be made of frosted silver. “‘Alas! my dear children,’ she began sadly, ‘I have not the power to make you fairies again. You have lost Fairyland forever by your act of disobedience. Once banished, you cannot be recalled; beside, were it possible for me to admit you again to Fairyland, you would never be happy with us again. You have seen the glorious sunrise once, and nothing in Fairyland is so beautiful. You would constantly long for that magnificent sight again. But,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘perhaps I can render you perfectly happy in some other form upon the Earth, and in this way restore your contentment.’ “Tremblingly Prince Adelstan and his bride bade her change them, for, miserable as they were, they knew she spoke the truth. They would never be happy in Fairyland again; they would always long to see the sunrise. Then silence fell upon them all, as the Queen slowly raised her glittering wand. “Presently there arose upon the stillness of the night a most glorious sound. It was the mocking-bird raising its voice in thanksgiving and praise for happiness found again. Again and again those delicious sounds floated out on the air, filling the night with sweetness, until the very fairies stood breathless to listen. It seemed marvellous that so much sweetness of sound could be contained in such a tiny body; but the little songsters trilled and sang in glorious delight. “Only in this land of sunshine and magnolias will you find this wonderful bird. It never wanders far from the Gulf. It flourishes best amid the magnolias, and it fills the southern woods with music. It sings at all hours; at night, when the Moon is looking kindly down upon the Earth, and the Earth is serenely smiling to the Moon, its clear notes ring out joyously, until even the stars from their glittering palaces lean down to listen. But it is at the witching hour of dawn that the most wonderful of its melodies is heard. Then it awakens to watch again that miracle of the world, the mystery of the rising Sun, and as the golden spears of light streak the heavens, cutting away the white veil of mist and coloring the skies with rainbow hues, its glorious voice rings out and floods the world with music; for at that hour the mocking-bird is telling over and over again the story of that magnificent sight—the sunrise.” CHAPTER IV THE LITTLE DWELLERS IN THE MARSH [Illustration: (unlabelled)]