Prilla and the Butterfly Lie

by Kitty Richards

  Copyright © 2005 Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney Press, 114 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10011-5690.

  ISBN: 978-1-4231-5831-8

  Visit disneyfairies.com

  Table of Contents

  All About Fairies

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  IF YOU HEAD toward the second star on your right and fly straight on till morning, you’ll come to Never Land, a magical island where mermaids play and children never grow up.

  When you arrive, you might hear something like the tinkling of little bells. Follow that sound and you’ll find Pixie Hollow, the secret heart of Never Land.

  A great old maple tree grows in Pixie Hollow, and in it live hundreds of fairies and sparrow men. Some of them can do water magic, others can fly like the wind, and still others can speak to animals. You see, Pixie Hollow is the Never fairies’ kingdom, and each fairy who lives there has a special, extraordinary talent.

  Not far from the Home Tree, nestled in the branches of a hawthorn, is Mother Dove, the most magical creature of all. She sits on her egg, watching over the fairies, who in turn watch over her. For as long as Mother Dove’s egg stays well and whole, no one in Never Land will ever grow old.

  Once, Mother Dove’s egg was broken. But we are not telling the story of the egg here. Now it is time for Prilla’s tale.…

  PRILLA KNELT ON the library shelf. She put her hands over her mouth to hold back her laughter. She kept her eyes on a little girl in pigtails who stood on her tiptoes, reaching for a book.

  The girl grabbed the book and slid it off the shelf. Quick as a wink, Prilla popped out from the space where the book had been. The little girl stared at Prilla for a moment. Then she squealed with delight, her blue eyes wide. “A fairy!”

  “Shhh!” said the librarian. She gave the girl a stern look. Prilla giggled. She turned a somersault in the air and…

  “Grab him, Prilla!” a voice cried.

  Suddenly, Prilla was in a sunny meadow, back in Pixie Hollow. Nettle, a caterpillar-shearing-talent fairy, stood in front of her, holding a pair of shears. Nettle pointed to the caterpillar that Prilla was supposed to be keeping still. The caterpillar was bucking around like a little green bronco. It had knocked over a sack of caterpillar fuzz. Prilla was ankle-deep in the stuff.

  Prilla sighed. It had been a long and trying day. She was very fond of Nettle, who enjoyed games as much as she did. Just the week before, Prilla and Nettle had had a cartwheel race across a field of buttercups. Afterward, they had collapsed in the grass in a fit of giggles. That was when Nettle had asked her if she would like to give caterpillar shearing a try. Prilla had agreed.

  The day had started well enough. Nettle gave Prilla a tour of the caterpillar corral. First they had seen some caterpillars hatching from eggs. Then they’d watched a few caterpillars shedding their skin. Next they had seen some furry caterpillars making their cocoons.

  Suddenly, Nettle had grabbed Prilla’s arm. “We’re just in time to watch a butterfly hatch!” she’d whispered.

  Prilla had held her breath as they’d silently watched the butterfly emerge from its cocoon. She was amazed that a funny-looking caterpillar could transform into such a beautiful creature.

  Watching the butterfly hatch had been exciting. But Prilla had quickly realized that shearing caterpillars was not. Her job was to hold the caterpillars while Nettle clipped their fuzz with her shears. Prilla tried hard to help. But the truth was that she didn’t really like shearing caterpillars at all. It was hot in the sun. It was dull doing the same thing over and over again. But most of all, Prilla just didn’t like caterpillars. Not one bit. They were prickly. They were kind of ugly. And they were ornery.

  Bored, Prilla had finally allowed herself to drift off and blink over to the mainland. Prilla was a mainland-visiting clapping-talent fairy, the only one in Pixie Hollow. In the blink of an eye, she could zip from Never Land to the mainland to visit children. Prilla’s talent was very important, for it kept children’s belief in fairies alive. When children didn’t believe in them, fairies died.

  But Prilla didn’t visit the mainland only to save fairies’ lives. She also went because it was her favorite thing in the world to do.

  And look what had happened! She hadn’t been paying attention, and now things were getting out of control.

