precious feather in her hand, tillat the foot of what to herself she had begun to call "the throne," shefelt she should stop, and with the prettiest curtsey she could make, shelaid her treasure down, a very little in front of the long row alreadythere, and then, still guided by the two wood-pigeons, made her way backto her place, where, however, she did not sit down again, but remainedstanding, her heart beating rather fast, for even in the instant'sglimpse of the others that she had had, it seemed to her that hers wasthe whitest!
The Queen flew down from her pillar, and passed slowly along the front,looking carefully at the feathers. Then she bent down and picked one upin her beak and flew back with it. Mary shut her eyes for a moment,afraid to look, but when she opened them again and dared to glancebefore her, she saw that her hopes had been well-founded--Michael's giftwas no longer where she had laid it.
And there stood the Queen, the quill of the feather in her beak, so thatthe rest of it lay across her own snowy plumage, not snowier than it,however. She was quite silent for a minute, as if she wanted them allto see for themselves, and then came again the beautiful tones of hervoice.
"This feather," she said, "has won the prize. It has come from theislands across the sea--the islands of gorgeous colours and richfragrance--this simple snow-white feather. Our human guest, Mary, ourchild-visitor, has brought it, and you see for yourselves that it haswon the prize. It is the whitest of them all," and she bent her headtowards the feathers on the ground, "beautiful as they are."
Then there came a great wave through the air; a murmur of many voices,which sounded like one solitary note on some strange soft organ: thensilence again, till again Queen White Dove spoke.
"I see you all agree with me," she said, "and I think you are generousand kind. For there is one thing to be said still, before the prize isgiven. You, my birds and relations, have been for many weeks seeking towin the prize: you have worked for it; you have travelled far, many ofyou. But Mary has not needed to do any of these things. Her feathercame to her without any effort on her part--"
"Never say roast larks don't drop into some people's mouths," whisperedMr Coo, who by this time was perched on his old place on Mary'sshoulder. Mary gave a little shrug, but he clung on all the same.
"And therefore," continued the Queen, "I think it is only fair that ashort trial and test should be laid upon her."
Mary began to feel rather frightened. What was the Queen going to do?Turn her into a wood-pigeon perhaps, or something of the kind. But suchfears were soon laid at rest.
"It is not a severe test," the Queen continued, and Mary felt that shewas now speaking to herself directly, and that her tone was verygracious. "It is this. For one week you must keep the feather asspotless as it is now, and if at the end of that time you bring it hereagain--perfect and unsullied--you will have gained the prize. Do youagree?" Mary hesitated. She felt somehow a little confused. Mr Coogave her an invisible peck.
"Say `Yes, I will,'" he murmured.
"I do, you mean," whispered Mary, rather pleased to snub him. And shemade another curtsey, and said in a clear voice,--
"I do."
"Then come forward," and Mary did so, till she was close to the pillar,on which Queen White Dove was again standing. It was not much higherthan Mary herself. The Queen raised one dainty claw, and taking the endof the feather from her beak, she placed it just inside the brim ofMary's close-fitting fur hat, or cap, where the grey feather had been onthe day of Mary's first visit to the "forest's secret."
"It is safe and firm," she said. "It will be by your own fault, Mary,if it drops out or is in any way spoilt."
And Mary curtseyed for the third time, murmuring thanks, and went backto her place, wondering to herself what was going to happen next.
The two wood-pigeons were there as before.
"We are all about to disperse," they said. "Lie down and close youreyes for a moment, till the rush is over."
She did so, and again came the great noise of wings, and--when shelooked up, reassured by the silence, she was half-sitting, half-lying atthe gate of her godmother's garden, the basket, well filled with cones,beside her, and the two Cooies perched on it!
And just then, Pleasance came out of the house and rang the big bell.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
"COME BACK IN THE SPRING, MARY."
Mary sprang up. She had been half-sitting on the little gate, for thesurprise of finding herself at home again so quickly had almost takenaway her breath. But the wood-pigeons calmed her down.
"You need not hurry," they said. "Pleasance never expects you for tenminutes or longer after she has rung. Sit down on the basket and wewill keep you warm."
And when Mary had done so, they flew on to her shoulders and spread outtheir little wings as if ready for flight, and Mary felt a nice softglow of heat going through her.
"Now," they continued, "we can talk comfortably--do you want to ask usanything?"
"Of course I do," said Mary. "A great big thing. I want to know how Ican keep my feather perfectly white."
"The Queen told you almost as much as we can," was the reply. "She saidit would be your own fault if it dropped out or got spoilt in any way."
"I know she did," said Mary, "but that's very puzzling. I can't goabout with my hand to my head holding it in."
"You don't need to do so. As the Queen spoke of `fault'--`your ownfault'"--said Mr Coo, "I would advise you to think over what is mostlikely to be a fault of yours."
"I know," said Mary quickly. "Hasty temper--that's my worst fault.Auntie always says so. But sometimes when I've been very unhappy aboutit, she has said any way it doesn't last long; she has said it tocomfort me, you see, and it's true--I scarcely ever feel cross withanybody for more than a minute."
"A minute may leave many minutes of trouble behind it," said Mrs Coo,gently.
"I know that," said Mary. "Once at home poor baby got a knock that wasblack and blue for a week, just because we'd given him a little push toget him out of the way."
"Then be on your guard," the wood-pigeons replied, "and this day weekcome to the meeting-place in the forest again, at the same time. Youwill have no difficulty."
"And shall I not see you till then?" asked Mary, rather dolefully, "awhole week?"
But she was speaking to the air! Her Cooies had disappeared.
"A whole week," however, sometimes passes very quickly, thoughsometimes, it is true, a week seems to have leaden wings. This time itwas not so. Miss Verity was more than kind in her ways of interestingand amusing her little god-daughter; so that even though the weathergrew dull, and rainy, and disagreeable, and it was scarcely possible togo out, either driving or walking, Mary was happy and bright. The onlything that she felt uneasy about was as to the appointed day for hervisit to the secret of the forest.
"If it should be a regular bad day," she said to herself, "godmotherwill certainly not let me go out, and it would seem silly of me toexpect it."
But she wisely consoled herself by remembering that, so far, nothingthat had to do with the wood-pigeons _had_ gone wrong. And as it was a"fairy" matter, she might safely leave it in fairy hands!
"Or in fairy beaks and claws," she added, laughingly, to herself, "as_my_ fairies are all birds."
And her trust was well-founded. For the day before _the_ day there camea complete change in the weather. There was a change of moon, Pleasancetold her, but, however that may have been, there was a great improvementin out-of-doors things. It grew colder, certainly, but bright, andclear, and bracing; the sort of weather that healthy children love, andindoors plenty of good fires kept away all fear of colds, andchilblains, and miseries of that kind.
Mary was delighted; both because she was so glad to get out again, andalso to have her fears about the important day dispelled. For it wasnot now likely, indeed almost impossible, that the weather should changeagain for some little time to come.
"What a good thing it is that I have got all my Christmas presentsfinished before
this nice frost began, isn't it?" she said to Pleasance,as she was dressing to go out, that first fine day. For one of hergodmother's ways of interesting and amusing her in the house had been togive her some charming scraps and patches of silks and satin, besidesother odds and ends of pretty cord and fringe and such things, withwhich Miss Verity had helped her to make sweet and dainty littlepincushions and pen-wipers and so on to take home with her.
"Yes, indeed it is, Miss," said the maid. She was taking Mary's jacket,and cap, and fur boa, and thick gloves out, for she was very afraid ofher catching cold, as this