Fairies asked for flowers, he felt embarrassed that he had none to offer them.

At last, a warm breeze blew through the gardens, and the mist lifted, while the Frost-King and the Elves watched in silent amazement at the scene before them.

As far as the eye could see, there were tall green trees with drooping branches that formed graceful arches, through which the golden light shone softly, casting bright shadows on the lush green moss below, where the most beautiful flowers swayed in the cool breeze and sang, in their gentle, sweet voices, about how beautiful Love is.

Flowering vines wrapped their soft leaves around the trees, creating green pillars along their rough trunks. Fountains splashed their clear water onto the roof, while flocks of silver-winged birds sang and flitted among the flowers, or watched over their nests affectionately. Doves with gentle eyes cooed among the green leaves, fluffy white clouds drifted in the sunny sky, and the golden light, brighter than ever, glowed softly down.

Soon through the long aisles came Violet, flowers and green leaves rustling as she passed. On she went to the Frost King’s throne, carrying two crowns, one made of sparkling icicles and the other of pure white lilies, and kneeling before him, said,—

“My task is complete, and, thanks to the Spirits of earth and air, I have created a beautiful home like only Elfin hands can craft. Now it's up to you to decide. Will you be the King of Flower-Land, embracing my gentle kin as your loving friends? Will you enjoy everlasting peace and joy, along with the grateful love of all the fragrant children of the green earth? Then take this crown of flowers. But if you can't find happiness here, return to your own cold home, and live in solitude and darkness, where no ray of sunlight or joy can reach you."

“Send your Spirits to spread sadness and destruction across the joyful earth, and gain the fear and hatred of those who would gladly love and respect you. Then take this shiny crown, as hard and cold as your own heart will be if you decide to shut out everything bright and beautiful. Both options are before you. Choose.”

The old King looked at the little Fairy and saw how lovingly the bright shadows surrounded her, as if to protect her from any harm; the shy birds nestled in her embrace, and the flowers bloomed more beautifully in her presence; while her kind friends, with tears in their bright eyes, clasped their hands in a plea and smiled at her.

Kind thoughts crowded into his mind, and he turned to look at the two palaces. Violet's was so beautiful, with its rustling trees, calm sunny skies, and joyful birds and flowers, all created by her patient love and care. His own, however, was cold, dark, and dreary, with empty gardens where no flowers could bloom, no green trees could grow, and no cheerful birds could sing, all desolate and dim;—and as he stared, his own Spirits, shedding their dark cloaks, knelt before him and pleaded not to be sent out to ruin the things that the gentle Fairies cherished so deeply. “We have served you long and faithfully,” they said, “now grant us our freedom so we can learn to be loved by the sweet flowers we’ve harmed for so long. Honor the little Fairy’s wish; let her return to her dear home. She has taught us that Love is stronger than Fear. Choose the Flower crown, and we will be the most loyal subjects you have ever had.”

Then, with a burst of lively, sweet music, the Frost-King put the flower crown on his head and knelt to little Violet. All around the wide green earth, the voices of flowers echoed, singing their thanks to the kind Fairy. The summer wind carried their fragrances, which they sent as gestures of appreciation. Wherever she went, ancient trees leaned down to wrap their slender branches around her, flowers pressed their soft faces against hers and whispered blessings; even the humble moss bowed over her little feet and kissed them as she walked by.

The old King, surrounded by the cheerful Fairies, sat in Violet’s beautiful home, watching his icy castle melt away under the bright sunlight. Meanwhile, his Spirits, no longer cold and gloomy, danced with the Elves and eagerly attended to their King with affection. The golden light grew brighter, the birds sang more joyfully, and the harmonious voices of thankful flowers echoed across the earth, spreading new joy to all their gentle relatives.

Brighter shone the golden shadows;
The cool wind blew gently.
The low, sweet sounds of happy flowers,
Singing Violet's name.
’Mong the green trees it was whispered,
And the shining waves transported it forward.
To the lonely forest flowers,
Where the happy news hadn't arrived.

Thus, the Frost King lost his kingdom,
And his ability to hurt and weaken.
Violet triumphed, and his cold heart
Energized by music, love, and light;
And his beautiful home, once so bleak,
Bright with beautiful Elves and flowers,
Brought a joy that never faded
During the long, sunny summer hours.

Thus, with Violet's magical power,
All dark shadows vanished,
And over the home of joyful flowers
The golden light always shone.
Thus the Fairy's mission came to an end,
And everyone in Flower-Land learned
The “Power of Love,” through gentle acts
That little Violet made.

As Sunny Lock finished, another little Elf stepped forward; and this was the story that “Silver Wing” told.

Down among the grass and fragrant clover lay little Eva by the brookside, watching the bright waves as they flowed by, singing under the drooping flowers that grew on its banks. As she wondered where the water went, she heard a faint, low sound like distant music. She thought it was the wind, but not a leaf was moving, and soon, a strange little boat appeared through the rippling water.

It was a lily of the valley, whose tall stem served as the mast, while the wide leaves that grew from the roots and drooped down to the water were filled with cheerful little Elves, who danced to the music of the silver lily-bells above, ringing out a joyful sound and filling the air with their sweet fragrance.

On came the fairy boat, until it reached a moss-covered rock; and here it stopped, while the Fairies rested under the violet leaves and sang with the dancing waves.

Eva looked in awe at their cheerful faces and colorful clothes, and in her joy, she sang along and tossed crimson fruit for the little ones to enjoy.

They smiled at the child, and after whispering for a while among themselves, two little bright-eyed Elves flew over the sparkling water, landed on the clover blossoms, and said softly, “Little girl, thank you so much for your kindness; our Queen wants us to ask if you would like to come with us to Fairy-Land and learn what we can teach you.”

“Sure, I would love to go with you, dear Fairies,” said Eva, “but I can't sail in your little boat. Look! I can hold you in my hand, and I couldn't live among you without hurting your tiny kingdom; I'm just too big.”

Then the Elves laughed joyfully as they wrapped their arms around her, saying, “You’re such a good child, dear Eva, for worrying about hurting those weaker than you. You can’t hurt us now. Look in the water and see what we’ve done.”

Eva looked into the stream and saw a little kid standing between the Elves. “Now I can join you,” she said, “but look, I can no longer step from the bank to that stone over there, because the stream now looks like a huge river, and you haven’t given me wings like yours.”

But the Fairies took her by the hand and flew easily over the stream. The Queen and her subjects came to greet her, and everyone seemed happy to say a warm word of welcome to the little newcomer. They placed a flower crown on her head, pressed their soft faces against hers, and soon it felt like the kind Elves had always been her friends.

“Now we have to go home,” said the Queen, “and you will come with us, little one.”

Then there was a lot of activity as they flew around on shiny wings, some placing cushions of violet leaves in the boat, while others wrapped the Queen's veil and mantle more tightly around her to protect her from the falling dew that might make her cold.

The gentle sound of the waves lapping against the boat and the sweet ringing of the lily-bells softly rocked little Eva to sleep, and when she woke up, she found herself in Fairy-Land. A soft, rosy light, like that of a setting sun, illuminated the white pillars of the Queen’s palace as they entered, and the sleeping flowers gracefully leaned on their stems, dreaming under their delicate green curtains. Everything was cool and quiet, and the Elves moved silently around, careful not to disturb their dreams. They guided Eva to a bed made of pure white leaves, above which hung the fragrant petals of a crimson rose.

“You can admire the bright colors until the light dims, and then the rose will lull you to sleep,” said the Elves, as they wrapped the soft leaves around her, gently kissed her, and quietly left.

Long she lay watching the bright shadows and listening to the song of the rose, while throughout the long night dreams of beautiful things floated like bright clouds through her mind; as the rose bent lovingly above her and sang in the clear moonlight.

With the sunrise, the Fairies rose and quickly went with Eva to the fountain, where the cool waters soon filled with little shapes, and the air filled with joyful voices as the Elves floated in the blue waves among the white lilies or sat on the green moss, fixing their shiny hair and wearing fresh garlands of dewy flowers. Finally, the Queen appeared, and her subjects gathered around her. While the flowers bowed their heads and the trees quieted their rustling, the Fairies sang their morning hymn to the Father of birds and blossoms, who had created such a beautiful home for them on earth.

Then they flew off to the gardens, and soon, high up among the tree tops, or under the wide leaves, the Elves sat in small groups, having their breakfast of fruit and fresh dew; while the bright-winged birds approached them without fear, pecking at the same ripe berries and dipping their tiny beaks into the same flower cups, and the Fairies wrapped their arms around them affectionately, smoothed their soft chests, and cheerfully sang to them.

“Now, little Eva,” they said, “you'll see that Fairies aren’t lazy, rebellious Spirits like humans think. Come, we’ll show you what we do.”

They guided her into a beautiful room, where soft light filtered in through deep green leaves. Inside, many injured insects and helpless little creatures, hurt by cruel hands, lay scattered about; beside urns filled with healing herbs, pale, wilting flowers grew, releasing a faint, sweet fragrance from their fresh leaves.

Eva wondered but silently followed her guide, little Rose-Leaf, who with gentle words moved among the delicate blossoms, pouring dew on their fragile roots, uplifting them with her caring words and cheerful smile.

Then she went to the insects; first to a small fly that was resting in a flower petal cradle.

“Are you in a lot of pain, dear Gauzy-Wing?” asked the Fairy. “I’ll wrap up your injured leg, and Zephyr will help you sleep.” So she gently wrapped the cool leaves around the poor fly, bathed his wings, and brought him a refreshing drink, while he buzzed his thanks and forgot his pain as Zephyr softly sang and fanned him with her fluttering wings.

They moved on, and Eva saw a Fairy beside each bed, gently comforting the suffering insects with kind hands and soothing words. Eventually, they stopped beside a bee, who lay among sweet honeysuckle flowers in a cool, quiet spot where the summer breeze blew in, and the green leaves rustled softly. Yet he seemed unable to find peace and murmured about the pain he was forced to endure. “Why must I lie here while my fellow bees are out in the beautiful fields, basking in the sunlight and enjoying the fresh air? Cruel hands have condemned me to this dark place and this awful pain when I haven’t done anything wrong. Unattended and forgotten, I have to remain here among these poor creatures who only think of themselves. Come here, Rose-Leaf, and fix my wounds, for I am much more useful than a lazy bird or a fly.”

Then the Fairy said, while she treated the broken wing,—

“Love-Blossom, you shouldn’t complain. We might find happiness in trying to be patient even while we’re hurting. You’re not forgotten or neglected, but others need our care more than you do, and to those who accept the pain and sorrow that comes their way, we gladly offer our support. You don’t have to be inactive, even if you’re lying here in darkness and sadness; you can let go of all sad and discontented feelings from your heart, and if love and patience grow there, you’ll feel better for the lonely hours spent here. Look at the bed beside you; this little dove has endured much greater pain than you, and our care can’t ease it; yet through the long days it has lain here, it hasn’t uttered a single unkind word or a complaining sigh. Oh, Love-Blossom, the gentle bird can teach you a lesson that will make you wiser and better.”

Then a soft voice whispered, “Little Rose-Leaf, hurry up, or I won’t be able to thank you properly for all the love and care you’ve shown me.”

So they moved to the bed next to the unhappy bee, and here on the softest feathers lay the dove, whose gentle eyes looked up appreciatively at the Fairy as she knelt beside the small bed, smoothed the soft white chest, wrapped her arms around it, and shed sorrowful tears, while the bird continued to whisper its gratitude and love.

“Dear Fairy, the most beautiful flowers have brightened my day with their lovely scent, fresh dew, and fragrant leaves have always been there for me, gentle hands to care for me, and kind hearts to love me; for this, I can only thank you and say goodbye.”

Then the trembling wings became still, and the gentle little dove was dead; but the bee was silent now, and the dew from the flowers fell like tears around the peaceful resting place.

Sadly, Rose-Leaf took Eva away, saying, “Lily-Bosom will have a grave tonight beneath our most beautiful blossoms, and you'll see that kindness and love are valued far more than gold or beauty here in Fairy-Land. Now, come to the Flower Palace and see the Fairy Court.”

Beneath green arches, vibrant with birds and flowers, alongside singing waves, Eva entered a grand hall. The ceiling, adorned with pure white lilies, rested on pillars of lush green vines, while colorful blooms cast their bright shadows on the walls as they swayed below in the deep green moss. Their soft, melodic voices echoed gently through the sunlit palace, while the rustling leaves provided a rhythm.

Beside the throne stood Eva, watching the beautiful figures around her, each little group in its own color, with shining wings and flower wands.

Suddenly, the music got louder and sweeter, and the Fairies knelt, bowing their heads as the Queen made her way through the crowd of adoring subjects, with the air filled with cheerful voices singing to welcome her.

She put the child next to her and said, “Little Eva, you’re about to see how the flowers on your great earth bloom so vibrantly. A group of caring little gardeners sets out every day from Fairy-Land to take care of them, ensuring that no harm comes to the gentle spirits living under their leaves. This is never known because, like all good things, it’s unseen by mortal eyes, and only pure hearts like yours are told our secret. The simplest flower that grows is visited by our messengers and often blooms in fragrant beauty, unknown and unloved by anyone except Fairy friends, who aim to fill the spirits with all sweet and gentle virtues so that they aren’t useless on the earth; for even the noblest mortals stoop to learn about flowers. Now, Eglantine, what do you have to share with us about your rosy namesakes on earth?”

From a group of Elves, whose rose-wreathed wands showed the flower they loved, came one holding a tiny urn, and, in response to the Queen, she said,—

“Over hills and valleys, they bloom fresh and beautiful like summer sunshine and dew. No drooping stems or withered leaves show any bad thoughts within their fragrant hearts, and so from the finest of their kind, they have gathered this sweet dew as a sign of their gratitude to someone whose kindness and care have kept them pure and happy; and this, the loveliest of their sisters, I have brought to place among the Fairy flowers that never fade.”

Eglantine set the urn in front of the Queen and laid the fragrant rose on the dewy moss next to the throne, while a murmur of approval swept through the hall as each magical wand waved to the little Fairy who had worked so hard and faithfully and could present such a beautiful gift to their beloved Queen.

Then an Elf appeared with a dried leaf, and her multicolored robe and the purple tulips in her hair revealed her name and role.

“Dear Queen,” she said sadly, “I wish I could bring you as happy news as my sister, but unfortunately, my flowers are proud and stubborn. When I tried to collect my small gift of colorful leaves for your royal garments, they insisted that I bring this wilted bloom and tell you they refuse to serve anyone who won’t make them Queen over all the other flowers. They wouldn’t give any dew or honey and instead closed their leaves defiantly and told me to leave.”

“Your task has been too difficult for you,” said the Queen gently, as she placed the wilting flower in the urn Eglantine had given her. “You’ll see how this dew from a sweet, pure heart will breathe new life and beauty into this poor faded flower. Just like this, dear Rainbow, with kind words and gentle guidance, you can restore lost purity and peace to those impacted by pride and selfishness. Go back to the proud flowers and tell them that when they reign over their own hearts, they won’t need a more beautiful kingdom. Take care of them more lovingly than ever, ensure they have enough dew and air, speak to them with kindness, and don’t let their unkind words or actions upset you. Show them through your patient love and care how much more beautiful they could be, and when you return, you’ll be filled with gifts from humble, loving flowers.”

Thus they shared what they had done and received from their Queen some gentle reprimand or loving words of praise.

“You're going to get tired of this,” said little Rose-Leaf to Eva; “come on and see where we learn to read the stories written on flower leaves, the sweet language of the birds, and everything that can make a Fairy heart smarter and kinder.”

Then they entered a joyful place filled with many clusters of flowers, where the young Elves sat among the leaves, learning from their flower-books everything that fairy hands had written. Some studied how to observe the tender buds, when to expose them to sunlight, and when to protect them from rain; how to safeguard the ripening seeds, and when to plant them in the warm earth or send them on the summer breeze to distant hills and valleys, where other fairy hands would care for them until a sisterhood of beautiful flowers grew to brighten and cheer the lonely spot where they had landed. Others learned to heal injured insects, whose delicate limbs a gust of wind could break, and who, without fairy assistance, would perish before halfway through their joyful summer. Some discovered how to uplift and comfort human hearts through sweet dreams, whispering words of love to save those who had lost their way from committing wrongful acts, filling young hearts with gentle thoughts and pure affections, so that no sin could tarnish the beauty of the human flower; while others, like human children, learned the fairy alphabet. In this way, the Elves formed loving connections through care and affection, and no harm could befall them because those they helped to nurture and protect always looked out for them to shield and save them.

Eva nodded at the cheerful little ones as they peeked through the leaves at the stranger, and then she listened to the Fairy lessons. Several tiny Elves stood on a wide leaf while the teacher sat among the petals of a flower that leaned beside them, asking questions that only Fairies would be interested in.

“Twinkle, if there were nine seeds in a flower cup and the wind blew five away, how many would the flower have left?” “Four,” answered the little one.

“Rosebud, if a cowslip opens three leaves one day and four the next, how many rosy leaves will there be when the whole flower has bloomed?”

“Seven,” sang the cheerful little Elf.

“Harebell, if a silkworm spins one yard of Fairy cloth in an hour, how many will it spin in a day?”

