'You can begin now,' said Dolly calmly, as Mark stared blankly into his hat.
'Well,' he said, 'what do you want to know about them?'
'All about them,' said Dolly, with the air of a little person accustomed to instant obedience; Mark's letter had not quite dispelled her doubts, and she wanted to be quite certain that such cases as that of the sugar prince were by no means common.
'Well,' said Mark again, clearing his throat, 'they dance round in rings, you know, and live inside flowers, and play tricks with people—that is,' he added, with a sort of idea that he must not encourage superstition, 'they did once—of course there are no such things now.'
'Then how was it that that little girl you knew—who was not me—ate one up?'
'He was the last one,' said Mark.
'But how did he get turned into sugar? Had he done anything wrong?'
'That's how it was.'
'What was it—he hadn't told a story, had he?'
'It's exactly what he had done,' said Mark, accepting this solution gratefully; 'an awful story!'