DO you know, children, how and where all the valentines are made that
you see in the shops nowadays?
Well, suppose I tell you all about it.
When you go to fairy-land, turn to the left after you enter the gate,
and the first house you come to will be Saint Valentine’s.
This is what I did when I went there, and you shall hear what I saw.
On entering the house, I found myself in a large hall hung with gold
and silver paper, and glittering with an incomparable brightness. Here
were hundreds of little cupids with tiny wings, who were running and
flying about, as busy as bees.
One was carrying a roll of gold paper as big as himself; another was
painting beautiful flowers on white paper; others were making paper
lace. But all seemed to be helping and waiting on a person who sat by a
huge table at the farther end of the hall, and this person I soon found
to be Saint Valentine himself.
He was a young man, and very handsome. He was dressed in sky-blue
velvet, embroidered with gold, and had great fat pearls for buttons. He
seemed as busy as the rest, and merely nodded and smiled when he saw
me, and called out,—
“Number Three Shears,
Approach, my dears!”
I heard a queer, sharp voice at my elbow, saying, “Now, then, by your
leave!” and turning, saw at my elbow an enormous pair of shears,
walking about on two legs, and looking as proud as you please.
“Dear Number Threes,
A million sevens, if you please!”
said Saint Valentine.
Snip-snap! snip-snap! went the shears, and there lay a million little
sheets of white paper.