ace
down from her room. Then began a long parley about the eggs and some
other produce.

Then Sally had an errand to her tiny room, and as she passed Mistress
Cory Ann's door, she saw that a queer little trunk, all hair on the
outside, and with rows of great brass-headed nails along the edges, was
standing open by the bed.

Sally had often seen the little trunk, which was always kept under
Mistress Brace's bed tightly locked. She must have made a great mistake
in leaving it open, Sally thought.

She felt for a moment that it would not be quite right to take a peep
inside the trunk.

"It does not seem proper," said the Fairy.

"I will take but a peep," Sally replied.

She was so afraid the good Fairy might try to stop her that she hurried
over to the bed and stooped down.

Ah, what a delicate, tasteful muslin cape was folded away! And there
were letters in one corner. Sally spelled them over, and thought they
made a name, but if so it was a strange one. There lay a letter.

"Oh, no, no!" cried the Fairy, as Sally took it in her hands.

"I will take but a teeny-weeny peep, good Fairy," said Sally, "but I
feel as though it might be as well for me to see some things that I will
never be told of."

But the letter gave no light to Maid Sally. Only toward the end she
read: "I have done my best, but my health is failing. Should I not live
there will be something for the one I leave." Then there was that
strange name again at the very end, the same as was on the cape. Sally
spelled it over and over, merely because it was so curious.

Goodman Kellar was moving away, and Sally ran softly to her room.

"Such a queer jumble of letters," she said to herself, still amused over
the name, that, if it really was a name, Sally could not have
pronounced. They still grouped themselves in her mind.

"Put them on paper," said her Fairy.

"I will," cried the merry maid, and with a pin she pricked the letters
on a piece of paper. This she put in a box where she kept a few childish
treasures, not any of them worth much.

Then came another great day that Sally knew all about. She had heard it
talked of at the store, and the hired men had mentioned it.

The _Belle Virgeen_ was coming up to the quay,--they called it
"kee,"--and a gay company was to meet, and a fine supper to be served
on the green at Ingleside, after the proud vessel arrived, bringing
back her Fairy Prince.

Sally had made up her mind not to go over by the hed