So saying, he produced from his pocket a small pamphlet entitled, On Transactions with Fairies; with Some Hints to Beginners. Having studied this for a moment, "I suppose," said the woodcutter, "that by 'wishes' you mean without restriction? Not anything within reason, or economies of that sort?"
The visitor looked surprised and a little hurt. "There is no such thing as reason in Fairyland," she said stiffly.
"The mistake was mine," said the woodcutter.
"Only one wish is closed to you," resumed the fairy; "you may not wish to have any more wishes."
"That's a pity," said the woodcutter, "especially as I'd only just thought of; it."
"An obvious precaution that we were obliged to take in our own interests. We lost heavily in that way at one time. But consider well. You have the choice of wealth beyond the dreams of avarice. You can become the most powerful monarch in the world. Beauty can be yours, or wisdom or piety. You can—"
"I wonder," asked the woodcutter, "if you'd mind not talking for a moment? This is a delicate crisis and demands concentration. I think that first of all," he continued thoughtfully, "I will suggest that you endow me with perfect and unalterable self-esteem for ever, so that in case I make a fool of myself over the other two wishes I shall not have the misery of perceiving it."
"It is done," said the fairy, and at once the woodcutter was sensible of an inward elation like the effect of good champagne, only more so.
"I'm really managing this rather well," he thought with a smile. "I wish the foreman of the lumber works, who called me a fool yesterday, could see me now!"