THE FAIRY DRESSMAKERS

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 164, 1 October 1927, Page 27 (Supplement)

THE FAIRY DRESSMAKERS

PRIZE-WINNING STORY

One bright summer day when Annie was gathering cosmos in her garden she spied a pretty pink bloom, and at once plucked it. To her surprise the petals were quivering, and she was certain she could hear someone crying. Peering closely into the flower she discovered a pixie, clothed in the whitest of thistledown. In his hand he clutched a pair of tiny silver scissors. To Annie’s dismay he was weeping bitterly. “You selfish mortal,” he cried, “you have ruined the fairy queen’s new party frock, and I shall be thrown into the lachenalia prison, where I shall have to make suits for the fairy policemen.” “I am so sorry,” was all poor Annie could say. “It’s too late to be sorry now,” sobbed the pixie, “but if you will give me back my flower, I shall take you to see the fairy dressmakers.” “Oh,” said Annie, “I should love to see them.”

With that the pixie skipped over to the hollyhocks that were growing near the garden wall and knocked thrice on one of the stems.

Suddenly the door flew open, and Annie found herself in the fairy town.

Pixies were running hither and thither, carrying bluebell cups of pollen and honey, and emptying- them carefully into yellow crocus basins. “These are the fairy chemists, who make prescriptions for the sick fairy folk, but come, or I shall not be able to show you the fairy seamstresses.” They passed through a long hall and entered a room, larger and prettier than any other Annie had seen. Tiny sewing machines stood on mushroom tables, and seated at each was a dainty elf.

“These little folk make frocks for all the fairies, and the colours as you see are grey for the goblins, blue for the elves, black for the gnomes, and white for the pixies.”

“But,” asked Annie, “where do you find the pretty robes for your queen?” “From the choicest flowers that grow in this wonderful world,” answered the pixie. “Quick! Here is a fairy about to make a frock for the queen. See it is of pink camellias, and ” That was all Annie remembered. Pixies, fairies, elves and sewing machines vanished, and she found herself in her own garden. Many times did she try to find the door in the holly-hocks, but in vain, and she has seen neither the pixie nor the fairy dressmakers since. —Nola Craig (aged 12).