“Twelve,” said the fairy kid.

"Primrose, where is Violet Island?"

"In the Lake of Ripples."

“Lilla, you can go to Rose Land.”

“On the north by Ferndale, south by Sunny Wave River, east by the hill of Morning Clouds, and west by the Evening Star.”

“Okay, kids,” said the teacher, “you can start your painting so our visitor can see how we fix the flowers that have been hurt by human hands.”

Then Eva saw how, on large, white leaves, the Fairies learned to imitate the beautiful colors, and with tiny brushes brightened the blush on the anemone’s cheek, deepened the blue of the violet’s eye, and added new light to the golden cowslip.

“You've been here long enough,” said the Elves finally, “we have lots of things to show you. Come now and see our most treasured creation.”

So Eva said goodbye to the child Elves and hurried with little Rose-Leaf to the gates. There, she saw many groups of Fairies wrapped in dark cloaks so that mortals wouldn’t recognize them, who, with the child among them, flew away over hills and valleys. Some went to the cottages in the hills, some went to the seaside to keep watch over the humble fishermen; but little Rose-Leaf and many others headed into the bustling city.

Eva wondered to herself what help the tiny Elves could offer in this vast place; but she soon discovered, as the Fairy group spread out among the poor and lonely, bringing comforting dreams to the sick and elderly, sweet, gentle thoughts of love and kindness to the young, strength to the weak, and patient cheerfulness to those who were poor and alone.

Then the child stopped wondering, but her love for the kind-hearted Elves grew stronger. They left their own happy home to bring joy and comfort to those who never knew who had clothed and fed them, or what hearts had shared their own happiness to create such joy in others.

Long they stayed, and little Eva learned many lessons: but when she asked them to go back, they still urged her on, saying, “Our work isn’t finished yet; should we really leave so many sad hearts when we could uplift them, so many dark homes that we could light up? We have to stay a bit longer, little Eva, and you can learn even more.”

Then they entered a dark and empty room, where they found a pale, sad-eyed child, crying bitterly over a wilted flower.

“Ah,” sighed the little one, “it was my only friend, and I cherished it with all my lonely heart’s love; it was all that made my sad life happy; and it’s gone.”

Tenderly, the child secured the drooping stem and placed it where the one faint ray of sunlight filtered into the dreary room.

“Do you see,” said the Elves, “with this simple flower, we will keep the child pure and unblemished despite the sin and sorrow surrounding her. The love from this will guide her through temptation and grief, and she will be a source of joy and comfort to those who are sinful and grieving.”

And with dedicated love, the Elves worked among the dried leaves, giving new strength to the flower. As the friendless child watered the growing buds each day, her love for the unseen friends who had given her something to cherish in her lonely home grew deeper. Sweet, gentle thoughts filled her heart as she leaned over it, and the flower’s fragrant scent felt like a whispered voice of all things beautiful and lovely. Just as the flower taught her, she passed that knowledge on to others.

The caring Elves brought her sweet dreams at night and happy thoughts during the day. As she blossomed into a beautiful child, pure and patient despite the struggles of poverty and sorrow, those who were sinful felt ashamed, grieving hearts became lighter, and the weak and selfish forgot their pointless fears when they saw her trustfully living on without anyone to help or comfort her. The love she had for the delicate flower kept her own heart innocent and bright, and this pure human flower served as a lesson to everyone who noticed it. Soon, the once gloomy house was filled with happy hearts, learning from the gentle child how to endure poverty and grief just as she had, to forgive those who brought them pain and wrongs, and to find joy in simple acts of charity and love.

“Our work is done,” whispered the Elves, and with blessings on the two beautiful flowers, they flew away to other homes;—to a blind old man who lived alone with no one to love him, until through many years of darkness and silent sorrow, the heart inside had grown dim and cold. No sunlight could reach his darkened eyes, and no one was close to whisper kind words, to uplift and comfort him.

Thus he lived, forgotten and alone, trying not to bring joy to others, having none himself. Life was dark and sad until the tireless Elves arrived at his dreary home, bringing sunshine and love. They whispered comforting words—how, if his darkened eyes couldn’t find light outside, there could be everlasting happiness within; gentle feelings and kind, loving thoughts could beautify the heart if only the gloomy, selfish sorrow were cast away, and everything would be bright and beautiful.

They brought cheerful kids who gathered around him, making the lonely home beautiful with their young faces and lifting his heavy heart with their sweet, childish voices. He couldn’t let go of the love they brought; sunlight came in, dark thoughts faded away, and the world felt like a nice home to him.

Thus their little hands led him back to peace and happiness, flowers bloomed by his door, and their sweet scent brought happy thoughts of nice valleys and green hills; birds sang to him, and their lovely voices stirred the music in his own soul, which always managed to calm and comfort him. Happy sounds filled his once lonely home, and bright faces gathered around his knee, listening attentively as he tried to share all the good that kindness and love had done for him.

Still the Elves watched nearby, and the heart grew brighter as warm thoughts and gentle feelings filled it and made it their home; and when the old man fell asleep, little feet walked lightly above his grave, and loving hands placed fragrant flowers.

Then the Elves went into the gloomy prisons, where heavy hearts mourned in lonely sadness for the joy and freedom they had lost. To these places came the loving group with gentle words, telling of the peace they could still achieve through patience and sincere regret, thus stirring in their hearts all the pure feelings and warm affections that had been dormant for so long.

They shared cheerful stories and sang their loveliest songs to lift spirits, while the dim rooms brightened with sunlight and filled with the scent of flowers the caring Elves had brought. Through their gentle guidance, those sorrowful, despairing hearts were filled with hopeful patience and a sincere desire to regain their lost innocence and happiness.

Thus, to everyone who needed help or comfort, the loyal Fairies went; and when they finally headed back to Fairy-Land, they left many grateful and happy hearts behind.

Then through the summer sky, over the blooming earth, they traveled home, feeling happier for the joy they had shared and wiser for the good they had accomplished.

All of Fairy-Land was covered in flowers, and the gentle breeze whistled by, filled with their lovely scent. Pleasant music floated through the air, and groups of Elves in their brightest outfits rushed to the palace where the feast was laid out.

Soon the bright hall was filled with smiling faces and beautiful figures, and little Eva, standing next to the Queen, thought she had never seen a sight so lovely.

The colorful shadows of the prettiest flowers danced on the pure white walls, and fountains glimmered in the sunlight, creating music as the cool waves ebbed and flowed. Meanwhile, the cheerful Elves flitted back and forth with fluttering wings and joyful voices, bringing fruit and honey, or fragrant garlands for each other’s hair.

They feasted for a long time, happily sang, and Eva, dancing joyfully among them, wished to be an Elf so she could live forever in such a beautiful place.

At last, the music stopped, and the Queen said, placing her hand gently on little Eva’s shiny hair:—

“Dear child, tomorrow we have to take you home because, as much as we want to keep you, it would be wrong to bring such sadness to your loving earthly friends. So, we will take you to the brookside and say goodbye until you can visit us again. Please don’t cry, dear Rose-Leaf; you’ll watch over little Eva’s flowers, and when she sees them, she’ll think of you. Now come and guide her to the Fairy garden, and show her what we consider our most beautiful sight. Don’t cry anymore, but try to make her last hours with us as happy as possible.”

With gentle touches and sweet words, the loving Elves surrounded the child, and, with Rose-Leaf beside her, they guided her through the palace and along green, winding paths, until Eva saw what looked like a wall of flowers rising in front of her, while the air was filled with the most fragrant scents and the soft, sweet music of singing blossoms.

“Where have you taken me, and what do these beautiful sounds mean?” asked Eva.

“Look here, and you’ll see,” said Rose-Leaf, as she pushed aside the vines, “but listen quietly or you won’t be able to hear.”

Then Eva, peeking through the drooping vines, saw a garden filled with the most beautiful flowers; as lovely as any blooms she had encountered in Fairy-Land, none were as stunning as these. The rose glowed with a deeper red, the lily’s soft petals were a pure white, the crocus and humble cowslip sparkled like sunlight, and the violet was as blue as the sky that smiled above it.

“How beautiful they are,” whispered Eva, “but, dear Rose-Leaf, why do you keep them here, and why do you call this your most beautiful sight?”

“Look again, and I’ll tell you,” replied the Fairy.

Eva looked and saw tiny figures emerging from every flower to greet the Elves, who, except for Rose-Leaf, had flown over the wall. They were now spreading dew on the flowers' bright leaves and chatting happily with the Spirits that gathered around them, clearly delighted by their arrival. The child noticed that each figure wore the colors of the flower it came from. The little forms were delicate and graceful, with bright silken hair cascading around each beautiful face. Eva heard the soft, sweet hum of their silvery voices and the flutter of their wings. She watched in silent awe, forgetting that she didn’t know who they were, until the Fairy said,—

“These are the spirits of the flowers, and this is the Fairy Home where those who had pure and loving hearts on earth come to thrive in everlasting beauty when their life ends. The simplest flower has a place with us, because outer beauty is meaningless if there’s not also goodness and sweetness within. Do you see that beautiful spirit singing with my sister Moonlight? A clover blossom was her home, and she lived unnoticed, unloved; yet she remained patient and content, cheerfully enduring her sorrows. We watched and saw how beautiful and sweet the humble flower became, and then we joyfully brought her here, to blossom alongside the lily and the rose. The lives of flowers are often short, as cruel hands destroy them; so it is our greatest joy to bring them here, where no careless foot or harsh wind can harm them, where they bloom in peaceful beauty, repaying our care with their love and sweetest fragrances.”

“I will never break another flower,” cried Eva; “but please let me go to them, dear Fairy; I would love to meet the beautiful spirits and ask for forgiveness for the sadness I have caused. Can I go in?”

“Nah, dear Eva, you’re just a human child and can’t go in here; but I’ll tell them about the sweet little girl who has learned to love them, and they’ll remember you when you’re gone. Let’s go now, you’ve seen enough, and we need to leave.”

On a beautiful morning, Eva floated through the sunny sky, surrounded by the caring Elves. The gentle breeze carried them along, and soon they found themselves by the brook again, its waves sparkling as if to greet them.

“Now, before we say goodbye,” said the Queen, as they moved closer to the child, “tell me, dear Eva, which of our Fairy gifts will make you the happiest, and it will be yours.”

“You wonderful little Fairies,” said Eva, holding them close, since she was no longer the small child she had been in Fairy-Land, “you sweet little Elves, what can I ask of you, who have done so much to make me happy and taught me so many good and gentle lessons that I will always remember? I can only ask you for the ability to be as pure and gentle as you are, as caring and loving to the weak and sorrowful, and as tireless in doing kind things for everyone. Grant me this gift, and you’ll see that little Eva hasn’t forgotten what you’ve taught her.”

“The power will be yours,” said the Elves, as they gently placed their hands on her head. “We’ll look after you in your dreams, and when you want news from us, just ask the flowers in your garden, and they’ll tell you everything you need to know. Goodbye. Don’t forget Fairy-Land and all your caring friends.”

They surrounded her affectionately, and little Rose-Leaf put a flower crown on her head, softly whispering, “When you want to come back to us, stand by the stream and wave this in the air, and we will happily bring you back to our home. Goodbye, dear Eva. Remember your little Rose-Leaf when you're among the flowers.”

Long Eva watched their shining wings and listened to the music of their voices as they flew back home, singing. When the last little figure finally disappeared among the clouds, she noticed that all around her, where the Elves had been, the most beautiful flowers had bloomed, and the lonely brook was now a vibrant garden.

Thus she stood among the swaying flowers, with the fairy crown in her hair, and joyful feelings in her heart, feeling better and wiser from her visit to Fairy-Land.

“Now, Star-Twinkle, what do you have to teach us?” asked the Queen.

“Just a little song I heard the hare-bells singing,” replied the Fairy, and, taking her harp, sang in a soft, sweet voice:—

A fragrant rosebush grew where the stream flows,
With two tiny soft buds and one full rose;
As the sun went down to rest in the west,
The little buds leaned against their rose-mother's breast,
While the bright-eyed stars kept their long watch,
And the valley's flowers slept in their green cradles;
Then silently, in sweet scents, they talked to each other,
The two little buds on their mother's bosom.
“O sister,” said the little one, gazing at the sky,
“I wish the Dew Elves, as they float by,
Would bring me a star; for they never fade,
And the Father doesn’t need them to shine around him.
The shining drops of dew the Elves bring every day
And place in my bosom, soon pass away;
But a star would sparkle brightly through the long summer hours,
And I would be prettier than all my sister flowers.
That would be much better than the falling dew
That comes to the high and the low alike.
I would be beautiful and regal, with a bright star to shine
And give a queenly air to this crimson dress of mine.”
And proudly she declared, “These fireflies will be
My jewels, since the stars can never come to me.”
Just then a tiny dew-drop that hung over the dell
Fell on the bud’s breast like a soft star;
But impatiently she threw it away from her leaf,
And it fell on her mother like a tear of sadness,
While she clutched to her breast, in stubborn pride,
A glittering firefly that hung by her side.
“Listen,” said the mother rose, “my dear,
Why do you seek beauty that isn’t yours?
The Father has made you as you are;
And what he loves most is a sweet, pure heart.
Then why do you reject with such discontent
The loving gift that he has sent?
For the cool fresh dew will make you far
More lovely and sweet than the brightest star;
They were made for Heaven, and can never shine
Like the firefly you’ve foolishly clutched so close.
Oh my foolish little bud, listen to your mother;
Care only for true beauty, and seek no other.
There will be grief and trouble in that stubborn heart;
Unfold your leaves, my daughter, and let the fly go.”
But the proud little bud insisted on her own way,
And folded the firefly more closely still;
Until the struggling insect tore open the fabric
Of purple and green that covered her breast.
When the sun rose, she saw with sorrow
Her sister bud blooming leaf by leaf.
While she, once as bright and lovely as the rest,
Hung her weary head down on her wounded breast.
The sunshine brightened, and the soft summer air
Filled with the music of flowers singing there;
But the little bud grew faint with thirst and pain,
And longed for the cool dew; but now it was in vain.
Then bitterly she cried for her foolishness and pride,
As she drooped beside her fair sister.
Then the rose mother leaned the weary little head
On her bosom to rest and gently said:
“You’ve learned, my little bud, that no matter what happens,
You can’t find joy through passion or pride.
The loving Father sends sunshine and showers
So that you can become a perfect little flower;
The sweet dews to nourish you, the soft wind to comfort,
And the earth as a pleasant home while you’re here.
Then shouldn’t you be grateful for all this care,
And strive to remain innocent and fair?
So seek, my little blossom, to embrace humility;
Be lovely on the outside, be pure on the inside, and you’ll be happy.
So when the quiet Autumn of your fragrant life comes,
You may fade away, to bloom in the Flower Spirits’ home.”
Then from the mother’s breast, where it still lay hidden,
The dew-drop gently slid into the fading bud;
The little form grew stronger, and happy tears fell,
As the dew did its silent work, and the bud thrived,
While the gentle rose leaned, with motherly pride,
Over the lovely little ones blooming at her side.

Night came again, and the fireflies flew;
But the bud let them pass and drank the dew;
While the soft stars shone from the quiet summer sky,
On the happy little flower that had learned the lesson taught.

The music-loving Elves clapped their hands as Star-Twinkle finished; and the Queen, with a gentle smile, placed a flower crown on the Fairy's head, saying,—

“The little bud’s lesson will show us how sad pride is, and that only humility can bring true happiness to both flower and Fairy. You’re up next, Zephyr.”

And the little Fairy, who was rocking back and forth on a fluttering vine leaf, started her story like this:—

“As I lay resting in the heart of a cowslip that leaned over the stream, a slight breeze, weary of its games, shared this story with me:

Once upon a time, two little fairies ventured out into the world to find their fortune. Thistledown was as cheerful and dashing a little elf as ever spread a wing. His purple cloak and green vest were embroidered with the brightest threads, and the feather in his cap always came from the wing of the most colorful butterfly.

But he wasn't loved in Fairy-Land because, like the flower he resembled in name and color, he looked pretty but hid many small thorns of cruelty and selfishness underneath his bright exterior. Many gentle flowers and innocent birds suffered at his hands because he only cared about himself, taking whatever brought him joy, no matter how many happy hearts were made sad or peaceful homes were ruined.

Such was Thistledown; but his little friend, Lily-Bell, was completely different. Kind, compassionate, and loving, wherever her gentle face appeared, joy and gratitude followed; every suffering flower or insect loved and blessed the kind Fairy, and so all of Elf-Land regarded her as a friend.

Nor did this make her vain and careless about others; she humbly lived among them, trying to do as much good as she could; and many a homeless bird and hungry insect that Thistledown had harmed did she feed and shelter, and in return no harm could come to her, for so many friends were around her, wanting to repay her kindness and love with their watchful care.

She wouldn't have left Fairyland now if it weren't to help and guide her impulsive friend, Thistledown, who, unhappy in his peaceful home, wanted to find his fortune in the outside world. She worried that he would struggle because not everyone would be as kind and forgiving as his family. So, the caring little Fairy left her home and friends to accompany him, and together, they flew beneath the bright summer sky.

