“But I’m squeezing the oranges—”
“Then hurry up about it, please.” Caraway Cooke was not unkind, but she was very, very firm. She pointed to a small sheet of paper pinned up on the wall. “Try again to read the note I left you.”
Goldie looked over to where Caraway Cooke was pointing. There was a long list pinned to a corkboard. There were funny little doodles drawn all over it.
Avery flew over to consult the list of jobs for the day. She stared at it for a long time.
Goldie flew over to her side.
“I like the drawings,” said Goldie. “Did you do those?”
Avery nodded. “I like to draw,” she said. She was staring at the list. “Could you just . . . read it to me?”
Goldie could tell it was hard for her to ask. She smiled. “I’m not very good at reading,” she said.
Caraway Cooke dropped a spoon. Avery’s wings nearly stopped.
“Not very good at reading?” said Avery. “Then why aren’t you a—”
“Who’s not very good at reading?” Claudine’s voice cut through the kitchen. She was floating at the top of the stairs.
“I’m—” Goldie began.
“Um, what she means,” Avery said quickly, “is she’s not going to make a big fuss about my reading trouble. Breakfast will be along in just a few more minutes.”
“See that it is,” said Claudine. “Golden, you should be upstairs. This way, please.”
“I’m coming,” said Goldie, but she stayed right where she was. Claudine did not look happy.
“What was all that about?” asked Golden when Claudine had shut the door. “Why can’t I say that I’m—”
“Don’t you know?” asked Avery.
“Know what?” asked Golden.
“Don’t you know,” said Caraway Cooke very quietly, “that fairies who aren’t good at reading or numbers become serving fairies here on the mainland?” She put the scones in the oven and closed the door fiercely. “I’m a cook because I’m a Cooke sister, and it’s what I love to do. I’d very much like to have my younger sister working here too, but the Townley fairies prefer Avery—she comes cheap.”
Caraway wiped her hands on her apron. “Avery’s drawings should be in the Gallery of Fairy Art, but she has such trouble reading, don’t you, Avery?” Caraway looked at her with great tenderness. “I do my best here, but I’m no teacher. And she has no sisters to help her. She has no one at all.”
eleven
Before we go any further, I think I’d better tell you how it is that Avery had no fairy sisters, and Goldie had so many. It’s no secret that a fairy is born when a human child laughs for the first time. The Fairy Bell sisters were born of a particularly happy child; Becca was her name, and she had a bright, musical laugh. Baby Becca laughed for the first time one morning in the sunroom of her family’s house as her parents cooed over her. “Ha-hah! Hah! Aaah! Laha-ha-ha! Ho-ho!” There was a pause . . . and then she giggled a last “Hee-hee!” and finally she took a breath. (It was a big laugh for a first timer.)
Becca’s “Ha-hah!” became Tink; the second “Hah!” was Clara. “Aaah!” was Rosy, “Laha-ha-ha!” was Golden, “Ho-ho!” was Sylva, and that last “Hee-hee!” was, of course, baby Squeak.
The Fairy Bell sisters had a happy birth indeed!
But some fairies have a different beginning. Occasionally, a very sullen child manages a first laugh late in life. “Humph! Hamph!” Usually such a child is not laughing in delight, but laughing at another’s misfortune. From that sort of laugh, very unpleasant fairies are born. (Claudine and Amanda were surely the products of a “Humph! Hamph!”)
Avery was born of a very happy human child called Emma, who managed to laugh earlier than all the other babies but didn’t quite recognize what she was doing. Some infants are that way—they laugh before they know what they’re about, and it scares them quite out of their little baby wits. Emma’s first laugh came when she was fingerpainting (with applesauce). It was part “Hah!” and part “Hic!” She was so scared of her own laugh that she didn’t giggle again till she was walking. (Ask your parents sometime what your first laugh sounded like. If you were a “Hah!/Hic!” perhaps your laugh gave birth to a fairy like Avery.)