  Prilla leaned forward to grab the cranky caterpillar around its middle. It wiggled away from her, and Prilla stumbled. The other shearing-talent fairies chuckled in sympathy.

  “He’s a wild one, he is,” said Jason, a caterpillar-shearing-talent sparrow man.

  Prilla tried once again to seize the creature. The caterpillar reared up. Prilla lost her balance and fell backward. She landed in the grass with a soft thump.

  “Don’t worry, Prilla. You can do it!” Jason called, noticing the frown on Prilla’s face.

  Still the restless caterpillar wiggled. “There, there,” said Nettle in a soothing voice. She put down her shears.

  Nettle’s gentle tone calmed the caterpillar. It began to settle down. Prilla stood and brushed herself off. Not knowing what else to do, she bent to pat the caterpillar on the head.

  Quickly, Nettle began to shear the caterpillar. In a couple of minutes, she was done. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked.

  Prilla wasn’t sure if Nettle was talking to her or to the caterpillar. She shook her head anyway.

  Nettle let the newly shorn caterpillar go. Prilla watched as it inched away as fast as it could—which was pretty slow.

  Nettle smiled at Prilla. “You sit and rest,” she said. “I’ll do the cleaning up.”

  Prilla lowered herself onto a moss-covered stone. She picked a stray piece of caterpillar fuzz from the hem of her pale pink silk skirt. Nettle and the other caterpillar shearers began sweeping up the loose fuzz.

  Thank goodness that’s over, Prilla thought. Maybe tomorrow I won’t do anything but blink over to the mainland as many times as I want. It would be a perfect day.

  Nettle put the caterpillar fuzz she’d swept up into a sack made of woven grass. She tied it shut with a flourish. Then she loaded it onto a wheelbarrow full of sacks.

  Jason picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow. He set off with the load toward the Home Tree, the towering maple tree where the fairies lived and worked. “Have fun, Prilla. Thanks for your help!” he cried.

  “Fly safely, Jason!” said Prilla. She waved.

  Nettle sat next to her on the stone and patted Prilla’s knee. “What a great day,” Nettle said. “I could tell how much you enjoyed it.”

  “Well, I—” Prilla began.

  “Being outside, working with those wonderful caterpillars.” Nettle leaned in close to Prilla. She lowered her voice as if she were about to tell her a secret. “Other talents might argue with me, but caterpillar shearing really is the most important talent. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  She went on, not waiting for Prilla to answer. “First of all, it helps the caterpillars grow nice woolly coats for when it’s time to build their cocoons. And then there’re all the great things we make out of the fuzz!” She began to list them on her fingers. “Soft pillows, cozy comforters, light-as-a-feather blankets, thick sweaters, those wonderful linens…”

 
Her voice trailed off.

  Prilla nodded. She liked pillows, comforters, blankets, sweaters, and linens as much as the next fairy did. It seemed that caterpillar shearing was indeed very important.

  “Yes, it is a lovely talent,” she said out loud. I just hope I never have to help shear another caterpillar ever again! she silently added. She leaned back on her elbows.

  And before Prilla knew it, she had blinked over to the mainland. She saw a little girl holding a fluffy white dandelion. The girl pursed her lips to blow the seeds. Prilla flew toward her.…

  “I said, what do you think?” Nettle said suddenly.

  Prilla started. Nettle was looking at her expectantly.

  “Sorry, can you repeat that?” Prilla asked.

  And then Nettle said the dreaded words: “Same time tomorrow?”

  PRILLA’S HEART SANK. She stared at Nettle’s hopeful face. No, thank you, she said in her head. I have other plans. I don’t like caterpillars. I don’t like them at all. She just didn’t say the words out loud.

  “Why, sure,” Prilla found herself saying. “I’d be happy to help you out again.”

  “Great!” said Nettle. “I knew you’d love my talent as much as I do!”

  Nettle stood and picked up the last sack of caterpillar fuzz. She slung it over her shoulder and headed back to the Home Tree, whistling merrily.

