But the fairies took no notice of what she said, till for the third time she repeated it. Then they all spoke at once.
“Her majesty wants to take a little more exercise,” they buzzed in all directions, till Louisa was so completely out of patience that she burst into tears.
“I won’t stay to be your queen,” she said, “it’s not nice at all. I want to go home to my mamma. I want to go home to my mamma. I want to go home to my mamma.”
“We don’t know what mammas are,” said the fairies. “We haven’t anything of that kind here.”
“That’s a story,” said Louisa. “There—are mammas here. I’ve seen several. There’s Mrs Brown, and there’s Lady Flossy, and there’s—no, the Chinese princesses haven’t a mamma. But you see there are two among my mamma’s own reels in her workb—.”
But before she could finish the word the fairies all set up a terrific shout. “The word, the word,” they cried, “the word that no one must mention here. Hush! hush! hush!”
They all turned upon Louisa as if they were going to tear her to pieces. In her terror she uttered a piercing scream, and—woke.
She wasn’t in bed; where was she? Could she be in the workbox? Wherever she was it was quite dark and cold, and something was pressing against her head, and her legs were aching. Suddenly there came a flash of light. Some one had opened the door, and the light from the hall streamed in. The some one was Louisa’s mamma.
“Who is in here? Did I hear some one calling out?” she exclaimed anxiously.
Louisa was slowly recovering her wits. “It was me, mamma,” she answered; “I didn’t know where I was, and I was so frightened and I am so cold. Oh mamma!”