No," said Dorothy, laughing softly to herself, "I'm a child."

"Oh!" exclaimed the voice. It was a very little Oh; in fact, it sounded
to Dorothy as if it might be about the size of a cherry-stone, and she
said to herself, "I verily believe it's a fairy, and she certainly can't
be a bit bigger than my thumb--my regular thumb, I mean," she added,
holding up her hand and looking at the size of it with great contempt.

Then the little voice spoke up again and said, "And how big are you?"

"I'm about three inches tall," said Dorothy; and she was so excited by
this time at the prospect of seeing a real live fairy for the first time
in her life, that she felt as if a lot of flies were running up and down
on the back of her neck.

"Dear me!" exclaimed the little voice, expressing great astonishment in
its small way. "Why, there's hardly enough of you to put in a corner."

Dorothy reflected for a moment and then called out, "But, you know,
_that_ depends altogether on the size of the corner."

"Oh, no, it doesn't!" said the little voice, very confidently. "All
corners are the same size if you only get close enough to 'em."

"Dear me!" said Dorothy to herself, "how very intelligent she is! I
_must_ have a look at her"; and, pushing the leaves gently aside, she
cautiously peeped out.

[Illustration: "PUSHING THE LEAVES GENTLY ASIDE, SHE CAUTIOUSLY PEEPED
OUT."]

It was a charming little dell, carpeted with fine moss, and with
strange-looking wild flowers and tall nodding grasses growing about the
sides of it; but, to Dorothy's astonishment, the fairy proved to be an
extremely small field-mouse, sitting up like a little pug-dog and gazing
attentively at the thicket: "and _I_ think"--the Mouse went on, as if
it were tired of waiting for an answer to its last remark--"_I_ think a
child should be six inches tall, _at least_."

This was so ridiculous that Dorothy had to put her hand over her mouth
to keep from screaming with laughter. "Why," she exclaimed, "I used to
be"--and here she had to stop and count up on her fingers as if she
were doing a sum--"I used to be eight times as big as _that_, myself."

"Tut, tut!--" said the Mouse, and the "tuts" sounded like beads dropping
into a pill-box--"tut, tut! Don't tell me such rubbish!"

"Oh, you needn't _tut_ me," said Dorothy. "It's the exact truth."

"Then I don't understand it," said the Mouse, shaking its head in a
puzzled way. "_I_ always thought children grew the other