should be condensed until they were, relatively, as small as they used to be.
That afternoon, when the sisters were taking a nap, and the little man was at work in the barn, the Condensed Pirate went up into the garret of the cottage and got out on the roof. Then he climbed to the top of the tallest chimney, which overlooked everything on the place, and there he laid his little pink ball.
He then softly descended, and, taking Corette by the hand, (she had been waiting for him on the portico), he went down to the bottom of the pasture field.
When he was quite sure that he and Corette were entirely outside of the fairies' grounds, he stood up, pointed to the ball with a long, thin stick which he had cut, and began to count: "One, two, three——"
And as he counted the cottage began to shrink. Smaller and smaller it became, until it got to be very little indeed.
"Is that enough?" said the Condensed Pirate, hurriedly, between two counts.
"No," replied Corette. "There is the little man, just come out of the barn. He ought to be as small as the sisters used to be. I'll tell you when to stop."
So the counting went on until Corette said, "Stop!" and the cottage was really not much higher than a thimble. The little man stood by the barn, and seemed to Corette to be just about the former size of the fairy sisters; but, in fact, he was not quite a quarter of an inch high. Everything on the place was small in proportion, so that when Corette said "Stop!" the Condensed Pirate easily leaned over and knocked the pink ball from the chimney with his long stick. It fell outside of the grounds, and he picked it up and put it in his pocket.
Then he and Corette stood and admired everything! It was
