Next Rose took the arms of a sofa, two legs of a chair, and two feet of a table. Then she went back to her own little room. “You poor old clock,” she said to her now faceless friend, “I must rob you again. Please, I want your two hands for my little sister.” And the clock had to give her his hands, whether he could spare them or not. Then Rose remembered that the baby must have nails on her hands and feet. So she tiptoed very softly into Mamma’s room and got twenty nails from the little carpenter’s chest which Mamma kept in her closet.
By this time the pillowcase had grown very heavy and hard to carry, like Santa Claus’s wonderful pack. Moreover, Rose was tired, for she had been roaming around for a long time collecting the pieces of her little sister.
“I think I must have everything now,” she sighed, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “Such a funny bundle! I hope little Sister will not look very queer with all these strange kinds of features and things. I wish the Queen of the Fairies would come and tell me what to do next.”
Just at that moment Rose blinked and stopped talking, for in at the window on a ray of moonlight came walking the Fairy Queen herself. She smiled at Rose and nodded when she saw the big bundle.
“Good!” she said. “You have done well. I hope that you haven’t forgotten anything, for that would be awkward.” Rose shook her head positively. “Very well,” went on the Fairy, “now empty out your bundle upon the floor at the foot of the bed, put the pillowcase on the pillow and go to sleep. As soon as your eyes are closed tight I will see what my fairies can do with the pieces which you have collected. But mind, you must not peep.”
“No, I promise not to peep,” said Rose, and obediently she went to bed and closed her eyes tight, and before she knew it she was sound asleep.
Rose slept and slept and slept, later than usual. And it was not until the old clock called out, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight!” that she opened her eyes with a pop and stared at him hard. How could a clock speak without a face? But there the old fellow stood, smiling at her as usual, with his hands pointing up and down quite correctly.
“Then it was only a dream after all!” sighed Rose, and there were two tears in her eyes as she thought of the little sister whom she had hoped to see this morning. “There wasn’t any Fairy Queen, and I didn’t go about last night collecting eyes and ears and hands for a new baby. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”
Just then there was a knock on the door, and Papa came into the room. “Wake up, my little Rose,” he said, “and see what I have to show you here! Something came in the night, something new and nice that you have wanted for a long time.”
“Oh, Papa,” gasped Rose, “what is it? Not a—not a little sister?”