Everybody has heard of the Little
House in the Kensington Gardens,
which is the only house in the
whole world that the fairies
have built for humans. But no
one has really seen it, except
just three or four, and they
have not only seen it but slept
in it, and unless you sleep in
it you never see it. This is
because it is not there when
you lie down, but it is there
when you wake up and step outside.
In a kind of way everyone may
see it, but what you see is not
really it, but only the light
in the windows. You see the light
after Lock-out Time. David, for
instance, saw it quite distinctly
far away among the trees as we
were going home from the pantomime,
and Oliver Bailey saw it the
night he stayed so late at the
Temple, which is the name of
his father's office. Angela Clare,
who loves to have a tooth extracted
because then she is treated to
tea in a shop, saw more than
one light, she saw hundreds of
them all together, and this must
have been the fairies building
the house, for they build it
every night and always in a different
part of the Gardens. She thought
one of the lights was bigger
than the others, though she was
not quite sure, for they jumped
about so, and it might have been
another one that was bigger.
But if it was the same one, it
was Peter Pan's light. Heaps
of children have seen the light,
so that is nothing. But Maimie
Mannering was the famous one
for whom the house was first
built.
Maimie was always rather a
strange girl, and it was at night
that she was strange. She was
four years of age, and in the
daytime she was the ordinary
kind. She was pleased when her
brother Tony, who was a magnificent
fellow of six, took notice of
her, and she looked up to him
in the right way, and tried in
vain to imitate him and was flattered
rather than annoyed when he shoved
her about. Also, when she was
batting she would pause though
the ball was in the air to point
out to you that she was wearing
new shoes. She was quite the
ordinary kind in the daytime.
But as the
shades of night fell, Tony,
the swaggerer, lost
his contempt for Maimie and eyed
her fearfully, and no wonder,
for with dark there came into
her face a look that I can describe
only as a leary look. It was
also a serene look that contrasted
grandly with Tony's uneasy glances.
Then he would make her presents
of his favourite toys (which
he always took away from her
next morning) and she accepted
them with a disturbing smile.
The reason he was now become
so wheedling and she so mysterious
was (in brief) that they knew
they were about to be sent to
bed. It was then that Maimie
was terrible. Tony entreated
her not to do it to-night, and
the mother and their coloured
nurse threatened her, but Maimie
merely smiled her agitating smile.
And by-and-by when they were
alone with their night-light
she would start up in bed crying "Hsh!
what was that?" Tony beseeches
her! "It was nothing--don't,
Maimie, don't!" and pulls the
sheet over his head. "It is coming
nearer!" she cries; "Oh, look
at it, Tony! It is feeling your
bed with its horns--it is boring
for you, oh, Tony, oh!" and she
desists not until he rushes downstairs
in his combinations, screeching.
When they came up to whip Maimie
they usually found her sleeping
tranquilly, not shamming, you
know, but really sleeping, and
looking like the sweetest little
angel, which seems to me to make
it almost worse.
But of course it was daytime
when they were in the Gardens,
and then Tony did most of the
talking. You could gather from
his talk that he was a very brave
boy, and no one was so proud
of it as Maimie. She would have
loved to have a ticket on her
saying that she was his sister.
And at no time did she admire
him more than when he told her,
as he often did with splendid
firmness, that one day he meant
to remain behind in the Gardens
after the gates were closed.
"Oh, Tony," she would say,
with awful respect, "but the
fairies will be so angry!"
"I daresay," replied
Tony, carelessly.
"Perhaps," she said, thrilling, "Peter
Pan will give you a sail in his
boat!"
"I shall make him," replied
Tony; no wonder she was proud
of him.
But they should not have talked
so loudly, for one day they were
overheard by a fairy who had
been gathering skeleton leaves,
from which the little people
weave their summer curtains,
and after that Tony was a marked
boy. They loosened the rails
before he sat on them, so that
down he came on the back of his
head; they tripped him up by
catching his boot-lace and bribed
the ducks to sink his boat. Nearly
all the nasty accidents you meet
with in the Gardens occur because
the fairies have taken an ill-will
to you, and so it behoves you
to be careful what you say about
them.
Maimie was
one of the kind who like to
fix a day for doing
things, but Tony was not that
kind, and when she asked him
which day he was to remain behind
in the Gardens after Lock-out
he merely replied, "Just some
day;" he was quite vague about
which day except when she asked "Will
it be to-day?" and then he could
always say for certain that it
would not be to-day. So she saw
that he was waiting for a real
good chance.
