“Maybe it came back.”

“Oh, no, fairies don’t do things that way.  I guess he must have indigestion.  But I wish he wouldn’t be so cross, especially when mamma has a headache and Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy can’t come out to play with us.  Oh, dear!  Isn’t it too bad?”

“What’s too bad?” asked a little voice, under a big clump of grass, and at that moment what should come walking out but a little pink fairy.  Oh, she was the dearest little thing you ever saw!  I just wish I could take you to see her, but it’s not allowed.  Some day, perhaps—­but there, I must get on with the story.  Well, the little pink fairy stood out in the sunlight, and she asked again:  “What is the matter?”

“Oh,” explained Susie, who, by this time, had gotten used to fairies of all kinds, “Mamma has a headache, and Uncle Wiggily is cross.”

“Headache, eh?  Uncle Wiggily cross.  Perhaps his glasses do not fit him,” suggested the fairy.

“Oh, I guess there’s nothing the matter with his spectacles,” answered Sammie.  “I saw him reading a book with them.”

“You never can tell,” declared the pink fairy.  “Suppose you call him out here, and we’ll take a look at his glasses.  Maybe he has the wrong kind.”

“What about mamma’s headache?” asked Susie.

“Oh!  I’ll stop that in a minute,” replied the fairy kindly, so she waved her magic wand in the air three times.  “Now your mamma’s head is all better,” she added.

And, sure enough, when Susie ran in the burrow to ask Uncle Wiggily to come out, if Mamma Littletail’s head wasn’t all well.  Wasn’t that just fine?  Well, at first Uncle Wiggily didn’t want to come out.  He was still cross, but finally Susie begged him so hard that he did.  He saw the little pink fairy, and he asked, real cross like:  “Well, what do you want of me?”

“Aha!” exclaimed the pink fairy.  “I see what the trouble is.  It’s your spectacles.”

“They’re all right,” growled Uncle Wiggily.

“They are not,” declared the fairy very decidedly.  “Let me look at them,” and before you could say “Pussy-cat Mole jumped over a coal,” she frisked those glasses off.  “Oh!” she cried, “look here, Sammie and Susie!  What terribly gloomy spectacles!” Then she held them up, first in front of Sammie, and then in front of Susie.  And when they looked through them the little rabbit children saw that everything was dark, and gloomy, and dreary, and even the sun seemed to be behind a cloud.  Oh, it was as cold and unpleasant as it is just before a snowstorm.  “No wonder you were cross!” cried the fairy.  “But I will soon fix matters!  Presto-chango!  Ring around the rosey, sweet tobacco posey!” she cried, and then she rubbed first one pink finger on one glass, and then another pink finger on the other glass of the spectacles.

And a most wonderful thing happened, she smiled as she held the glasses up in front of Sammie and Susie, and as true as I’m telling you, if everything wasn’t as bright and shining as a new tin dishpan.  Oh, everything looked lovely!  The flowers were gay, and the sun shone, and even the green grass was sort of pink, while the sky was rose-colored.