told Mary Alice how she had always been "a bit daft about hair." "When
I played with my dolls," she said, "I always cared much more for
combing their hair and doing it up with mother's 'invisible' pins, than
for dressing them. And it used to be the supreme reward for goodness
when I could take down my mother's beautiful hair and play with it for
half an hour. I'm always wanting to play with lovely hair. And when I
saw yours at the theatre the other evening, I couldn't rest until I'd
asked your godmother if she thought you'd let me play with it."

So after luncheon they went into Mary Alice's room and wouldn't let
Godmother go with them. "Not at all!" said the "what to do fairy,"
"you are the select audience. You go into the drawing-room and
'compose yourself.' When we're ready for you, we'll come out."

Then, behind locked doors, with much delightful nonsense and
excitement, she divested Mary Alice's head of sundry awful rats and
puffs, combed out the bunches which Mary Alice wore in her really
lovely hair, brushed smooth the traces of the curling iron, and then
made Mary Alice shut her eyes and "hope to die" if she "peeked once."

When permission to "peek" was given, Mary Alice didn't know herself.

"There!" said the fairy, when the excitement of Godmother's delight had
subsided, "I've always said that the three most important beauty
fairies for a girl to find are the how-to-stand fairy, the how-to-dress
fairy, and the what-to-do-with-your-hair fairy. Anybody can find them
all; and nobody who has found them all needs to feel very bad if she
can't find some of the others who have her christening gifts."

Mary Alice began looking for the others, right away. But even one