Sally whispered in soft delight to herself, not noticing or scarcely knowing what she was saying. All her soul was steeped in wonder at the fine, the beautifully fine, things spread before her.
"But they are not for me," she sighed. "Oh, no, never can they be for me!"
"Why not?" asked the cheery voice that Sally was beginning to listen for, and to like much to hear.
"I'm so poor," answered Sally, with the usual downward look at frock, hands, and feet.
"Lift yourself up," said the voice, that seemed ever determined to help and comfort poor Sally.
"I will try," she replied. Then, in a sparkling, sunshiny way, she said to herself:
"Oh, you shall be my good Fairy, you new voice! Why not! I will call you the Fairy whenever you speak."
"Very well, then. You can call me the good Fairy, and Master Lionel can be your Fairy Prince."
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" gasped Sally. "How dreadful! How ever can I dare!"
She almost tumbled from her perch, so great appeared her presumption in allowing the thought of coming so near to the Fairy Prince even in imagination.