underneath they saw the pearl chain, shining with
a clear, soft light, that only glowed more brightly when they laid
their hands upon it.

"O give us this!" cried they; "it is far lovelier than all the rest,
and does not melt away like them; and see how brilliantly it glitters
in our hands. If we may but have this, all will be well, and you
are once more free."

And Ripple, safe again beneath her snow flake, gladly gave
the chain to them; and told them how the pearls they now placed
proudly on their breasts were formed of tears, which but for them
might still be flowing. Then the Spirits smiled most kindly on her,
and would have put their arms about her, and have kissed her cheek,
but she drew back, telling them that every touch of theirs was
like a wound to her.

"Then, if we may not tell our pleasure so, we will show it in a
different way, and give you a pleasant journey home. Come out with
us," the Spirits said, "and see the bright path we have made for you."
So they led her to the lofty gate, and here, from sky to earth,
a lovely rainbow arched its radiant colors in the sun.

"This is indeed a pleasant road," said Ripple. "Thank you,
friendly Spirits, for your care; and now farewell. I would gladly
stay yet longer, but we cannot dwell together, and I am longing sadly
for my own cool home. Now Sunbeam, Breeze, Leaf, and Flake, fly back
to the Seasons whence you came, and tell them that, thanks to their
kind gifts, Ripple's work at last is done."

Then down along the shining pathway spread before her, the happy
little Spirit glided to the sea.

"Thanks, dear Summer-Wind," said the Queen; "we will remember the
lessons you have each taught us, and when next we meet in Fern Dale,
you shall tell us more. And now, dear Trip, call them from the lake,
for the moon is sinking fast, and we must hasten home."

The Elves gathered about their Queen, and while the rustling leaves
were still, and the flowers' sweet voices mingled with their own,
they sang this

FAIRY SONG.

The moonlight fades from flower and tree,
And the stars dim one by one;
The tale is told, the song is sung,
And the Fairy feast is done.
The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,
And sings to them, soft and low.
The early birds erelong will wake:
'T is time for the Elves to go.

O'er the sleeping earth we silently pass,
Unseen by mortal eye,
And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float