Then the little man got upon his horse again, and rode away to his home in the hill.

After he had gone away, Dame Margery thought that she would empty her reticule of the dirty black coals; so she turned it topsy-turvy, and shook it over the hearth, and out tumbled—­black coals?  No; great lumps of pure gold that shone bright yellow, like fire, in the light of the candle.  The good dame could scarcely believe her eyes, for here was wealth enough to keep her in comfort for all the rest of her days.

But Dame Margery’s right eye!  I wish I could only see what she saw with that right eye of hers!  What was it she saw?  That I will tell you.

The next night was full moon, and Dame Margery came and looked out over the fine bed of tulips, of which she was very proud.  “Hey-day!” she cried, and rubbed her eyes, in doubt as to whether she was asleep or awake, for the whole place was alive with little folks.

But she was awake, and it was certain that she saw them.  Yes; there they were—­little men, little women, little children, and little babies, as thick in the tulip bed as folks at a wedding.  The little men sat smoking their pipes and talking together; the little women sat nursing their babies, singing to them or rocking them to sleep in cradles of tulip flowers; the little children played at hide-and-seek among the flower-stalks.  So the dame leaned out of the window, watching them with great delight, for it is always a delight to watch the little folks at their sports.

[Illustration:  Dame Margery Twist goeth to see the merry doings at the Fair.]

After a while she saw where one of the tiny fairy children hid himself under a leaf, while the others who were to seek him looked up and down, and high and low, but could find him nowhere.  Then the old dame laughed and laughed to see how the others looked for the little fellow, but could not tell where he was.  At last she could hold her peace no longer, but called out in a loud voice, “Look under the leaf, Blackcap!”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than, whisk! whirr! off they scampered out of the garden and away—­fathers, mothers, children, babies, all crying in their shrill voices, “She sees us! she sees us!” For fairies are very timid folk, and dread nothing more than to have mortals see them in their own shapes.

So they never came back again to the dame’s garden, and from that day to this her tulips have been like everybody else’s tulips.  Moreover, whenever she went out the fairies scampered away before her like so many mice, for they all knew that she could see them with her magical eye.  This, as you may see, was bad enough, but no other harm would have come of it if she had only gathered wisdom at that time, seeing what ill came of her speech.  But, like many other old dames that I wot of, no sound was so pleasant to her ears as the words of her own mouth.