The Fairy Queen looked very disappointed.
"Oh, dear, then I'm afraid it's no good. I thought you'd be sure to know
him."
"But although I don't know him personally I am in communication with
him," I said. "Perhaps--"
She brightened up a little.
"I suppose you _could_ write," she said; "though of course it would be
far better to see him."
"It's about that cover," she went on. I looked at her blankly.
"The cover of _Punch_, you know."
Vague pictures of Mr. Punch surrounded by little dancing figures, an
easel, Toby, a lion--surely there was a lion somewhere--flitted across
my mind. What on earth had the cover of _Punch_ got to do with the Fairy
Queen?
I went over to the little table where lay the latest copy, and came back
with it in my hand and knelt down on the floor near the cushion.
The Fairy Queen came close to me and peered over the edge of the paper.
"Look at the fairies," she said, pointing with a tiny indignant finger.
"_Look_ at them. They're most dreadfully old-fashioned. Nobody in
fairyland looks in the least like that now."
I looked. Certainly the little figures had rather an early-Victorian air
about them.
"Of course we should never dream of being tremendously fashionable or
anything of that kind. I would not for one moment think of allowing any
of my court-ladies to cut their hair short, for instance, or to wear one
of those foolish hobble skirts; but nobody, nobody could accuse us of
being dowdy. Now tell me, have you ever seen one of us looking like
that, or like that?"
"But are you quite sure," I said, not without hesitation, for she was by
way of being rather an autocratic and imperious little person and I was
the least little bit afraid of her--"are you quite sure that they _are_
fairies?"
"Of course they are," she replied quickly. "What else could they be?
Naturally Mr. Punch would have fairies all round him. He loves us. You
have no idea how much we have in common."