“We were playing at eating cakes,” said Tyltyl.
“Have you any cakes? … Where are they? …”
“In the house of the rich children. … Come and look, it’s so lovely!”
And Tyltyl dragged the Fairy to the window.
“But it’s the others who are eating them!” said she.
“Yes, but we can see them eat,” said Tyltyl.
“Aren’t you cross with them?”
“What for?”
“For eating all the cakes. I think it’s very wrong of them not to give you any.”
“Not at all; they’re rich! … I say, isn’t it beautiful over there?”
“It’s just the same here, only you can’t see. …”
“Yes, I can,” said Tyltyl. “I have very good eyes. I can see the time on the church clock; and Daddy can’t!”
The Fairy suddenly grew angry:
“I tell you that you can’t see!” she said.
And she grew angrier and angrier. As though it mattered about seeing the time on the church clock!
Of course, the little boy was not blind; but, as he was kindhearted and deserved to be happy, she wanted to teach him to see what is good and beautiful in all things. It was not an easy task, for she well knew that most people live and die without enjoying the happiness that lies all around them. Still, as she was a fairy, she was all-powerful; and so she decided to give him a little hat adorned with a magic diamond that would possess the extraordinary property of always showing him the truth, which would help him to see the inside of Things and thus teach him that each of them has a life and an existence of its own, created to match and gladden ours.
The Fairy took the little hat from a great bag hanging by her side. It was green and had a white cockade, with the big diamond shining in the middle of it. Tyltyl was beside himself with delight. The Fairy explained to him how the diamond worked. By pressing the top, you saw the soul of Things; if you gave it a little turn to the right, you discovered the Past; and, when you turned it to the left, you beheld the Future.
Tyltyl beamed all over his face and danced for joy; and then he at once became afraid of losing the little hat:
“Daddy will take it from me!” he cried.
“No,” said the Fairy, “for no one can see it as long as it’s on your head. … Will you try it?”
“Yes, yes!” cried the Children, clapping their hands.
The hat was no sooner on the little boy’s head than a magic change came over everything. The old Fairy turned into a young and beautiful princess, dressed all in silk and covered with sparkling jewels; the walls of the cottage became transparent and gleamed like precious stones; the humble deal furniture shone like marble. The two children ran from right to left clapping their hands and shouting with delight.
“Oh, how lovely, how lovely!” exclaimed Tyltyl.
And Mytyl, like the vain little thing she was, stood spellbound before the beauty of the fair princess’ dress.
But further and much greater surprises were in store for them. Had not the Fairy said that the Things and the Animals would come to life, talk and behave like everybody else? Lo and behold, suddenly the door of the grandfather’s clock opened, the silence was filled with the sweetest music and twelve little daintily-dressed and laughing dancers began to skip and spin all around the Children.
“They are the Hours of your life,” said the Fairy.
“May I dance with them?” asked Tyltyl, gazing with admiration at those pretty creatures, who seemed to skim over the floor like birds.
But just then he burst into a wild fit of laughter! Who was that funny fat fellow, all out of breath and covered with flour, who came struggling out of the bread-pan and bowing to the children? It was Bread! Bread himself, taking advantage of the reign of liberty to go for a little walk on earth! He looked like a stout, comical old gentleman; his face was puffed out with dough; and his large hands, at the end of his thick arms, were not able to meet, when he laid them on his great, round stomach. He was dressed in a tight-fitting crust-coloured suit, with stripes across the chest like those on the nice buttered rolls which we have for breakfast in the morning. On his head—just think of it!—he wore an enormous bun, which made a funny sort of turban.
He had hardly tumbled out of his pan, when other loaves just like him, but smaller, followed after and began to frisk about with the Hours, without giving a thought to the flour which they scattered over those pretty ladies and which wrapped them in great white clouds.
It was a queer and charming dance; and the Children were delighted. The Hours waltzed with the loaves; the plates, joining in the fun, hopped up and down on the dresser, at the risk of falling off and smashing to pieces; the glasses in the cupboard clinked together, to drink the health of one and all. As to the forks, they chattered so loudly with the knives that you could not hear yourself speak for the noise. …
There is no knowing what would have happened if the din had lasted much longer. Daddy and Mummy Tyl would certainly have waked up. Fortunately, when the romp was at its height, an enormous flame darted out of the chimney and filled the room with a great red glow, as though the house were on fire. Everybody bolted into the corners in dismay, while Tyltyl and Mytyl, sobbing with fright, hid their heads under the good Fairy’s cloak.
“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “It’s only Fire, who has come to join in your fun. He is a good sort, but you had better not touch him, for he has
