Teddy dropped the bird as though it had burned him, and there it was not a bird at all, but the Counterpane Fairy, who stood smoothing down her cloak and frowning. “Oh! I didn’t know that was you; I thought it was a bird,” cried Teddy. “A bird!” cried the fairy. “Do I look like a bird?” Teddy thought that she did, for her nose was long and thin, and her eyes were bright like those of a sparrow, but he did not like to say so. All he said was, “I wonder why I came here?” for now he knew that this was the place that he had been coming to. “I suppose you came to see the dreams go by,” said the Counterpane Fairy. “I often come for that myself.” “The dreams go by!” said Teddy. “I don’t know what you mean.” “Do you see that castle over yonder?” asked the fairy, pointing out across the lake. Teddy looked as hard as he could, and after a while he thought he did see the shadowy roofs and turrets of a great gray castle through the mist. “I think I do,” he said. “Well,” said the fairy, “that is where the dreams live, and every evening they go sailing past here, on their way to the people who are asleep, and I generally come down to see them go by. Look! look! There goes one now.” A little boat, as pale and light as a bubble, was gliding through the mist; in it was seated a gray figure, and as it passed the island it turned its face toward them and waved a shadowy hand. Presently two more boats slid silently by, and then another. “Oh, I know that dream!” cried Teddy; “I dreamed that dream once myself.” Now there was a little pause, and then the dreams began to go past so fast that Teddy lost count of them. At last one of the boats gilded out of the line of the rest, and over toward where Teddy was standing, running up smoothly onto the gray beach, and out of it hopped a queer, ugly little dream, with pop eyes and big hands and feet. As soon as he found himself on shore he cut a caper and cracked his shadowy fingers. “Who are you?” asked Teddy, curiously. “Oh, I’m just a dream,” said the little figure. “Well, what are you coming here for?” asked Teddy; “I’m not asleep.” “I know you’re not,” said the dream, “and I’m not coming to you. I’m going to a little girl named Harriett.” “Oh, I know her!” cried Teddy. “She’s my cousin. But why are you her dream? You’re not pretty.” “I know I’m not pretty,” answered the dream, “and that’s why I’m going to her. She was to have had such a pretty dream to-night, but she ate a piece of plum-cake before she went to bed, so now I’m going to her instead of the other one.” “What was the other one like?” asked Teddy.