“No-o-o-o,” said they all, shaking their heads.
“My servants would have whirled you back faster than you came, and dropped you on the rug again.”
“What servants do you mean, please?” said Jaques; “we didn’t see any.”
LIKE A BIRD.
“I will show you,” said the fairy, giving a light bound to the ground, and walking across towards the bicycles, which were modestly standing at one side of the bower. She had shoes of transparent glass, with buckles of lovely sapphire; but what astonished the boys most was, that the glass was not stiff, but obeyed the movement of her beautiful feet, so that her motion was splendid, the foot curving gracefully down as she stepped, reminding the boys of one of the large stately-moving birds they had seen at the Zoological Gardens. They gazed at her in amazement, as she smoothly glided; and she, observing their surprise, said, smiling—
“So you admire my shoes. I get them from the same man who supplied my sister fairy with those she gave to Cinderella. He’s the very best maker in Fairyland.”
A PAGE OF PAGES.
As she came near the bicycles, the little men made their bow as they had done to the boys, and then raising themselves off the ground, whisked round two or three times in the air, as if in great delight. The fairy tapped each of them with her wand, and at once they became handsome pages, older and bigger than Norval, dressed in dark-blue doublets and velvet caps, with pretty ruffs round their necks that looked transparent like glass; and, with their light-blue tights and silver shoes, they were very smart. Each stood leaning on the great gold wheel, which was all that remained of the bicycles.
“Oh,” said Jaques, “we didn’t know they were real; we half thought they were only funny machines like men,”—and turning to the other boys, added, “Must not we say ‘Thank you’ to them for all their trouble?”