The next evening, at starlight, Captain Featherweight said it was time to begin preparations for the ball.

“The ballroom shall be the soft velvet lawn under the Linden tree, and we’ll dance by the light of the pale silver moon. But we’ll have to provide ourselves with fireflies too, in case a cloud should cover up the moon.

“So, Owly, you will please be diligent in catching fireflies between now and next Thursday evening, for I want thousands of them. So many fireflies, tied by gossamer threads to the lower branches of the Linden tree, will make us quite independent of the moon.

“And Lightning,” continued the Captain, “it shall be your duty to provide seats for the ladies, and I know of none more comfortable than fresh green moss-mounds. And we’ll arrange them in a circle around the Linden tree.

“And Tono, you will of course have charge of the music, and I want you to invite the butterflies to accompany the orchestra.”

said Rhymo, who never lost an opportunity to make poetry.

“Aren’t you a little late with the last verse?” asked Owly. “We’ve already invited the flowers. If you must make poetry, why not try to make it in time?”

“Good poetry is always in time,” said Rhymo. “Just ask Captain Featherweight if that isn’t so.”

But the Captain was far too busy to pay much attention to Rhymo and Owly. He was thinking about the girdles.

There is nothing an elf prizes so much as a girdle, and Captain Featherweight decided to have special girdles made just for the ball in honor of the flowers.

“Rainbow,” said he, “and you too, Iris-Wing, shall have charge of designing the girdles.”

“And see that each one is appropriate,” said Touchstone, “and since Owly is so very wise, let his girdle be made of Solomon’s-Seal.”

This pleased the other elves so much that they asked the Captain to allow Touchstone to help in designing all the girdles.

“I don’t think any one as silly as Touchstone should have charge of anything,” said Owly.

“Have a care,” said Touchstone, “or your girdle shall be made of Nettles instead of Solomon’s-Seal.”

“I’m bored,” said Owly, “and I’ll just run away until the girdle question is settled.”

“And what shall the dream-elf’s be made of?” asked Iris-Wing.

“Oh, of Eyebright and Wake-Robin,” said Touchstone.

“And Rhymo’s shall be made of Laurel leaves,” said Rainbow.

“Why not of Poet-Asters?” asked Touchstone.

But the other elves paid no attention to this joke, and Touchstone continued: “When it comes to my turn, I want to decide for myself.”

“And Lightning, our swift-footed messenger’s girdle shall be made of the common Speedwell,” said Iris-Wing.

“And Tono’s shall be made of the Bluebells of Scotland,” said Rainbow.

“And mine,” said Touchstone, “shall be made of the Jewel-weed, for a jester is always a jewel.”

“And Rainbow’s,” said the flower-elf, “shall be made of the blue Forget-Me-Not, for he will always be remembered on account of his sweetness and tact.”

“And Iris-Wing’s shall be made of the elves’ favorite flower, the tall pink Foxglove,” said Rainbow.

“And now for our Captain’s! Three cheers for the kindest of Captains! His girdle shall be made of roses—to show that his Company loves him!”

“Rainbow,” said the Captain, “I appoint you Master of Ceremonies. You shall have charge of everything, and if any disputes arise, you must settle them.

“Right! Left! Shoulder arms!”

This, as you know, meant, “Get to work.”At this command every elf scampered off in high glee.

Rainbow, Iris-Wing, and Touchstone went at once to Cavedale to talk with the Dwarfs about the girdles for the ball. And they decided that they should all be of finely wrought silver, except the Captain’s which should be made of pure gold.

Owly went in search of fireflies and brought home hundreds of them that first night, for an elf can fly faster than fireflies, and has no trouble in catching them if they can only be found.

Lightning went in search of moss-mounds, and flew back and forth so swiftly between Mount Fern and the soft woodsy dells where the moss-mounds grow that the very first evening he had almost enough for the ball.

But when he showed them to Rainbow, he found that some of them were not fresh enough, or fine enough, or high enough, or low enough, or large enough, or small enough, or firm enough, or soft enough; and he had to throw half of them away, and go in quest of more. Rainbow was very particular, and perfection was his law of life.

So the preparations went on, and when Thursday evening came around the busy little elves had everything in readiness. And when the hour of the ball drew nigh, they were waiting to receive their guests.

The Elves of Mount Fern looked beautiful that summer evening. All were elegantly dressed, and each was looking his very best, for the Dwarfs had taken great pains with the girdles.

Captain Featherweight was dressed in purple and gold, because, as he said to the other elves, kings and queens from time immemorial had always dressed in purple and gold; and as he was the representative in Templeton Gardens of the King and Queen of the elves, it was only right that he should dress to honor his rank.

Rainbow was dressed in pale blue, and with his girdle of Forget-Me-Not and a white lace collar he looked more like a flower than an elf.Rhymo, the poet-elf, was dressed in white and green—and of course his girdle of Laurel leaves, which the three elves had designed and the Dwarfs of Cavedale had wrought.

