teller in the Forest World.

And then it was Eric's turn. He had never been to a birthday party
before, and never had he made a wish for some one else. So he was a
little puzzled. But at last he had an idea and cried, "I wish that your
hair will grow golden and curly before to-morrow morning." All
princesses Ivra had ever told him about had curly golden hair, and
though she had never said it, Eric had suspected for some time that Ivra
would like that kind of hair herself. Then he puffed his cheeks and blew
out his candle, a fat green one. Ivra laughed.

"The Snow Witches would never let me keep curly hair," she said. "They'd
whip it straight in an hour."

That reminded Eric of the pine cone box and he gave it to her and told
her about it. She was almost as delighted with that as with the cake.

What a wonderful cake it was! Such food Eric had never dreamed of, and
he was a great dreamer! The frosting was over an inch thick.

Then, of course, Ivra must tell them stories. All the Forest People
loved her stories. They built a fire to keep from freezing. The Wind
Creatures sat a little way off where it was cool enough for their
comfort, but not too far to hear Ivra's clear voice. This time she told
all she knew about the birthday of this Earth, one of the most magical
and splendid and strange of her stories.

But it was the shortest day in the year, Ivra's birthday, and night fell
all too soon. Then the Tree Girl, who seldom forgot to be sensible, said
they had better go home. The littlest Forest Child was already asleep,