  Well, that didn’t go very well, Prilla thought. And it certainly changes my plans for tomorrow! She’d have to blink over to the mainland that night after dinner instead.

  As she got up to leave, the still evening air was stirred by a sudden brisk breeze. Out of the corner of her eye, Prilla saw a flash of purple. And there, standing in front of her, was Vidia.

  “Hello, dearest,” said Vidia. “Did you have a nice day today? Do something fun?” Her tone was mocking, as usual.

  “Well, I—” Prilla began.

  “Come, darling. Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” Without waiting for Prilla’s response, Vidia set off at a quick pace.

  Prilla stared at Vidia’s retreating back in confusion. As the fastest of the fast-flying-talent fairies, Vidia never walked when she could fly. It went against her nature.

  What is going on? Prilla wondered. She followed Vidia to find out, racing to catch up. Even on land, Vidia was fast.

  Finally, Vidia came to a stop at the edge of a minnow pond. It was nearly sunset, and the sky was a soft shade of pinkish purple. There was a pleasant chorus of chirping crickets and peeping frogs. Fireflies had begun lighting up the dusky air around them.

  Vidia turned to face Prilla. “So what have you been up to lately, dearest?” she asked.

  “Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” Prilla answered.

  “Mmm-hmm,” replied Vidia. She had a funny look on her face, as if she was trying not to smirk. “A little tree-bark grading?” Vidia asked sweetly.

  Prilla nodded. She remembered the splinters she had gotten that day.

  “Maybe some floor polishing?” Vidia went on.

  Prilla winced. She had spent an entire afternoon on her hands and knees, helping polish the mica entryway in the Home Tree.

  “And some dandelion-fluff sorting?”

  “That made me sneeze,” Prilla recalled. She was beginning to feel self-conscious. Had she really been spending that much time helping out other talents?

  “Not to mention the time you helped the ink-making-talent fairies.”

  Prilla glanced down at her hands. If she looked closely, she could still see some of the purple ink under her fingernails and in the wrinkly skin around her knuckles.

  She cleared her throat to speak. But Vidia wasn’t through.

  “And then a little caterpillar shearing today…Look, Prilla,” Vidia said. She put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, but your nicey-nice behavior is getting on my last nerve. I’ve got a new talent for you, sweetness—doormat talent. You let everyone walk all over you.”

  Prilla cringed. Was she really that bad?

  “Don’t look at me as if I’ve been pulling the wings off dragonflies. I know everyone around here thinks I’m horrible, but I do try to help out a fellow fairy now and then. So I’m helping you now. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  Vidia scowled fiercely. Prilla had the feeling Vidia hadn’t meant to say that last part.

  Raising her chin, Vidia flipped her hair back and said, “Face it, Prilla, you’ve got a problem.”

  “A problem? What do you mean, Vidia?” asked Prilla.

  “You are the fairy who just can’t say no.”

  Prilla stared at her shoes. “Well, what’s wrong with being helpful?” she asked, a little defensively.

  She didn’t want to say it out loud to Vidia, but she liked it when other fairies asked her for help. In Pixie Hollow, talent groups did everything together. They worked together, played together, ate their meals together. When Prilla had first arrived, she hadn’t known what her talent was. She had felt very alone.

  Prilla had desperately wanted to fit in back then. In the end, she’d found her talent and her place among the fairies. But even now, every time someone asked for her help, she felt glad.

  She knew that Vidia would never understand. Vidia was a loner. She preferred her own company to that of anyone else. Why, she even lived alone in a sour-plum tree, apart from the rest of the fairies.

  Vidia gave Prilla an exasperated look. “Sweetness, what is the only thing that’s important to me?” she asked.

  That wasn’t hard to answer. “Flying fast, of course,” Prilla replied.

  “And why is that?” Vidia asked.

  Prilla was puzzled. “Because you like to…fly quickly?”

  Vidia rolled her eyes. “Because it’s my talent, pumpkin. The most important thing to any fairy is her talent.” She crossed her arms and smirked at Prilla. “But the most important thing to you, apparently, is being helpful!” Vidia made a disgusted face as she said the word “helpful.”

