ng twigs.

The candles, red, green, yellow, brown and orange, stood circlewise on a
table by which the Tree Man sat, carving a doll out of a stick. A
workbasket on the table was overflowing with bright threads and pieces
of queer cloth.

Eric saw these things because just for a minute he was too shy to look
at the people in the room. Almost at once he had to look at the Tree
Man, however, for he came and shook him by the shoulders. Eric had been
shaken by the shoulders before, so he shrank away. But this was very
different from Mrs. Freg's shakings. The Tree Man was chuckling, not
scolding, and the dark eyes that Eric looked up above the long white
beard to find were friendly and wise.

"Do not fear us, little Earth Child," he said. "It is we that have cause
to fear you. You have only to blink your eyes, pretend to be knowing,
and we are nothing. But your eyes are so wide and so clear, we trust
you. Ivra told us there was not the tiniest shadow in them, not even the
shadow of leaf. Only hunger. But we're not afraid of hunger. Come, have
a good time at the party."

Then the Tree Girl, the Tree Man's daughter, came to him. She was shy,
and shook all her soft brown hair about her cheeks. A circle of little
yellow leaves kept her hair from her eyes, which, in spite of her
bashfulness, were steady and kind like her father's. "I am glad you are
here." she said. From that minute Eric felt at home in the tree.

Eric and Ivra were the first of the guests. The others perhaps had been
too scared to come. But soon knock after knock sounded at the door, and
in flocked the Forest People who had been invited.

First came the Bird Fairies, five of them together, merry and good
little creatures as ever lived in the wood. They had arrived only that
day from their summer homes in the far north, 'way up among the
snow-barrens. They always spent the winter in this wood, living in the
empty birds' nests and spending their time making up songs to teach the
birds that would come back in the spring. Bird Fairies cannot sing a
note themselves, nor carry an air, but they make up fine songs for the
spring birds, who while they can sing with beautiful voices really have
but few ideas.

They are fluffy, cuddly, swift little creatures, tiny and quiet. One
might think them of little account just at first, but not for long. For
they are the farthest-traveled of all the Forest People, except the Wind
Creatures only. Now they were fluttering in,