On and on, over hills and valleys, they went, chasing the colorful butterflies or listening to the bees as they buzzed from flower to flower like busy little homemakers, singing as they worked; until finally, they arrived at a lovely garden, filled with flowers and lush, old trees.

“Look,” shouted Thistledown, “what a beautiful home this is; let’s rest among the cool leaves and listen to the flowers sing, because I’m really tired and hungry.”

So they entered the peaceful garden, and the winds cheerfully welcomed them, while the flowers swayed on their stems, offering their vibrant petals for the Elves to rest on, along with fresh, sweet honey to revive them.

“Now, dear Thistle, please don’t hurt these friendly flowers,” said Lily-Bell; “look how gracefully they spread their leaves and offer us their dew. It would be very wrong for you to repay their kindness with cruelty and pain. You will be gentle for my sake, dear Thistle.”

Then she walked among the flowers, and they bent affectionately toward her, resting their soft leaves against her small face, so she could see how happy they were to welcome someone so good and gentle. They kindly offered their dew and honey to the tired little Fairy, who sat among their fragrant petals and watched the joyful blossoms, which softly sang her to sleep with their low voices.

While Lily-Bell lay dreaming among the rose leaves, Thistledown wandered through the garden. First, he stole honey from the bees and roughly shook the little flowers to get the dew they had collected to nourish their buds. Then he chased after the brightly colored flies, wounding them with the sharp thorn he carried as a sword; he broke the spider’s shiny webs, injured the birds, and soon, wherever he went, there were wounded insects and wilting flowers. The winds spread the word throughout the garden, and both birds and blossoms saw him as a sinister presence, fleeing or closing their leaves to avoid his harm.

Thus he went, leaving sadness and pain behind him, until he reached the roses where Lily-Bell lay sleeping. There, tired of his harsh game, he stopped to rest under a lovely rose tree, where one flower was blooming and a small bud was forming.

“Why are you taking so long to bloom, little one? You’re too old to be cradled in your green nest any longer and should be out among your sister flowers,” said Thistle, as he lounged lazily in the shade of the tree.

“My little bud isn't strong enough to go out into the world yet,” replied the rose, bending lovingly over it. “The sunlight and the rain would damage her delicate petals if she bloomed now, but soon she will be ready to handle them. Until then, she’s happy to stay by her mother and wait.”

“You silly flower,” said Thistledown, “watch how fast I can make you bloom! Your waiting is pointless.” And saying this, he roughly pulled apart the folded leaves, exposing them to the sun and air; while the rose mother begged the cruel Fairy to keep her little bud safe.

“It’s my first, my only one,” she said, “and I’ve taken care of it so carefully, hoping it would bloom next to me; and now you’ve ruined it. How could you hurt this little helpless thing that never did anything to hurt you?” As her tears fell like summer rain, she leaned over the little bud in grief, watching it fade in the sunlight, while Thistledown, indifferent to the pain he had caused, spread his wings and flew away.

Soon, the sky darkened, and heavy raindrops started to fall. Thistle quickly rushed to the lily, as her cup was deep, and the white petals fell like curtains over the fragrant bed; he was a delicate little Elf and couldn’t sleep among the clovers and bright buttercups. But when he asked the flower to open her petals and let him in, she turned her pale, soft face away and replied sorrowfully, “I have to protect my little drooping sisters whom you have hurt, and I can’t let you in.”

Then Thistledown was really angry and turned to find refuge among the grand roses; but they revealed their sharp thorns, and, while their pink faces glowed with irritation, warned him to leave or they would get back at him for the harm he had caused their gentle relatives.

He would have stuck around to hurt them, but the rain was coming down hard, so he rushed off, saying, “The tulips will take me in, because I've complimented their beauty, and they’re vain and silly flowers.”

But when he arrived, all wet and cold, begging for shelter among their thick leaves, they just laughed and said mockingly, “We know you, and we won’t let you in because you’re deceitful and cruel, and you’ll just bring us trouble. You can’t come to us for another cloak when the rain has ruined your nice one; and don’t linger here, or we’ll cause you harm.”

Then they waved their wide leaves wildly, splattering the heavy drops onto his soaked clothes.

“Now I have to go to the humble daisies and blue violets,” said Thistle, “they will be happy to welcome such a lovely Fairy, and I’m going to freeze in this cold wind and rain.”

So away he flew, as fast as his heavy wings would carry him, to the daisies; but they nodded their heads knowingly and closed their leaves even tighter, saying sharply,—

“Leave us alone, and don’t think we’ll open up to you and ruin our seeds by letting in the rain. You deserve this; to earn our love and trust only to repay it with such cruelty! You won’t find any shelter here for someone whose careless actions harmed our little friend Violet and broke the kindest heart that ever existed in a flower. We are really upset with you, wicked Fairy; go away and hide yourself.”

“Ah,” cried the shivering Elf, “where can I find shelter? I will go to the violets: they will forgive me and take me in.”

But the daisies had spoken honestly; the gentle little flower was gone, and her blue-eyed sisters were crying sadly over her wilted petals.

“Now I have no friends,” sighed poor Thistledown, “and I’m going to freeze to death. Ah, if I had only listened to Lily-Bell, I might be dreaming under some flower's leaves right now.”

“Others can forgive and love, besides Lily-Bell and Violet,” said a soft, sweet voice; “I have no little bud to protect now, and you can come in here.” It was the rose mother who spoke, and Thistle noticed how pale the bright leaves had become, and how the slender stem was bent. Feeling sad, ashamed, and puzzled by the flower’s forgiving words, he rested his tired head on the bosom he had filled with sorrow, and the fragrant leaves were gently wrapped around him.

But he couldn’t find any peace. The rose tried to comfort him; but when she thought he was asleep, memories of her lost bud crept in, and her little heart ached so much where he lay that sleep eluded him. The bitter tears he had caused to fall felt colder on him than the rain outside. Then he heard the other flowers quietly talking about his cruelty and the sadness he had brought to their joyful home; many of them wondered how the rose, who had suffered the most, could still forgive and protect him.

“Never could I forgive someone who had taken my children from me. I could lower my head and die, but I couldn't bring myself to give happiness to someone who had taken everything that belonged to me,” said Hyacinth, leaning lovingly over the little ones that thrived beside her.

“Dear Violet isn’t the only one who will leave us,” cried little Mignonette; “the rose mother will wither like her little bud, and we will lose our kindest teacher. Her final lesson is forgiveness; let’s show our love for her and the gentle stranger Lily-Bell by not allowing any unkind words or thoughts about the one who has given us all this sadness.”

The angry words faded away, and through the long night, all that could be heard was the sound of the rain falling and the soft sighs of the rose.

Soon the sunlight returned, and with it Lily-Bell looking for Thistledown; but he felt embarrassed and slipped away.

When the flowers shared their sadness with kind-hearted Lily-Bell, she cried hard about the pain her friend had caused, and with loving words, she tried to comfort those who were hurt. With gentle care, she healed the injured birds and watched over the flowers that had been damaged, bringing them dew and sunlight each day to refresh and strengthen them until they were all okay again. And even though they mourned their lost friends, they still forgave Thistle for the sake of Lily-Bell, who had done so much for them. Soon, beautiful new buds, even fairer than the ones they had lost, rested on the rose mother’s breast, and for all she had endured, she was well compensated by the love of Lily-Bell and her sister flowers.

And when the bird, bee, and blossom were vibrant and beautiful again, the kind Fairy said goodbye and flew off to find her friend, leaving behind many thankful hearts that owed their happiness and lives to her.

Meanwhile, Thistledown wandered over hills and valleys, and for a while was kind and gentle to every living thing. He deeply missed the little friend who had left her happy home to look after him, but he was too proud to admit his mistake, so he kept going, hoping she would find him.

One day he fell asleep, and when he woke up the sun had set, and the dew started to fall; the flower petals were closed, and he had nowhere to go, until a friendly little bee, delayed by his heavy load of honey, invited the tired Fairy to come with him.

“Help me carry my honey home, and you can stay with us tonight,” he said kindly.

So Thistle happily went with him, and soon they arrived at a lovely garden, where among the most beautiful flowers stood the hive, draped in vines and shaded by blooming trees. Glow-worms stood at the entrance to guide them home, and as they walked in, the Fairy thought about how wonderful it must be to live in such a gorgeous place. The wax floor was pure and white like marble, while the walls were made of golden honeycomb, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers.

“You can’t see our Queen tonight,” said the little bee, “but I’ll show you to a bed where you can relax.”

And he guided the tired Fairy to a small room, where he folded his wings and fell asleep on a bed of flower petals.

As the first ray of sunlight came in, he woke up to sweet music. It was the morning song of the bees.

"Wake up! Wake up! for the first light
Golden sunlight is shining.
On the shimmering waves that sparkle
Under the blooming vines.
Wake up! Wake up! because of the soft, sweet song
Of the birds' morning song
Is flowing through the fragrant air,
In the cool, shady forest;
Then spread your wings,
And work, and sing,
During the long, bright sunny hours;
Across the beautiful earth
We move forward,
For a day surrounded by flowers.

“Wake up! Wake up! The summer breeze
Has instructed the flowers to bloom,
It has revealed the soft blue eye of the violet,
And woke the sleeping rose.
They gently sway on their thin stems.
Fragrant, fresh, and lovely,
Waiting for us as we arrive singing
To gather our honeydew there.
So spread your wings,
And work, and sing,
During the long, bright sunny hours;
Across the beautiful earth
We headed out,
"For a day among the flowers!"

Soon, his friend came to tell him to get up, as the Queen wanted to speak with him. So, with his purple cloak draped elegantly over his shoulder and his little cap held respectfully in his hand, he followed Nimble-Wing to the grand hall, where the Queen was being attended by her young pages. Some brought her fresh dew and honey, some fanned her with fragrant flower petals, while others sprinkled the sweetest scents in the air.

“Little Fairy,” said the Queen, “you’re welcome in my palace; and we’d be happy to have you stay with us if you follow our rules. We don’t spend the lovely summer days being lazy or just having fun; instead, everyone works for the happiness and welfare of all. If our home is beautiful, it’s because we’ve created it through hard work; and here, as one big, loving family, we live together; no sadness, worry, or conflict can come in, as long as everyone listens to the voice of the one who aims to be a wise and gentle Queen to them. If you choose to stay with us, we’ll teach you many things. Who better to teach order, patience, and hard work than those who represent these virtues?

“Our laws are few and straightforward. Each day, you need to collect your share of honey, ensuring your space is clean and pleasant, just like you should be; wake up with the sun, and go to sleep with it too. You mustn’t damage any flowers while doing your work, nor take more than your fair share of honey; since they generously provide us with food, it would be extremely unkind to treat them with anything other than kindness and thankfulness. Now, will you stay with us and learn what even humans strive to understand, that hard work leads to true happiness?”

And Thistle said he would stay and live with them; he was tired of wandering alone and thought he might stay here until Lily-Bell showed up or until he got tired of the kind-hearted bees. Then they took away his colorful clothes and dressed him like them, in the black velvet cloak with golden stripes across his chest.

“Now come with us,” they said. So off into the green fields they went, and had their breakfast among the dewy flowers; and then until sunset they flew from bud to blossom, singing as they went; and Thistle was happier for a while than when breaking flowers and harming gentle birds.

But he quickly got tired of working all day in the sun and wanted to be free again. He found no joy with the hardworking bees and wished he could be with his lazy friends, the butterflies. So, while the others worked, he either slept or played, and then, in a rush to get his share, he ripped the flowers apart and took everything they had saved for their own food. That wasn't all; he told such delightful stories about the life he used to have before joining them that many became unhappy and dissatisfied. Those who once wanted nothing more than the love and praise of their kind Queen now disobeyed her and blamed her for everything she had done for them.

Long she endured their unkind words and actions; and when she finally discovered that it was the ungrateful Fairy who had caused this trouble in her peaceful kingdom, she tried, with gentle, forgiving words, to explain all the wrong he had done; but he refused to listen and continued to ruin the happiness of those who had done so much for him.

Then, when she realized that no kindness could reach his heart, she said:—

“Thistledown, we welcomed you as a friendless stranger, fed and clothed you, and did our best to make our home comfortable for you; yet in return for all our care, you have brought discontent and trouble to my people, grief and worry to me. I cannot allow my peaceful kingdom to be disturbed by you; so please leave and find another home. You might find other friends, but none will love you as we did, had you been deserving of it; so goodbye.” And the doors of the once happy home he had disrupted were closed behind him.

Then he was really angry and focused on causing great trouble for the good Queen. So he sought out the lazy, stubborn bees, who he had first put in a bad mood, telling them to follow him and steal the honey the Queen had saved for the winter.

“Let’s enjoy a feast and have fun in this lovely summer weather,” said Thistle; “winter is a long way off, so why should we waste these beautiful days working to stock up food that we could enjoy right now? Come on, let’s take what we’ve prepared and forget about what the Queen has said.”

So while the busy bees were out among the flowers, he led the drones to the hive and took all the honey, destroying and ruining the home of the kind bees; then, worried that their sadness and anger might hurt him, Thistle flew away to find new friends.

After wandering for a long time, he finally arrived at a vast forest, and here beside a calm lake, he stopped to take a break. Delicate wildflowers grew nearby in the rich green moss, their heads drooping as if they were listening to the gentle wind singing through the pines. Bright-eyed birds peeked at him from their nests, and colorful insects flitted above the cool, tranquil lake.

“This is a nice place,” said Thistle; “it will be my home for a while. Come here, blue dragonfly, I would love to befriend you, because I’m all alone.”

The dragonfly folded his shimmering wings next to the Elf, listened to the story he shared, promised to befriend the lonely one, and worked to make the forest a joyful home for him.

So Thistle lived here, and many kind friends surrounded him, because he spoke gently to them, and they were unaware of the cruel things he had done; for a while, he was happy and content. But eventually, he grew tired of the gentle birds and wildflowers and sought new pleasure in ruining the beauty he had grown weary of; soon, the friends who had welcomed him so kindly saw him as an evil spirit and shrank away as he approached.

At last, his friend the dragonfly asked him to leave the peaceful home he had disrupted. Thistle became very angry, and while the dragonfly was resting among the flowers that draped over the lake, he brought an ugly spider to the scene and commanded it to weave its webs around the sleeping insect and trap him. The cruel spider happily followed the ungrateful fairy's orders, and soon the poor dragonfly couldn't move any of its legs or wings. Then Thistle flew away through the woods, leaving sadness and chaos in his wake.

He hadn't traveled very far before he became tired and lay down to rest. He slept for a long time, and when he woke up and tried to get up, he found that his hands and wings were tied; next to him stood two strange little figures with dark faces and clothes that rustled like dry leaves, who shouted at him as he struggled to break free,—

“Lie still, you mischievous Fairy. You're at the mercy of the Brownies and will be well punished for your cruelty before we let you go.”

So poor Thistle lay sadly, wondering what would happen next, and wishing Lily-Bell would come to help and comfort him; but he had left her, and she couldn’t help him now.

Soon a group of Brownies came rustling through the air and gathered around him, while one wearing an acorn cup on his head, who was their King, said, as he stood beside the trembling Fairy,—

“You have done many terrible things and brought a lot of sadness to joyful hearts; now you are in my control, and I will keep you locked up until you feel remorse. You can't be on this earth without damaging the beautiful things meant for you to enjoy, so you will live alone in isolation and darkness until you learn how to find happiness in kind actions and forget about yourself by bringing joy to others. Once you’ve learned this, I will let you go.”

Then the Brownies carried him to a high, dark rock, and, entering a small door, took him to a tiny cell, dimly lit by a crack that allowed a single ray of sunlight to enter; and there, for what felt like endless days, poor Thistle sat alone, gazing longingly at the small opening, wanting to be back on the green earth. No one came to see him, except for the quiet Brownies who brought his food each day; and with bitter tears, he cried for Lily-Bell, regretting his cruelty and selfishness, hoping to find some way to do a kind act that might make up for his wrongs.

A little vine that grew outside his prison rock started creeping up and looked in through the crack, as if to brighten the lonely Fairy's day. The Fairy welcomed it happily and each day sprinkled its soft leaves with his small portion of water so the little vine could thrive, even though it made his dim cell darker and darker.

The attentive Brownies noticed this good deed and brought him fresh flowers and many other gifts, which Thistle gratefully accepted, even though he never realized that it was his kindness to the vine that earned him these rewards.

Thus did poor Thistle work hard to be kinder and less selfish, and grew happier and better every day.

Now while Thistledown was held captive in the lonely cell, Lily-Bell was searching for him everywhere, and sadly followed the trail of sorrowful hearts he had left behind.

She revived the wilted flowers, comforted the Queen Bee in her sorrow, returned her unhappy subjects, brought peace and order back to their home, and left them grateful for her help.

Thus she continued her journey until she reached the forest where Thistledown had lost his freedom. She freed the starving dragonfly and took care of the injured birds; and although they all grew to love her, none could say where the Brownies had taken her friend, until a gentle breeze came by and revealed that a lovely voice had been heard singing Fairy songs deep inside a moss-covered rock.