Slumber, the dream-elf, was dressed in silvery grey, and in addition to his girdle of Eyebright and Wake-Robin, he wore a Poppy in his hair, for the Poppy, as you know, is the emblem of forgetfulness. But it was only a silver Poppy, not a real Poppy of course, for the ball was in honor of the flowers, and all the flowers were expected to join in the dance.

The Linden tree was a magnificent sight that summer evening, with its myriads of tiny fireflies twinkling like little stars. It was like giant candelabra in the centre of a ballroom, only far more beautiful. And the lawn underneath was as smooth as the smoothest velvet, and at regular intervals there were soft comfortable seats of fresh green moss-mounds.

Rhymo saw the flowers coming and burst forth into verse:

Captain Featherweight was radiant in his golden girdle of roses. When the flowers appeared he and the other elves greeted them graciously, and led each one to a comfortable seat made of soft green moss-mounds.

Then Rainbow gave a signal to Tono and the music began.

The opening music was Welcome to Mount Fern!

Tono had composed the music and Rhymo the words, just for the occasion, and the beautiful flowers bowed their heads in grateful acknowledgment of the compliment that had been paid them.

When the opening music had ceased, Captain Featherweight declared that it was now time to open the ball, and with a very low bow he offered his arm to the American Beauty Rose, led her to the centre of the lawn, and the dance began.

“How beautiful you are to-night,” said the Captain.

“That’s because I’m happy to be in such good company,” said the American Beauty. “But I’m not always so happy, and lately I’ve been feeling quite blue. What do you think Doctor Templeton is going to do with the Roses? Why, only a week ago, I heard him telling his wife that he thought it looked more dignified to have nothing but lawn in the front of the house, and that he thought he would move the Rose garden to the back of the house near the shrubbery. I don’t know when I have felt so humiliated! I really don’t think I could stand it! Why, when I lived at White Oaks, I was the pride of the family, and was given the most prominent part of the garden, in front of the parlor window. And every morning early, and many times through the day, Mrs. Chesterton came to see me. And she called me ‘Queenie’ and ‘Beauty,’ and said I was a joy and delight.”

“And so you are,” said the Captain, “for everyone knows that the Rose is the queen of all flowers.”

These kind words quite cheered up the American Beauty, and she blushed a deeper crimson as she and the Captain glided away over the soft velvet lawn.

Rhymo was dancing with a Pansy.

“Look at that Daffodil over there,” said he, “see how gloomy he looks, and the Amaranth is trying to cheer him up. I’ll make a verse about him—if you are fond of poetry?”

“Yes, very,” said the Pansy.“Then listen to this,” said Rhymo, “and remember it, for it is worth remembering:

“That’s beautiful,” said the Pansy, “but I don’t know anyone more sorrowful than the Hyacinth, and if I were Captain Featherweight I wouldn’t invite either him or the Daffodil to a dance. Isn’t he afraid they’ll spoil his party?”

“He couldn’t leave them out, you know,” said Rhymo, “because all the flowers were invited; and besides, they won’t hurt anyone. And even if they should, Tono’s music would soon cheer one up again. Shall I put the Hyacinth into verse for you?”

“Please do,” said the Pansy.

“I declare I feel blue,” said the Pansy. “Can’t you think of anything more cheerful than grief and sorrow, Rhymo?”

“Yes, indeed,” said the poet-elf. “All the flowers are more cheerful than the Daffodil and Hyacinth, and we’ll not think of them any more.”

“Look at that vain Narcissus,” said the Pansy, “he always makes me angry.”

“I’ll put him into verse too if you’ll be kind enough to listen,” said the poet-elf.“Yes, indeed,” said the Pansy, who was very good-natured.

“You’re an angel,” said Rhymo, “you are so appreciative.”

“That’s fine,” said the Pansy, “but suppose you lead me to a seat and finish your verses afterwards, for I’m beginning to feel a little tired.”

When they were seated comfortably on one of the fresh green moss-mounds, a Tulip and a Lily-of-the-Valley waltzed past them, and Rhymo burst again into verse:

“Keep right on with your poetry,” said the Pansy. “Don’t stop to give comments, but make a verse as each couple passes us.”

“You’re the most delightful partner I’ve ever had,” said the poet-elf, “you’re so sympathetic.”

But here the poet-elf looked hard at the Pansy, and saw that she was fainting; so he brought her a drink of water, in an acorn cup, and begged her pardon a thousand times.

“And please don’t tell Captain Featherweight about the poetry,” implored Rhymo, “for if he thinks I’ve bored you, he’ll send me to Doomdell.”

Then Rainbow came along and asked the Pansy for the favor of a dance; and Rhymo, who saw no one without a partner, sat on a moss-mound and watched the dancers.

The music was grand, and the flap! flap! of the butterflies’ wings beat time with the strains of the orchestra.

The Elves were happy and so were their guests, for Captain Featherweight was a charming host, and even the Daffodil and Hyacinth were enjoying themselves.

The flowers were truly beautiful, and were so light and airy in their movements that it was a delight to watch them. And they danced until the morning light dimmed the glow of the fireflies; and then all the flowers, led by the American Beauty Rose, thanked Captain Featherweight for the honor he had done them, curtsied low to him and all his company, and bade them adieu.

Thus ended the ball.