Chapter VIII: The Court of the Fairy Queen

At first Meg thought she was alone, but soon she saw a lady standing near, picking pale yellow blossoms. She wore a green gown, and her feet were bare. On her bright hair was a little crown that seemed made of wee gold stars, and her face was very grave and sweet. Meg went up to her timidly.

“Please,” she said with a catch in her voice, “will you tell me the way to Fairyland? I—I’m in a great hurry.”

“What do you want to do in Fairyland?” said the lady, kindly. “Are you in trouble?”

“N-n-o—that is, a little. I want to tell the Fairy Queen something she ought to know. And I want to let Mother Goose know how sorry I am that I was disobedient and naughty, and of course if I could I should like to help Dick save Humpty Dumpty.”

“You look sad,” said the lady, and put her arm about Meg.

“I want Bab and Dick,—that’s all,” said Meg, simply. “And—and—of course I’m sorry, and—and _worried_ about things, you know.”

The lady smiled quite merrily. Then she lifted Meg in her arms and kissed her softly.

“Dear little girl!” she said. “Sweet Meg! you have had a harder journey than Bab, but you are at the end of it.”

“Who—who are you, please?” whispered Meg, wondering that she knew their names.

“You may call me the Lady of Dreams-Come-True,” said the green-gowned stranger. “But that is not my name. Now run along quickly to the Court of the Fairies.”

“Oh, but I am so dusty and dirty!” exclaimed Meg. “I can’t go to Court this way!”

“You have your pink silk dress with you,” said the Lady of Dreams-Come-True, laughing.

Meg looked down in surprise. Over her left arm hung her once-treasured pink gown! Somehow, among these wonderful flowers and beside this beautiful lady, it did not look nearly so pretty as it once had. She let it slip to the ground.

“I must have been very silly,” she said half to herself, “to want to bring _that_ to Make Believe Land!”

The lady laughed again, in a pleased way.

“Then you must go to Court as you are,” she said; “but _I_ think that you look very nice!”

Meg looked down again, and saw that her white dress was now as fresh and clean as though it had just been washed.

“Why—why—” she stammered, “how wonderful! It might almost be Fairyland already!”

“It _is_ Fairyland already,” said her new friend. “Look!”

Over the flowers Meg could see a thousand faint and shining wings. The air shimmered and glinted with them; the flowers swayed softly beneath their fanning. The daintiest, loveliest faces and forms showed dimly between every glistening, misty pair of these wonderful wings.

Meg gazed, bewildered.

“Oh, how beautiful!” she cried softly.

“Good-bye, Meg,” was all the lady would say. She seemed to be growing transparent and misty herself.

“Good-bye!” cried Meg. “Oh! shall I see you again?”

“Oh, yes! yes!” she answered, smiling, and seemed to become a little less distinct. “Some day—some day—” murmured Dreams-Come-True; and straightway vanished into the soft rainbow-tinted air.

As Meg walked on through the Flower Meadow, the delicate wings and faces grew more and more distinct, and seemed to crowd ever closer and closer about her. Everywhere they floated, like faintly coloured mist-wreaths, like the ghosts of big, beautiful butterflies, like flowers made alive. Everywhere the light glowed, brilliant and yet soft, like a huge, liquid opal. Sometimes it seemed to Meg to be shot with the palest pink, sometimes the purest blue, sometimes the most exquisite green, the clearest yellow, the faintest lavender. And what with the flowers, and the wings, and the magical colours in the air, Meg felt as though she were moving through the heart of a great rainbow.

About her feet and against her dress swayed and bumped the big bright flowers. Some of them were so tall that they touched her shoulders with their sweet, nodding heads; sometimes they were so tiny that she almost stepped on them, though, of course, she tried not to. The sky was filled with rainbow-coloured clouds; a delicious perfume hung everywhere. In the distance rose slender turrets—gold and rose-coloured and snow-white—from the mist of flowers and wings.

And as Meg listened, she could hear any number of voices singing, in the sweetest chorus imaginable, a little, soft song about roses and clouds and dew and star-beams.

There was no doubt about it,—no doubt at all: as the Lady of Dreams-Come-True had said, she really was in Fairyland at last. These airy beings floating and fluttering, singing and crowding on every hand, were certainly the Fairies,—the dainty folk whose Queen she was seeking.

Meg resolved not to loiter any longer in that delicious field, but to hurry across it as fast as she could and to find the Queen. But when she tried to move more quickly, she found that the soft transparent forms were holding her back. She struggled for a minute or two in vain. She felt hands as light as rain-drops on her wrists, and at last she heard a high, sweet laugh. Then the clearest of bell-like voices said:

“Well, Mortal, what are you doing here? And why do you struggle so hard against the Fairy Folk?”

“Oh, please!” panted Meg. “Take me to the Fairy Queen!”

Again came the light, soft laugh.

“Not so fast, Mortal! That is easy to ask. Do you think our Queen is so easy to see? You must state your business.”

“I _must_ see the Queen!” cried Meg. “It—it’s very important! It’s”—speaking with a sort of rush—“it’s about the Wicked King, and the spell in the crystal box!”

Instantly an angry chorus filled the air, and Meg found herself held more tightly than before.

“How dare she?” cried the Fairies. “How dare she speak of the Wicked King and the spell _here_? She must know either the Wicked King or Grump!”

“Yes!” Meg tried to explain, speaking eagerly. “And Grump told me—”

But at this point the chorus rose to the shrillest rage.

“Grump! Grump! She knows him! She admits it! Away with her! She shall not live another hour! No—no—turn her into a rat or an oyster! She is a friend of our dear Lady’s enemy, the Gray Dwarf!”