  With a sinking heart, Prilla realized that Vidia was right. She had been spending too much time on other fairies’ talents and not enough time on her own.

  “But I don’t like to say no,” Prilla admitted. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

  “Why not just say, ‘Be gone with you! Your stupid talent bores me!’?” Vidia suggested.

  Prilla gasped. “You know I could never say that!”

  “Okay, okay,” Vidia said. “Maybe that isn’t your style. But the next time a fairy asks you to help with some dreadful task, you should say, ‘Forget it. I’m not interested. I have my own talent to attend to.’”

  Prilla frowned. “Why do you care, Vidia? Why do you want to help me?”

  Vidia paused. Then she shrugged. “You helped me once. I’m just returning the favor.”

  And quick as a wink, she was gone.

  Prilla walked home slowly, deep in thought. Vidia was right. Prilla was not a caterpillar-shearing fairy. She wasn’t a tree-bark-grading fairy. Or an entryway-polishing fairy. Or one of any of those other talents.

  Prilla was the one and only mainland-visiting clapping-talent fairy. And it was time she started acting like it.

  THE MORNING SUNLIGHT crept into Prilla’s room, waking her. She yawned and stretched.

  Feeling very lazy, she located a few grains of fairy dust and, from her bed, sprinkled some on her washing-up items. Magically, the pitcher poured water— not too hot, not too cold, but just right—into the washing bowl. A velvety moss washcloth dipped itself into the warm water, wrung itself out, and gently scrubbed her face. She giggled as it washed behind her ears. It tickled.

  Next she flicked a grain onto her pine needle-bristle hairbrush. Exactly twenty-five strokes later, her hair was glossy and tangle free. Prilla considered using fairy dust to get dressed. She laughed at the thought of her clothes marching out of the wardrobe and modeling themselves for her as she considered each outfit.

  Instead, Prilla climbed out of bed and made her way to her
closet. She took off her whisper-soft white muslin nightgown and put on her favorite pink silk dress with purple trim. After fastening its leafy green belt around her tiny waist, she began to search for her matching shoes. Finally, she found them far underneath her bed. She pulled the buckles tightly around her ankles. Now she was ready to face the day.

  She skipped out of her room. In the hallway, she nearly bumped into Cinda, one of Queen Clarion’s helper fairies.

  “Excuse me, Cinda,” Prilla said. But Cinda seemed to be in a rush and hardly noticed.

  On Prilla’s way to the tearoom, her stomach rumbled. She smiled when she saw the breakfast that Dulcie and the rest of the baking-talent fairies had made. There were chocolate turnovers, acorn bread, lemon poppy-seed rolls, blueberry muffins, and cinnamon twists. There were several different spreads—honey butter, pumpkin butter, and maple butter, plus strawberry, gooseberry, chokecherry, and beach plum jams. Steaming pots of peppermint tea sat next to icy pitchers of raspberry, blueberry, and sparkling red Never berry juice on the table.

  Prilla smiled again as she recalled the time she’d helped out in the kitchen. “Anyone can learn to bake!” Dulcie had insisted. After a fallen cake, a dozen rock-hard muffins, and two baking sheets of burnt, misshapen cookies, Dulcie had been forced to admit defeat. “I guess some fairies aren’t meant to bake after all,” she had said with a shake of her head.

  Prilla scanned the room, looking for a place to sit. It was a busy morning in the tearoom. She thought she’d like to catch up with her friend Rani, but the water-talent table was full. So was the pots-and-pans-talent table, so she couldn’t sit with Tinker Bell, either. She saw an empty chair at the garden-talent table, where her friend Lily was sitting. But then Rosetta took the seat. Finally, Prilla spotted an open place at the decoration-talent table and headed toward it.

  “Yoo-hoo! Prilla!” called a familiar voice. Nettle waved to her from across the room.

  Oh, no, Prilla thought. She had planned to tell Nettle the bad news after breakfast. But then she shrugged. I might as well get it over with, she thought. She took a deep breath and-headed toward the caterpillar shearers table.