ast, for the fairy raised her wand, and it flashed like a
dazzling sunbeam full in the child's eyes. She covered them with her
hands, glancing up just in time to see the fairy float away on her
silver wings.

But how came she, Bessie, on the floor, and why did it seem like a great
meadow stretching around her? The lounge had become a mountain, and the
ceiling of the room looked nearly as broad as the sky.

It was the same room, the same familiar objects, only how monstrous
everything had grown! Was that immense building in the corner her
baby-house?

Bessie's little head swam; her heart beat tumultuously. A light mocking
laugh near her made her glance quickly round.

Who was this tall figure in a trailing gray silk, looking down at her
with severe triumph in her black eyes? That chestnut hair, that
beautiful red and white complexion--could this be Augusta, her own doll?

With a scream of terror, Bessie was darting away, but waxen fingers
seized her tender little arm, closing tightly upon it. Oh, how they
hurt! She struggled and kicked, but could not get away.

"Let me go!" she cried out; "I'll pay you off well, Miss Augusta, if you
don't. Remember, you're my doll--"

"Pay me off!" cried Augusta, with another shrill laugh. "You poor silly
midget! don't you know how the fairy's wand has changed you? Why, you
don't reach to my knee. No; I am going to pay _you_ off, and handsomely
too. Grace, bring that piece of whalebone directly."

"If you dare!" cried Bessie; but Grace clattered up toward her, her
stolid countenance fairly beaming. Bessie tried to dodge behind Augusta,
but she held her tightly by both arms.

"Lay it well over her shoulders, Grace; make 'em tingle!" she cried; and
thick and fast fell the blows, while poor Bessie writhed and protested
and threatened in vain. When Grace's arm was tired, Augusta took her
turn. After beating Bessie to her heart's content, she seized the child
by her shoulders, and shook her till her head fairly turned round.

"There!" she said, tossing her on to the doll's bed in the corner; "lie
there, miss, till Winnie comes. Poor thing! she's gone away to cry
somewhere, but as soon as she comes back she shall have _her_ chance.
Come, Grace, we will go for a walk."

She walked haughtily away, followed by the admiring Grace. Poor Bessie
lay sobbing and crying. Her shoulders and back were smarting, her little
arms black and blue from the pressure of Augusta's fingers.

"I'll run