FAIRIES I HAVE MET
play together in the wood, and I should have a voice like yours—ever so sweet and ever so sad."
Sometimes she tried to sing, but she found her voice was not in the least like the nightingale's.
Every day she became more anxious to be a nightingale, until at last she thought about it always, and yet seemed no nearer to her wish. She hoped sometimes that her curls might turn into feathers; but after several weeks of wishing she saw that the curls were still made of yellow hair. She began to be afraid she would never be anything but a little girl.
One day she heard some of the maids talking together. They were speaking of the Wise Man, the Magician, who lived in the dark cave on the side of the hill, and could do the most wonderful things. In fact, they said, there was hardly anything he couldn't do; you had only to tell him what you wanted most and he could manage it for you.
"Perhaps he could turn me into a nightingale," thought Agatha. "I'll go and ask him, anyway."
So while the maids were still talking she slipped out of the castle, and through the wood, and down the hill, till she came to the dark cave. Her long frock caught on the brambles as she went, and her hands were a good deal scratched, and once she tripped and fell. But of course she did not mind anything of that kind, because she was thinking all the time about the nightingale.
Agatha walked into the cave without knocking, and found the Magician at home. I dare say you know that all good Magicians have kind faces and long white beards. This one was a good Magician, so he had a kind face and
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