ssy willow buds made a wreath in her
hair.

"Spring, spring!" she cried as she came up the path. "We heard the sap
running in our tree all night. Father has gone on a spring wandering,
and I shall stay within tree no longer for a while."

"We know, we know!" crowed Ivra. "_I_ knew before my eyes were open this
morning. Eric had to smell the ground first. Imagine! We have been
cleaning house. Mother will surely come now. Don't _you_ feel it?"

The Tree Girl lifted her face up in the new warm wind. Her soft hair
floated feather-like. "Yes, I feel it. She is on the way. Spring brings
everything."

A bird flashed from the trees. It lighted on the hedge for a second and
was away again. But Eric had had time to recognize the beautiful bird he
had seen caged in the Witch's fir.

"The caged bird!" he cried to Ivra. "It is free! It is flying away."

The Bird Fairies were flying away, too. They were going to meet the
birds corning up from the south and teach them their songs as they flew.
They came to say good-by to the children.

"Look for us next winter," they called back, as they fluttered off in a
silvery cloud.

And finally, at high noon, just as Ivra had known she would since early
morning, Helma came,--running through the forest, jumping the hedge, and
gathering Ivra and Eric into her arms.

They three knelt on the ground by the spring flowers embracing each
other for a long, long minute.

"Did you find the key to that gate?" Eric asked when his breath came
back, "Or did they let you come at last."

"I didn't have to find the key, and they didn't let me come. They would
never have done that. But the minute I had on a light spring frock I
found I could climb the wall easily enough, and so I came running all
the way. And now they shall never get me back behind doors again. I am
free! I am as free as you, my children!"

She held them off and looked into their eyes.

She was dressed in a brown silk gown, all torn and stained from her
wall-climbing and rush through the bushes. Her feet were bare, for she
had kicked off her funny high-heeled city boots the minute she had
reached the forest. Her hair had grown to her shoulders and looked more
like flower petals than ever. But her face was not brown and serene, as
Eric had first seen it. It was pale and wild.

"They don't believe in you, children," she said. "They don't believe in
me, not the me that I am. And from morning to night they made me a
slave. They made