girl, magnificently clad, who, warning him
to silence, spoke thus:

"You are very right in not running away
like the other stupid children. I will ask
mamma to let me have you for a
playmate, and I know she won't refuse me,
and then we'll pass all our time in playing
  games and eating strawberries."

This was indeed a pleasant prospect, and
no one could be happier than Elsie, when
her bright little friend took her by the
hand and led her into the wood, while the
dog barked with delight and gambolled
around her, as if she were an old acquaintance.

Then, after a short time, what a fine
sight met her eyes! There was a garden
full of fruit-trees, on the branches of which
sat birds with feathers of gold and silver:
so tame that they allowed any one to play
with them; and in the middle of the garden
stood a house composed of glass and
precious stones, that glittered like the sun.
And more striking than all, before the door
of the house, on a luxurious couch, lay a
lady, superbly clad, who no sooner saw the
two children approach, than she said:

"How d'ye do, my dear? Who's our
little friend?"

"Oh, mamma!" was the answer, "I
found this little girl alone in the wood.
You'll let her stay here, won't you?"

"We'll see about it, my dear," said the
lady, languidly; and fixing her large eyes
upon Elsie, she seemed, as people have it,
to look her through. "Very good," she
proceeded, when the examination was over.
"Come a little nearer, child. Very good
indeed," she added, patting her cheek.
"Do you live anywhere in this neighbourhood,
my pretty child? I suppose you have
parents of some sort or other; a father or
mother, an uncle or aunt, or something—
people generally have."

"Well, my lady," replied Elsie, "I have
a father, but he is not very kind, and I
have a stepmother, who is always beating
me."

"She must be an exceedingly vulgar
person," remarked the lady.

"Ah, my lady," continued Elsie, " you
can't guess how she'll beat me when I
return home alone, so long after the
others!"

"Let her stay here; let her stay here!"
cried the bright little girl.

"Oh! do let me stay here," implored poor
Elsie. "Give me any sort of work, only
don't send me away. I'll tend the flocks if
there are any, and I won't pick the berries
if you don't like it. You won't send me
away, will you?"

"We'll see about it," answered the lady
with a smile, and rising from her couch,
she sailed majestically into the house.

"Why didn't she say 'Yes'?" asked
Elsie, with a dismal face.

"Ah, it's all right," said her little friend,
laughing. "When mamma smiles like that,
and says she'll see about things, we always
know what it means. However, you stop
here a minute or two, and I'll speak to her
again."

Elsie, left alone, felt very anxious about
the result of her friend's renewed application,
and her heart beat high when the
bright little girl returned from the house
with a small basket in her hand.

"Mamma says that she has not made
up her mind yet, but that at all events you
are to spend the day with me, and we are
to amuse ourselves as well as we can.
Suppose we play at 'Going to sea'?"

"'Going to sea'?" echoed Elsie. "I
never heard of that game."

"You'll soon learn it, it's very easy,"
said her little friend; and she gently
opened the basket, and took from it a
small flower-leaf, a shell, and two
fish-bones. On the leaf, two drops of water
were glistening, which the child shook
upon the ground, and which, at once
spreading in every direction, covered the
garden and all the flowers: thus becoming
a broad sea, bounded by the sky, and only
leaving dry the little spot of ground on
which the playmates stood. Elsie was
much frightened, but her smart companion,
far from giving any sign of alarm, gently
placed the shell upon the water, and took
a fish-bone in each hand. The shell at once
expanded, gradually changing into a pretty
boat that would have afforded room for a
dozen children like Elsie and her friend.
In this the young playmates seated
themselves, Elsie trembling a little, and not
knowing what to make of it, and the other
laughing heartily as the bones she held
were turned into a pair of oars. Over the
rippling waves they went, gently rocked
in their boat, and other boats came near
them, all carrying children, who merrily
sang as they rowed. Elsie's friend
observed that the song of the others ought in
courtesy to be answered; and as Elsie
could not sing herself, she made up for the
deficiency by the exquisite beauty of her
own warbling. Never had poor Elsie felt so
happy in her life; everything was so
wonderful and so pretty. The words of the