Then Lily-Bell searched through the forest, listening for the voice. She looked and listened for a long time without success; one day, as she wandered through a quiet valley, she heard a faint, soft sound of music, and soon a distant voice singing sadly,—

“Bright shines the summer sun,
The summer air is gentle;
The birds in the woods sing cheerfully,
Flowers are blooming beautifully.

“But, deep in the dark, cold rock,
Unfortunately, I linger.
Longing for you, dear friend,
Lily-Bell! Lily-Bell!

“Thistle, dear Thistle, where are you?” joyfully cried Lily-Bell, as she flew from rock to rock. But the voice was silent, and she would have searched in vain if she hadn't noticed a little vine, whose green leaves fluttering back and forth seemed to be beckoning her to come; and as she stood among its flowers, she sang,—

“Through the sunlight and summer breeze
I've been looking for you for a long time,
Led by birds and flowers,
And now by your tune.

“Thistledown! Thistledown!
Over hills and valleys
Here to comfort you
“Here comes Lily-Bell.”

Then from the vine leaves, two little arms reached out to her, and Thistledown was found. So Lily-Bell made her home in the shade of the vine, bringing so much joy to Thistle that his lonely space seemed more pleasant than the entire world outside; and he became more like his gentle friend every day. But it didn't last long, because one day she didn't come. He watched and waited for a long time for the little face that used to peek through the vine leaves with a smile. He called and beckoned through the narrow opening, but no Lily-Bell answered; and he cried sadly as he thought of everything she had done for him, knowing that now he couldn't go seek and help her because he had lost his freedom due to his own cruel and wicked actions.

At last, he earnestly asked the quiet Brownie to tell him where she had gone.

“O let me go to her,” prayed Thistle; “if she is sad, I will comfort her and show my gratitude for everything she has done for me: dear Brownie, set me free, and when she is found I will come back and be your prisoner again. I will endure any danger for her sake.”

“Lily-Bell is safe,” said the Brownie; “come, you'll find out what challenge is ahead of you.”

Then he led the amazed Fairy out of his prison to a cluster of tall, drooping ferns. Beneath their shade, a large white lily had been set up, creating a small tent. Inside, on a bed of thick green moss, lay Lily-Bell in a deep sleep. The sunlight gently filtered in, and everything was cool and quiet.

“You can’t wake her,” said the Brownie, as Thistle gently wrapped his arms around her. “She’s under a magical sleep, and she won’t wake up until you bring gifts from the Earth, Air, and Water Spirits. It’s a long and difficult journey because you haven’t made any friends to help you, so you’ll have to find them on your own. This is your challenge; if your love for Lily-Bell is strong enough to keep you from being cruel and selfish, and to make you kind and loving like you should be, she will wake up to greet you and love you even more than before.”

Then Thistle, with one last glance at the little friend he cared for deeply, set off on his long journey alone.

The home of the Earth Spirits was the first place he searched, but no one would tell him where to find it. He wandered far and wide, through dark forests and across lonely hills, with no one to comfort him when he was sad and tired, and no one to guide him on his journey.

On he went, thinking about Lily-Bell, enduring everything for her; because in his silent confinement, many kind feelings and warm thoughts had grown in his heart, and he was now trying to befriend everyone and earn the love and trust of those he once intended to hurt and cruelly destroy.

But few believed him; they remembered his broken promises and wrongdoings, and wouldn’t trust him now; so poor Thistle found few who loved or cared for him.

Long he wandered, and carefully he searched; but could not find the Earth Spirits’ home. And when at last he reached the lovely garden where he and Lily-Bell first parted, he said to himself,—

“Here I will stay for a bit and try to earn the flowers’ forgiveness for the pain and sadness I caused them a long time ago; and they might learn to love and trust me. So, even if I never find the Spirits, I’ll be more deserving of Lily-Bell’s affection if I work to make up for the wrongs I’ve done.”

Then he walked among the flowers, but they closed their petals and shrank back, trembling with fear, while the birds flew away to hide in the leaves as he went by.

This saddened poor Thistle, and he wanted to share how much he had changed; but they wouldn’t listen. So he tried to demonstrate, through small acts of kindness, that he meant no harm to them; and soon the kind-hearted birds began to feel sorry for the lonely Fairy. When he came close, they sang uplifting songs and dropped ripe berries in his way, since he no longer broke their eggs or harmed their young ones.

And when the flowers saw this, and noticed the once cruel Elf now watering and caring for little buds, feeding hungry insects, and helping the busy ants carry their heavy loads, they felt the same pity as the birds and wished to trust him; but they still didn’t dare.

He came one day, while wandering through the garden, to the little rose he had once hurt so badly. Many buds were now blooming beside her, and her soft face shone with motherly pride as she leaned down fondly over them. But when Thistle arrived, he saw with sadness how she told them to close their green curtains and hide beneath the leaves because danger was near; and, leaning even more closely over them, she seemed to wait with trembling fear for the cruel Fairy’s arrival.

But no rough hand snatched her little ones away, no harsh words were spoken; instead, a gentle shower of dew fell softly on them, and Thistle, bending lovingly over them, said,—

“Dear flower, please forgive the pain I caused you before, and trust me now for Lily-Bell’s sake. Her kindness has transformed my harshness into compassion, and I would happily make up for all the hurt I caused; but no one will love and trust me anymore.”

Then the little rose looked up, and while the dew drops sparkled like joyful tears on her leaves, she said,—

“I will love and trust you, Thistle, because you’ve changed so much. Make your home with us, and my sister flowers will soon learn to love you the way you deserve. Not for sweet Lily-Bell’s sake, but for your own, will I become your friend; because you are kind and gentle now, and worthy of our love. Look up, my little ones, there’s no danger nearby; look up, and welcome Thistle to our home.”

Then the little buds lifted their pink faces, swayed again on their stems, and nodded kindly at Thistle, who smiled at them through happy tears and kissed the sweet, forgiving rose that loved and trusted him when he felt most lonely and abandoned.

But the other flowers whispered among themselves, and Hyacinth said,—

“If Rose-Leaf is his friend, then we can be too; but I worry he might soon get tired of this kindness and turn back into the wicked Fairy he used to be, and we’ll pay for our generosity toward him now.”

“Ah, don’t doubt him!” cried the warm-hearted little Mignonette. “Surely some good spirit has turned the wicked Thistle into this good little Elf. Look how gently he moves the leaves that overshadow pale Harebell, and listen to how softly he sings while rocking little Eglantine to sleep. He has done many kind things, even though only Rose-Leaf has been nice to him, and he is really sad. Last night, when I woke up to pull my curtains closer, he was sitting in the moonlight, crying so hard that I wanted to say something kind to him. Dear sisters, let’s trust him.”

And they all agreed that little Mignonette was correct; and, opening their leaves wide, they invited him to come, drink their dew, and lie among the fragrant petals, trying to lift his spirits. Thistle shared everything with them, and after a lot of quiet chatting, they said,—

“Yes, we’ll help you find the Earth Spirits because you’re trying to be good, and out of love for Lily-Bell, we’ll do a lot for you.”

So they called a little bright-eyed mole and said, “Downy-Back, we’ve given you a nice home among our roots, and you’re a thankful little friend; will you guide dear Thistle to the Earth Spirits’ home?”

Downy-Back said, “Yes,” and Thistle, grateful to the friendly flowers, followed his tiny guide through long, dark tunnels, going deeper and deeper underground, while a glow-worm fluttered ahead to light the way. They continued on, and after a while, arrived at a path illuminated by bright jewels hanging on the walls. Here, Downy-Back and Glimmer, the glow-worm, left him, saying,—

“We can't take you any further; you have to continue on your own now, and the music of the Spirits will lead you to their home.”

Then they hurried up the winding path, and Thistle, drawn by the sweet music, continued on alone.

He soon arrived at a beautiful place, where golden halls shone with jewels that sparkled brightly, casting colorful shadows on the shimmering clothes of the little Spirits dancing below to the tune of soft, silvery bells.

Long Thistle stood there, watching the bright shapes that flashed and sparkled around him; but he missed the flowers and the sunlight, and he was glad that he wasn't an Earth Spirit.

At last, they spotted him and, happily welcoming him, invited him to join their dance. But Thistledown was too sad for that, and when he shared his story with them, they stopped urging him and tried to comfort him. One of them, called little Sparkle (because her crown and dress sparkled with the brightest diamonds), said: “You’ll need to work for us before you can earn a gift to show the Brownies. Do you see those golden bells that make such beautiful music when we wave them back and forth? We worked long and hard to earn those, and you can earn one too, if you take on the task we give you.”

And Thistle said, “No task will be too difficult for me to take on for dear Lily-Bell’s sake.”

Then they took him to a strange, dark place, illuminated by torches; where groups of Spirits flew back and forth, among damp rocks, and through dark passages that led deep into the earth. “What are they doing here?” asked Thistle.

“I will tell,” replied little Sparkle, “because I used to work here myself. Some of them keep an eye on the flower roots, making sure they stay fresh and strong; others collect the clear drops that flow from the damp rocks and create a little spring that keeps growing larger, rising up to the surface, and bursting forth in some lush field or quiet forest; where wild birds come to drink, and wildflowers stretch their thirsty leaves over the clear, cool water as it flows away, spreading joy and freshness wherever it goes. Others shape the bright jewels into beautiful designs and create the lucky pennies that we give to the people we care about. And here, you must work until the golden flower is earned.”

Then Thistle went among the Spirits and joined in their tasks; he took care of the flower roots, collected the water drops, and made good-luck pennies. He worked long and hard, often feeling sad and tired, and sometimes struggling with unkind and selfish thoughts. But he thought of Lily-Bell and tried to be as kind and loving as she had been. Soon the Spirits came to love the patient Fairy who had left his home to work alongside them for the sake of his gentle friend.

At last, little Sparkle approached him and said, “You've done enough; come now, and dance and celebrate with us, because the golden flower is ours.”

But Thistle couldn’t stay, as he still had half his task to finish; he missed the sunlight and Lily-Bell. So, saying a kind goodbye, he rushed through the torch-lit path back to the light; and, spreading his wings, he flew over hills and valleys until he reached the forest where Lily-Bell was sleeping.

It was early morning, and the soft light shone brightly through the lily leaves onto her as Thistle entered and placed his first gift at the Brownie King’s feet.

“You’ve done well,” he said, “we hear great news about you from the birds and flowers, and you’re genuinely trying to make amends for the wrongs you’ve committed. Take a moment to look at your little friend, and then go out to ask the Air Spirits for your next gift.”

Then Thistle said goodbye to Lily-Bell once more and flew high and far among the clouds, searching for the Air Spirits. But even after wandering until his tired wings could go no further, it was all in vain. So, feeling weak and downcast, he lay down to rest on a large vine leaf that gently swayed in the wind. As he rested, he looked down and saw the home of the kind bees he had disturbed, the same ones Lily-Bell had helped and comforted.

“I'll try to earn their forgiveness and prove that I'm no longer the cruel Fairy who hurt them,” thought Thistle. “Once we’re friends again, I’ll ask for their help to find the Air Spirits; and if I've earned it, they’ll happily support me on my journey.”

So he flew down into the field below and quickly moved from flower to flower until he filled a small blue bell with sweet, fresh honey. Then he quietly made his way to the hive and, placing it near the door, hid to watch. Soon, his friend Nimble-Wing flew home, and when he saw the little cup, he buzzed with happiness and called his friends over.

“Surely, some kind Elf put this here for us,” they said; “let's take it to our Queen; it's so fresh and fragrant it will make a perfect gift for her”; and they happily brought it in, unaware of who had placed it there.

So every day Thistle filled a flower cup and placed it at the door; and each day the bees became more and more curious, as many strange things occurred. The field flowers spoke of the kind spirit watching over them, and the birds sang about the same little elf bringing soft moss for their nests and food for their hungry babies; while all around, the area near the hive had become prettier since the fairy arrived.

But the bees never saw him because he thought he hadn't done enough to earn their forgiveness and friendship. So, he lived alone among the vines, bringing them honey every day and doing kind things.

At last, while he was sleeping in a flower bell, a little bee came buzzing by and recognized him as the wicked Thistle; so he called his friends, and as they flew around him making noise, he woke up.

“What are we going to do with you, mischievous Elf?” they said. “We have control over you, and we’ll poke you if you don’t stay still.”

“Let’s close the flower petals around him and leave him here to starve,” shouted one, who still hadn’t forgotten all the pain Thistle had caused them long ago.

“No, no, that would be very cruel, dear Buzz,” said little Hum; “let's take him to our Queen, and she will guide us on how to express our anger for the terrible things he did. Look how sadly he cries; be kind to him, he won't hurt us again.”

“You good little Hum!” exclaimed a kind-hearted robin who had hopped over to listen to the bees. “Dear friends, don’t you realize that this is the good Fairy who has quietly lived among us, watching over birds and flowers, bringing joy to everyone he helps? It’s HIM who brings the honey every day to you and then quietly slips away, so you may never know who works so diligently for you. Be kind to him, because if he has made a mistake, he has regretted it, as you can see.”

“Is this the naughty Thistle?” asked Nimble-Wing.

“Yes, it’s me,” said Thistle, “but I’m no longer cruel and unkind. I’ve worked hard to earn your love. Please trust me now, and you’ll see I’m not naughty Thistle anymore.”

Then the curious bees took him to their Queen, and after he shared his story and asked for their forgiveness, it was happily granted; everyone made an effort to show him that he was loved and trusted. Then he asked if they could tell him where the Air Spirits lived, as he couldn’t forget dear Lily-Bell; to his great joy, the Queen said, “Yes,” and instructed little Hum to guide Thistle to Cloud-Land.

Little Hum happily complied; and Thistle followed him as he soared higher and higher among the soft clouds, until they spotted a glowing light in the distance.

“There is their home, and I have to go now, dear Thistle,” said the little bee; and after saying goodbye, he flew back singing; while Thistle, following the light, soon found himself in the Air Spirits’ home.

The sky was gold and purple like a fall sunset, and long walls of bright clouds surrounded him. A rosy light shone through the silver mist onto shiny columns and the rainbow roof; soft, fragrant breezes whispered by, and light, playful figures flitted back and forth.

Long Thistle marveled at the beauty around him; then he approached the shining Spirits, shared his story, and requested a gift.

But they responded like the Earth Spirits. “You have to serve us first, and then we’ll happily give you a robe of sunlight like ours.”

And then they told him how they spread flower seeds across the land, to make lonely places more beautiful and bright; how they kept watch over the blossoms during the day, sprinkled dew at night, brought sunlight into shadowy areas, and gentle breezes to refresh and uplift.

“These are the things we do,” they said, “and you must help us for a while.”

And Thistle happily went with the beautiful Spirits; during the day, he collaborated with the sunlight and the breeze in their quiet tasks; at night, alongside Star-Light and her sister spirits, he soared over the moonlit earth, sprinkling cool dew on the closed flowers and bringing sweet dreams to people as they slept. Many kind acts were performed, many gentle words were shared; and with each passing day, his heart felt lighter and his ability to bring joy to others grew stronger.

At last, Star-Light told him to stop working and happily gave him the gift he had earned. With that, his second task was complete, and he joyfully flew back to the green earth and the sleeping Lily-Bell.

The silvery moonlight lit her up as he came to give her his second gift, and the Brownie spoke more kindly than he had before.

“One more challenge, Thistle, and she will wake up. Go forth with courage and earn your final and toughest reward.”

Then, with a cheerful heart, Thistle headed off to the streams and rivers, searching for the Water Spirits. But he searched in vain; until, wandering through the forest where the Brownies captured him, he paused by the serene lake.

As he stood there, he heard a sound of pain, and looking into the tall grass beside him, he saw the dragonfly whose kindness he once repaid with pain and sorrow, and who now lay suffering and alone.

Thistle gently leaned beside him and said, “Dear Flutter, don’t be afraid of me. I would happily ease your pain if you allow it; I’m your friend, and I really want to show you how sorry I am for all the wrong I did to you when you were so kind to me. Please forgive me and let me help and comfort you.”

Then he wrapped up the broken wing and spoke so gently that Flutter no longer doubted him, and they became friends again.

Day by day, Thistle stayed by his side, making little beds of cool, fresh moss for him to rest on, fanning him while he slept, and singing sweet songs to lift his spirits when he was awake. Often, when poor Flutter longed to dance again over the blue waves, the Fairy would carry him to the lake, and on a big leaf, with a green flag as a sail, they would float on the calm water, while the dragon-fly's friends buzzed around them, playing joyful games.

At last, the broken wing was healed, and Thistle said he needed to seek the Water Spirits again. “I can tell you where to find them,” Flutter said. “Just follow that little stream over there, and it will lead you to the sea, where the Spirits live. I would happily do more for you, dear Thistle, but I can’t, since they live deep under the waves. You’ll find a kind friend to help you along the way; so goodbye.”

Thistle walked alongside the small stream as it meandered through fields and valleys, getting bigger until it met the sea. The wind was brisk here, and the big waves crashed at Thistle’s feet while he stood on the shore, watching the waves dance and shimmer in the sunlight.

“How will I find the Spirits in this vast sea, with no one to help or guide me? But this is my final task, and for Lily-Bell’s sake, I must not be afraid or hesitate now,” said Thistle. So he flew back and forth over the sea, searching through the waves. Soon he saw, far below, the branches of the coral tree.

