and itcontained one piece of news which was full of interest. Through somequite unexpected changes, her cousin wrote, it was possible, just_possible_, that he might be home again by Christmas, and able to be"backwards and forwards" among them all for some weeks or even months.And then he went on to explain about the feather. It had dropped at hisfeet, he said, from some bird passing overhead, while he was standing,idle for once, looking over the sea and thinking of home, "and of you,little Mary," he added, "so I thought I would just slip it into myletter."
"He has no idea _how_ pleased I am with it," thought Mary. "It has comejust in time for me to go to the Dove Queen's great party, and Ishouldn't wonder--no, I really shouldn't--if it gained the prize, for Iam almost sure it is a fairy feather."
And the word fairy reminded her of what the Cooies had said, and all ofa sudden another idea came into her mind.
"I do believe _that_ was it," she said, speaking aloud in herexcitement. "Yes, it all fits in with what they said and didn't say.The feather cloak is a fairy cloak, a `wishing cloak.' It brought mehome in what seemed a moment the other day, by making me fall asleep,and to-day it has brought this beautiful white feather just in time! Ohwhat fun and how nice! I am sure I have guessed right."
And as if in reply, at that moment she heard, though the windows wereall closed, faintly, yet distinctly, "coo-coo," from the side of theroom nearest the gate into the forest. But Mary knew it meant,--
"Yes, you _have_ guessed right at last, Mary."
She was in great spirits all that evening, and her godmother quitesympathised in her pleasure at having heard from Michael. And when Maryshowed her the feather, Miss Verity looked at it most admiringly.
"It is a lovely feather," she said. "I don't think I ever saw anything,except snow, so perfectly white." This pleased Mary very much, and madeher feel still happier about her chance of the Queen Dove's prize.
"Godmother," she said, "may I spend to-morrow afternoon again in theforest? You don't particularly want me to drive with you, do you?"
She could not help feeling a _little_ anxious as to the answer, butyet--the Cooies had managed everything all right so far. She felt thatshe might trust them.
"No, dear," said Miss Verity. "I do not mean to drive myself to-morrow,for I am going to send to fetch some rather large parcels from therailway station. And in any case I like you to play in the forest whenyou wish it. It will be fine to-morrow, too, I think, as the sun hasset very red."
"I'm so glad," said Mary, "and thank you very much. Shall I get anymore cones?" she added.
"Yes, please, as many as you can, but don't stand about too much, so asto get chilled."
"I almost wish," thought Mary, as she was going to bed, "that I hadn'treminded godmother of the fir-cones. I am _so_ afraid of being too latefor the Queen's party. But perhaps it wouldn't have been kind not tooffer to get them. I know what I'll do, I'll start as early as ever Ican, and run all the way to the place near the white gate--I am sure Iknow it now--and pick up the cones _there_; there are lots. So theCooies are sure not to miss me, and if my basket is not full, they willmanage to help me in some of their queer fairy ways."
Then she thought how and where she could keep the feather safe, andsecure from getting the least spotted. She decided that its old home--the inside of Michael's letter--was as safe as anywhere, but first shetore off a little piece of the blue tissue-paper round the "fairy cloak"and folded the feather in it.
To-morrow _was_ fine, and all went as Mary hoped. Very soon afterluncheon she set off, basket on arm, to the forest. Without difficultyshe found the spot where the wood-pigeons had met her the last time, andwhich she knew was close to the entrance to the "secret place," andthere set to work to gather cones as fast as she could.
There were plenty, but still it _was_ rather tiring, to keep stoopingfor them, scarcely allowing herself a moment's rest, and more than onceshe wished that the Cooies would make haste and come to her help.
She was not afraid of their forgetting her, however, she knew they wouldcome in time, and so they did, for before her basket was more thanthree-quarters full she heard the slight rustle in the air and felt thelittle feet on her shoulders.
