"
"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.
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