For a
fairy of a tree is as much higher in rank than a fairy of the meadow
as a duchess is than a goose-girl. She was about the size of the robin
redbreast, and she was dressed all in green, except a lovely cloak of
red that, when it was folded about her, made her look very much indeed
like the redbreast himself, and she was no bit bigger than the robin
either.
"Nora Mavourneen," said the dryad, "I have been noticing that you
seem a bit sad-hearted of late, and for no reason either that anybody
knows, so if you don't mind I will take you with me for a walk this
afternoon through fairyland, and we will see if we cannot do something
to restore your good spirits again."
At these words Nora danced for joy, and you would never have been able
to guess that she had ever known a downhearted moment. So the dryad
clapped her tiny hands three times, and out of the open door into the
beech-tree stepped a little gnome who came and bowed low before them,
holding in his hands a silver salver on which lay a little pellet.
"How little was the pellet, uncle?"
"Well, what would you say if I told you that it was as small as a
humming bird's egg? Oh, you think it was smaller than that? Well, how
about the seed of a coriander? No? Then I will tell you the truth.
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