"There you are!" she exclaimed joyfully, "and oh, dear Cooies, _do_ youknow what I have got?" and she drew out the precious feather.
Whether they had known about it or not, she could not tell, for theysaid nothing in reply to her question. They just hopped down and lookedat her basket, their heads on one side.
"It is time to be going in," they said. "All the others are in theirbowers, getting ready."
"But my cones," said Mary. "The basket is not nearly full, and Ishouldn't like godmother to think I had got fewer this time."
The wood-pigeons looked up--not to the sky, but to the nearestfir-trees. And two or three cones dropped--straight into the basket.
"It will be quite full when you come back again," they said.
And Mary, wondering, but feeling it better to ask no more questions,followed them down the little path and through the two gates, both ofwhich this time stood open. And when they first entered into the great,leafy hall, for a minute or two it seemed as deserted as the last time.But only for a minute or two.
"Sit down," said the Cooies, very softly. "There is your place. Theyare all coming, and the rush may make you feel giddy."
Then Mary saw in front of her a little mossy bank--large enough forherself and another child, perhaps. She sat down--something made hersit quite in the middle, and on each side of her, greatly to hersatisfaction, for she was feeling rather shy and even a tiny atomfrightened, her two friends settled themselves.
Not a moment too soon. There came such a rush through the air that shecould have fancied a great wind had suddenly burst into the peacefulplace, and round her, above, on every side, such a whizz and flutter ofwings as would, it seemed to her, have whirled her down had she beenstanding upright and unprepared for them, and for a moment Mary closedher eyes.
Then the rush quieted down, and when Mary looked up again she saw awonderful sight. Clusters and clusters of birds, on branches all roundthe great arbour--so many that the greenery was almost hidden. But theywere all in order. As her eyes grew accustomed to them, she noticedthat no two clusters were quite alike, either in size or colour orshape; they were all a little different, and then she understood thateach "family" of her own Cooies' numerous relations kept itselfdistinct, though all were evidently on most friendly terms, and her owntwo wood-pigeons seemed to have a specially important position, whichpleased her to see.
But the principal personage of the day was yet to make her appearance,and the kind of hush and expectation which followed the rush of theinnumerable little wings told its own tale to Mary. She sat, almostholding her breath.
Eight in front of her, though at some little distance, was a pillar orpedestal, perfectly covered with moss of an even more beautiful greenthan that of the beautiful exquisitely fine grass at her feet. And asMary kept her eyes fixed on this pillar--something told her to do so--atlast what they were all, the child and the hundreds of birds, waitingfor, came. How it came, she could never tell. There was a movement,not as loud as a rustle even, just a movement in the air, and then--onthe top of the pillar she saw the loveliest thing she had ever seen inher life. A large white dove--so white, so beautiful; and as the lovelycreature slightly turned her snowy neck, Mary caught a moment's gleam ofsomething golden, like a thread of vivid sunshine, more than gold, ifyou can picture such a thing to yourselves.
It was Blanche's dove--Mary felt sure of it now.
Then the queenly bird spoke. Her voice was like music--whether thewords that came to Mary's ears would have sounded to others likemurmuring "coo-coo" only, or not, I cannot say, and it does not matter,for the little human guest understood.
"The procession may pass," said the Queen.
Then from every cluster two birds detached themselves, all meetingtogether behind Mary's seat. And in another moment, remindin
g her alittle of a long line of tiny choristers that she had once seen in agreat cathedral, they appeared two by two--fifty couples or more--andpassing forward, each pair stopped in front of the Queen and laid down afeather at the foot of her pillar. White feathers they all were.
It was so pretty--the birds' perfect order and slow movement--theQueen's stately beauty--that Mary forgot for a moment that she herselfwas to take any part in the ceremony, till a little peck on her cheektold her that the right-hand Cooie was calling her to attention.
"It is your turn now," he whispered. "Draw out your feather. We willlead the way."
And they did so, Mary following, the