“Avery’s teachers gave up on her,” said Caraway Cooke in the silent kitchen, “and sent her here to work in the kitchen when she was just a mite. A serving fairy is what she’ll be all her life. For the likes of Claudine and Amanda.” Caraway sniffed.
“They gave up on you?” Golden couldn’t imagine such a thing. She thought of Faith and her fairy school. Faith would never give up on any of her students! Especially not Goldie! “That’s terrible!” she said.
“Isn’t that how it is on Sheepskerry?”
“No!” said Goldie. “On Sheepskerry, the teachers know that every fairy is good at different things. Not every fairy learns the same way.”
“You’d better not let the mainland fairies hear you talk that way,” said Avery.
“And you’d best get upstairs for breakfast,” said Caraway. “The other fairies will be wondering what you’re doing talking to Avery. Get on with you, now. And don’t come back.”
twelve
Goldie could barely concentrate as she went upstairs to breakfast. The other fairies were talking in high-pitched, excited voices and flitting about the breakfast table. They were chattering so loudly that they didn’t notice how quiet Goldie was.
The single topic of conversation was what this year’s fancy-dress theme would be.
“I bet it will be Famous Fairies from History,” said Fawn. “If it is, I’ll go as Tinker Bell!”
Goldie knew she should say something about her famous sister, but she was too lost in thought to say a word.
“I hope it’s Magic Animals,” said a fairy named Arabella. She was a mainland fairy, and seemed much kinder than the Townley sisters. “I would be a magical unicorn.”
The other fairies chimed in.
“And I’d be a dragon!”
“And I’d be a phoenix with rainbow wings!”
“It’s no use guessing,” said Claudine. “We won’t know what the theme is until Queen Titania’s decree arrives.”
Goldie’s mind was still on Avery. “The unfairness of it all!” she said aloud.
The fairies were silent.
“Golden Bell?” said Amanda. “Are you saying our queen is unfair?”
“Your queen?” said Goldie. She was embarrassed that she had not been following the conversation.
“Queen Titania sends us a decree on the morning of the party. The decree contains the costume theme.” Amanda spoke to Goldie as if she were a simpleton. “Then we observe a code of fairy silence till all the costumes are made.”
“That’s the way it has always been done,” said Claudine. “And the way we’ll do it this year—even with you island fairies here. There’s nothing unfair about it.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean—”
There was a sharp rap at the front door.
“Queen Titania’s page!”
A young fairy in smart gold brocade arrived on the doorstep of Amanda and Claudine’s house. She presented Amanda with a scroll.
All the fairies gathered around the decree with great excitement.
“Remember! Silence from now on,” said Amanda. She unrolled the scroll and hung it up on the wall behind her.
Goldie just hoped that the costume theme would be something perfect for her. But whatever it is, she thought, I’ll do my best for Sheepskerry.
When she looked at the scroll, her face fell. It was in very fancy handwriting. It must have been written by Queen Titania herself!
All the fairies gathered around Queen Titania’s decree. None of them made a sound. Golden looked up at the wall of words and did what Faith told her to do. She took a deep breath and focused her eyes on the swirling words, one at a time. But still the letters pushed together, and the words floated around the page. She could only make out a word here and there.
Where was Clara, who read to her every night? Or Rosy, who would have whispered every word written on the scroll? Where was Sylva, who’d say the code of silence was silly and everyone should help one another?
Goldie’s wings were shaking, and she was sure her face was pale as birch bark. What if she did not know what kind of costume she was to wear to the party?
The fairies began to float away, one by one, all with great grins on their faces. Soon only Claudine was left. Golden took a break from trying to read the scroll. She looked over at Claudine for a moment.
“Whatever’s the matter, Golden Bell?” Claudine whispered.
Goldie shook her head. She did not want to break the code of silence!
“Queen Titania won’t mind if we talk a little now,” said Claudine. “The competition doesn’t start officially till the Magical Treasure Chest arrives.”
“Truly?” asked Golden.
