“I don’t know what that is, but I feel very, very queer. Please ask the Little Fiddler if he knows what is the matter with me.”
The group of pixies that had gathered around Twinkling Feet moved away in order to let the elfin musician come close to the queer-looking pixie. The little Fiddler gazed steadily at him, shook his white head, and said slowly, “A frightful thing has happened. Twinkling Feet has lost his laugh!”
“Lost his laugh!” shrieked all the other little elfs.
“He has lost his laugh!” repeated the Fiddler Pixie.
“Lost my laugh,” moaned Twinkling Feet. “Oh, please tell me what to do.”
“There is nothing to do but go and search for it. You can not dance in a pixie ring without your laugh, and mark what I say, you must find it before midnight.”
“But what if I can’t find it?” cried the frightened elf.
“Then you’ll be a pixie without a laugh—that is all,” declared the Little Fiddler.
At these awful words every pixie’s face grew sober. They looked at each other very solemnly and said, “A pixie without a laugh! How terrible!”
Then one after another they cried out. “Search for it, Twinkling Feet. Perhaps you’ll find it before midnight. Start now. Think how sad it will be if you are never able to dance in the ring again.”