The children had been so busy chattering of fun to come, that it was all of a sudden they realised they were in a glade which looked quite enchanting, and with so many daisies about that Dulcie wanted to sit down and weave those they gathered into a chain.
"Don't wait for that," said Cyril; "carry them in my handkerchief."
But when he felt in his pockets the handkerchief was not there. He must have dropped it. Dulcie proposed that they should retrace their steps, but sweet sounds of innumerable birds came from the high trees around and filled the air—and they stayed to listen to the concert of trills, chirrups, gentle call-notes, cadences, and bursts of tremulous song. And now, against the deep blue sky hovered what looked like a cloud which suddenly separated and descended, and the Twins found themselves face to face with a most lovely being, surrounded by a ring of exquisite little creatures, who danced to the continuous music of the Wood.
Cyril and Dulcie gazed at their beautiful companion, who stepped towards them smiling graciously. She looked like a lovely young girl. Draped about her was a wondrous garment of feathers of every hue. But she was strange indeed, for her hands, clasped behind her, drew close together two enormous wings which sprouted from her shoulders and formed part of her white arms; whilst upon her shapely head among her black tresses was the aigrette of the peacock. Her attendants had no aigrette, and their feathered draperies were of sober brown. They were much smaller too, smaller even than the Twins.
"I am the Bird-Fairy," she said in cooing tones, "and you are in need of advice. I can——"
"I am the Bird-Fairy," she said
"Not exactly, thanks. You are pretty!" stammered Cyril, interrupting. "It's because—we want to go our own way—at home we—" he stopped in order to shake off Dulcie, who was tugging at his jacket.
"If you please," asked Dulcie shyly, "what advice?"