“Truly,” said Claudine. “Honest.”
“It’s just that—”
“You have trouble reading, don’t you, Golden?” said Claudine.
It was the first time it felt hard to reply to that question. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”
If Goldie had not been looking down at her sweet little red boots, she might have seen a very small smile cross Claudine’s face. “Not to worry,” Claudine told Golden. “Here. Let me read it to you.”
Claudine turned to face the scroll on the wall. This is what she told Goldie it said:
“Titania, queen of the mainland, does hereby announce and decree that each fairy attending the FANCY-DRESS PARTY shall create her own costume (in silence, with no help from others), using seven items from QUEEN TITANIA’S MAGICAL COSTUME TRUNK and elements from nature. Each fairy shall dress in the manner of a W I T C H.”
Claudine paused. “Got that, Goldie?” she asked.
“Got it,” said Goldie. “Thank you, Claudine! Thank you so much. I’ll make the best witch costume ever.”
Claudine smiled. “You do that, Golden Bell,” she said. “And may the best fairy win.”
thirteen
Precisely one hour later, Queen Titania’s Magical Costume Trunk appeared in the Townley sisters’ parlor in a puff of sparkling smoke, and all the fairies gathered around to wait for it to open.
“One at a time!” called Amanda. “I’m first. The rest of you get behind me.”
Goldie was dying to push her way to the front so she could have her pick of the items in the trunk for her witch costume. But she waited with the others behind Amanda and Claudine.
“You were last to breakfast this morning, Golden,” said Amanda. “So all of us think you should be last in line, don’t we, fairies?”
The other fairies said nothing.
“I suppose that’s fair,” said Goldie, though she wasn’t convinced.
The magical trunk opened with a peal of fairy bells. Goldie waited and waited as all the other fairies floated up to the trunk and flew away with their choices. I hope there are a few good things left for me! she thought. Finally Fawn Deere flew out with a wink to Goldie. She had chosen an armful of pink and sparkly items, which Goldie thought was rather odd, considering the witchy theme. But she didn’t have time to think about it. It was her turn to choose.
The magical trunk was a massive old leather box, but it crackled and sparkled, and it was packed with bits and pieces that would be perfect for costume making. Even after a dozen other fairies had taken their share of pieces, it was still full to the brim.
A treasure trove of jewels and shiny skirts and a pair of white opera gloves lay on top of the pile. Goldie looked at them longingly, and since she couldn’t resist, she tried them on. “How beautiful I would look if I went to the party in these lovely things!” she sighed as she gazed in a little mirror. “But they’re not for this witch!”
Just underneath a pair of pink stockings, Goldie was a little surprised to find a bolt of black taffeta and a length of deep purple lace. And under that, she spotted a shiny pointed hat and an old crooked broom.
“Perfect!” she said. “I can’t believe the other fairies left these for me!” She put her four choices aside. Now she had three more.
She chose some scuffed black slippers and a length of shimmering silk chiffon. Then she spotted a makeup kit. “Whoa-ho!” she said. “I can give myself green skin with this! And a warty nose!”
Goldie considered herself in the mirror that hung over the parlor fireplace. She peered in close and turned her head so she could see her charming profile. “I imagine the other fairies don’t dare look too witchy,” she said, “but I’m not afraid. I want to be the best witch the mainland has ever seen, and if it means I grow a warty nose, then a warty nose it will be!”
fourteen
All that afternoon, Goldie worked on her costume. She trimmed the pointy hat with sea urchins she had brought from Sheepskerry’s west shore. She snipped and stitched and made the bolt of black taffeta into a swirling cape lined with purple lace, and sewed deep blue mussel shells on the collar. “Reversible!” Goldie exclaimed with delight as she tried it on.
Her gown was made of sheer black chiffon, with a long white lining (her nightgown!) underneath it. Goldie had made pointy shoes out of the pair of old slippers she’d found at the bottom of the costume box, and she painted her best white stockings with red stripes.