This brings us to an afternoon
when the Gardens were white with
snow, and there was ice on the
Round Pond, not thick enough
to skate on but at least you
could spoil it for to-morrow
by flinging stones, and many
bright little boys and girls
were doing that.
When Tony and his sister arrived
they wanted to go straight to
the pond, but their ayah said
they must take a sharp walk first,
and as she said this she glanced
at the time-board to see when
the Gardens closed that night.
It read half-past five. Poor
ayah! she is the one who laughs
continuously because there are
so many white children in the
world, but she was not to laugh
much more that day.
Well, they went up the Baby
Walk and back, and when they
returned to the time-board she
was surprised to see that it
now read five o'clock for closing
time. But she was unacquainted
with the tricky ways of the fairies,
and so did not see (as Maimie
and Tony saw at once) that they
had changed the hour because
there was to be a ball to-night.
She said there was only time
now to walk to the top of the
Hump and back, and as they trotted
along with her she little guessed
what was thrilling their little
breasts. You see the chance had
come of seeing a fairy ball.
Never, Tony felt, could he hope
for a better chance.
He had to feel
this, for Maimie so plainly
felt it for him. Her
eager eyes asked the question, "Is
it to-day?" and he gasped and
then nodded. Maimie slipped her
hand into Tony's, and hers was
hot, but his was cold. She did
a very kind thing; she took off
her scarf and gave it to him! "In
case you should feel cold," she
whispered. Her face was aglow,
but Tony's was very gloomy.
As they turned
on the top of the Hump he whispered
to her, "I'm
afraid Nurse would see me, so
I sha'n't be able to do it."
Maimie admired
him more than ever for being
afraid of nothing
but their ayah, when there were
so many unknown terrors to fear,
and she said aloud, "Tony, I
shall race you to the gate," and
in a whisper, "Then you can hide," and
off they ran.
Tony could
always outdistance her easily,
but never had she
known him speed away so quickly
as now, and she was sure he hurried
that he might have more time
to hide. "Brave, brave!" her
doting eyes were crying when
she got a dreadful shock; instead
of hiding, her hero had run out
at the gate! At this bitter sight
Maimie stopped blankly, as if
all her lapful of darling treasures
were suddenly spilled, and then
for very disdain she could not
sob; in a swell of protest against
all puling cowards she ran to
St. Govor's Well and hid in Tony's
stead.
When the ayah reached the gate
and saw Tony far in front she
thought her other charge was
with him and passed out. Twilight
came on, and scores and hundreds
of people passed out, including
the last one, who always has
to run for it, but Maimie saw
them not. She had shut her eyes
tight and glued them with passionate
tears. When she opened them something
very cold ran up her legs and
up her arms and dropped into
her heart. It was the stillness
of the Gardens. Then she heard
clang, then from another part
clang, then clang, clang far
away. It was the Closing of the
Gates.
Immediately
the last clang had died away
Maimie distinctly
heard a voice say, "So that's
all right." It had a wooden sound
and seemed to come from above,
and she looked up in time to
see an elm tree stretching out
its arms and yawning.
She was about
to say, "I never
knew you could speak!" when a
metallic voice that seemed to
come from the ladle at the well
remarked to the elm, "I suppose
it is a bit coldish up there?" and
the elm replied, "Not particularly,
but you do get numb standing
so long on one leg," and he flapped
his arms vigorously just as the
cabmen do before they drive off.
Maimie was quite surprised to
see that a number of other tall
trees were doing the same sort
of thing, and she stole away
to the Baby Walk and crouched
observantly under a Minorca Holly
which shrugged its shoulders
but did not seem to mind her.
She was not in the least cold.
She was wearing a russet-coloured
pelisse and had the hood over
her head, so that nothing of
her showed except her dear little
face and her curls. The rest
of her real self was hidden far
away inside so many warm garments
that in shape she seemed rather
like a ball. She was about forty
round the waist.
There was a good deal going
on in the Baby Walk, when Maimie
arrived in time to see a magnolia
and a Persian lilac step over
the railing and set off for a
smart walk. They moved in a jerky
sort of way certainly, but that
was because they used crutches.
