she won't let you come. But if you came without telling, how could she
mind?"

"That sounds true,--but someway it can't be," said Ivra. And that seemed
to end it.

But after a little the Beautiful Wicked Witch began another story. This
one was about a frock she had made, a wonderful thing all of cobwebs and
violet petals, with tiniest rosebuds around the neck. If Ivra were to
slip that frock over her head, and unbraid her funny little pigtails,
she would look as pretty as any fairy in the world.

Ivra was not too young to want to be pretty. If she would only go to the
Beautiful Wicked Witch's house, she could try on that dress, and wear it
for one whole day if she liked. Ivra clasped her hands. But then she
thought, and asked a question. "Could I play in it, and run and climb?
Would I be as free as in this little old brown smock?"

The Beautiful Wicked Witch raised her hands in horror. "My cobweb frock!
Why, it would be ruined! It would be in shreds! How can you even think
of treating it so!"

So Ivra shook her head until her funny little pigtails flopped from side
to side. "I don't want to wear it then for even a minute. What fun would
there be?"

"Well, think about it anyway," said the Beautiful Wicked Witch, and rose
to go away. "It's the fir, you know, beyond the white birch."

"Thank you for the stories," said the children.