oying his delight, when a far-off sound startled them
both--a sound of acclamation. Nearer and nearer it came, till the air
rang with tiny shouts and joyful clapping of hands. The voices were
respectfully hushed as a crowd of fairies advanced into the Queen's
presence; and Charley saw that Slyboots was in their midst, weary and
breathless, his wings still hidden in the spider-net, but exultantly
dragging the dead wasp by the corn-silk cord. His wee face looked
pale; but his eyes shone with the old brightness, as the Queen's
glance fell kindly and approvingly upon him.

"Did you arrive in time to save Minnie from the cruel sting?" she
said.

"I did, please your gracious Majesty," answered Slyboots.

"And did you waken her?"

"No, my Queen; I struck the wasp, and drew him outside of the window,
where I took refuge in a rose, and from thence, with my good sword, I
gave him battle. Long and fiercely we fought in the moonlight. The
little yellow butterflies crept under the leaves affrighted; the
midges in the air trembled, and whispered to each other that an
earthquake was surely at hand; but at last my enemy bit the dust, and
I pounded him till he was as dead as the prime minister's abominable
bumble-bee's mem--"

"Silence!" interrupted the Queen; but she really had to laugh, for
Slyboots looked at her with such a comical twist of his eye, which
changed to a beam of happiness as her Majesty said to him:

"You have done your task aright, and gladly we forgive you; but
remember, Slyboots, never let your love of fun carry you so far again;
and put this piece of advice in your pocket--keep out of the way of
the prime minister the next time you have tight ropes erected for your
friends to dance on."

Slyboots' face grew as red as a scarlet poppy at this allusion, and
the laugh that followed; and the Queen, seeing his confusion, said:
"Quick, Ripple--quick, Firefly--release his wings."

In a moment the fairy knights had cut away the gray network, and
Slyboots joyfully shook his wings, now brighter than ever.

Just at that moment a bugle-call sounded from the sentry at the top of
Crow Nest, and a faint twittering of a little bird was heard in a tree
skirting the hollow. The dawn was coming, lifting the dew-mist from
the lap of the earth; a faint light was streaking the east, as the
Queen, gathering her shining band, with Charley in the midst, rose in
the air, and flitted away to the cottage window. Softly they laid him