Running to the pawpaw bushes I pulled some big tender leaves.
Then I took the bark from the box and laid a leaf on it.

"Press with one of your rings," I said, "and print what you want
to say. I write to the Fairies every day that way, only I use an
old knife handle."

She tried. She spoiled two or three by bearing down so hard she
cut the leaves. She didn't even know enough to write on the
frosty side, until she was told. But pretty soon she got along
so well she printed all over two big ones. Then I took a stick
and punched little holes and stuck a piece of foxfire bloom
through.

"What makes you do that?" she asked.

"That's the stamp," I explained.

"But it's my letter, and I didn't put it there."

"Has to be there or the Fairies won't like it," I said.

"Well then, let it go," said the Princess.

I put back the bark and replaced the stone, gathered up the
scattered leaves, and put the two with writing on between fresh
ones.

"Now I must run," I said, "or Laddie will think the Gypsies have
got me sure."