thirteen

Sylva carefully chose her most precious items for Goldie: the ropes of seed pearls the mermaids had given her. She had thought she might save them for Tinker Bell’s homecoming, but Tinker Bell so rarely came home these days that it seemed a shame not to use them for Golden’s gown.

Sylva knew she would have to be very, very careful with Golden’s gown. It was so delicate and precious. But slowly, painstakingly, Sylva sewed on the ropes of pearls. At first it went pretty well, and the pearls sat easily on the downy feathers. But Sylva was so tired, and her hand was shaking because she was worried she wouldn’t do it just right, and soon things went a bit wrong. A few of the downy feathers got crushed under the weight of the pearls. A few more disappeared as Sylva snipped here and there to make everything even. And then snipped again to get it just right. Sylva’s eyelids were heavy, which made it hard for her to concentrate. Finally she cut off the last thread. It was almost dawn.

“All done, Squeak,” she said. But Squeak had fallen asleep hours ago. Sylva looked around the great room. It was a dreadful mess, she had to admit. But there would be time enough to tidy everything up. Her sisters wouldn’t be awake for hours.

Sylva lifted up Golden’s dress and held it to her in front of the fairy mirror. “I think this will be perfect for Goldie,” she said to herself. “But there’s only one way to be sure.”

Gently, oh so gently, Sylva picked up Golden’s gown.

“I know I really shouldn’t,” she whispered to Squeak. “But it’s the only way to make sure I’ve done a good enough job for Goldie.” Sylva lifted the dress up into the air and slipped it over her head. Then she turned around to look in the mirror and—

“Sylva! What are you doing?” Goldie’s panicked voice pierced the silence of the dawn. “My dress! You’ve ruined my dress!”

“No, no, Goldie! I was just trying—”

“You spiteful little busybody! Get that off right now!”

“Goldie, I—”

“Get it OFF!”

I’m sure you have guessed what Sylva did not. Goldie, who usually loved to sleep in late, had been awakened by the excitement of the ball. She had come downstairs to try on her dress one more time. And what had she found?

“It’s a disaster in here! Sylva, you are in so much trouble!”

Sylva’s tears fell on the silk. She was trying to be so good. Couldn’t she make Golden understand?

“Stop that crying! You’ll ruin it even more!”

“What is going on?” Clara, in her flannel pajamas, peered down into the great room. She looked around at the scene.

Goldie stood as still as a statue, her hands on her hips, her cheeks flaming. Snippets of fabric and thread were caught in the fairy carpet of moss on the floor. Shells, seaweed, driftwood, and yes, even sand, were scattered everywhere. Rosy’s gown was in a crumpled heap, one of the hermit crabs had wandered away, and three of Clara’s new sea-glass jewels were already falling off. The commotion had woken up Squeak and made her wail. And in the corner of the room, Sylva, half-in, half-out of Goldie’s gown, was racked with sobs.

“Sylva! What have you done? Here, let me help you.” Clara glided down to poor Sylva and helped her struggle out of the gown, which was sadly drooping under the weight of the mermaids’ pearls.

“Look at my dress! It’s ruined!”

Clara flew over to Squeak to calm her down. “I’m sure Sylva has an explanation for this,” Clara said sternly. Then she saw her tiara and bracelets spilled on the floor. “Sylva! Did you do this?”

“I didn’t think that—”

“No, you didn’t think, did you?” said Clara.

“You were trying to ruin the Fairy Ball for us because you’re too young to go!”

“Golden!” Rosy’s voice rang out as she came down the stairs. “That is too, too unkind of you. I’m sure Sylva was only—”

But then Rosy caught sight of her own pink dress in a heap on the floor. Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, Sylva,” she said, “what have you done?”

“Please, no, Rosy,” said Sylva in a whisper. “Not you, too.”

And, as the morning sun streamed through the windows, Sylva ran up to her fairy bedroom and cried and cried and cried.