Midsummer Eve

IN a few days' time it would be Midsummer Eve, and then the little fairies have a dance and supper all to themselves. Very few people have ever been there, and even fewer know anything at all about it. Only the very best people receive invitations, and, of course, there are never very many of the best people in the world.

It is very hard indeed to be good, but—oh dear!—to be best! Why, it means being good, and going on being good, until you are so good that Mother thinks something must be the matter with you and sends for the doctor.

Anyway, the fairies sent George an invitation, but he didn't understand what it meant, for it was written on an oak leaf which Puck blew in through the bedroom window. George thought it was only a common leaf and never picked it up.

"Well, has George answered his invitation yet?" said the old frog to Puck a few days before the dance.

"No," replied Puck, "he hasn't, but he's coming."

"Coming, indeed!" croaked the frog, who had just caught a worse cold than ever. "Well, I'll believe it when I see him, and not before."

"All right," said Puck. "You'd better go home, or else you won't be able to come to the party with that cold of yours."

There was such a bustling, a running about, a flying here and a flying there in the wood all day and all night getting ready for Midsummer Eve. Such a brushing and combing, such a sewing and darning, polishing and scrubbing, and I don't know what else! Such a baking and brewing, cooking, stewing, and such nice smells! Puck carried bits of these away in his pocket, and George had the most delightful dreams of all the things he liked best to eat and drink.

Nurse smiled when he told her, and Alexander listened with his head a little on one side, hoping to hear the word 'biscuit' or 'bone.' His idea of a really good party was a pile of bones and biscuits, with leave to eat them on the drawing-room carpet. This is just as good fun as waiting outside on the stairs for the jellies and creams when there is a dinner-party at your house.

George had already forgotten about aeroplanes, and was very proud of being in trousers. When he first wore them he could not help looking down almost every minute to see if they were still there. The worst of wearing trousers is that you have to be so careful. Dogs like Alexander will jump and bump against them, leaving dirty paw-marks, just when you are not looking. Directly one begins to grow up there are really such a number of things one must think about.

George used to stand with his legs wide apart and his hands in his pockets like Father, until Nurse sewed the pockets up tight one night when he was fast asleep. Trousers without pockets are like jam tarts without jam.

George said nothing when he found it out, but in the garden after breakfast he remarked to Alexander: "When I grow up—really grow up—I am going to have pockets all over me, just as many as ever you can imagine. There will be so many that no one will ever be able to sew them up again."

Alexander nodded. After all, he might be able to keep his bones in a suit with as many pockets as that!

Midsummer Eve came at last. Everything was ready in the wood; even the old frog's cold was better, though he was still rather hoarse. The fairy ring was as smooth as velvet, and the fairy band had learned quite a number of new tunes.

Puck was as busy as he could be, and whenever there was a moment to spare he brought another piece of moss for the seat which he had been making for George. It was right in the middle of the wood in a little open space with high trees all round it. Whenever the wind came the trees rustled softly, and it sounded just as if they were putting their heads together and whispering secrets. Most of these trees were very old; so old that they had grown quite bent, and their long, twisted boughs hung down almost to the ground.

On Midsummer Eve the moon always shines brightly, and lights up the fairy ring with a soft, silvery light. No one knows whether Puck asks her to do it, but if you will look out of your window—if you can wake up at the right moment—you will see for yourself that it is quite true, for so many of the best things always happen while we are fast asleep in bed.

George went to bed as usual. Alexander flopped down on the mat outside the door and curled himself up. One by one the lights in the house went out, and soon everybody was fast asleep. It was as still as still can be.

Far, far off sounded the first notes of the fairy music. Alexander pricked up one ear for a second, then sighed and fell fast asleep again.

George turned over in his bed and began to snore. Puck flew in through the half-open window and rested for a moment on his pillow.

"It's all ready, George," he whispered. "We're only waiting for you!"

George snored a little louder.

"George!" cried Puck, "George, come along! Don't be late!"

George was dreaming. He was dreaming that he was in school saying the multiplication table, twice times, three times, and some of four times. He actually wasn't thinking about the fairies at all!

Puck sat for a moment thinking what he should do; then he flew out through the window and back to the wood.

The multiplication table, indeed! No one ever thinks of such things on Midsummer Eve. It is a time to dream of dancing, music, light, laughter, the wind in the trees, the tinkle, tinkle of water in the little brooks, the song of birds—they are all awake then—of almost anything else, but not twice times two.

The fairies were just beginning to dance when Puck flew into the middle of the ring, and he looked so angry that they all stopped, wondering what could have happened.

He could say nothing at first but "twice times four is ten," which is nonsense, but he had never learned his tables and never wanted to. He said this over and over again, just as if it were a rhyme, and they all listened, though they did not understand a bit what it meant.

"Oh, ho!" said the old frog, who was sitting there puffing himself out as if he were trying to turn himself into a toy balloon. "Oh, ho! I see what it is. George won't come after all. I told you so. Oh, ho! Oh, ho!"

"For shame!" all the fairies cried out. "For shame! Nasty old thing! You're quite glad he isn't coming."

Puck sat with his head in his hands, thinking and whispering to himself, "Three times four are seven," which was worse than ever.

The fairies felt so sorry for him. They all came and sat round him in a ring with their little heads in their hands. They did not know why he was doing this, but they did it to cheer him up. The old frog sat puffing, just as if some one had wound him up like a clockwork toy and he wasn't able to stop.

After a long time Puck looked up and said: "Well, it's no use waiting. He won't come to-night."

The old frog was so pleased when he heard this that he opened his mouth to say "I told you so," but he had puffed himself out to such a size that he fell over backward suddenly into a pool with a great splash, and never spoke another word for the rest of the evening.

"No, he won't come," said Puck, "it's no use waiting. I always thought he would learn to believe in us after a time, but he won't, he won't!" And he spun himself round on one leg like lightning a hundred times without stopping. He was really angry!

The fairies all spun themselves round on one leg too, but this made them so dizzy that they fell over one another in heaps, and for a few minutes they really didn't know whether they were on their heads or their heels. At last they were all right side up again, wondering what it was all about.

"Let's go on with the dance now!" cried Puck. "I'll tell you all about it to-morrow."

The fairy music began again; the fairies danced round the ring, and all the animals in the wood came out to watch them. The moon looked on with a smile; she was always very fond of the fairies, and never minded shining a little longer than usual if the fairies wanted to go on dancing.

At midnight they were ready for supper. First of all they had—but wait a bit!—it is not time to tell you about that yet, with George snoring away in bed, and saying his tables over and over to himself.

After supper they danced again, and acted a little play in which they pretended to be grown-up people at a party.

One fairy pretended to be Alexander, and barked "Wuff! Wuff!" so like him that all the rabbits ran back into their holes in a fright. It was delightful to hear the tinkle of the fairy laughter.

If you strike a glass very, very softly with a spoon several times, that sounds something like a fairy laughing—but not quite.

Puck had forgotten about George now, and was enjoying himself as much as the rest of them. He pretended that he was an aeroplane, and flew round and round until he looked as if he would fly away for good.

Then he turned head over heels ever so many times until you could hardly see him. Then he pretended to be the old frog, "Oh, ho! Oh, ho!" and puffed himself out and coughed until the fairies nearly died of laughing.

By and by the moon began to disappear behind a cloud. This was her polite way of saying that it was time for her to go to bed, because the sun was just getting up.

The party was at an end; and soon over the top of the hill peeped the sun, very red in the face, ready to begin his day's work.