_thinking_
crossly seemed in this country to be quite as bad as _speaking_ crossly,
she had to try to swallow down her vexation as well as she could.

"I was going to say," she went on quietly, "that to my taste the
village would be prettier if there was a little variety. Not all the
houses just the same, you know. And all of _you_ are so like each other,
and all your little brown wives too. Are there no _children_ dwarfs?"

"Doubtless. Any quantity," was the answer.

"Then where are they all?" said Olive. "Are they all asleep?" She put
the last question rather sarcastically, but the sarcasm seemed to be
lost on the little man.

"Yes, all asleep," he replied; "all asleep, and dreaming. Children are
very fond of dreaming," he went on, looking up at Olive with such a
queer expression, and such a queer tone in his voice too, that Olive got
a queer feeling herself, as if he meant more than his words actually
said. Could he mean to hint that _she_ was dreaming? But a remark from
the dwarf distracted her thoughts.

"Supper is ready," he said. "They are all waiting." And turning round,
Olive saw before her a cottage a good deal larger than the others; in
fact, it was almost high enough for her, with considerable stooping, to
get in at the door. And through the windows she saw a long table neatly
covered with a bright blue tablecloth, and spread with numbers of tiny
plates, and beside each plate a knife and fork and a little blue glass
cup. Two great dishes stood on the table, one at each end. Steam was
rising from each, and a delicious smell came out through the open
windows.

"I did not know I was so hungry," thought Olive; "but I do _hope_ it
isn't fir-cones."

"Yes," said the dwarf; "they'll be better done this time."

Then he gave a sort of sharp, sudden cry or whistle, and immediately all
the dwarfs of the village appeared as if by magic, and began hurrying
into the house, but as soon as they were in the middle of the passage
they fell back at each side, leaving a clear space in the middle.

"For you," said the first dwarf, bowing politely.

"Do you always have supper here altogether like that?" said Olive. "How
funny!"

"Not at all," said the dwarf; "it's a table d'hote. Be so good as to
take your place."

Olive bent her head cautiously in preparation for passing through the
door, when again the same sharp cry startled her, and lifting her head
suddenly she bumped it against the lintel. The pain of the bl