was at last finished
true as true, and they had to leave it and return to the dance. They
all kissed their hands to it as they went away, and the last to go was
Brownie. She stayed a moment behind the others to drop a pleasant dream
down the chimney.

All through the night the exquisite little house stood there in the Figs
taking care of Maimie, and she never knew. She slept until the dream
was quite finished and woke feeling deliciously cosy just as morning was
breaking from its egg, and then she almost fell asleep again, and then
she called out, "Tony," for she thought she was at home in the nursery.
As Tony made no answer, she sat up, whereupon her head hit the roof,
and it opened like the lid of a box, and to her bewilderment she saw all
around her the Kensington Gardens lying deep in snow. As she was not in
the nursery she wondered whether this was really herself, so she pinched
her cheeks, and then she knew it was herself, and this reminded her
that she was in the middle of a great adventure. She remembered now
everything that had happened to her from the closing of the gates up to
her running away from the fairies, but however, she asked herself, had
she got into this funny place? She stepped out by the roof, right over
the garden, and then she saw the dear house in which she had passed the
night. It so entranced her that she could think of nothing else.

"Oh, you darling, oh, you sweet, oh, you love!" she cried.

Perhaps a human voice frightened the little house, or maybe it now knew
that its work was done, for no sooner had Maimie spoken than it began to
grow smaller; it shrank so slowly that she could scarce believe it
was shrinking, yet she soon knew that it could not contain her now. It
always remained as complete as ever, but it became smaller and smaller,
and the garden dwindled at the same time, and the snow crept closer,
lapping house and garden up. Now the house was the size of a little
dog's kennel, and now of a Noah's Ark, but still you could see the smoke
and the door-handle and the roses on the wall, every one complete.
The glow-worm light was waning too, but it was still there. "Darling,
loveliest, don't go!" Maimie cried, falling on her knees, for the little
house was now the size of a reel of thread, but still quite complete.
But as she stretched out her arms imploringly the snow crept up on all
sides until it met itself, and where the little house had been was now
one unbroken expanse of snow.