Goldie’s costume was almost done when there was a knock at the door. Avery peeked her head inside.
“Can I come in?” she asked. Then she started in surprise. “Oh! I’m sorry. I thought this was Golden’s room!”
Goldie burst into laughter.
“Oh, it is you!” cried Avery. “I didn’t even recognize you when I came in. You look horrible!”
Goldie didn’t want to break the code of silence, but she gave Avery a gap-toothed grin.
“You can talk to me, Goldie. I’m not in the contest!”
“Whew!” said Golden. “It’s so good to talk at last! I’m just going to put some cobwebs on my wings and then I’ll be done,” she said. “Lucky thing I brought those cobwebs from Sheepskerry!” She had to twist sideways to get the right effect. “Don’t help me! I don’t want to cheat!” She draped some stringy webs on her wingtips. “How are the other fairies doing?” she asked, hoping they were not quite as witchy as she was.
“I haven’t seen anyone else,” said Avery. “All their doors are closed. And I only wanted to see you!”
Goldie glued one more wart on her nose. “Time to go!” she said. “How do I look?”
“You are the scariest witch I have ever seen!”
Goldie spun around and looked at herself in the mirror, every way she could.
“If I’m not the ugliest witch at this fancy-dress party,” she said, “I’ll eat my pointy hat!”
fifteen
The clock on the mantel chimed six times.
Goldie opened the door to her room and peered out into the hallway. “I wonder where all the other fairies are,” she said. “I’m not late, am I?”
“No,” said Avery. “You’re right on time.”
“They must already have gathered in the entrance hall. Come on, let’s hurry!”
Goldie and Avery flew to the top of the winding staircase. At last they heard fairy chatter coming from downstairs. “I’m coming!” cried Goldie. “Hold on!”
When Goldie spoke, the fairy chatter died down. Goldie didn’t notice the quiet, though; she was so excited to make her entrance. She closed her eyes at the top of the staircase. It was all just as she had dreamed it would be. “Here I am!” she called. “I fly for Sheepskerry and Queen Mab!”
There was a moment of absolute silence. Goldie’s eyes popped open. And then . . . there was an enormous gale of laughter.
“She’s a witch!”
“She’s hideous!”
“Didn’t she read the decree?”
“Look! She’s got warts on her nose!”
If Goldie’s face had not been green, the other fair
ies would have seen her cheeks turn scarlet from humiliation and shame. If the brim of her hat had not hidden her eyes, the other fairies would have seen tears welling up in them. And if any of the other fairies had noticed the broom she was sitting on, they would have seen it shaking.
“Oh, Goldie! Fly away!” cried Avery behind her. “Don’t you see? They tricked you!”
Shall I tell you now what Queen Titania’s invitation really said? Or have you already guessed? If you have, your heart will have gone out to dear, trusting Goldie.
Here’s the invitation, and it is quite tricky to read. You can read it yourself, or you can ask someone to read it for you, if you’d prefer. I do so hope that where you’re reading this it’s not like the fairy mainland. I do so hope that you have a friend or a sister or a teacher like Faith!
Poor, poor Goldie!
Every single other fairy was adorned from head to toe in yards of tulle and silk and lace, and every inch of it was pink. They carried ruby wands and wore diamond tiaras and capes of purest pearl satin. Their shoes were trimmed with feathers, and their hair was piled on top of their heads in beautiful cascading curls. And every fairy’s wings were sprinkled with sparkles.
“What’s the matter, Golden Bell?” asked Claudine. “Is this how princesses look on Sheepskerry Island?”
Goldie held absolutely still. She felt as if her witch’s dress were sucking all the breath out of her. She wished her broomstick would break into two so she could sink into the floor. She wanted to fly away from this horrible mainland and never come back. But more than anything, she wanted to punch Claudine Townley in the nose.
She did none of these things.
Golden Bell hitched her broomstick under her, straightened her pointy hat, and flew right down into that cloud of pink fairy princesses.
Golden at the Fancy-Dress Party Page 3