to you?"

The Masked Lady seemed surprised by this question, until she perceived
the little man with the note-book. Then she replied lightly--"Oh--him!
That's Mr. Literal. No, he doesn't belong with me. Quite the
contrary. Though I believe he likes to be seen in my company."

Everychild stared at the little man called Mr. Literal. "I don't like
his looks at all," he admitted. "Maybe he'll go away after awhile?"

The Masked Lady aroused herself slightly. "I can tell you something
about him," she said. "He's . . . you know the kind of boy who is
forever tagging along--when you want to go anywhere, I mean? Who is
forever disagreeing with you, and wanting things done in a different
way? Who winds up by tattling? A tattle-tale I think perhaps you call
it."

Everychild nodded his head. "You mean a snitch?" he asked.

The Masked Lady flinched a little, though she smiled too. "Is that the
word?" she asked. "Well, I've no doubt it's as good as another. If
you like you may think of Mr. Literal as a--a snitch."

The little man made a period on his note-book and drew his pencil away
with a precise movement. He looked at the Masked Lady with a smug
smile. "That word _snitch_," he said. "It's entirely out of place,
you know--after you've once introduced Aladdin and Hansel and Grettel
in your story. And a giant. It's slang, and it came into use long
after the race of giants became extinct."