“Why,” said she, “before I was half as high as you, I had been to the theatre ever so many times.”
She spoke with so much complacency that Helen imagined she must be a very superior person, and possessed great knowledge of the world.
While these and other thoughts were passing through her mind, the bell rang twice, and then the curtain rose.
Helen nearly uttered an exclamation of surprise, so unprepared was she for the spectacle which was presented to her dazzled gaze. The play was a fairy extravaganza, which depended for its success chiefly upon scenery and stage effect. In the first scene was represented the palace of the Queen of the fairies, crowning the summit of a hill, rising in the centre of a beautiful island. Above floated fleecy clouds, from a break in which streamed the sunshine, lending its glory to the scene.
In the foreground stood a circle of children about Helen’s age or younger, who figured as sylphs. With united voices they sang a song in honor of the Queen of the fairies, who directly afterwards was seen floating through the air above the stage, arrayed in such style as seemed befitting her illustrious rank.
So complete was the illusion to Helen, that she gazed with suspended breath and a feeling, half of awe, as if the scene she looked upon was really one of enchantment.
“Is she really a fairy?” she asked of Martha’s cousin.
“No, child, of course not. It’s Henrietta Blake. I’ve seen her in the street many a time. Once I was introduced to her.”
“What a beautiful creature she must be!” said Helen, admiringly.
“Beautiful!” repeated the cousin, with some disdain. “For my part, I don’t think she’s anything to boast of in that line. Just notice what a poor complexion she has. You’d see it if it wasn’t for the paint. You wouldn’t have thought her very fairy-like if you had seen her in at Taylor’s the other evening, eating oysters.”