"Yes mine, my very own. Mr. Furniture brought it me from—from somewhere. I don't remember the name of the place, but I know it's somewhere in the country that's the shape of a boot."
"Italy," said Bee, whose geography was not quite so hazy as Rosy's.
"Yes, I suppose it's Italy, but I don't care where it came from as long as I've got it. Oh, isn't it lovely? I may wear it for best. Won't it be pretty with a quite white frock? And, Bee, they said something, but perhaps I shouldn't tell."
"Don't tell it then," said Bee, whose whole attention was given to the necklace. "O Rosy, I am so glad you've got such a pretty thing. Don't you feel happy?" and she looked up with such pleasure in her eyes that Rosy's heart was touched.
"Bee," she said quickly, "I do think you're very good. Are you not the least bit vexed, Bee, that you haven't got it, or at least that you haven't got one like it?"
Beata looked up with real surprise.
"Vexed that I haven't got one too," she repeated, "of course not, Rosy dear. People can't always have everything the same. I never thought of such a thing. And besides it is a pleasure to me even though it's not my necklace. It will be nice to see you wearing it, and I know you'll let me look at it in my hand sometimes, won't you?" touching the beads gently as she spoke. "See, Fixie," she went on, "what lovely colours! Aren't they like fairy beads, Fixie?"
"Yes," said Fixie, "they is welly pitty. I could fancy I saw fairies looking out of some of them. I think if we was to listen welly kietly p'raps we'd hear fairy stories coming out of them."
"Rubbish, Fixie," said Rosy, rather sharply. She was too fond of calling other people's fancies "rubbish." Fixie's face grew red, and the corners of his mouth went down.
"Rosy's only in fun, Fixie," said Bee. "You shouldn't mind. We'll try some day and see if we can hear any stories—any way we could fancy them, couldn't we? Are you going to put on the beads now, Rosy? I think I can fasten the clasp, if you'll turn round. Yes, that's right. Now don't they look lovely? Shall we run back to the house to let your mother see it on? O Rosy, you can't think how pretty it looks."