"He was telling the truth," I assured her. "Father doesn't believe in Fairies, and mother laughs, but Laddie and I know. Do you believe in Fairies?" "Of course I do!" she said. "Then you know that this COULD be an Enchanted Wood?" "I have found it so," said the Princess. "And MAYBE this is a Magic Carpet?" "It surely is a Magic Carpet." "And you might be the daughter of the Queen? Your eyes are 'moonlit pools of darkness.' If only your hair were stronger, and you knew about making sunshine!" "Maybe it is stronger than I think. It never has been tested. Perhaps I do know about making sunshine. Possibly I am as true as the wood and the carpet." I drew away and stared at her. The longer I looked the more uncertain I became. Maybe her mother was the Queen. Perhaps that was the mystery. It might be the reason she didn't want the people to see her. Maybe she was so busy making sunshine for the Princess to bring to Laddie that she had no time to sew carpet rags, and to go to quiltings, and funerals, and make visits. It was hard to know what to think. "I wish you'd tell me plain out if you are the Queen's daughter," I said. "It's most important. You can't have this letter unless I KNOW. It's the very first time Laddie ever trusted me with a letter, and I just can't give it to the wrong person." "Then why don't you leave it where he told you?" "But you have gone and found the place. You started to take it once; you would again, soon as I left." "Look me straight in the eyes, Little Sister," said the Princess softly. "Am I like a person who would take anything that didn't belong to her?" "No!" I said instantly. "How do you think I happened to come to this place?" "Maybe our woods are prettier than yours." "How do you think I knew where the letter was?" I shook my head. "If I show you some others exactly like the one you have there, then will you believe that is for me?" "Yes," I answered. I believed it anyway. It just SEEMED so, the better you knew her. The Princess slipped her hand among the folds of the trailing pale green skirt, and from a hidden pocket drew other letters exactly like the one I held. She opened one and ran her finger along the top line and I read, "To the Princess," and then she pointed to the ending and it was merely signed, "Laddie," but all the words written between were his writing. Slowly I handed her the letter. "You don't want me to have it?" she asked. "Yes," I said. "I want you to have it if Laddie wrote it for you--but mother and father won't, not at all." "What makes you think so?" she asked gently. "Don't you know what people say about you?" "Some of it, perhaps." "Well?" "Do you think it is true?"