"We have been
very happy here, but now we want to go home to our dear mammas and
papas. Please do take us home!"
"Very well," said the fairy; "as you wish it you shall all be back in
your own old homes to-morrow morning. So bid good-bye to Child Island,
and don't cry any more."
Then the fairy waved her hand, and immediately a silvery mist surrounded
them; the palace and the pretty houses became less and less distinct,
until there was only a faint and shadowy outline of them; then the mist
grew thicker, and each child became alarmed at finding itself separated
from all its companions, and on striving to call out it could not.
Thicker and thicker grew the mist until it was quite dark, and the
children, parted from each other, were bewildered and knew not where
they were.
Presently the mist gradually cleared away, and then, instead of Child
Island and the pretty houses, each child found itself in its own bed at
Noviland.
Eagerly that morning did they tell their fond parents of the good fairy
and Child Island, of the beautiful palace and pretty houses, of the tiny
musicians, the fairy slipper, and the strange Nomen. And as each little
tongue prattled its pretty tale, the parents smiled and said to each
other, "Truly our dear child has had a pleasant dream!"
But the children knew better; they knew there was a good fairy Corianda,
and that she had taken them to her magic isle, called Child Island.
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