a voice cried out from
below:

"Why, little nightcap, what brings you out of your bed so early?"

"O Aunt Wee! do you hear it--that pretty music playing somewhere near! I
can't find it; but I think it's a fairy, don't you?" said Daisy, looking
down at the young lady standing in the garden with her hands full of
roses.

Aunt Wee listened, smiled, and shook her head.

"Don't you remember you said last night that you thought the world a
very stupid, grown-up place, because there were no giants and fairies in
it now? Well, perhaps there _are_ fairies, and they are going to show
themselves to you, if you watch well."

Daisy clapped her hands, and danced about on her little bare feet; for,
of all things in the world, she most wanted to see a fairy.

"What must I do to find them, Aunt Wee?" she cried, popping out her head
again with her cap half off, and her curly hair blowing in the wind.

"Why, you see, they frolic all night, and go to sleep at dawn; so we
must get up very early, if we want to catch the elves awake. They are
such delicate, fly-away little things, and we are so big and clumsy, we
shall have to look carefully, and perhaps hunt a long time before we
find even one," replied Aunt Wee, very gravely.

"Mamma says I'm quick at finding things; and you know all about fairies,
so I guess we'll catch one. Can't we begin now? It's very early, and
this music has waked me up; so I don't want to sleep any more. Will you
begin to hunt now?"

"But you don't like to get up early, or to walk in the fields; and, if
we mean to catch a fairy, we must be up and out by sunrise every fair
morning till we get one. Can you do this, lazy Daisy?" And Aunt Wee
smiled to herself as if something pleased her very much.

"Oh! I will, truly, get up, and not fret a bit, if you'll only help me
look. Please come now to dress me, and see if you can find what makes
the music."

Daisy was very much in earnest, and in such a hurry to be off that she
could hardly stand still to have her hair brushed, and thought there
were a great many unnecessary buttons and strings on her clothes that
day. Usually she lay late, got up slowly and fretted at every thing as
little girls are apt to do when they have had too much sleep. She wasn't
a rosy, stout Daisy; but had been ill, and had fallen into a way of
thinking she couldn't do anything but lie about, reading fairy-tales,
and being petted by every one. Mamma and papa had tried all sorts of
thing