ne? will you have a story,
or a song, or what will you have?"

"Of course I will have both, if I may, Mr. Moonman!" answered Puff. "I
should like to hear stories and songs every days and all nights, and
never stop!"

So I sang, and all the dolls sat up in their beds to listen. The
Jumping-Jack held up his hands with delight, and the wooden Nutcracker
grinned from ear to ear. Only Mrs. Posset sat up in the big chair, wide
awake, and heard never a word.

[Illustration]

THE FAIRY TEA-PARTY.

I went to take tea with the three little fairies
Who live in the depth of the hazel wood.
And what do you think we had for supper?
Oh! everything dainty and everything good.

There was tea in a buttercup, cream in a blue-bell,
Marigold butter and hollyhock cheese,
Slices of strawberry served in a nutshell,
And honey just brought by the liveried bees.

We sat 'neath the shade of a silvery mushroom,
All lined with pale pink, nicely fluted and quilled,
And around us the cup-moss held up its red goblets,
Each one with a dew drop like diamond filled.

We ate and we drank and we chatted together,
Till the fireflies lighted us off to our beds;
And we all fell asleep in our cots made of rose leaves,
With pillows of thistledown under our heads.

"How nice that must have been!" sighed Puffy. "I wish I could see all
the lovely things you see, Mr. Moonman! Don't you want Fluffy and me to
come up and be your little girls in the Moon? then we could see all the
wonderful things for ourselves."

"And I should not have the pleasure of telling you about them," I
replied, "which would be truly melancholy. No, no, my little one! you
are far better off where you are. But now we are to have a story, and
what shall it be about?"

"Tell her about the poor little woodmouse, Master!" said Flash, who had
been staring at Sally Bradford with all his might for ten minutes, in
the vain hope of making her wink. "The little woodmouse?" I said. "To be
sure! you mean the one that Twinkle saw in the forest the other night.
It is rather a sad story, but Puffy shall hear it. It seems, Puffy,
that Twinkle, who, as you know, is one of Flash's brothers, was in the
oak wood one night last week, wandering about as is his wont, chatting
with such flowers as were still awake, and seeing all