“They have to be here,” he thought, and, folding his wings, he dove into the deep, cold sea. But all he saw were terrifying monsters and dark shapes surrounding him; and, trembling with fear, he fought his way back up.

The huge waves tossed him around, leaving him bruised and weak on the shore. He lay there crying helplessly until a voice next to him said, “Poor little Elf, what happened to you? These rough waves aren’t suitable playmates for someone as delicate as you. Share your sadness with me, and I’ll comfort you.”

And Thistle, looking up, saw a white sea bird beside him, who tried with friendly words to lift his spirits. So he shared all his adventures and how he was searching for the Sea Spirits.

“Of course, if the bees and flowers are helping you, the birds should help you too,” said the Sea-bird. “I’ll call my friend, the Nautilus, and he’ll take you safely to the Coral Palace where the Spirits live.”

So, spreading his big wings, he flew away, and soon Thistle saw a small boat bouncing over the waves, waiting by the shore for him.

In he jumped. Nautilus hoisted his small sail to catch the wind, and the light boat glided swiftly over the blue sea. Finally, Thistle exclaimed, “I see beautiful arches far below; let me go, it's the home of the Spirits.”

“Nah, just close your eyes and trust me. I’ll get you down safely,” said Nautilus.

So Thistle closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the sea as they sank slowly through the waves. The gentle noise lulled him to sleep, and when he woke up, the boat was gone, and he found himself among the Water Spirits in their beautiful and unusual home.

Lofty arches of snow-white coral curved overhead, and the walls of brightly colored shells were adorned with beautiful sea flowers, while the sunlight reflecting off the waves cast silvery shadows on the ground, where sparkling stones shimmered in the sand. A cool, fresh breeze swept through the waving strands of vibrant sea moss, and the distant sound of crashing waves floated softly in the air. Soon, groups of graceful spirits flitted by, and when they spotted the amazed elf, they gathered around him, bringing pearl shells piled high with precious stones and all the rare, unusual gifts found beneath the sea. But Thistle did not desire any of these, and when his story was shared, the kind spirits felt sorry for him; little Pearl sighed as she explained the long and tiring task he would have to complete before he could earn a crown of snow-white pearls like theirs. However, Thistle had found strength and courage during his travels and did not hesitate when they guided him to a position among the coral workers, telling him he must work there until the spreading branches reached the light and air through the dancing waves above.

With a hopeful patience that he might still be deserving of Lily-Bell, the Fairy left the beautiful spirits and their delightful home to work among the coral builders, where everything was unfamiliar and gloomy. He worked for a long time; but still the waves rolled far above them, and his task was not yet complete; and many bitter tears poor Thistle shed, and he sadly pined for air and sunlight, the sound of birds, and the scent of flowers. Often, wrapped in the magical clothing that the Spirits gave him so he could move safely among the terrifying creatures living there, he rose to the surface of the sea, and, gliding through the waves, gazed longingly at the hills, which now looked blue and distant in the background, or watched the flocks of summer birds flying to a warmer land; they brought back sad memories of lush old forests and sunny fields to the lonely little Fairy floating on the vast, wild sea.

Day after day went by, and gradually Thistle’s task came to an end. The coral workers were busy, but he worked even harder; the insects and Spirits increasingly marveled at the hard work and patience of the quiet little Elf, who had a kind word for everyone even though he never joined in their fun.

Higher and higher grew the coral branches, and the Fairy’s heart felt lighter as thoughts of dear Lily-Bell encouraged him each day while he worked hard. Finally, when the sun lit up his finished work, he paused only to take the garland he had earned and to thank the good Spirits for their love and support. Then, he quickly glided up through the cool, blue waves and, shaking the bright drops from his wings, soared up singing into the sunny sky.

Onward through the fragrant air walked Thistle, his face bright with joy as he looked down at the beautiful, fresh earth, where flowers smiled up at him and green trees gracefully bowed their heads as if to welcome him. Soon, the forest where Lily-Bell lay sleeping appeared before him, and as he strolled along the cool, dim paths of the woods, they had never seemed so lovely.

But when he arrived at the spot where his little friend had slept, it was no longer the dark, quiet place where he had last seen her. Garlands hung from every tree, and beautiful flowers filled the air with their sweet fragrance. Birds’ cheerful songs echoed far and wide, and the little brook sang as it flowed beneath the arching ferns above; green leaves rustled in the summer breeze, and the air was filled with music. But the most beautiful sight was Lily-Bell, as she lay on the soft moss that fairy hands had arranged. The golden flower rested beside her, and the sparkling robe was wrapped around her little form. The warm sunlight shone down on her, and the gentlest breezes lifted her shining hair.

Happy tears fell quickly as Thistle wrapped his arms around her, crying, “Oh, Lily-Bell, dear Lily-Bell, wake up! I have been faithful to you, and now my job is finished.”

Then, with a smile, Lily-Bell woke up and looked with curious eyes at the beauty that surrounded her.

“Dear Thistle, what do these beautiful things mean, and why are we in this wonderful place?”

“Listen, Lily-Bell,” said the Brownie King as he appeared next to her. Then he recounted everything Thistle had done to show his love for her; how he had traveled far and wide to find the Fairy gifts and worked long and hard to earn them; how he had been loving, faithful, and caring, even when he felt most alone and abandoned.

“Bird, bee, and flower have forgiven him, and none is more loved and trusted now by all than the once cruel Thistle,” said the King, as he bent down to the happy Elf, who bowed low before him.

“You have discovered the beauty of a gentle, kind heart, dear Thistle; and you are now deserving to become the friend of the one for whom you have done so much. Put the crown on her head, for she is now the Queen of all the Forest Fairies.”

And as the crown sparkled on the head that Lily-Bell leaned down on Thistle’s chest, the forest appeared full of tiny creatures, who jumped from flower and leaf, gathering around her and bringing gifts for their new Queen.

“If I’m the Queen, then you’re the King, dear Thistle,” said the Fairy. “Take the crown, and I’ll wear a wreath of flowers. You’ve worked hard and endured for me, and you alone should lead these little Elves whose love you’ve earned.”

“Keep your crown, Lily-Bell, because here come the Spirits with their gifts for Thistle,” said the Brownie. As he pointed with his wand, the Earth Spirits emerged from the mossy roots of an old tree, their flower-bells ringing softly as they approached, and their jeweled outfits sparkling in the sunlight. They moved toward Thistledown, who stood in the shadow of the flowers with Lily-Bell beside him; then little Sparkle jumped forward, waving a golden flower, its silvery music filling the air. “Dear Thistle,” said the shining Spirit, “what you worked so hard to earn for someone else, let us now offer as a symbol of our love for you.”

As she finished, lovely Air Spirits floated down through the air, bringing a shining robe, and they also expressed their love for the gentle Fairy who had lived with them.

Then softly on the breeze came distant music, growing ever nearer, till over the rippling waves came the singing Water Spirits, in their boats of many-colored shells; and as they placed their sparkling crown on Thistle’s head, the flowers rang out, and the birds sang joyfully, while all the Forest Fairies shouted in high-pitched voices, “Lily-Bell and Thistledown! Long live our King and Queen!”

“Do you have a story for us too, dear Violet-Eye?” said the Queen, as Zephyr finished. The little Elf looked up from among the flower leaves where she sat and smiled as she replied, “While I was weaving garlands in the field, I heard a primrose tell this story to her friend Golden-Rod.”

In a vast forest, high up among the green branches, lived Bird Brown-Breast and his bright-eyed little mate. They were very happy; their home was complete, the four blue eggs rested in the cozy nest, and the little wife sat still and patiently on them, while the husband sang, shared charming stories, and brought her sweet berries and tiny worms.

Things went smoothly until one day she discovered a small white egg in the nest, wrapped in a golden band.

“My friend,” she exclaimed, “come and take a look! Where could this amazing egg have come from? I have my four here, and this one too; what do you think?”

The husband shook his head seriously and said, “Don’t worry, my love; it’s probably a good fairy who gave us this, and we’ll find some gift inside. Let’s not touch it, but you sit carefully on it, and in time we’ll see what we’ve received.”

So they said nothing about it, and soon their home had four little chirping kids; then the white egg hatched, and, behold, a little girl was lying inside, singing. They were so amazed and welcomed her warmly as she lay beneath her mother’s wing, and the young birds loved her dearly.

Great joy filled the forest, and the parents were proud of their family, especially the little one who had arrived; while all the neighbors gathered to see Dame Brown-Breast’s baby. The tiny girl chatted with them and sang so cheerfully that they could have listened forever. Before long, she became the delight of the entire forest, dancing from tree to tree, treating every nest as her home, and none were more welcomed than little Bud; and so they all lived happily in the lush green forest.

The father now had a lot to do to provide food for his family, and he brought tasty treats for little Bud. Wild fruits were her food, fresh dew from the flowers was her drink, and green leaves made her little outfits; so she found clothes in the flowers of the field and a happy home with Mother Brown-Breast. Everything in the woods, from the tall trees to the tiny mosses in the ground, were friends to the cheerful child.

And every day she taught the young birds cheerful songs, and as their joyful music filled the old forest, the stern, dark pines stopped their solemn swaying so they could hear the gentle sounds drifting through the dim woodland paths, and human children came to listen, whispering, “Listen to the flowers sing, and don’t touch them, because the Fairies are here.”

Then a group of sad little Elves came to Bud, hoping to hear the sweet music. When she took them by the hand and spoke gently to them, they cried and said sadly, when she asked where they came from,—

“We once lived in Fairy-Land, and oh, how happy we were then! But unfortunately, we weren't deserving of such a beautiful home, and we were cast out into the harsh world. Look at our clothes; they're like withered leaves. Our wings are dull, our crowns are lost, and we lead sad, lonely lives in this dark forest. Let us stay with you; your cheerful music sounds like Fairy songs, and you have such a friendly demeanor and speak so softly to us. It's nice to be near someone so lovely and kind; and you can tell us how we can become fair and innocent again. Please say we can stay with you, dear little maiden.”

And Bud said, “Yes,” and they stayed; but her kind little heart was hurt that they cried so sadly, and nothing she said could make them happy; until finally she said,—

“Don’t cry, and I’ll go to Queen Dew-Drop and ask her to let you come back. I’ll tell her that you feel sorry and will do anything to win her love again; that you’re sad and want to be forgiven. I will say this and more, and I hope she will answer my request.”

“She won’t say no to you, dear Bud,” said the poor little Fairies; “she will love you just like we do, and if we can return to our lost home, we won’t be able to thank you enough. Go, Bud, and if there’s any magic in Fairy gifts, you’ll be as happy as our hearts’ best love can make you.”

The news of Bud's departure spread quickly through the forest, and all her friends came to say goodbye, as she would be leaving with the morning sun; each brought a small gift, since the land of Fairies was far away and she had a long journey ahead.

“Nah, you can't go on your own, my child,” said Mother Brown-Breast; “your friend Golden-Wing will carry you. Call him over so I can set you up properly, because if you fall off, it would break my heart.”

Then Golden-Wing arrived, and Bud was comfortably seated on the cushion of violet leaves. It was truly charming to see her cheerful little face peeking out from under the wide brim of her cowslip hat as her butterfly steed fluttered its bright wings in the sunlight. Soon, a bee showed up with his yellow honey bags and asked her to take them, while a little brown spider that lived under the large leaves brought a veil for her hat, urging her to wear it so the sun wouldn’t shine too brightly. The ant arrived with a tiny strawberry, making sure she wouldn’t miss her favorite fruit. Her mother offered good advice, and her father stood with his head tilted, his round eyes sparkling with joy at the thought that his little Bud was heading off to Fairy-Land.

Then they all sang cheerfully together until she disappeared over the hills, and they didn't see her again.

And now Bud left the old forest far behind her. Golden-Wing carried her quickly along, and she looked down on the green mountains and the peasant cottages nestled among the towering trees. The earth looked vibrant, with its wide, blue rivers winding through gentle meadows, the singing birds, and flowers that kept their bright eyes focused on the sky.

And she sang joyfully as they floated in the clear air, while her friend kept rhythm with his flapping wings, and as they moved along, everything became more beautiful; and so they arrived in Fairy-Land.

As Bud walked through the gates, she understood why the exiled Fairies cried and mourned for the beautiful home they had lost. Bright clouds drifted in the sunny sky, casting a rainbow glow on the Fairy palaces below, where the Elves were dancing. The soft, sweet voices of the singing flowers echoed through the fragrant air, blending with the music of the gentle waves as they flowed beneath the blooming vines that hung above them.

Everything was bright and beautiful, but kind little Bud didn’t want to stick around, as the shapes of the weeping Fairies were right in front of her. Even though the flowers swayed happily on their stems to greet her and the soft winds brushed against her cheek, she didn’t stop and continued on to the Flower Palace. Inside, there was a lovely hall with walls made of crimson roses, and nestled among the leaves were little Elves playing sweet music on their harps. When they spotted Bud, they gathered around her and guided her through the flower-adorned arches to a group of the most beautiful Fairies, who were gathered around a magnificent lily. In its fragrant cup sat one whose purple gown and sparkling crown signified she was their Queen.

Bud knelt in front of her, and while tears flowed down her tiny face, she shared her mission and earnestly asked that the exiled Fairies be forgiven and not be left to suffer far from their friends and family. As she prayed, many joined her in tears; and when she finished and waited for a response, many knelt beside her, asking for forgiveness for the unfortunate Elves.

With tearful eyes, Queen Dew-Drop replied,—

“Little girl, your prayer has touched my heart. They won’t be left sad and alone, and you won’t leave without a kind word to uplift and comfort them. We will forgive their mistake, and when they can bring a perfect Fairy crown, robe, and wand, they will be welcomed back as children of their loving Queen. The task is challenging, as only the best and purest can create the Fairy garments; however, with patience, they can restore their outfits to their original brightness. Goodbye, dear little girl; come with them, because without you, they would have remained outside the walls of Fairy-Land forever.”

“Safe travels and goodbye,” they all shouted, as, with heartfelt messages to their dear friends, they carried her to the gates.

Day after day, little Bud worked hard, trying to cheer up the Fairies, who, angry and upset, wouldn’t listen to her kind words but turned away and sat alone, crying. They hurt her kind heart with many cruel remarks; yet she patiently endured them. When they told her they could never handle such a tough task and would have to live forever in the dark forest, she gently replied that the snow-white lily needed to be planted and watered with sincere tears before the robe of innocence could be earned; that the sun of love had to shine in their hearts before the light could return to their dim crowns, and that acts of kindness had to be done before they could regain the power of their now useless wands.

Then they planted the lilies; but they soon drooped and died, and no light shone on their crowns. They didn’t do any kind deeds and only cared about themselves; and when they realized their efforts were pointless, they stopped trying and sat there crying. Bud, through constant work and careful attention, took care of the lilies, which bloomed beautifully, the crowns became bright, and in her hands, the wands had power over birds and flowers, because she was trying to bring happiness to others, forgetting about herself. The lazy Fairies, with grateful words, took the clothes from her, and then along with Bud, went to Fairy-Land, standing with racing hearts before the gates; where crowds of Fairy friends came out to greet them.

But when Queen Dew-Drop touched them with her wand as they walked in, the light disappeared from their crowns, their robes turned into shriveled leaves, and their wands lost all power.

Amid the tears of all the Fairies, the Queen led them to the gates and said,—

“Goodbye! I can’t help you; innocence and love aren’t in your hearts, and if it weren’t for this tireless little girl, who has worked while you’ve cried, you would never have returned to your lost home. Go and try again, because until everything is beautiful and pure again, I can’t claim you as mine.”

“Goodbye!” sang the crying Fairies, as the gates shut on their outcast friends; who, feeling defeated and heartbroken, gathered around Bud; and she, with encouraging words, led them back to the forest.

Time went by, and the Fairies hadn’t done anything to get their beautiful home back. They no longer cried, but instead watched little Bud as she took care of the flowers every day, bringing back their strength and beauty. With kind words, she flew from nest to nest, teaching the little birds how to live happily together. Wherever she went, blessings showered down, and loving hearts filled with gratitude.

Then, one by one, the Elves quietly did small acts of kindness and discovered a quiet joy returning to them. Flowers seemed to look up at them affectionately as they walked by, and birds sang to uplift them when they were feeling down. Soon, little Bud noticed their gentle actions, and her kind words gave them renewed strength. Day after day, they followed her, and like a group of protective spirits, they traveled far and wide, bringing joy and peace with them.

And not just birds and flowers blessed them, but people too; for with gentle hands, they guided little kids away from danger and kept their young hearts safe from bad thoughts. They whispered comforting words to the sick and brought pleasant scents and beautiful flowers to their lonely rooms. They sent delightful visions to the elderly and blind, making their hearts feel young and full of happy thoughts.

But they watched over the poor and sorrowful with the utmost care, and many a struggling mother thanked the unseen hands that provided food for her hungry children and wrapped warm clothes around their bare limbs. Many a man marveled at the beautiful flowers that bloomed in his small garden, lifting his spirits with their vibrant colors and making his dreary home beautiful with their charm. He looked at his once barren field, now filled with golden corn, its wide leaves turning towards the warm sun, promising a bounty of golden ears to feed him. His weary face brightened, and his troubled heart swelled with gratitude for the invisible spirits who had brought him such happiness.

