believe I can tell you all about that.

The first rule is, that it must be a _very_ hot day--that we may
consider as settled; and you must be just a _little_ sleepy--but not
too sleepy to keep your eyes open, mind. Well, and you ought to feel a
little--what one may call "fairyish"--the Scotch call it "eerie," and
perhaps that's a prettier word; if you don't know what it means, I'm
afraid I can hardly explain it; you must wait till you meet a fairy,
and then you'll know.

And the last rule is, that the crickets shouldn't be chirping. I can't
stop to explain that rule just now--you must take it on trust for the
present.

So, if all these things happen together, you've a good chance of seeing
a fairy--or at least a much better chance than if they didn't.

The one I'm going to tell you about was a real, naughty little fairy.
Properly speaking, there were two of them, and one was naughty and one
was good, but perhaps you would have found that out for yourself.

Now we really _are_ going to begin the story.

It was Tuesday afternoon, about half-past three,--it's always best to
be particular as to dates,--and I had wandered down into the wood by
the lake, partly because I had nothing to do, and that seemed to be a
good place to do it in, and partly (as I said at first) because it was
too hot to be comfortable anywhere, except under trees.

The first thing I noticed, as I went lazily along through an open place