Girls of blasée eighteen became young for the first time since they left the nursery; gilded youths resisted tendencies towards brainless talk and inelegant posing; oldsters, whose dyed hair and waxed moustaches whispered grey stories, forgot affectations and selfishness; ladies of middle age declined to be wall-flowers longer. They asked idlers to partner them in a natural feminine way. Hilarity was alive. The card-room was abandoned. Fairies were helping lovers along the happy pathway. The clock most musically clanged twelve in sympathy. "My love," declared Barnett Q., panting, to his wife, "this is the best we have ever had." "The dear Duchess!" said she. There was little credit for the fairies from her. The dance and the party went on, and momentarily grew brighter with joy. Supper-time came. The meal was to have been a series of snacks, fizz and rushes as usual; but June ruled otherwise. She had learned that the time men are more likely to be serious, and are certainly most easily influenced, is meal-time; so she ordained that the whole company of guests should go to the supper-room together, and although this necessitated some give-and-take and a great deal of squeezing--borne by young couples with a patience beyond their years--it was managed. Plates and cutlery were soon a-clatter, and the hum of happy conversation arose. Meanwhile, the elves distributed themselves amongst the company. Their time had come. June, with Bim marching behind her, went along the tables to make sure that her helpers were in their places. Wine-glasses were touched with magic. The champagne sparkled with extra enchantment. June danced back to her place at the head of the chief table, and rapped the knuckles of Mr. Moss. He rose, raised a glass, and proposed a loyal toast. It was drunk with cordiality. The company, sipping their wine, absorbed magic. "Now," he said, as June put the compelling crown upon him, "I’m going to ask you to drink another toast, what I will call the toast of the evening, ’The Fairies’!" The outburst of enthusiasm that followed reminded June of the banquet at the Mansion House. New wine, enchanted, was poured into glasses wand-touched. The liquor carried fresh inspiration to the human lips. "The Fairies! The Fairies! Oberon! Titania!" the guests cried. June and Company--all except wingless Bim, who perforce must stay squatting on a bunch of purple grapes--flew above and about, pouring charms on the mortals; singing a song whilst flying which the men-things nearly heard. The flying procession went gaily trailing thrice round the room; then the fairies dropped back to their proper places. The shouting now must wait a while. June gave Barnett Q. a peremptory command. He was obedient as a marionette. "May I make a speech?" he asked his guests. "You must!" was the unanimous answer. He struck the attitude of oratory, and successfully overcame his lingering tendency to Yankee mannerisms.