“DID you ever see a fairy, grannie?” said Trots.

“No,” she said, “but my great-grandmother did.”

“Oh, do tell me!” cried Trots.

“Well, once upon a time, as she was carrying her butter to market, she picked up a crooked sixpence. And with it, and what she sold her butter for, she bought a little black pig. Now, coming home, she had to cross the brook; so she picked piggy up in her arms and carried her over the brook. And, lo, instead of a pig, there was a little fairy in her arms!”

“Oh!” cried Trots, “what was it like?”

“Well, it had a red cap on its head, and a green frock, and it had gauzy wings, and it wanted to fly away, but great-grandmother held it tight.

“‘Please let me go,’ said the fairy.

“‘What will you give me?’ said great-grandmother.

“‘I will give you one wish,’” answered the fairy.

So great-grandmother thought and thought what was the best thing to wish for, and at last she said,—

“‘Give to me and to my daughters to the eleventh generation the lucky finger and the loving heart.’

“‘You have wished a big wish,’ said the fairy, ‘but you shall have it.’” So she kissed great-grandmother’s eyes and mouth, and then she flew away.

“And did the wish come true?” asked Trots.

“Always—always,” answered grannie. “We have been since then the best spinners and knitters in all the countryside, and the best wives and daughters.”

“But,” said Trots, “what will the eleventh generation do when the wish stops and the good-luck?”

“I don’t know,” said grannie, shaking her head. “I suppose they’ll have to catch a fairy of their own.”