Of late David has been thinking back hard about the fairy tongue, with
his hands clutching his temples, and he has remembered a number of
their phrases which I shall tell you some day if I don't forget. He
had heard them in the days when he was a thrush, and though I
suggested to him that perhaps it is really bird language he is
remembering, he says not, for these phrases are about fun and
adventures, and the birds talked of nothing but nest-building. He
distinctly remembers that the birds used to go from spot to spot like
ladies at shop-windows, looking at the different nests and saying,
"Not my colour, my dear," and "How would that do with a soft lining?"
and "But will it wear?" and "What hideous trimming!" and so on.

The fairies are exquisite dancers, and that is why one of the first
things the baby does is to sign to you to dance to him and then to cry
when you do it. They hold their great balls in the open air, in what
is called a fairy-ring. For weeks afterward you can see the ring on
the grass. It is not there when they begin, but they make it by
waltzing round and round. Sometimes you will find mushrooms inside
the ring, and these are fairy chairs that the servants have forgotten
to clear away. The chairs and the rings are the only tell-tale marks
these little people leave behind them, and they would remove even
these were they not so fond of dancing that they toe it till the very
moment of the opening of the gates. David and I once found a
fairy-ring quite warm.

But there is also a way of finding out about the ball before it takes
place. You know the boards which tell at what time the Gardens are to
close to-day. Well, these tricky fairies sometimes slyly change the
board on a ball night, so that it says the Gardens are to close at