see me. I should steal in and surprise
them; they would go on talking, and never guess that I was there. I
should so like it. Do elves ever lend their caps to anybody? I wish
you'd lend me yours. It must be so nice to be invisible."

"Ho," cried the elf, appearing suddenly again. "Lend my cap, indeed!
Why it wouldn't stay on the very tip of your ear, it's so small. As for
nice, that depends. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't. No, the
only way for mortal people to be invisible is to gather the fern-seed
and put it in their shoes."

"Gather it? Where? I never saw any seed to the ferns," said Toinette,
staring about her.

"Of course not--we elves take care of that," replied the little man.
"Nobody finds the fern-seed but ourselves. I'll tell you what, though.
You were such a nice child to take out the thorn so cleverly, that
I'll give you a little of the seed. Then you can try the fun of being
invisible, to your heart's content."

"Will you really? How delightful. May I have it now?"

"Bless me. Do you think I carry my pockets stuffed with it?" said the
elf. "Not at all. Go home, say not a word to any one, but leave your
bedroom window open to night, and you'll see what you'll see."

He laid his finger on his nose as he spoke, gave a jump like a
grasshopper, clapping on his cap as he went, and vanished. Toinette
lingered a moment, in hopes that he might come back, then took her
pitcher and hurried home. The woods were very dusky by this time; but
full of her strange adventures, she did not remember to feel afraid.

"How long you have been," said her mother. "It's late for a little maid
like you to be up. You must make better speed another time, my child."

Toinette pouted as she was apt to do when reproved. The children
clamoured to know what had kept her, and she spoke pettishly and
crossly; so that they too became cross, and presently went away into the
outer kitchen to play by themselves. The children were apt to creep away
when Toinette came. It made her angry and unhappy at times that they
should do so, but she did not realize that it was in great part her own
fault, and so did not set herself to mend it.

"Tell me a 'tory," said baby Jeanneton, creeping to her knee a little
later. But Toinette's head was full of the elf; she had no time to spare
for Jeanneton.

"Oh, not to-night," she replied. "Ask mother to tell you one."

"Mother's busy," said Jeanneton wistfully.

Toinette took no notice and th