Emily smiled at this vision criss-crossed with patches of sun and shadow. But the vision did not smile in return.
“Good morning, Princess Pink-and-white,” said Emily. “Did you come down out of the sky?”
“No,” answered the child, drawing a little nearer. “And my name is not—not that, but Mary. Do you live here?”
“Yes—this is my home,” answered Emily. “I’m the big sister of the squirrels and a cousin to the robins.”
The child looked at her carefully, then at the squirrels and then at the robin. “You are not truthful,” she said, her large eyes gazing straight into Emily’s. “My uncle says that it is dishon’able not to tell the truth.”
“Even in fun, while you are trying to make friends with Mary, Princess Pink-and-white?” Emily said this with the appearance of anxiety.
“It’s bad not to always tell the truth to young people.” She came still nearer and stood straight and serious, her hands behind her. “My uncle says they ought to hear and say only what is true.”
“Well then—what does he tell you about fairies?”
“He doesn’t tell me about them. Mamma says there are fairies, but he says he has never seen any. He says when I am older I can find out for myself.”
“And what do the other children say?”