THE PIXIES’ THANKS
Once upon a time, and a long time ago, and a long, long time before that, a little old woman had a garden. And in this garden she planted a beautiful bed of tulips. The slim green stalks of them stood in the earth, tall and straight. And every other row of lovely cups they held was red and every other was yellow. At twilight the little old woman patted down the last of them, and went in to boil the kettle for her tea.
Now, as soon as she was gone there came peeping and tripping from the field near by a crowd of pixies. They ran between the rows, and skipped from one flower to the next, and put their slender fingers down into the cups, and clapped their fairy palms together and cried, “How lovely!” But the little old woman drinking her tea before the fire didn’t hear a word.
Well, night came, and the pixies’ teeny weeny bits of elfin babies grew sleepy. They must have bawled, though of course big ears like yours and mine couldn’t have heard them, for all of a sudden all the little pixies scampered home, crying,
“Coming,
My teeny one,
Coming,
My weeny one,
Watch glowworm