“Oh! I wish I had heard what they sang about my nose,” she exclaimed regretfully.
“Your dear funny cocked nose,” whispered Johnnie’s voice a long way off.
Kitty started. How faint her guardian child had become. He was just a pale, glimmering, hovering figure.
“That is a false song you are singing. My eyes are not violets, my hair is not gold, my nose is not—” Kitty stopped breathless; she had not heard what they had sung about her nose.
“Resist! resist!” cried the guardian child, who had flown back to her shoulder.
“Resist those kind children, who admire you!” growled the sprite reproachfully.
“Pretty Kitty!—our Queen Kitty!” cried all the dancers.
With a laugh they lifted Kitty from her feet and carried her toward the palace. As she approached she caught sight of her face reflected on a sunflower. She saw the sprite standing up very straight on her left shoulder, with chest puffed out, and head perked jauntily on one side. She thought of the vain children in Punishment Land.
“Help me! help me!” she cried to her guardian child, struggling to her feet and beginning to strike out right and left and on every side.
Valiantly the guardian child answered her cry. With his rosy wings, with his tiny hands he fought for her, and the tempting children fell back; sometimes closing round her again to whisper “Pretty Kitty, pretty Kitty.” The sprite whispered, “You are pretty, you are pretty,” and tried to hold back her hands in the fight.