"Thou, with voice so silvery clear, I your dearest wish will hear."
As Jeanette spoke the lines she held her wand above Dorothy's head.
"Song! Ah, let me always sing For the peasant, or the king, For the ones I hold most dear, For all hearts that I may cheer,"
sang Dorothy, in her clear, light little treble, and very winning she looked, as she extended her hand toward the fairy whom she implored to grant her wish.
"Sing you shall, in tones so clear That the very birds shall hear, And, in envy, cease their lay While your melody holds sway."
As Jeanette chanted the verse, she waved her wand, and Dorothy, entering the circle beside her, sang a fairy song which delighted all who listened.
The woman beside Uncle Harry seemed ill at ease, crumpling her programme, and moving restlessly upon her seat as if the little play bored her.
Uncle Harry stooped, and picked up the fan which had dropped from her lap. She looked at him as if she thought that he had intended to steal it, then, relenting, she screwed her thin lips into something like a smile.
"Thank ye," she said, as she took the fan, and glanced at his pleasant face.
Uncle Harry wished that she would speak again.
"I wish she'd give us some of her '_views_,'" he whispered to his wife, "Arabella says she has plenty of them."
"Oh, Harry, hush, unless you want her to hear you."
"I wouldn't mind," he whispered, his blue eyes twinkling with merriment.
Just at that moment, the fairy queen seated herself upon her woodland throne, and as the girls knelt before her, the red curtain rolled slowly down, hiding the little stage.
The first act was finished, and now, in the few moments before the curtain would rise, the buzz of voices whispered approval of the pretty play.
Arabella's prim little aunt looked furtively toward her neighbor. He smiled encouragingly, and she ventured to speak.
She was a little old lady and he was tall and stalwart; his handsome face was youthful, and she wished him to know that she thought him a mere boy.
"Young man, do you approve of this play-acting?" she asked.
"Oh, surely," he replied. "Who would care to see professionals, if he might, instead, see children _trying_ to act?"
She eyed him sharply to learn if he were joking, but his manner was so dignified that she did not dream that he was amused.