“Indeed I’m _not_ a friend of Grump’s!” exclaimed Meg, indignantly. “You just ask _him_ if I am!”

But they would not listen to her, and she felt herself being hurried away, faster and faster and faster with every second, until she was sure she should die if they did not let her stop to take breath.

“Please—please—” she panted, as they pulled her along, “I can explain if you will just wait one moment!” But they were far too busy abusing her, to hear a word she said.

“Oh, dear, dear, dear!” sighed poor Meg to herself. “Grump _must_ be a nasty person, if just mentioning his name has this effect!”

As she was dragged along through the Flower Meadow, she kept repeating over and over: “I _must_ see the Queen! I _must_ tell her! I _must_ warn her!” And suddenly—she never knew how, but she suspected Mother Goose or Dreams-Come-True of having something to do with it—she really did break from the grasp of her captors and dash on across the field alone.

She could hear the sweet, excited voices of the Fairies, and could feel their wings fan the back of her neck as they followed her. But at that moment she caught sight of a low, flowery hedge, with a gateway made of two tall trees wreathed with blossoming vines, and through that gate she dashed, just as the Fairies behind her cried:

“She has gone into the Palace Garden! She has gone into the Queen’s presence! How dare she!”

Meg was in the loveliest place she had ever seen, but she was too frightened to think of its magical beauty just then. By the time the Fairy Folk came crowding into the Garden after her, she had espied a lady sitting on a throne, with giant roses all about, and Fairy Court-ladies standing in rows with folded wings.

“Oh, are you the Queen?” she asked eagerly, running forward.

“Yes,” said the beautiful lady. And all the Fairies stopped and stood motionless as she spoke. She had great shining wings that moved up and down, trembling like flower-petals, and her face gleamed with a wonderfully sunny smile; and sometimes she swayed a little, like a very tall lily in a high wind. And no one could say what colour her eyes were, nor what sort of features she had. But one knew at once that she was surely the Queen of the Fairy Folk.

“Yes,” she said again. “I am the Queen. What is it that you wish of me?”

“Oh, your Majesty!” cried the Fairies who had followed Meg; and they all bent low, and spread out their wings as she spoke—just the way a bird sometimes does, close to the ground, when it begins to rain,—“Oh, your Majesty! Do not listen to her! She is a friend of the Gray Dwarf and the Wicked King!”

“Is that true?” asked the Queen, bending over Meg, and flashing her eyes at her until she felt as though she were looking deep into two huge stars.

“No!” cried Meg, boldly. “It isn’t!”

“Oh!” exclaimed the Fairies, angrily. “How truly wicked she is! And _how_ she lies! She _told_ us she was a friend of theirs!”

“I said I _knew_ Grump,” said Meg, ready to cry. “I _never_ said he was my friend. He’s dreadful, and tried to kill me; and as for the Wicked King, I only saw him in some magic pot-steam!”

“What is all this about?” asked the Queen, frowning slightly. “Come, little girl, tell your story; we will listen.”

So Meg told her story from the time she met the Gray Dwarf. The Queen was much interested, and she thanked her for warning her about the Wicked King’s wish to steal her valuable spell. And the Fairies who had wanted to turn Meg into a rat or an oyster looked very much ashamed of themselves, and hung down their wings in a very humble manner.

“But,” said the Queen, “how did it happen that you, a little mortal girl, were travelling through the Wonderful Wood alone, so very, very far from your own country?”

Then Meg remembered her real errand, and explained at greater length, telling all about Mother Goose’s directions, and everything from the very beginning. At last it was all told, and the Queen sat for a space in silence, as though considering what she had heard.

At last she sent two of the Fairies for the crystal box containing the spell. When they returned, bearing it between them, she opened the little casket, and took out of it a roll of paper as blue as the sky, covered with writing that glowed like orange fire.

“Listen,” said the Fairy Queen, and then read aloud:

“‘Closed door, closed shell,
Locked box, sealed well,
Shot bolt, shut gate
Yield up your contents straight.
All things that fastened are,
Shake off the spell or bar;
All strange disguises flee,
Everything held,—go free!
Closed door, closed shell,
Yield to the opening spell!’

Now, do you understand that?”

“I—I think so—partly,” said Meg, doubtfully. “But what am I to do with it, please?”

“Take it to your brother,” said the Queen. “With it he can free Humpty Dumpty, and fulfil Mother Goose’s command. He has only to read it to Humpty Dumpty, at the same time striking the great egg-shell with something hard and sharp, and the young prince will be free, and in his own shape once more.”

“Oh, splendid!” cried Meg joyfully, clapping her hands, and dancing first on one foot and then on the other.

“The next difficulty,” continued the Queen, “will be for your brother to escape. Humpty Dumpty can escape from the wall well enough, but your brother cannot be freed by the spell, for he will be neither bound nor locked up; in neither shell, prison, nor box; behind no gate, no door, and no bars. Yet he will be on the top of the city wall, which is near the ground on the inside, but far, far from it on the outside. For this he has only to whisper ‘Help me!’ into one of the red flowers on the vine that grows on the outer side of the wall. Then he can clamber down by the help of these tiny climbing creepers. They are Fairy Flowers, and like to give aid. They cannot grow inside the city of the Wicked King, but they come as near as possible, and are always hoping that some day they may be able to help someone. Now, little Mortal, take my spell and hurry back with it!”

“Oh, but—your Majesty!” stammered Meg. “I—I was told to serve you for a year and a day, or until I had done you some great service!”

The Queen laughed until it sounded like a hundred little gold bells.

“Dear child, you have served me,” she said. “Have you already forgotten the warning you gave me?”

“Oh!” exclaimed Meg, and was dumb. She had never thought of that!

IX

_Under the Sea of Glass_