An elderberry hobbled across
the walk, and stood chatting
with some young quinces, and
they all had crutches. The crutches
were the sticks that are tied
to young trees and shrubs. They
were quite familiar objects to
Maimie, but she had never known
what they were for until to-night.
She peeped
up the walk and saw her first
fairy. He was a
street boy fairy who was running
up the walk closing the weeping
trees. The way he did it was
this, he pressed a spring in
the trunk and they shut like
umbrellas, deluging the little
plants beneath with snow. "Oh,
you naughty, naughty child!" Maimie
cried indignantly, for she knew
what it was to have a dripping
umbrella about your ears.
Fortunately
the mischievous fellow was
out of earshot, but
the chrysanthemums heard her,
and they all said so pointedly "Hoity-
toity, what is this?" that she
had to come out and show herself.
Then the whole vegetable kingdom
was rather puzzled what to do.
"Of course it is no affair
of ours," a spindle tree said
after they had whispered together, "but
you know quite well you ought
not to be here, and perhaps our
duty is to report you to the
fairies; what do you think yourself?"
"I think you should not," Maimie
replied, which so perplexed them
that they said petulantly there
was no arguing with her. "I wouldn't
ask it of you," she assured them, "if
I thought it was wrong," and
of course after this they could
not well carry tales. They then
said, "Well-a-day," and "Such
is life!" for they can be frightfully
sarcastic, but she felt sorry
for those of them who had no
crutches, and she said good-naturedly, "Before
I go to the fairies' ball, I
should like to take you for a
walk one at a time; you can lean
on me, you know."
At this they clapped their
hands, and she escorted them
up to the Baby Walk and back
again, one at a time, putting
an arm or a finger round the
very frail, setting their leg
right when it got too ridiculous,
and treating the foreign ones
quite as courteously as the English,
though she could not understand
a word they said.
They behaved well on the whole,
though some whimpered that she
had not taken them as far as
she took Nancy or Grace or Dorothy,
and others jagged her, but it
was quite unintentional, and
she was too much of a lady to
cry out. So much walking tired
her and she was anxious to be
off to the ball, but she no longer
felt afraid. The reason she felt
no more fear was that it was
now night-time, and in the dark,
you remember, Maimie was always
rather strange.
They were now
loath to let her go, for, "If the fairies
see you," they warned her, "they
will mischief you, stab you to
death or compel you to nurse
their children or turn you into
something tedious, like an evergreen
oak." As they said this they
looked with affected pity at
an evergreen oak, for in winter
they are very envious of the
evergreens.
"Oh, la!" replied the oak bitingly, "how
deliciously cosy it is to stand
here buttoned to the neck and
watch you poor naked creatures
shivering!"
This made them sulky though
they had really brought it on
themselves, and they drew for
Maimie a very gloomy picture
of the perils that faced her
if she insisted on going to the
ball.
She learned
from a purple filbert that
the court was not in its
usual good temper at present,
the cause being the tantalising
heart of the Duke of Christmas
Daisies. He was an Oriental fairy,
very poorly of a dreadful complaint,
namely, inability to love, and
though he had tried many ladies
in many lands he could not fall
in love with one of them. Queen
Mab, who rules in the Gardens,
had been confident that her girls
would bewitch him, but alas,
his heart, the doctor said, remained
cold. This rather irritating
doctor, who was his private physician,
felt the Duke's heart immediately
after any lady was presented,
and then always shook his bald
head and murmured, "Cold, quite
cold!" Naturally Queen Mab felt
disgraced, and first she tried
the effect of ordering the court
into tears for nine minutes,
and then she blamed the Cupids
and decreed that they should
wear fools' caps until they thawed
the Duke's frozen heart.
"How I should love to see the
Cupids in their dear little fools'
caps!" Maimie cried, and away
she ran to look for them very
recklessly, for the Cupids hate
to be laughed at.
It is always easy to discover
where a fairies' ball is being
held, as ribbons are stretched
between it and all the populous
parts of the Gardens, on which
those invited may walk to the
dance without wetting their pumps.
This night the ribbons were red
and looked very pretty on the
snow.
Maimie walked alongside one
of them for some distance without
meeting anybody, but at last
she saw a fairy cavalcade approaching.
