nstantly called her
bugler, the tame Musquito, and bade him call the scattered Faeries all
about her. So they came every one about the dandelion throne, and the
herald of the Queen--the Fly in his blue coat, made proclamation that a
child had been born and that it was a rare thing, and an excellent
fortune both to Faeries and to the child, that it would be born upon the
first day of the year. "Wherefore," he concluded, "let all the Faeries
here gathered proceed as before and accompany the Queen to the place
where the child lies, and let the gifts that have been brought to the
Queen be carried by trusty servants."

So they set out as before in exactly the same order, except that the
House-Faeries and the Sea-Faeries were not there. The Daddy-long-legs
cleared the way to the door of the house, and the band of Crickets
played their sweetest air--'twas the Birth of the Daisy in fact. Arrived
at the door the Daddy-long-legs took their place in lines upon each side
of the step, and the Cricket band sate upon the scraper, for these might
not enter. But the Faeries preceded by their Queen did enter, and their
gifts went with them. They came into the room where little Janet lay.
The House-Faeries were already there with hushed movements and ordering
everything about the room. Around the bed gathered the hosts of
Faeries--even the Faeries of the stream were there, a little drier than
usual, though the House-Faeries made them keep on the outer circle.

The Queen was in the centre directly over little Janet. She bent nearer
and nearer until she stood upon the forehead. She touched it with her
lips, and that was the seal by which she signified that the newborn
child of New-Year's Day was to be gifted with all that Faeries could
give. The gifts which the Queen had received that night were freely
offered to the little child. They were laid at her feet. None there saw
them for none but the Faeries and the child could know of them. Each
Faery, too, in the fulness of love and joy offered other gifts directly
from their own nature; the Gypsy Faeries were very generous. They
withdrew then and the Queen was left alone. She had her gift yet to
bestow. "All of these," said she, "have richly endowed this child of
New-Years Day." She looked at the gifts and knew that there was one
thing wanting, yet she dreaded to bestow it. "It must be," she murmured,
and kissing once more the brow of the child, dropped a tear upon it.
Then she too left. The