“Give me your hand.”
Mateel stooped down and seized his paw, when, to her surprise, she felt herself grow smaller, or the world larger; the trees seemed as tall as the clouds; the grass and leaves that grew among them reached far above her head.
The rabbit now remarked,—
“We must go through a bit of rough country just here, so perhaps you had better hold tight to one of my ears.”
Mateel, in some alarm, grasped the friendly ear, and felt herself lifted along in tremendous jumps and leaps, over great gnarled roots, over rocks and briers, until her strength and patience were all but exhausted. Finally, they dived down what seemed the bed of a dead streamlet, came to a deep pool of water, which the rabbit took at one flying leap with Mateel clasped in his forepaws, and they found themselves in a wondrous world.
It was Fairyland. Where is it? and how shall we find it? Ah, that is the mystery; but of this you may be sure,—wherever children are, close to their homes lies Fairyland; and if only the small wild things of the wood could talk to you, perhaps you might visit it, as Mateel did.
She found herself in a court or pleasance, beautifully carpeted with the rarest moss. The richest, softest shades of brown, of fawn color, of old rose, and of tenderest green, mingled and blended in its coloring. Mateel sank down on her knees and gazed around. A soft green tint was over everything. It came through the leaves that closely roofed it over. These were supported by straight trunks, that arose to a great height, where they separated into two stems; and each stem bore a leaf that overlapped its neighbor; at the point where the stems separated, an immense creamy white blossom with a golden centre hung down like a bell.
Mateel sank down on her knees and gazed around.
“Why, they are May apple blossoms,” cried Mateel, clapping her hands in ecstasy, “Oh, how lovely! how lovely! May apple plants as large as trees.”