To her surprise they seemed to
be returning from the ball, and
she had just time to hide from
them by bending her knees and
holding out her arms and pretending
to be a garden chair. There were
six horsemen in front and six
behind, in the middle walked
a prim lady wearing a long train
held up by two pages, and on
the train, as if it were a couch,
reclined a lovely girl, for in
this way do aristocratic fairies
travel about. She was dressed
in golden rain, but the most
enviable part of her was her
neck, which was blue in colour
and of a velvet texture, and
of course showed off her diamond
necklace as no white throat could
have glorified it. The high-born
fairies obtain this admired effect
by pricking their skin, which
lets the blue blood come through
and dye them, and you cannot
imagine anything so dazzling
unless you have seen the ladies'
busts in the jewellers' windows.
Maimie also
noticed that the whole cavalcade
seemed to be
in a passion, tilting their noses
higher than it can be safe for
even fairies to tilt them, and
she concluded that this must
be another case in which the
doctor had said "Cold, quite
cold!"
Well, she followed the ribbon
to a place where it became a
bridge over a dry puddle into
which another fairy had fallen
and been unable to climb out.
At first this little damsel was
afraid of Maimie, who most kindly
went to her aid, but soon she
sat in her hand chatting gaily
and explaining that her name
was Brownie, and that though
only a poor street singer she
was on her way to the ball to
see if the Duke would have her.
"Of course," she said, "I am
rather plain," and this made
Maimie uncomfortable, for indeed
the simple little creature was
almost quite plain for a fairy.
It was difficult to know what
to reply.
"I see you think I have no
chance," Brownie said falteringly.
"I don't say that," Maimie
answered politely, "of course
your face is just a tiny bit
homely, but--" Really it was
quite awkward for her.
Fortunately
she remembered about her father
and the bazaar.
He had gone to a fashionable
bazaar where all the most beautiful
ladies in London were on view
for half-a-crown the second day,
but on his return home instead
of being dissatisfied with Maimie's
mother he had said, "You can't
think, my dear, what a relief
it is to see a homely face again."
Maimie repeated this story,
and it fortified Brownie tremendously,
indeed she had no longer the
slightest doubt that the Duke
would choose her. So she scudded
away up the ribbon, calling out
to Maimie not to follow lest
the Queen should mischief her.
But Maimie's curiosity tugged
her forward, and presently at
the seven Spanish chestnuts,
she saw a wonderful light. She
crept forward until she was quite
near it, and then she peeped
from behind a tree.
The light, which was as high
as your head above the ground,
was composed of myriads of glow-worms
all holding on to each other,
and so forming a dazzling canopy
over the fairy ring. There were
thousands of little people looking
on, but they were in shadow and
drab in colour compared to the
glorious creatures within that
luminous circle who were so bewilderingly
bright that Maimie had to wink
hard all the time she looked
at them.
It was amazing and even irritating
to her that the Duke of Christmas
Daisies should be able to keep
out of love for a moment: yet
out of love his dusky grace still
was: you could see it by the
shamed looks of the Queen and
court (though they pretended
not to care), by the way darling
ladies brought forward for his
approval burst into tears as
they were told to pass on, and
by his own most dreary face.
Maimie could
also see the pompous doctor
feeling the Duke's heart
and hear him give utterance to
his parrot cry, and she was particularly
sorry for the Cupids, who stood
in their fools' caps in obscure
places and, every time they heard
that "Cold, quite cold," bowed
their disgraced little heads.
She was disappointed not to
see Peter Pan, and I may as well
tell you now why he was so late
that night. It was because his
boat had got wedged on the Serpentine
between fields of floating ice,
through which he had to break
a perilous passage with his trusty
paddle.
The fairies
had as yet scarcely missed
him, for they could not
dance, so heavy were their hearts.
They forget all the steps when
they are sad and remember them
again when they are merry. David
tells me that fairies never say "We
feel happy": what they say is, "We
feel dancey."
Well, they were looking very
undancey indeed, when sudden
laughter broke out among the
onlookers, caused by Brownie,
who had just arrived and was
insisting on her right to be
presented to the Duke.
Maimie craned
forward eagerly to see how
her friend fared,
though she had really no hope;
no one seemed to have the least
hope except Brownie herself,
who, however, was absolutely
confident. She was led before
his grace, and the doctor putting
a finger carelessly on the ducal
heart, which for convenience
sake was reached by a little
trapdoor in his diamond shirt,
had begun to say mechanically, "Cold,
qui--," when he stopped abruptly.
"What's this?" he
cried, and first he shook the
heart like
a watch, and then put his ear
to it.
