under the biggest maiden's-blush in our orchard. He used the
immense beech for one corner, where I had the apple tree. His
Magic Carpet was woolly-dog moss, and all the magic about it, was
that on the damp woods floor, in the deep shade, the moss had
taken root and was growing as if it always had been there. He
had been able to cut and stick much larger willow sprouts for his
walls than I could, and in the wet black mould they didn't look
as if they ever had wilted. They were so fresh and green, no
doubt they had taken root and were growing. Where I had a low
bench under my tree, he had used a log; but he had hewed the top
flat, and made a moss cover. In each corner he had set a fern as
high as my head. On either side of the entrance he had planted a
cluster of cardinal flower that was in full bloom, and around the
walls in a few places thrifty bunches of Oswego tea and foxfire,
that I would have walked miles to secure for my wild garden under
the Bartlett pear tree. It was so beautiful it took my breath
away.

"If the Queen's daughter doesn't like this," I said softly,
"she'll have to go to Heaven before she finds anything better,
for there can't be another place on earth so pretty."

It was wonderful how the sound of my own voice gave me courage,
even if it did seem a little strange. So I hurried to the beech,
knelt and slipped the letter in the box, and put back the bark
and stone. Laddie had said that nothing could hurt me while I
had the letter, so my protection was gone as soon as it left my
hands.

There was nothing but my feet to save me now. I thanked goodness