Thus time went by, and even though the exiled Fairies often yearned for their home, they understood they hadn't earned it. They continued to work hard, hoping one day to reunite with the friends they had lost; meanwhile, the joy in their hearts filled their lives with happiness.

One day, little Bud came to them and said, —

“Listen, dear friends. I have a difficult task for you. It’s a big sacrifice for you light-loving Fairies to spend the long winter deep in the dark, cold earth, watching over the flower roots to keep them safe from the little grubs and worms that want to harm them. But in the sunny Spring when they bloom again, their love and gratitude will provide you with joyful homes among their bright leaves.”

“It’s a tiring job, and I can’t offer you any reward for all your kindness, but you will have the blessings of the gentle flowers you saved from dying. I would gladly help you, but my winged friends are getting ready for their journey to warmer places, and I have to help them teach their little ones to fly and make sure they’re safe on their way. Then, throughout the winter, I will seek out the homes of the poor and suffering, comfort the sick and lonely, and give hope and courage to those who are lost in their poverty. I must do these things; but when the flowers bloom again, I will be with you to welcome back our friends from across the sea.”

Then, with tears, the Fairies replied, “Ah, dear little Bud, you’ve taken on the hardest task, and who will reward you for all your kindness and compassion in this big world? If anything bad were to happen to you, we would be heartbroken. We will work diligently in the earth, and thoughts of you will keep us motivated; without you, we would have been worthless and never known the happiness that comes from good deeds. Yes, dear Bud, we will happily work among the roots so that the beautiful flowers can wear their brightest colors to welcome you.”

Then deep underground, the Fairies lived, and no frost or snow could hurt the flowers they cared for. Every little seed was placed in the soft soil, watered, and looked after. Delicate roots were wrapped in dried leaves to keep the cold drops away; and the flowers safely dreamed until the summer breeze would bring them to life; as each kind act was lovingly done, each Fairy's heart felt lighter.

At last, the snow melted away, and they heard little voices inviting them to come up; but they worked patiently until the seeds and roots were green and sturdy. Then, with excited steps, they rushed to the surface, where bright flowers and blossoming trees greeted them in the warm sunlight, blossoms leaned gently toward them, ringing their colorful bells until the sweet-smelling air was filled with music; while the majestic trees waved their large branches overhead, scattering soft leaves at their feet.

Then the cheerful birds arrived, bringing the woods to life with their joyful songs, calling to each other as they flew among the vines, building their little homes. The Elves waited a long time, and finally, she came with Father Brown-Breast. Happy days went by, and summer flowers were at their most beautiful, when Bud invited the Fairies to join her.

Mounted on brightly colored butterflies, they soared over forests and meadows until, with joyful eyes, they spotted the flower-crowned walls of Fairy-Land.

Before the gates they stood, and soon groups of caring Elves emerged to greet them. They walked through the sunny gardens, heading into the Lily Hall, where the Queen sat among the golden stamens of a beautiful flower; around her, the bright-eyed young attendants stood on the broad, green leaves.

Then, in the midst of the deep silence, little Bud, guiding the Fairies to the throne, said,—

“Dear Queen, I'm here to bring back your subjects, who are wiser from their struggles and better for their challenges. Now, any Queen could be proud of them and learn from them that giving joy and peace to others brings it back to us four times over, creating a double happiness in the blessings we share with those we help. Throughout the dreary months, when they could have been surrounded by beautiful Southern flowers under a sunny sky, they worked tirelessly in the dark and silent earth, filling the hearts of the gentle Flower Spirits with grateful love, seeking no reward but the satisfaction of their good deeds and the joy that always comes from them. They did this willingly and alone; and now, far and wide, flower blessings rain down upon them, and the summer winds carry the joyful news to those who are grieving, bringing them new joy and strength as they long for the friends whose caring has brought such happiness to their beloved kindred.”

“Are they not deserving of your love, dear Queen? Haven't they earned their beautiful home? Just say they are forgiven, and you will have the affection of hearts as pure as the snow-white robes now draped over them.”

As Bud finished, she touched the amazed Fairies with her wand, and their dark, tattered clothes vanished; underneath, the robes made of lily leaves sparkled, pure and clean in the sunlight. Then, while joyful tears fell, Queen Dew-Drop placed the shining crowns on the bowed heads of the kneeling Fairies and laid out the wands that their own good deeds had made powerful.

They turned to thank little Bud for all her patient love, but she was gone; and high above, in the clear sky, they saw the little figure making its way back to the peaceful forest.

She didn’t need any reward other than the happiness she had brought. The hearts of the fairies were pure again, and her job was finished; yet all of Fairy Land had learned a lesson from the kind little Bud.

“Now, little Sunbeam, what do you have to share with us?” said the Queen, looking down at a bright-eyed Elf who was half hidden in the thick moss at her feet.

“I also, like Star-Twinkle, have nothing but a song to give,” replied the Fairy; and then, as the nightingale’s beautiful voice blended with hers, she sang,—

In a serene, beautiful meadow,
Under a summer sky,
Where the old green trees moved their branches,
And the winds sang along;
Where a small stream flowed slowly,
With a gentle, melodic sound,
And drifting clouds create shadows
In the waving grass nearby;
Where the soft, sweet sounds of singing birds
Filled the air with fragrance,
And bright sunlight shone brightly
On everything new and good;—
A beautiful group blossomed.
Of cheerful little flowers,
Together in this joyful space,
During peaceful summer days.
No rough hands came to pick them,
No cold winds to ruin;
Warm sunshine shone down on them during the day,
And gentle dew fell at night.
So here, by the creek,
Under the old green trees,
The flowers lived with their friends,
The sun's rays and the breeze.

One morning, as the flowers bloomed,
Fragrant, fresh, and beautiful,
A tiny worm crawled by,
And asked for a place to rest.
“Oh! Please feel sorry for me,” sighed the worm,
“I’m lonely, broke, and vulnerable;
A cozy spot to relax,
Dear flowers, that's all I ask.
I’m not beautiful and haven't been loved.
By butterfly, bird, or bee.
They don’t understand that in this dark body
There lies a beauty they might see one day.
So let me rest in the deep green moss,
And create my little resting place,
And sleep my deep, uninterrupted sleep
Until spring's first flowers bloom.
Then I'll come back looking better,
And express my gratitude
With the grateful affection of the humble worm;
"Kind flowers, please let me stay!"
But the wild rose showed her thorns,
While her gentle face lit up with pride;
The violet was hidden under the drooping ferns,
And the daisy turned away.
Little Houstonia rolled her eyes,
As she moved gently on her delicate stem;
As the cowslip bent to the gentle waves,
And quietly told them the story.
A blue-eyed grass looked down at the worm,
As it quietly turned away,
And said, “You’ll damage our fragile leaves,
"So you can't stay."
Then a gentle, soft voice called out from a distance,
"Come here, poor worm, to me;
The sun feels warm in this peaceful place,
"And I’ll share my home with you."
The astonished flowers looked up to see
Who had given the worm a place to live:
It was a clover flower, with its fluttering leaves
Seemed to encourage him to come;
It lived in a bright little corner,
Where cool breezes flowed,
And buzzing bees and butterflies arrived,
To relax on the flower's petals.
Sunlight streamed through the leaves,
And appeared to linger there,
As if it enjoyed lighting up the home.
About someone who is so sweet and lovely.
Its cheerful face smiled warmly down,
As the lonely worm got closer;
And its gentle voice, softly whispering, said
"Poor thing, you’re welcome here;"
Next to me, on the soft green moss,
You'll find a comfy bed,
Where you can relax until Spring,
With my leaves spread over you.
I feel sorry for you and care about you, lonely worm,
Even if you're not graceful or attractive;
For many an unattractive shape,
Hides a kind heart within;
You won't wander alone anymore.
And sadly across this beautiful earth,
You’ve found a caring friend in me,
"And can relax in my cozy home."
Then, nestled in its comfy mossy bed,
Protected from sun and rain,
The thankful worm created its winter shelter,
In the shade of the flower.
And Clover took good care of its rest,
Until autumn leaves were dry,
Until all her sister flowers had withered,
And her winter slumber approached.
Then her dried leaves were softly spread
Over the sleeping worm beneath,
Before the loyal little flower was spread out
Under the winter snow.

Spring came back, and the flowers bloomed.
From their peaceful winter resting spots,
And happily swayed on their fragile stems,
And sang along with the soft waves.
Gently, the warm winds brushed against their cheeks;
The sunbeams shone brightly,
As they returned one by one
To stay in their summer houses.
And little Clover bloomed again,
Sweet and lovely.
Patiently waiting by the mossy area,
The worm was still sleeping there.
Then her sister flowers called out mockingly,
As they moved gently in the summer breeze,
"The ugly worm feels lonely and lacks resources;
Little Clover, why does it matter to you?
Stop watching and don’t be alone.
Away from your sister's flowers;
Come, dance, eat, and have fun.
These beautiful summer days with us.
We feel sorry for you, silly little flower,
For believing the lies of the false worm;
He won’t show up looking any better,
"Because he lies dead in the green moss."
But little Clover kept watching.
All by herself in her sunny spot;
She believed the poor worm was honest,
And believed he would arrive.

Finally, the small space expanded.
And a shining butterfly,
Emerging from the moss with golden wings,
Soared high into the bright sky.
Then the astonished flowers exclaimed,
"Clover, your watch was useless;
He just wanted shelter here,
"And he won't be coming back."
And the cruel flowers swayed with happiness,
When they saw him leave;
For the love of a beautiful butterfly
Is precious to a flower's heart.
They were worried he would stay at Clover's house,
And return her loving care;
So they danced with joy when he finally got up.
And quietly flew away.
Then little Clover lowered her head,
As her gentle tears fell like dew;
Her kind heart was saddened to discover
That what her sisters said was true,
And the insect she had been observing for so long
When feeling helpless, broke, and alone,
Unappreciative of all her devoted care,
He had flown on his golden wings.
But as she sank in quiet sadness,
She heard little Daisy shout,
"Oh sisters, look! I see him now,
Far away in the bright sky;
He's drifting back from Cloud-Land now,
Carried by the fragrant breeze.
Open your petals wide, so he can choose.
"The flower he believes is the most beautiful."
Then the wild rose turned an even brighter shade of red,
As she confidently swayed on her stem;
The Cowslip leaned over the clear blue waves,
And used them as a mirror.
Little Houstonia danced happily,
And spread her white petals wide;
While Daisy expressed her happiness and optimism,
As she stood next to her happy friends.
Violet looked out from behind the tall green ferns,
And raised her gentle blue eye
To see the shimmering shape that glimmered
Far away in the summer sky.
They stopped thinking about the ugly caterpillar.
Who once earned their disdain;
But now I searched for and yearned for the butterfly,
As the gentle wind took him away.

The bright figure approached closer and closer,
And the flowers became even more beautiful;
Each welcomed him with her kindest voice;
Each offered her honey and dew.
But they waved, smiled, and called out without success,
And their leaves spread wider;
The glowing figure moved forward,
Past Violet, Daisy, and Rose.
It flew gently to the beautiful home.
Of the flower that is truly beautiful,
It softly landed on Clover’s petal,
And folded its bright wings there.
“Dear flower,” the butterfly whispered gently,
"You've waited so long for me;
Now that I'm here, my grateful love
Will brighten your home for you;
You’ve loved and taken care of me while I was on my own,
You’ve taken care of me so well;
Now I’ll do my best to express my gratitude.
In a way that the poor worm couldn’t communicate.
Sunshine and gentle breezes will be upon you,
Along with the coolest drops of dew that fall;
Whatever a flower could desire is yours,
Because you deserve everything.
And the home you shared with the lonely worm
Will also be the butterfly's home;
And you’ll find, dear, loyal friend,
A supportive friend in me.
Then, during the long, sunny summer days
Through sun and through rain,
In their happy home together
The butterfly and the flower lived.

“Ah, that is so beautiful,” exclaimed the Elves, gathering around little Sunbeam as she finished, to place a garland in her hair and praise her song.

“Now,” said the Queen, “bring forward Moon-light and Summer-Wind, for they have experienced many wonderful things in their long travels, and they will happily share those stories with us.”

“Most joyfully, we will do our best, dear Queen,” said the Elves as they folded their wings beside her.

“Now, Summer-Wind,” said Moonlight, “while you wait for your turn, please sit here and fan me while I tell this story of

In a large and beautiful garden, little Annie sat all alone, looking very sad. Tears streamed down her face instead of dew falling on the flowers next to her, who gazed up in surprise, leaning in closer as if they wanted to comfort her. The warm breeze lifted her shiny hair and gently brushed her cheek, while the sunbeams, shining kindly on her face, created little rainbows in her tears and stayed close to her. But Annie didn’t notice the sun, the wind, or the flowers; the bright tears kept falling, and all she could think about was her sadness.

“Little Annie, tell me why you’re crying,” said a soft voice in her ear; and, looking up, the child saw a small figure standing on a vine leaf next to her; a beautiful face smiled at her from among bright hair, and shining wings were folded over a white and sparkling dress that fluttered in the breeze.

“Who are you, you adorable little thing?” cried Annie, smiling through her tears.

“I’m a Fairy, little child, and I’ve come to help and comfort you; now tell me why you’re crying, and let me be your friend,” the spirit said, smiling even more kindly at Annie’s astonished face.

“And are you really a little Elf, like I read about in my fairy tale books? Do you ride on butterflies, sleep in flower cups, and live among the clouds?”

“Yes, I do all these things, and even stranger ones that all your fairy tales can’t describe; but now, dear Annie,” said the Fairy, leaning closer, “tell me why I didn’t see any sunlight on your face; why are these big drops glistening on the flowers, and why are you sitting alone when the BIRD and BEE are inviting you to play?”

“Ah, you won’t love me anymore if I tell you everything,” said Annie, as the tears started to fall again. “I’m not happy because I’m not good. How can I learn to be a patient, gentle child? Good little Fairy, will you teach me how?”

“Of course, I’ll help you, Annie. If you really want to be a happy child, you need to learn to overcome many strong feelings that you care about right now and let your heart be a place for kind emotions and happy thoughts. It will be tough, but I will give you this magical flower to support and guide you. Come closer so I can place it near your heart; no one can take it away until I lift the spell that keeps it there.”

As she spoke, the Elf took a beautiful flower from her chest, its pure white petals glowing with a strange, gentle light. “This is a fairy flower,” the Elf said, “invisible to everyone except you; now listen as I tell you about its power, Annie. When your heart is filled with loving thoughts, when you've done a kind deed or fulfilled a duty well, the flower will release the sweetest, softest fragrance to reward and uplift you. But when a harsh word is about to escape your lips, when selfishness or anger rises in your heart, or you’re about to commit an unkind act, you will hear the soft, gentle chime of the flower’s bell; heed its warning, keep the words unspoken, the actions undone, and in the quiet joy of your own heart, along with the enchanting scent of your flower, you will discover a lovely reward.”

“O kind and generous Fairy, how can I ever thank you for this beautiful gift!” cried Annie. “I will be loyal and pay attention to my little bell whenever it rings. But will I never see YOU again? Ah! If you would only stay with me, I would truly be good.”

“I can’t stay right now, little Annie,” said the Elf, “but when the next Spring comes around, I’ll be here again to see how well the fairy gift has worked. And now goodbye, dear child; stay true to yourself, and the magic flower will never lose its brightness.”

Then the kind Fairy wrapped her little arms around Annie’s neck, placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, and, spreading her shining wings wide, flew up singing among the white clouds drifting in the sky.

And little Annie sat among her flowers, watching with joyful wonder the fairy blossom shining on her chest.

The lovely days of Spring and Summer went by, and in little Annie’s garden, Autumn flowers were blooming all around, becoming more beautiful and bright with each day’s sun and dew; but the fairy flower, which should have been the most stunning of all, hung pale and drooping on little Annie’s chest; its fragrance seemed almost gone, and the soft, low sound of its warning chime often echoed in her ear.

When the Fairy first placed it there, she was happy with her new gift, and for a while, she listened to the fairy bell, often trying to earn some fragrance from the flower with kind and pleasant words and actions. As the Fairy said, she discovered a sweet reward in the strange, soft perfume of the magic blossom that shimmered on her chest. But selfish thoughts would come to tempt her; she would give in, and unkind words would slip from her lips. Then the flower would droop, pale and scentless, and the fairy bell would ring sadly. Annie would forget her better intentions and revert to being a selfish, willful little child.

Finally, she stopped trying and got angry with the loyal flower, wanting to rip it from her chest. But the fairy's spell held it in place, and all her angry words only made it sound louder and sadder. Then she ignored the silvery music in her ear, and with each passing day, she became even more unhappy, discontented, and unkind. By the time Autumn arrived, she hadn’t improved at all because of the gentle Fairy’s gift, and she longed for Spring to return it, as the constant echo of the mournful music made her very sad.