"Bless my soul!" cried
the doctor, and by this time
of course
the excitement among the spectators
was tremendous, fairies fainting
right and left.
Everybody stared
breathlessly at the Duke, who
was very much
startled and looked as if he
would like to run away. "Good
gracious me!" the doctor was
heard muttering, and now the
heart was evidently on fire,
for he had to jerk his fingers
away from it and put them in
his mouth.
The suspense was awful!
Then in a loud
voice, and bowing low, "My Lord Duke," said the
physician elatedly, "I have the
honour to inform your excellency
that your grace is in love."
You can't conceive the effect
of it. Brownie held out her arms
to the Duke and he flung himself
into them, the Queen leapt into
the arms of the Lord Chamberlain,
and the ladies of the court leapt
into the arms of her gentlemen,
for it is etiquette to follow
her example in everything. Thus
in a single moment about fifty
marriages took place, for if
you leap into each other's arms
it is a fairy wedding. Of course
a clergyman has to be present.
How the crowd
cheered and leapt! Trumpets
brayed, the moon came
out, and immediately a thousand
couples seized hold of its rays
as if they were ribbons in a
May dance and waltzed in wild
abandon round the fairy ring.
Most gladsome sight of all, the
Cupids plucked the hated fools'
caps from their heads and cast
them high in the air. And then
Maimie went and spoiled everything.
She couldn't help it. She was
crazy with delight over her little
friend's good fortune, so she
took several steps forward and
cried in an ecstasy, "Oh, Brownie,
how splendid!"
Everybody stood
still, the music ceased, the
lights went
out, and all in the time you
may take to say "Oh dear!" An
awful sense of her peril came
upon Maimie, too late she remembered
that she was a lost child in
a place where no human must be
between the locking and the opening
of the gates, she heard the murmur
of an angry multitude, she saw
a thousand swords flashing for
her blood, and she uttered a
cry of terror and fled.
How she ran! and all the time
her eyes were starting out of
her head. Many times she lay
down, and then quickly jumped
up and ran on again. Her little
mind was so entangled in terrors
that she no longer knew she was
in the Gardens. The one thing
she was sure of was that she
must never cease to run, and
she thought she was still running
long after she had dropped in
the Figs and gone to sleep. She
thought the snowflakes falling
on her face were her mother kissing
her good-night. She thought her
coverlet of snow was a warm blanket,
and tried to pull it over her
head. And when she heard talking
through her dreams she thought
it was mother bringing father
to the nursery door to look at
her as she slept. But it was
the fairies.
I am very glad
to be able to say that they
no longer desired
to mischief her. When she rushed
away they had rent the air with
such cries as "Slay her!" "Turn
her into something extremely
unpleasant!" and so on, but the
pursuit was delayed while they
discussed who should march in
front, and this gave Duchess
Brownie time to cast herself
before the Queen and demand a
boon.
Every bride
has a right to a boon, and
what she asked for
was Maimie's life. "Anything
except that," replied Queen Mab
sternly, and all the fairies
chanted "Anything except that." But
when they learned how Maimie
had befriended Brownie and so
enabled her to attend the ball
to their great glory and renown,
they gave three huzzas for the
little human, and set off, like
an army, to thank her, the court
advancing in front and the canopy
keeping step with it. They traced
Maimie easily by her footprints
in the snow.
But though they found her deep
in snow in the Figs, it seemed
impossible to thank Maimie, for
they could not waken her. They
went through the form of thanking
her, that is to say, the new
King stood on her body and read
her a long address of welcome,
but she heard not a word of it.
They also cleared the snow off
her, but soon she was covered
again, and they saw she was in
danger of perishing of cold.
"Turn her into something that
does not mind the cold," seemed
a good suggestion of the doctor's,
but the only thing they could
think of that does not mind cold
was a snowflake. "And it might
melt," the Queen pointed out,
so that idea had to be given
up.
A magnificent
attempt was made to carry her
to a sheltered spot,
but though there were so many
of them she was too heavy. By
this time all the ladies were
crying in their handkerchiefs,
but presently the Cupids had
a lovely idea. "Build a house
round her," they cried, and at
once everybody perceived that
this was the thing to do; in
a moment a hundred fairy sawyers
were among the branches, architects
were running round Maimie, measuring
her; a bricklayer's yard sprang
up at her feet, seventy-five
masons rushed up with the foundation
stone and the Queen laid it,
overseers were appointed to keep
the boys off, scaffoldings were
run up, the whole place rang
with hammers and chisels and
turning lathes, and by this time
the roof was on and the glaziers
were putting in the windows.
