"You little goosie," said the Princess. "I am afraid that brother Leon of yours is the biggest rogue loose in this part of the country. Didn't it ever occur to you that people named Wolfe live over there, and they call that crowd next us 'wildcats,' because they just went on some land and took it, and began living there without any more permission than real wildcats ask to enter the woods? Do you suppose I would be here, and everywhere else I want to go, if there were any danger? Did anything really harm you coming?" "You're harmed when you're scared until you can't breathe," I said. "Anyway, nothing could get me coming, because I held the letter tight in my hand, like Laddie said. If you'd write me one to take back, I'd be safe going home." "I see," said the Princess. "But I've no pencil, and no paper, unless I use the back of one of Laddie's letters, and that wouldn't be polite." "You can make new fashions," I said, "but you don't know much about the woods, do you? I could fix fifty ways to send a message to Laddie." "How would you?" asked the Princess. Running to the pawpaw bushes I pulled some big tender leaves. Then I took the bark from the box and laid a leaf on it. "Press with one of your rings," I said, "and print what you want to say. I write to the Fairies every day that way, only I use an old knife handle." She tried. She spoiled two or three by bearing down so hard she cut the leaves. She didn't even know enough to write on the frosty side, until she was told. But pretty soon she got along so well she printed all over two big ones. Then I took a stick and punched little holes and stuck a piece of foxfire bloom through. "What makes you do that?" she asked. "That's the stamp," I explained. "But it's my letter, and I didn't put it there." "Has to be there or the Fairies won't like it," I said. "Well then, let it go," said the Princess. I put back the bark and replaced the stone, gathered up the scattered leaves, and put the two with writing on between fresh ones. "Now I must run," I said, "or Laddie will think the Gypsies have got me sure." "I'll go with you past the dry creek," she offered. "You better not," I said. "I'd love to have you, but it would be best for you to change their opinion, before father or mother sees you on their land." "Perhaps it would," said the Princess. "I'll wait here until you reach the fence and then you call and I'll know you are in the open and feel comfortable." "I am most all over being afraid now," I told her. Just to show her, I walked to the creek, climbed the gate and went down the lane. Almost to the road I began wondering what I could do with the letter, when looking ahead I saw Laddie coming. "I was just starting to find you. You've been an age, child," he said. I held up the letter. "No one is looking," I said, "and this won't go in your pocket." You should have seen his face. "Where did you get it?" he asked.