One sunny morning, with the fresh, cool breeze blowing and not a cloud in the sky, little Annie wandered among her flowers, carefully checking each one, hoping to find the Fairy who could take the magic blossom from her chest. But she lifted their drooping leaves and peeked into their dewy cups in vain; no little Elf was hiding there, and she sadly turned away from them, saying, “I will go into the fields and woods to look for her there. I won't listen to this annoying music anymore, nor will I keep this wilted flower any longer.” So she ventured into the fields, where the tall grass rustled as she walked, and shy birds watched her from their nests; where beautiful wildflowers swayed in the breeze and opened their fragrant petals to welcome the buzzing bees, while butterflies, like flying flowers, danced and sparkled in the sunlight.

Little Annie looked around, searched, and asked everyone if they knew where the Fairy she was looking for was. But the birds just looked at her curiously with their soft, bright eyes and continued to sing; the flowers swayed knowingly on their stems but didn't say a word, while the butterfly and bee buzzed and fluttered away—one too busy and the other too lazy to stop and answer her question.

Then she walked through wide fields of yellow grain, which swayed around her like a golden forest; here crickets chirped, grasshoppers jumped, and busy ants worked, but they couldn’t tell her what she wanted to know.

“Now I’m going to wander among the hills,” said Annie, “she might be there.” So up and down the green hills she went, her little feet busy; she searched for a long time and called out in vain, but still no Fairy appeared. Then she went by the riverbank and asked the colorful dragonflies and the cool white lilies if the Fairy had been there, but the blue waves gently rippled on the white sand at her feet, and no one answered her.

Then little Annie walked into the forest; and as she strolled along the shaded, cool paths, the wildflowers seemed to smile at her, cheerful squirrels peeked at her as they played among the vines, and doves cooed softly as she passed by; but none could respond to her. So, tired from her long and unproductive search, she sat among the ferns and enjoyed the sweet strawberries that grew nearby, all the while watching the red evening clouds that glowed around the setting sun.

The night breeze rustled through the branches, lulling the flowers to sleep; the wild birds sang their evening songs, and everything in the woods became calm and quiet. The purple light faded more and more, and little Annie's head drooped lower and lower. The tall ferns bent to protect her from the dew, while the whispering pines sang a gentle lullaby. When the Autumn moon rose, its silver light illuminated the child, who lay asleep among the wood-flowers on a bed of green moss in the dim old forest.

And all night long next to her stood the Fairy she had been looking for, and with magical spells and charms, sent this dream to the sleeping child.

Little Annie dreamed she was sitting in her own garden, just like she had many times before, feeling angry inside and wanting to say unkind things. The magic flower was softly warning her, but she ignored everything except her own troubled thoughts; she was sitting there when suddenly a quiet voice whispered in her ear,—

“Little Annie, look at the bad things you’re holding onto; I will give a proper form to the thoughts and feelings that are now in your heart, and you’ll see how strong they get unless you get rid of them for good.”

Then Annie saw, with fear and wonder, that the angry words she spoke transformed into dark, unpleasant shapes, each clearly reflecting the fault or emotion from which it originated. Some had scowling faces and bright, fiery eyes; these were the spirits of Anger. Others, with gloomy, anxious expressions, seemed to gather everything they could reach, and Annie noticed that the more they collected, the less they appeared to have; these she recognized as the shapes of Selfishness. There were also Spirits of Pride, who wrapped their shadowy garments around themselves and turned dismissively away from everyone else. Annie saw these and many other forms that had emerged from her own heart and materialized before her eyes.

When she first saw them, they were small and weak; but as she looked, they seemed to grow and gain strength, each one gaining a strange power over her. She couldn't look away from them, and they became stronger, darker, and less appealing in her eyes. They seemed to cast dark shadows over everything nearby, dulling the sunshine, damaging the flowers, and driving away all the bright and beautiful things. As a high, dark wall slowly rose around her, Annie noticed it seemed to block out everything she loved; she didn’t dare move or speak, but, with a strange fear in her heart, she sat there watching the dim shapes that lingered around her.

Higher and higher rose the shadowy wall, slowly the flowers near her died, and the sunlight faded away; but eventually, both were gone, leaving her all alone behind the gloomy wall. Then the spirits gathered around her, whispering strange things in her ear, urging her to obey, for by her own choice, she had given her heart to be their home, and now she was their slave. After that, she could hear no more, but, sinking down among the withered flowers, she wept sad and bitter tears for her lost freedom and happiness; then through the darkness, a faint, soft light appeared, and on her chest, she saw her fairy flower, upon whose snow-white petals her tears shimmered.

Clearer and brighter became the radiant light, until the evil spirits turned away to the dark shadow of the wall, leaving the child alone.

The light and scent of the flower seemed to give Annie new energy, and she stood up, saying, as she leaned down to kiss the blossom on her chest, “Dear flower, help and guide me now, and I will listen to your voice and gladly obey my loyal fairy bell.”

Then in her dream, she felt how hard the spirits tried to tempt and disturb her, and how, without her flower, they would have pulled her back, making everything dark and dreary like before. She struggled for a long time, tears often falling; but after each new challenge, her magic flower shone brighter, and its fragrance grew sweeter, while the spirits lost more of their ability to tempt her. Meanwhile, green, flowering vines climbed up the tall, dark wall, hiding its roughness from her view; and she watched over them with great care, for soon, wherever green leaves and flowers bloomed, the wall beneath became weak and crumbled away. Thus, little Annie worked and hoped, until one by one, the evil spirits fled, and in their place came shining figures, with gentle eyes and smiling lips, who gathered around her with such loving words and brought so much strength and joy to Annie’s heart that nothing evil dared to enter; while the gloomy wall slowly sank, and, over wreaths of fragrant flowers, she stepped back into the pleasant world again, the fairy gift no longer pale and drooping, but now shining like a star upon her breast.

Then the soft voice whispered again in Annie’s sleeping ear, saying, “The dark, ugly feelings you’ve seen are in your heart; be careful while they’re still few and weak, or they might take over your entire life, driving out love and happiness forever. Remember the lesson from the dream, dear child, and let the shining spirits make your heart their home.”

And with that voice echoing in her ear, little Annie woke up to realize it was just a dream; but like other dreams, it didn’t fade away. As she sat alone, wrapped in the soft morning light, and watched the forest come to life, she remembered the strange shapes she had seen. Looking down at the flower on her chest, she silently promised to try, just like she had in her dream, to bring back light and beauty to its wilted leaves by being what the Fairy hoped she would be—a patient, gentle little girl. And as that thought crossed her mind, the flower lifted its drooping head, and looking up at her earnest little face, seemed to respond to Annie’s silent wish with its sweet fragrance, giving her strength for whatever lay ahead.

Meanwhile, the forest was alive with activity, birds chirped their cheerful good mornings from tree to tree, while leaves and flowers turned to welcome the sun, who rose up smiling upon the world; and so, beneath the forest branches and through the dewy fields, little Annie made her way home, feeling better and wiser from her dream.

Autumn flowers had faded away, yellow leaves rustled on the ground, bleak winds whistled through the bare trees, and cold, white snow of Winter fell gently; yet now, when everything outside seemed dark and dreary, the fairy flower bloomed even more beautifully on little Annie’s chest. The memory of her forest dream had never faded, and through challenges and temptations, she had stayed true and kept her promise unbroken; rarely now did the warning bell ring in her ears, and rarely did the flower’s fragrance stop surrounding her, or the fairy light stop brightening everything it touched.

So, throughout the long, cold winter, little Annie shone like a sunbeam in her home, each day becoming more enriched by the love of others and happier within herself; she was often tempted, but remembering her dream, she focused only on the music of the fairy bell. Any unkind thoughts or feelings slipped away, and the warm spirits of kindness and love found a home in her heart, making everything bright once more.

So the child grew better and happier, and the flower grew fairer and sweeter, until Spring came smiling over the earth, awakening the flowers, freeing the streams, and welcoming back the birds. Then, each day, the happy child sat among her flowers, hoping the gentle Elf would come again so she could express her gratitude for all the magic the gift had done.

At last, one day, as she sat singing in the sunny spot where all her prettiest flowers bloomed, tired from looking at the distant sky for the little figure she hoped would arrive, she leaned down to gaze with joyful love at her favorite flower; as she looked, its petals spread wide open, and slowly rising from the deep white cup was the smiling face of the beautiful Elf she had been waiting for so long.

“Dear Annie, stop searching for me; I’m right here with you, for you’ve come to love what I’ve given you, and it has served its purpose well,” the Fairy said, gazing into the joyful child's shining face and wrapping her tiny arms gently around her neck.

“And now I have brought another gift from Fairy-Land, as a perfect reward for you, dear child,” she said, when Annie expressed all her gratitude and love; then, touching the child with her shining wand, the Fairy asked her to look and listen quietly.

And suddenly, everything felt different to Annie; the air was filled with strange, sweet sounds, and beautiful forms floated around her. In every flower, little smiling Elves sat, singing joyfully as they swayed among the leaves. On every breeze, bright, airy spirits drifted by; some brushed her cheek with their cool breath and waved her long hair back and forth, while others chimed the flower-bells and created a pleasant rustling in the leaves. In the fountain, where the water danced and sparkled in the sun, she saw merry little spirits perched on every drop, splashing and floating in the clear, cool waves, singing as happily as the flowers, showering them with glittering dew. The tall trees sang a low, dreamy melody as their branches rustled in the wind, while the swaying grass was filled with little voices she had never heard before. Butterflies whispered sweet stories in her ear, and birds sang cheerful songs in a lovely language she had never understood before. The earth and air felt full of beauty and music she had never imagined until now.

“O tell me what it means, dear Fairy! Is it another and a more beautiful dream, or is the earth really as lovely as this?” she cried, gazing with joyful wonder at the Elf, who lay on the flower in her chest.

“Yes, it’s true, dear child,” replied the Fairy, “and very few mortals receive this beautiful gift; what is so full of music and light to you is just a nice summer world to others; they never understand the language of butterflies, birds, or flowers, and they’re blind to all that I’ve given you the ability to see. These lovely things are now your friends and playmates, and they will teach you many delightful lessons, bringing you countless happy hours; while the garden where you once sat, crying sad and bitter tears, is now brightened by your own happiness, filled with loving friends created by your own kind thoughts and feelings; and thus turned into a lovely summer home for the gentle, happy child, whose inner flower will never fade. And now, dear Annie, I must go; but every Spring, with the earliest flowers, I will return to visit you and bring some fairy gift. Take good care of the magic flower, so that I may find everything fair and bright when I come back next time.”

Then, with a friendly goodbye, the gentle Fairy floated up through the sunny sky, smiling down at the child, until she disappeared into the soft, white clouds. Little Annie stood alone in her enchanted garden, where everything was illuminated by the radiant light and fragrant with the scent of her fairy flower.

When Moonlight ended, Summer-Wind put down her rose-leaf fan and, leaning back in her acorn cup, shared this story of

Down in the deep blue sea lived Ripple, a cheerful little Water Spirit. All day long, she danced beneath the coral arches, made garlands of vibrant ocean flowers, or floated on the big waves that sparkled in the sunlight. But the activity she loved the most was lying on the colorful shells along the shore, listening to the soft, murmuring music the waves had taught them long ago. Here, for hours, the little Spirit lay watching the sea and sky, while singing happily to herself.

But when storms hit, she quickly went below the rough waves, to where everything was calm and peaceful, and with her sister Spirits, she waited for the weather to improve, listening sadly to the cries of those who battled the wild waves and were thrown into the furious sea, and who soon drifted down, pale and cold, to the Spirits’ lovely home; then they shed sympathetic tears over the lifeless bodies and laid them in serene graves, where flowers bloomed and jewels glimmered in the sand.

This was Ripple’s only sorrow, and she often thought of those who mourned for the friends they loved, who now rested deep in the quiet coral caves. She would have gladly saved the lives of those around her, but the vast ocean was much stronger than all the kind-hearted Spirits living within it. So, she could only cry for them and lay them down to rest where no harsh waves could hurt them again.

One day, when a fierce storm raged everywhere, and the Spirits saw huge waves rolling like heavy clouds overhead, and heard the wild winds sounding in the distance, a little child floated down through the foaming waves to their home; its eyes were closed as if in sleep, the long hair flowed like seaweed around its pale, cold face, and the little hands still held the shells it had been gathering on the beach when the giant waves swept it into the turbulent sea.

With gentle tears, the Spirits placed the little body to rest on its bed of flowers and sang soft, sorrowful songs to make its sleep more peaceful and deep. They watched over it with love until the storm had passed, and everything was quiet once more.

While Ripple sang above the little child, she heard a wild, sorrowful voice through the distant roar of winds and waves, calling for help. She listened for a long time, thinking it was just the echo of their own sad song, but above the music, the sad, wailing cry continued. Then, quietly slipping away, she glided up through the foam and spray until the sunlight broke through the parting clouds, shining down on her from the calm sky. Guided by the mournful sound, she floated on, and there, close to the beach, she saw a woman reaching out her arms, pleading with a sad, imploring voice for the restless sea to return the little child it had so cruelly taken. But the waves crashed foamy against the bare rocks at her feet, mixing their cold spray with her tears and providing no answer to her plea.

When Ripple saw the mother’s grief, she wanted to comfort her; so, kneeling gently beside her on the shore, the little Spirit told her how her child lay peacefully sleeping, far down in a beautiful place, where sad tears were shed, and loving hands placed flowers over him. But it was all in vain; the crying mother only wept,—

“Dear Spirit, can’t you cast a spell or use some magic to make the waves bring my child back, as full of life and strength as when they swept him away from me? Oh, please return my little child, or let me lie next to him in the depths of the cruel sea.”

“I'm more than happy to help you if I can, even though my power is limited; so stop worrying, because I will search both land and sea to find someone who can bring back everything you’ve lost. Keep watching the shore every day, and if I don’t return, then you’ll know my search was unsuccessful. Goodbye, dear mother, you will see your little child again if Fairy magic can bring him back.” And with these comforting words, Ripple dove into the sea; while, smiling through her tears, the woman watched the gentle Spirit until her bright crown disappeared in the waves.

When Ripple got home, she rushed to the Queen's palace and told her about the little child, the grieving mother, and the promise she had made.

“Good little Ripple,” said the Queen, after she had told her everything, “your promise can never be fulfilled; there’s no power beneath the sea to cast this spell, and you can never get to the Fire-Spirits’ home to earn a flame that can bring the little body to life. I feel sorry for the poor mother and would love to help her; but unfortunately, I’m a Spirit just like you and can’t assist you in the way I wish I could.”

“Ah, dear Queen! If you had seen her sadness, you too would want to keep the promise I made. I can't let her wait for ME in vain until I've done my best: so tell me where the Fire-Spirits live, and I'll ask them for the flame that will bring life to the little child and great happiness to the sad, lonely mother: just tell me the way, and I’ll go.”

“It’s way up in the sky, far beyond the sun, where no spirit has ever dared to go,” replied the Queen. “I can’t show you the way because it’s in the air. Please, Ripple, don’t go; you’ll never reach that faraway place: something bad will definitely happen; and then how will we live without our beloved, gentle spirit? Stay here with us in your comfy home and forget about this, because I can’t let you go.”

But Ripple wouldn’t break the promise she made, and she asked so sincerely, with such heartfelt words, that the Queen finally agreed with sadness. Ripple joyfully got ready to leave. She and her sister Spirits created a tomb of delicate, brightly colored shells for the child to rest in until she returned to bring him back to life. Then, asking them to keep a close watch over it, she said goodbye and bravely set off on her long, unknown journey, far away.

“I will search the wide world until I find a way to the sun, or a friendly soul who will take me there; for, unfortunately! I have no wings, and can't glide through the blue sky like I would through the sea,” said Ripple to herself as she danced across the waves, which carried her quickly toward a faraway shore.

Long she traveled through the endless ocean, with no friends to cheer her on, except for the white sea-birds that glided by, occasionally stopping to dip their wide wings beside her before flying away silently. Sometimes, large ships passed by, and with longing eyes, the little Spirit looked up at the faces peering down at the sea; often they were kind and friendly, and she would have loved to call out to them and ask for their friendship. But they could never understand the strange, sweet language she spoke, nor would they see the beautiful face smiling at them from the waves; her blue, transparent clothes appeared as just water to their eyes, and the pearl chains in her hair seemed like foam and sparkling spray. So, wishing for the sea to be gentle with them, she silently continued on her way, leaving them far behind.

At last, green hills came into view, and the waves happily carried the little Spirit along, until they gently lapped over the soft white sand and brought her to the lovely shore.

“Ah, what a beautiful place this is!” said Ripple, as she walked through sunny valleys, where flowers were starting to bloom and the young leaves rustled on the trees.

“Why are you all so happy, dear birds?” she asked, as their cheerful voices echoed all around; “is there a festival happening on earth, that everything is so beautiful and bright?”

“Don’t you know that Spring is on its way? The warm winds hinted at it days ago, and we’re learning the sweetest songs to welcome her when she arrives,” sang the lark, flying away as the music flowed from his little throat.

“Will I see her, Violet, while she travels around the world?” Ripple asked again.

“Yes, you’ll meet her soon because the sunlight told me she was close; let her know we can’t wait to see her again and are ready to welcome her back,” said the blue flower, dancing for joy on her stem as she nodded and smiled at the Spirit.