The house was exactly the size
of Maimie and perfectly lovely.
One of her arms was extended
and this had bothered them for
a second, but they built a verandah
round it, leading to the front
door. The windows were the size
of a coloured picture-book and
the door rather smaller, but
it would be easy for her to get
out by taking off the roof. The
fairies, as is their custom,
clapped their hands with delight
over their cleverness, and they
were all so madly in love with
the little house that they could
not bear to think they had finished
it. So they gave it ever so many
little extra touches, and even
then they added more extra touches.
For instance, two of them ran
up a ladder and put on a chimney.
"Now we fear it is quite finished," they
sighed. But no, for another two
ran up the ladder, and tied some
smoke to the chimney.
"That certainly finishes it," they
cried reluctantly.
"Not at all," cried a glow-worm, "if
she were to wake without seeing
a night-light she might be frightened,
so I shall be her night-light."
"Wait one moment," said a china
merchant, "and I shall make you
a saucer."
Now alas, it was absolutely
finished.
Oh, dear no!
"Gracious me," cried a brass
manufacturer, "there's no handle
on the door," and he put one
on.
An ironmonger added a scraper
and an old lady ran up with a
door- mat. Carpenters arrived
with a water-butt, and the painters
insisted on painting it.
Finished at last!
"Finished! how can it be finished," the
plumber demanded scornfully, "before
hot and cold are put in?" and
he put in hot and cold. Then
an army of gardeners arrived
with fairy carts and spades and
seeds and bulbs and forcing-houses,
and soon they had a flower garden
to the right of the verandah
and a vegetable garden to the
left, and roses and clematis
on the walls of the house, and
in less time than five minutes
all these dear things were in
full bloom.
Oh, how beautiful the little
house was now! But it was at
last finished true as true, and
they had to leave it and return
to the dance. They all kissed
their hands to it as they went
away, and the last to go was
Brownie. She stayed a moment
behind the others to drop a pleasant
dream down the chimney.
All through
the night the exquisite little
house stood there in the
Figs taking care of Maimie, and
she never knew. She slept until
the dream was quite finished
and woke feeling deliciously
cosy just as morning was breaking
from its egg, and then she almost
fell asleep again, and then she
called out, "Tony," for she thought
she was at home in the nursery.
As Tony made no answer, she sat
up, whereupon her head hit the
roof, and it opened like the
lid of a box, and to her bewilderment
she saw all around her the Kensington
Gardens lying deep in snow. As
she was not in the nursery she
wondered whether this was really
herself, so she pinched her cheeks,
and then she knew it was herself,
and this reminded her that she
was in the middle of a great
adventure. She remembered now
everything that had happened
to her from the closing of the
gates up to her running away
from the fairies, but however,
she asked herself, had she got
into this funny place? She stepped
out by the roof, right over the
garden, and then she saw the
dear house in which she had passed
the night. It so entranced her
that she could think of nothing
else.
"Oh, you darling, oh, you sweet,
oh, you love!" she cried.
Perhaps a human
voice frightened the little
house, or maybe it
now knew that its work was done,
for no sooner had Maimie spoken
than it began to grow smaller;
it shrank so slowly that she
could scarce believe it was shrinking,
yet she soon knew that it could
not contain her now. It always
remained as complete as ever,
but it became smaller and smaller,
and the garden dwindled at the
same time, and the snow crept
closer, lapping house and garden
up. Now the house was the size
of a little dog's kennel, and
now of a Noah's Ark, but still
you could see the smoke and the
door-handle and the roses on
the wall, every one complete.
The glow-worm light was waning
too, but it was still there. "Darling,
loveliest, don't go!" Maimie
cried, falling on her knees,
for the little house was now
the size of a reel of thread,
but still quite complete. But
as she stretched out her arms
imploringly the snow crept up
on all sides until it met itself,
and where the little house had
been was now one unbroken expanse
of snow.
Maimie stamped
her foot naughtily, and was
putting her fingers to
her eyes, when she heard a kind
voice say, "Don't cry, pretty
human, don't cry," and then she
turned round and saw a beautiful
little naked boy regarding her
wistfully. She knew at once that
he must be Peter Pan.
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