The Elves of Mount Fern looked beautiful that summer evening. All were elegantly dressed, and each was looking his very best, for the Dwarfs had taken great pains with the girdles.
Captain Featherweight was dressed in purple and gold, because, as he said to the other elves, kings and queens from time immemorial had always dressed in purple and gold; and as he was the representative in Templeton Gardens of the King and Queen of the elves, it was only right that he should dress to honor his rank.
Rainbow was dressed in pale blue, and with his girdle of Forget-Me-Not and a white lace collar he looked more like a flower than an elf.
Rhymo, the poet-elf, was dressed in white and green—and of course his girdle of Laurel leaves, which the three elves had designed and the Dwarfs of Cavedale had wrought.
Slumber, the dream-elf, was dressed in silvery grey, and in addition to his girdle of Eyebright and Wake-Robin, he wore a Poppy in his hair, for the Poppy, as you know, is the emblem of forgetfulness. But it was only a silver Poppy, not a real Poppy of course, for the ball was in honor of the flowers, and all the flowers were expected to join in the dance.
The Linden tree was a magnificent sight that summer evening, with its myriads of tiny fireflies twinkling like little stars. It was like giant candelabra in the centre of a ballroom, only far more beautiful. And the lawn underneath was as smooth as the smoothest velvet, and at regular intervals there were soft comfortable seats of fresh green moss-mounds.
Rhymo saw the flowers coming and burst forth into verse:
“At last the gala night appeared,
The moon was bright, the air was clear,