“Oh, no! no! no!” said the dryad, “no matter how good you are to me, I shall be very careful. And can you tell me where there is a large oak tree?”
“I do not remember any,” said the girl, “but I expect you sorely need one for you must feel cold in the evening.”
“Oh, no!” said the dryad, “I am not cold. But what a beautiful hat you are making! Such lovely silk and lace you are putting on it!”
“Yes,” said the girl, holding up the hat before the lamp, “I am trying to make it pretty, but this silk is tarnished; it has lost a good deal of its color. My step-mother thinks it is good enough for me and so I must do the best I can with it.”
“Poor girl!” said the dryad, “she ought to give you the nicest stuffs there are in the village, you are so pretty.” And, moved by pity and affection, she was about to give the girl a kiss of sympathy, but remembering just in time that that would never do, she kissed the hat. Instantly the silk and the lace were as bright and new as if they had just come out of the shop. The dryad exclaimed with delight.
“Look! look!” she cried, “did you ever see more charming colors?”
The girl had never seen more charming colors, but her countenance fell.
“They are very pretty,” she said, “but what an old-fashioned hat! It looks like one of those hats people used to wear ten years ago.”
Now the poor dryad was greatly troubled. “Have I spoiled it?” she said. “Oh! I shall be too sorry if I have done that.”