The doll ceased speaking, and then Marjorie saw that all the fairy people were busy writing down something on the wall behind them. There was perfect silence for a moment, and then it seemed to poor bewildered Marjorie that all those beautiful walls blazed forth terrible words about herself. "Shut her out from our favor forever." "Miserable." "Ungrateful." "Cold." "Proud." "Cruel."
"Oh!" she moaned to herself, "what can I do, what can I do?"
Suddenly the clock struck twelve. New-Year's Day had come, and in a flash toys, dolls, fairy-tale people, all seemed to melt away, and Marjorie found herself cold and weary in that strange flower garden.
She stood still a moment, and listened eagerly for the sound of the horse's rock. It came at last.
"Well," he said, gravely, "you were allowed to come out. Get up into the saddle and I'll tell you why."
Marjorie obeyed, and then said, softly,
"Please why?"
"Because you are sorry for your faults—you showed humility."
"Oh yes, indeed, I am sorry," murmured Marjorie.