"I am going to sit here and look at you, and let you talk to me," she
said. "I do so enjoy brilliant conversation."

All the gentlemen fairies were so much elated by this that they began to
brighten up, and settle their ruffs, and fall into graceful attitudes,
and think of sparkling things to say; because every one of them knew,
from the glance of her eyes in his direction, that he was one whose
conversation was brilliant; every one knew there could be no mistake
about its being himself that she meant. The way she looked just proved
it. Altogether it was more than Robin Goodfellow could stand, for it was
Gauzita who was deporting herself in this unaccountable manner, swinging
on lily stems, and "going on," so to speak, with several parties at once,
in a way to chill the blood of any proper young lady fairy--who hadn't
any partner at all. It was Gauzita herself.

He made his way into the very centre of the group.

"Gauzita!" he said. He thought, of course, she would drop right off her
lily stem; but she didn't. She simply stopped swinging a moment, and
stared at him.

"Gracious!" she exclaimed. "And who are you?"

"Who am I?" cried Mr. Goodfellow, severely. "Don't you remember me?"

"No," she said, coolly; "I don't, not in the least."

Robin Goodfellow almost gasped for breath. He had never met with anything
so outrageous in his life.