“Of course,” said Norval; and each went up to his own page, and said, “Thank you very much.”
“That’s right,” said the fairy; and the pages smiled and made a bow—just an ordinary bow, not whirling round as they had done before, for, of course, pages cannot turn over of themselves.
DINNER IS SERVED.
“And now you must be hungry, dears, after your long journey,” said the fairy, giving a graceful wave of her hand towards the three pages. In an instant they were down on one knee with the golden wheels supported on their heads, like three lovely Dresden-china art tables, while their caps, which they tossed on the ground, grew and shaped themselves into silver stools. And how it came about the boys never could make out, but there was a neat little dinner laid out on the top of each wheel; and still more curious, each boy had his own favourite dish, only nicer to look at and better to taste than they had ever had it before. While they feasted, low strains of music sounded sweetly through the air, and a chorus of many voices, clear as the crystal brook, but gentle as its murmur, sang[1]—
GOOD ADVICE.
1.
“Boys of earth, be brave, be true,
Linger not at vice’s call;
Cords of love are drawing you,
Chains that guide but not enthral.