Fairyfoot put him down, and stood and watched him while he walked forward with a very grand manner. He went straight to the gayest and largest group he could see. It was a group of gentlemen fairies, who were crowding around a lily of the valley, on the bent stem of which a tiny lady fairy was sitting, airily swaying herself to and fro, and laughing and chatting with all her admirers at once. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely; indeed, it was disgracefully plain that she was having a great deal of fun. One gentleman fairy was fanning her, one was holding her programme, one had her bouquet, another her little scent bottle, and those who had nothing to hold for her were scowling furiously at the rest. It was evident that she was very popular, and that she did not object to it at all; in fact, the way her eyes sparkled and danced was distinctly reprehensible. [Illustration: ALMOST IMMEDIATELY THEY FOUND THEMSELVES IN A BEAUTIFUL LITTLE DELL.] "You have engaged to dance the next waltz with every one of us!" said one of her adorers. "How are you going to do it?" "Did I engage to dance with all of you?" she said, giving her lily stem the sauciest little swing, which set all the bells ringing. "Well, I am not going to dance it with all." "Not with _me_?" the admirer with the fan whispered in her ear. She gave him the most delightful little look, just to make him believe she wanted to dance with him but really couldn't. Robin Goodfelllow saw her. And then she smiled sweetly upon all the rest, every one of them. Robin Goodfellow saw that, too. "I am going to sit here and look at you, and let you talk to me," she said. "I do so enjoy brilliant conversation." All the gentlemen fairies were so much elated by this that they began to brighten up, and settle their ruffs, and fall into graceful attitudes, and think of sparkling things to say; because every one of them knew, from the glance of her eyes in his direction, that he was one whose conversation was brilliant; every one knew there could be no mistake about its being himself that she meant. The way she looked just proved it. Altogether it was more than Robin Goodfellow could stand, for it was Gauzita who was deporting herself in this unaccountable manner, swinging on lily stems, and "going on," so to speak, with several parties at once, in a way to chill the blood of any proper young lady fairy--who hadn't any partner at all. It was Gauzita herself. He made his way into the very centre of the group. "Gauzita!" he said. He thought, of course, she would drop right off her lily stem; but she didn't. She simply stopped swinging a moment, and stared at him. "Gracious!" she exclaimed. "And who are you?" "Who am I?" cried Mr. Goodfellow, severely. "Don't you remember me?" "No," she said, coolly; "I don't, not in the least." Robin Goodfellow almost gasped for breath. He had never met with anything so outrageous in his life.