"Will they fit?" asked Pancho, breathlessly.
"Faery shoes always fit. Now reach them down and hand them round."
This Pancho did with despatch. Nine pairs of little white feet were thrust joyously into the green shoes and buckled in tight. On looking back, Pancho was quite sure that this was the happiest moment of his life. The children squealed and clapped their hands and cried:
"They fit fine!"
"Shoes is grand to wear!"
"I feel skippy."
"I feel dancy."
Whereupon they all jumped to their feet and with arms wide-spread, hand clasping hand, they ringed about the cobbler and the thorn-bush. They danced until there was not a scrap of breath left in their bodies; then they tumbled over and rolled about like a nest of young puppies, while the cobbler laughed and laughed until he held his sides with the aching.
It was here that everybody remembered about the faery penny; in fact, that was the one thing remembered by all. And this is hardly strange; if you or I ever possessed a faery penny—even in the confines of a primrose ring—we should never forget it.
It was Bridget, however, who reminded the leprechaun. "Ye haven't by any chance forgotten somethin' ye'd like to be rememberin', have ye?" she asked, diplomatically.