The boy took her hand. She was so much astonished that she did not hear her guardian child sighing in her ear, “Beware! beware!” or feel the sprite dancing on her left shoulder.
Before she knew what she was doing she was running down into the garden. The moment she reached it the sound of musical boxes burst out louder; she was surrounded by little boys and girls who looked at her with sparkling eyes. Indeed, it seemed to Kitty that everything looked at her: the peacocks on the sward, the swans on the water, the birds hovering in the air or peeping down from the branches, looked at her; the flowers and grasses stood up on tiptoe to gaze at her. She felt quite uncomfortable at attracting so much attention; she wished she had not gone out in that old school-room blue serge gown, and that the blots on her holland pinafore were not so very conspicuous.
But no one seemed to mind her shabby appearance. On the contrary, everybody and everything was bowing to her. The children bowed, the peacocks bowed; the swans, the trees, the flowers, the grass bowed.
“Why are they all bowing?” asked Kitty.
“They are all bowing to you because you are the prettiest little girl in all the world,” answered her guide. He said it very seriously, and he looked at her with admiring bright eyes; everything and everybody murmured, bowing lower and lower before her, “The prettiest little girl in all the world.” Kitty was not sure whether she was standing on her head or on her heels. Her cheeks grew as red as two red roses.
“De—e—light—ful to be so pretty!” murmured the naughty sprite, striking an attitude, setting its left paw on its hip, and rolling its eyes.
“Do not believe what they are saying. You have freckles and a little cocked nose,” whispered the guardian child.
Kitty felt her nose to feel if it was really cocked; it was cocked.
“That glass palace is mine. The walls are made of mirrors. You will see there how beautiful you are,” said the boy, who still held her hand.