I know a way Of keeping near the rabbits at their play. They tell me of the cool and shady nooks Where waterfalls disturb the placid brooks That I may go and frolic in the spray. I know a way Of catching dewdrops on a night in May, And threading them upon a spear of green, That through their sides translucent may be seen The sparkling hue that emeralds display. I know a way Of trapping sunbeams as they nimbly play At hide-and-seek with meadow-grass and flowers, And holding them in store for dreary hours When winds are chill and all the sky is gray. I know a way Of stealing fragrance from the new-mown hay And storing it in flasks of petals made, To scent the air when all the flowers fade And leave the woodland world to sad decay. I know a way Of coaxing snowflakes in their flight to stay So still awhile, that, as they hang in air, I weave them into frosty lace, to wear About my head upon a sultry day. Dorothy, crouching down in the thicket, listened to this little song with great delight; but she was extremely sentimental where poetry was concerned, and it happened that when she heard this last verse she clasped her hands in a burst of rapture and exclaimed in quite a loud voice, "Oh, delicious!" This was very unfortunate, for the song stopped short the instant she spoke, and for a moment everything was perfectly silent; then the little voice spoke up again, and said, "Who is that?" "It's I," said Dorothy. "It's two eyes, if it comes to that," said the little voice; "I can see them through the bushes. Are you a rabbit?" "No," said Dorothy, laughing softly to herself, "I'm a child." "Oh!" exclaimed the voice. It was a very little Oh; in fact, it sounded to Dorothy as if it might be about the size of a cherry-stone, and she said to herself, "I verily believe it's a fairy, and she certainly can't be a bit bigger than my thumb--my regular thumb, I mean," she added, holding up her hand and looking at the size of it with great contempt. Then the little voice spoke up again and said, "And how big are you?" "I'm about three inches tall," said Dorothy; and she was so excited by this time at the prospect of seeing a real live fairy for the first time in her life, that she felt as if a lot of flies were running up and down on the back of her neck. "Dear me!" exclaimed the little voice, expressing great astonishment in its small way. "Why, there's hardly enough of you to put in a corner." Dorothy reflected for a moment and then called out, "But, you know, _that_ depends altogether on the size of the corner." "Oh, no, it doesn't!" said the little voice, very confidently. "All corners are the same size if you only get close enough to 'em."