And in the grove, just in
a little open space where two or three trees had been cut away, was a
great black rock, with ferns growing in all its cracks and crannies, and
a tiny birch-tree waving like a green and white plume on its top. And at
the foot of the rock--oh, what a wonderful thing!--a slender thread of
crystal water came trickling out, as cold as ice and as clear as--as
itself; for nothing else could be so clear. Bubble had made a little
wooden trough to hold this fairy stream, and it gurgled along the trough
and tumbled over the end of it with as much agitation and consequence as
if it were the Niagara River in person. And under the rock and beside
the stream was a bank of moss and ferns most lovely to behold, most
luxurious to sit upon. On this bank sat Queen Hildegarde, with Bubble
at her feet as usual; and beside her, in her chair, sat sweet Pink,
looking more like a white rose than ever, with her fresh white dimity
gown and her pretty hat. Hilda was very busy over a mysterious-looking
basket, from whose depths she now drew a large napkin, which she spread
on the smooth green moss. A plate of sandwiches came next, and some cold
chicken, and six of Dame Hartley's wonderful apple-turnovers.
"Now, Bubble," said Hilda, "where are those birch-bark cups that you
made for us? I have brought nothing to drink out of."
"I'll fetch 'em, Miss Hildy," cried Bubble, springing up with alacrity.
"I clean forgot 'em. Say, Pink, shall I--? would you?" and he made
sundry enigmatical signs to his sister.
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