"They'd go on strike," said the Brown Owl (he was head of the Ministry of Wisdom). "They always go on strike if they don't like anything." "Then we'll go on strike," said the Queen with great determination. They all cheered, except the Flower-fairies. "But the flowers," they said, "they'll get so dusty with no one to wash them, and so tired with no one to fold them up at nights." "I hadn't thought of that," said the Queen. "When _they_ go on strike," she said to the Brown Owl, "how do things get done?" The Brown Owl considered for a moment and everyone waited in silence. "Of course there are sometimes blacklegs," he began. "I don't know what blacklegs are," said the Queen cheerfully, "but we'll appoint some." And she did. "Is that all?" said the Queen. "Someone ought to have a sympathetic strike with us," said the Brown Owl. "_They_ always do that." So a fairy was sent off to the Court of the Birds to request a sympathetic strike. "Is _that_ all?" said the Queen. "You ought to _talk_ more," said the Brown Owl. "_They_ talk ever so much." "Yes, but they can't help it, can they?" said the Queen kindly. And so the strike began that evening. None of the birds sang except one little blackleg Robin, who sang so hard in his efforts to make up for the rest that he was as hoarse as a crow the next morning. The blackleg fairies had a hard time too. They hadn't a minute to gossip with the flowers, as they usually did when they flew round with their acorn-cups of dew and thistledown sponges and washed their faces and folded up their petals and kissed them good-night. "But what's the matter?" said the flowers sleepily. "We're on strike," said one of the other fairies importantly "not for ourselves, but for posterity." The Brown Owl had heard _them_ say that. Meanwhile the rest of the fairies sat silent and rather mournful, awaiting developments. Then a Thought-fairy flew in. Thought-fairies can see into your heart and know just what you think. They get terrible shocks sometimes. "I've been all over the world," she said breathlessly, "and it's much better than you think. _All_ little girls believe in us and--" She paused dramatically. "Yes?" they said eagerly. "All fathers of little girls believe in us." The Queen shook her head. "They only pretend," she said. "No, that's just it," said the Thought-fairy. "They _pretend_ to pretend. They never tell anyone, but they really believe." "Then we'll end the strike," said the Queen. Here the Brown Owl bustled in, carrying a little note-book. "I've found out lots more," he said excitedly. "We must have an executive and delegates and a ballot and a union and a Sankey Commission report and a scale of the cost of living and a datum line and--" "But the strike's over," said the Queen. "It was a misunderstanding." "Of course," he said huffily. "All strikes are that, but it's correct to carry them on as long as possible." "And the blacklegs are to have a special reward."