BY EVELYN SHARP.
Little Lady Daffany had just been betrothed to the Prince, and there were great rejoicings all over the town in consequence. The people were allowed to cheer as much as they liked, and every child in the country had a whole holiday and a penny bun, and nobody had an unhappy moment from sunrise to sunset. All the Fairies were invited to a magnificent banquet in the palace that lasted five hours and a half; and the betrothed couple sat at one end of the table, and talked to one another; and the King and Queen sat at the other end, and hoped that everything would go well. The Queen fanned herself, and murmured at intervals. "The wish of my heart"; and the King grumbled to himself because he could not get enough to eat. The King had a very healthy appetite, and he always gave a banquet whenever there was the least occasion for one.
"I really don't think we have left any one out this time," said the Queen, in a satisfied tone. One of the Fairies had been left out at the Prince's christening, and the usual misfortunes had followed in consequence.
"That is because I sent out all the invitations myself," replied the King, crushingly. "These things require only a little management."
The words were hardly out of his royal mouth when a sudden darkness fell upon the room, just as though a curtain had been drawn across the sun. One ray of sun continued to shine, however, and that was the one that shone over Lady Daffany's head; and down this one something came sliding at a terrific pace, and tumbled into a dish of peaches just in front of her. The conversation stopped with a jerk, and the people in the street ceased cheering at the same moment, though they could not have told any one why they did not go on.
"I am going to faint!" the Queen was heard to exclaim; but no one was sufficiently unoccupied to attend to her. The eyes of every one were fixed on the one ray of sunlight that shone over Lady Daffany's head into the dish of peaches on the table.
"Now that's a stupid place to keep peaches," said the cause of all this disturbance; and the funniest little man imaginable clambered out of the dish of peaches and looked inquisitively down the long table. He was very small and of a misty appearance, and he was dressed from head to foot in dull yellow fog, and his face was brimful of mischief. He looked as though he had done nothing all his life but make fun of people; for he had very small eyes that twinkled, and a very large mouth that smiled, and the rest of his face was one mass of laughter wrinkles.
"So you thought you were going to leave the Wymps out, did you?" he said, sitting down comfortably on the edge of a large salt-cellar, and swinging his legs backwards and forwards. "You will say you never heard of the Wymps next, I suppose!"
That was just what every one in the room was thinking, but no one had the courage to say so.
"To be sure! to be sure! How stupid of us not to recognize you at once!" said the Queen, who had not fainted, after all.