“I’ll ask Spring where the Fire-Spirits live; she travels the earth every year and can surely show me the way,” thought Ripple, as she continued on her journey.

Soon she saw Spring come smiling over the earth; sunbeams and breezes floated ahead, and then, with her white dress covered in flowers, with wreaths in her hair, and dew drops and seeds falling quickly from her hands, the beautiful season came singing by.

“Dear Spring, will you listen and help a lonely little Spirit, who’s searching everywhere for the Fire-Spirits’ home?” cried Ripple; and then explained why she was there and asked her to share what she was looking for.

“The home of the Fire-Spirits is really, really far away, and I can’t take you there; but Summer is coming after me,” said Spring, “and she might know better than I do. But I’ll give you a breeze to help you on your journey; it’ll never wear out or let you down, but will carry you smoothly over land and sea. Goodbye, little Spirit! I wish I could do more, but I have voices calling me from all around, and I can’t linger.”

“Thanks a lot, dear Spring!” cried Ripple, as she floated away on the breeze; “send a friendly word to the mother who’s waiting on the shore, and let her know I haven’t forgotten my promise, but I hope to see her again soon.”

Then Spring rushed on with her sunshine and flowers, and Ripple went quickly over hills and valleys until she arrived at the land where Summer lived. Here, the sun warmed the early fruit, the winds blew fresh over fields of fragrant hay, and rustled pleasantly among the green leaves in the forests; heavy dews gently fell at night, and long, bright days brought strength and beauty to the blossoming earth.

“Now I need to look for Summer,” said Ripple, as she floated slowly through the sunny sky.

“I’m here, what do you want from me, little Spirit?” said a musical voice in her ear; and, floating by her side, she saw a graceful figure, with green robes fluttering in the air, whose friendly face looked kindly at her, from beneath a crown of golden sunbeams that cast a warm, bright glow on everything below.

Then Ripple shared her story and asked where she should go; but Summer replied,—

“I can’t tell you any more than my younger sister Spring about where to find the Spirits you’re looking for; but like her, I’ll give you a gift to help. Take this sunbeam from my crown; it will brighten even the darkest path you walk. Goodbye! I’ll carry news of you to the watcher by the sea, if I find her there on my journey around the world.”

And Summer, sending her sunshine, faded away over the faraway hills, leaving everything green and vibrant in her wake.

So Ripple continued her journey until the land below her sparkled with golden harvests swaying in the sunlight, and the air was filled with joyful voices as the workers sang among the fields or in the lovely vineyards, where shiny purple fruit hung through the leaves. The sky above was clear, and the changing trees in the forest gleamed like a vibrant garland over the hills and plains. Here, along the ripening cornfields, with bright crowns of red leaves and golden wheat stalks in her hair and on her purple cloak, elegant Autumn moved by, wearing a happy smile on her serene face as she scattered generous gifts from her overflowing arms.

But when the wandering Spirit approached her and asked what she was looking for, this season, just like the others, couldn't direct her where to go; so, handing her a yellow leaf, Autumn said, as she continued on,—

“Ask Winter, little Ripple, when you visit his cold home; he knows the Fire-Spirits well, because when he arrives, they fly down to earth to warm and comfort the people there; maybe he can tell you where they are. So take this gift from me, and when you face his icy winds, wrap it around yourself and stay warm under its protection until you see the sunlight again. I will bring comfort to the patient woman, just like my sisters have already done, and let her know that you are still faithful.”

Then the ever-moving Breeze continued on, over forests, hills, and fields, until the sky turned dark and cold winds whistled past. Ripple, wrapped in the soft, warm leaf, looked sadly down at the earth, which seemed so lifeless and quiet under its blanket of snow, and thought about how bitterly cold the leaves and flowers must be; for the little Water-Spirit didn’t realize that Winter laid a soft white cover over their beds so they could safely sleep below until Spring would wake them up again. So she continued on sorrowfully, until Winter, riding on the powerful North-Wind, rushed by, wearing a sparkling ice crown in his flowing hair, while from beneath his red cloak, where shimmering frostwork shone like silver threads, he spread snowflakes far and wide.

“What do you want with me, lovely little Spirit, that you come so boldly here among my ice and snow? Don't be afraid; I’m warm at heart, even if I seem rough and cold on the outside,” said Winter, looking kindly at her, while a bright smile lit up his pleasant face, glowing and glistening in the frosty air.

When Ripple explained why she was there, he pointed up, where the sunlight faintly shone through the thick clouds, saying,—

“Way over there, beside the sun, is the home of the Fire Spirits; and the only way up is through clouds and mist. It's a long, strange journey for a lonely little Spirit to make; the Fairies are wild and unpredictable, and in their play, they might hurt or bother you. Come back with me, and don’t take this risky trip to the sky. I’ll happily take you home again, if you’ll come.”

But Ripple said, “I can’t go back now, when I’m almost there. The Spirits definitely won’t hurt me when I explain why I’m here; and if I get the flame, I’ll be the happiest Spirit in the sea, because I’ll have kept my promise, and the poor mother will be happy again. So goodbye, Winter! Speak to her gently, and tell her to keep hoping, because I will definitely come.”

“Goodbye, little Ripple! May good angels watch over you! Travel bravely on, and take this snowflake that will never melt, as MY gift,” Winter shouted, as the North Wind carried him away, leaving a trail of falling snow behind.

“Now, dear Breeze,” said Ripple, “fly straight up through the air, until we get to the place we've been searching for; Sunbeam will go ahead to light the way, Yellow-leaf will protect me from heat and rain, while Snow-flake will stay here beside me until it’s needed. So goodbye to the lovely earth, until we return. And now, let’s go, up to the sun!”

When Ripple first started her light journey, everything was dark and gloomy; thick clouds were stacked like hills around her, and a cold mist filled the air. But the Sunbeam, like a star, illuminated the path, the leaf wrapped warmly around her, and the tireless wind blew quickly on. They floated higher and higher, while the air grew darker and darker, the damp mist gathered closer, and the black clouds rolled and tossed like huge waves, back and forth.

“Ah!” sighed the tired little Spirit, “will I never see the light again or feel the warm winds on my cheek? It’s such a gloomy path, and if it weren't for the Seasons’ gifts, I would have faded away a long time ago; but the dark clouds MUST clear away eventually, and everything will be bright again. So hurry along, good Breeze, and get me quickly to my destination.”

Soon, the cold mist cleared from her path, and the sunshine shone on her warmly; so she happily continued on until she found herself among the stars, where many new and strange sights awaited. With curious eyes, she looked at the bright worlds that once seemed faint and distant when she gazed at them from the sea; but now they floated around her, some glowing with a soft radiance, others encircled by bright, colorful rings, while others burned with a fierce red glare. Ripple would have loved to stay and watch them longer, for she imagined soft, sweet voices calling her, and beautiful faces seemed to gaze at her as she passed; but higher up, closer to the sun, she spotted a distant light that sparkled like a brilliant crimson star, casting a rosy glow across the sky.

“The Fire Spirits have to be there, and I can't stay here any longer,” said Ripple. She floated on steadily until a wide, bright path appeared right in front of her, leading up to a golden arch, beyond which she could see figures moving around. As she got closer, the sky became brighter, and the air grew hotter and hotter until Ripple’s leaf cloak shriveled up and could no longer protect her from the heat. Then she opened up the white snowflake and happily wrapped the soft, cool mantle around her before entering through the shining arch.

Through the red mist that surrounded her, she could see tall walls of shifting light, where orange, blue, and violet flames flickered back and forth, creating graceful shapes as they danced and glowed; and beneath these rainbow arches, little Spirits glided, near and far, wearing crowns of fire, under which their wild, bright eyes flashed; and as they spoke, sparks quickly fell from their lips. Ripple saw with wonder, through their translucent garments, that each Fairy's heart held a steady flame that never wavered or went out.

As she stood there, the Spirits gathered around her, and their hot breath could have burned her, but she pulled the snow-cloak tighter around her, saying,—

“Take me to your Queen so I can explain why I’m here and request what I need.”

So, through long corridors filled with colorful flames, they took her to a Spirit more beautiful than the others, whose crown of fire swayed like golden feathers, while the light within her chest shone bright and strong beneath her violet robe.

“This is our Queen,” the Spirits said, bowing low before her, as she turned her bright eyes toward the stranger they had brought.

Then Ripple shared how she had traveled the world searching for them, how the Seasons had generously assisted her by providing Sunbeam, Breeze, Leaf, and Flake; and how, despite many dangers, she had finally come to ask them for the magic flame that could bring the little child back to life.

When she finished her story, the spirits whispered seriously to each other, and sparks fell rapidly with every word; finally, the Fire-Queen said out loud,—

“We can’t give you the flame you’re asking for, because each of us must take it from our own hearts; and we won’t do that, because the brighter our inner fire burns, the more beautiful we become. So please don’t ask us for this; but we will gladly offer you any other gift, because we care about you and want to help you if we can.”

But Ripple asked for nothing else and, crying softly, pleaded with them not to send her back without the gift she had traveled so far to get.

“O dear, warm-hearted Spirits! Please share a little light from your own hearts, and I’m sure it will shine even brighter because of this generous act; and I will happily repay you if I can.” As she said this, the Queen, who had noticed the chain of jewels Ripple wore around her neck, responded,—

“If you give me those bright, sparkling stones, I’ll share some of my own fire with you; we don’t have such beautiful things to wear around our necks, and I really want them. Will you trade them for what I’m offering, little Spirit?”

Joyfully, Ripple handed her the chain; but as soon as it touched her hand, the jewels melted like snow and fell in bright drops to the ground. At this, the Queen’s eyes flashed, and the Spirits gathered angrily around poor Ripple, who sadly looked at the broken chain and thought in vain about what she could offer to get the thing she desired so desperately.

“I have many prettier gems than these, in my home beneath the sea; and I will collect all I can from far and wide if you grant my request and give me what I’m looking for,” she said, turning gently to the fiery Spirits, who were swirling around her fiercely.

“You need to bring each of us a jewel that won't disappear from our hands like these have,” they said, “and we will share our fire; and when the child is brought to life, you must gather all the jewels you can find from the depths of the sea, so we can test them here in the flames; but if they melt away like these, then we will keep you prisoner until you return the light we gave you. If you agree to this, then take our gift and go back home; but make sure you come back, or we will come looking for you.”

And Ripple said she would agree, even though she didn’t know if the jewels could be found; still, thinking of the promise she had made, she forgot everything else and told the Spirits that what they asked would definitely be done. So each one gave a bit of the fire from their hearts and placed the flame in a crystal vase, through which it shone and sparkled like a star.

Then, reminding her to keep all her promises to them, they led her to the golden arch and said goodbye.

So, she made her way down the glowing path, through mist and cloud, back to where she came from; until, far below, she saw the wide blue ocean she had left so long ago.

Gladly, she dove into the clear, cool waves and floated back to her lovely home, where the Spirits joyfully gathered around her, listening with tears and smiles as she shared all her many adventures and showed them the crystal vase she had brought.

“Come on,” they said, “and finish the good work you've bravely continued.” So they went to the quiet tomb, where the little child lay like a cold, still marble statue. Ripple placed the flame on his chest and watched it gleam and sparkle there, as light slowly returned to the once dim eyes, a rosy glow spread over the pale face, and breath flowed through the parted lips; the magic fire burned brighter and warmer until the child awoke from his long sleep and looked up in smiling wonder at the faces leaning over him.

Then Ripple sang with joy, and, along with her sister Spirits, dressed the child in lovely clothes made from colorful seaweed. They adorned his shining hair with long garlands of their most beautiful flowers and draped chains of bright shells around his little arms.

“Now come with us, dear child,” said Ripple; “we’ll take you safely up into the sunlight and the fresh air; for this isn’t your home, and over there, on the shore, a caring friend is waiting for you.”

So up they went, through foam and spray, until they reached the beach, where the fresh winds danced through her flowing hair, and the waves broke sparkling at her feet. The lonely mother stood there, gazing longingly across the sea. Suddenly, on a big blue wave that came rolling in, she saw the Water-Spirits smiling at her; and high above, in their bright white arms, her child reached out his hands to welcome her, while the little voice she had missed so much called out cheerfully,—

“Look, dear mother, I’ve arrived; and see what beautiful things the gentle Spirits gave me to make me look more beautiful to you.”

Then gently the huge wave broke and rolled back to the sea, leaving Ripple on the shore and the child wrapped in his mother’s arms.

“O faithful little Spirit! I would happily give you a valuable gift to show my gratitude for this kind deed; but I have nothing except this chain of little pearls: they are the tears I shed, and the sea has transformed them like this, so I could offer them to you,” the happy mother said, after her initial joy had settled, and Ripple turned to leave.

“Yes, I will happily wear your gift and see it as my most beautiful ornament,” the Water-Spirit said; and with the pearls on her chest, she left the shore, where the child was playing joyfully back and forth, and the mother’s happy smile beamed upon her until she disappeared beneath the waves.

And now another task had to be done; she had to keep her promise to the Fire-Spirits. She searched far and wide among the ocean's caves and collected all the brightest jewels sparkling there; and then she set off again with her loyal Breeze, traveling through the sky.

The Spirits happily welcomed her and took her to the Queen, where she poured out the sparkling gems she had gathered with so much effort and care. But when the Spirits tried to make them into crowns, they slipped through their fingers like colored drops of dew. Ripple watched in fear and sadness as they melted away one by one until none of the many she had brought were left. Then the Fire-Spirits looked at her in anger, and when she pleaded with them to be merciful and let her try again, saying,—

“Don’t keep me trapped here. I can’t handle the flames that sustain you, and if it weren’t for this blanket of snow, I would fade away and disappear like the jewels in your hands. Oh dear Spirits, give me another task, but let me leave this warm place, where everything feels strange and frightening to a Spirit of the sea.”

They wouldn’t listen and got closer, saying, while bright sparks flew from their lips, “We won’t let you go because you promised to be ours if the gems you brought turned out to be worthless. So throw away this cold white cloak, jump in the fire fountains with us, and help us bring back to our embrace the light we gave you for the child.”

Then Ripple collapsed onto the scorching floor, realizing that her life was almost over; she knew the hot air of the fire palace would be fatal for her. The Spirits gathered around and started to pull off her cloak; but underneath, they saw the pearl chain, glowing with a clear, soft light that shone even brighter when they touched it.

“O give us this!” they cried; “it’s way more beautiful than everything else, and it doesn’t disappear like the others do; and look how brightly it sparkles in our hands. If we can just have this, everything will be fine, and you’ll be free once again.”

And Ripple, safe again under her snowflake, happily gave them the chain and explained that the pearls they now wore proudly on their chests were made from tears that might still be flowing if it weren't for them. Then the Spirits smiled warmly at her and wanted to wrap their arms around her and kiss her cheek, but she stepped back, saying that every touch from them felt like a wound to her.

“Then, if we can’t express our joy like that, we’ll show it in another way and wish you a happy journey home. Join us,” the Spirits said, “and see the beautiful path we’ve created for you.” They took her to the tall gate, and there, from the sky to the ground, a stunning rainbow stretched its vibrant colors in the sunlight.

“This is such a nice path,” said Ripple. “Thank you, kind Spirits, for your help; and now goodbye. I would love to stay longer, but we can't stay together, and I’m really missing my cool home. Now Sunbeam, Breeze, Leaf, and Flake, go back to the Seasons where you came from, and let them know that, thanks to their thoughtful gifts, Ripple’s work is finally finished.”

Then down along the shining path laid out before her, the cheerful little Spirit glided to the sea.

“Thanks, dear Summer-Wind,” said the Queen; “we will remember the lessons you have each taught us, and when we meet again in Fern Dale, you can share more with us. And now, dear Trip, call them from the lake, because the moon is setting quickly, and we need to hurry home.”

The Elves gathered around their Queen, and while the rustling leaves were quiet, and the sweet sounds of the flowers combined with their own, they sang this

The moonlight dims on the flowers and trees,
And the stars fade away one by one;
The story is told, the song is sung,
And the Fairy feast has ended.
The night breeze sways the sleeping flowers,
And sings to them, gently and softly.
The early birds will wake up soon:
It’s time for the Elves to go.

We quietly glide over the sleeping earth,
Unseen by human eyes,
And send sweet dreams as we softly drift
Through the peaceful moonlit sky;—
For only the gentle eyes of the stars can see,
And only the flowers might understand,
The meals we have, the stories we tell:
So it's time for the Elves to go.

From birds, flowers, and bees,
We take in the lessons they teach;
And make an effort, through kind actions, to earn
A caring friend everywhere.
And even though we’re not visible on earth,
Gentle voices whisper softly,
And kind hearts happily welcome
The Elves wherever they go.

When we meet again in the Fairy dell,
May the gentle light of the silver moon
Shine on our faces just as brightly as you do now,
And keep our Elfin hearts cheerful.
Now spread your wings, for the eastern sky.
Will soon shine with sunlight.
The morning star will lead us home:
Goodbye! The Elves have to leave.

As the music stopped, the Elves gently spread their shimmering wings and quietly flew over the sleeping earth. The flowers shut their bright petals, the gentle winds hushed, because the celebration was over and the Fairy lessons had finished.