Peter Pan, who was, as usual, ready for action, whispered to Sally not to waken Bedelia. “She will be no end of a nuisance,” quoth the Teddy bear. So she was left reposing among her cubs while the rest of the party, escorted by Tim, crept cautiously downstairs and out at the front door, which they placed off the latch in order to insure their safe return.
Across the street and into the park they hurried, Tim hopping and flapping along in front. At the entrance they dimly distinguished a tiny gray figure, sitting up with its little paws crossed on its breast and its great, fluffy tail curled up, feather-like, over its back. It was Chip, eagerly awaiting their advent. He ran joyfully to meet his guests, and explained, as they hurried along, that he was sure they would enjoy the festivities soon to follow, and that he had obtained an invitation for them from the old horned owl, who was to be master of ceremonies.
They had now left the beaten path and were wading ankle deep through the dead leaves that rustled crisply under their feet. A faint, gray mist lay like a veil over the park, while low in the sky hung the crescent moon, seemingly caught and held in her place by the forked and naked branch of a tall poplar tree. Its silver beams sifted down through the pale mist, which glittered as if spangled with thousands of diamonds.
Presently the mist seemed to concentrate itself in one glimmering shape, which came gliding lightly forward toward the children with a softly rhythmic motion and apparently without touching the ground In another moment Sally discerned the figure of a little girl who appeared to be about her own age, but of so fair and frail a mold that the very moonbeams themselves seemed to penetrate through the transparency of her ethereal body. Her long, fair hair floated loosely over her shoulders and her little hands were filled with dazzling white flowers, which she pressed softly against her bosom.
Softly she floated to where the children stood, and laid her transparent little hand, whose touch was as cool and light as that of a snowflake, in Sally’s sturdy little brown palm.
“Dear children,” she exclaimed, in a voice whose faint sweetness sounded like the recollection of a chime of silver bells, “I am the guardian spirit of this place, to which I bid you welcome, the little girl for whom it was named, and who, years ago, passed into the world of spirits. These flowers I took with me, and the good God has made them immortal. They cannot wither. Nothing withers or dies in the world where I live now.”
She ceased speaking and a lovely smile irradiated her innocent little face.
Sally suddenly felt a great love spring up in her heart for this dear dream-child, so unlike any companion that she had ever before met. She longed to return the pressure of the tender little hand, but it was already gone and the child was floating fairy-like ahead of them, ever and anon turning toward them with her lovely smile as if beckoning them to follow.
They were now entering a part of the park where the trees stood thickest, forming a sort of grove, in the centre of which lay an open space. A bat drifted by on velvety wings with eyes that glared in the darkness, and the great horned owl himself presently came flying along, flapping close to the ground, and, sad to contemplate, even on such an important occasion as this was evidently engaged in a still-hunt for mice. Sally could not help wondering if he ever made an error and mistook the squirrels for lawful prey. It seemed not, as they were all so very friendly together.
A wavering but ruddy glow now began to shine through the trees while a weird melody was wafted to their ears and as the children hurried through the last rows of pine and fir, they came upon a veritable fairy ring. In the centre of the clearing a great fire of pine boughs burned merrily, while round about it danced and capered a motley crew, the like of which it has seldom fallen to mortal eyes to gaze upon.