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Chapter One
Angela Harrall took an interest in magic. Not the silly hocus-pocus of birthday party magicians, or the dumb card tricks her older brother was always playing on her. Angela wasn't a stupid per-son. But the real magic that is present at unexplainable happenings, the power that haunts a house or works quietly behind the scenes in secret, hidden worlds -- oh yes, Angela adored that sort of thing. She was a believer in the unknown, and that was why she wrote her crazy letter in the first place.
Georgina, Rusk wouldn't have done it. She believed in the unknown, too, more or less, but not in writing to it. And little Poco Lambert, well ... she was an animal-lover who spoke mostly to pets.
"I can't believe you actually wrote to her," Georgina said irritably, on the Saturday morning that Angela's mysterious answer appeared. "I mean it's so ridiculous, writing a letter to your fairy godmother. Nobody bothers with that stuff anymore."
The three friends were at the Rusks' house, lounging on their big back lawn. The day was a warm one, one of those early October beauties when summer takes a last wistful turn before giving up the stage to autumn's chill.
"Well, I bothered with it, and I got an answer back," Angela replied. "It was on the mantelpiece in the living room when I came downstairs' for breakfast this morning."
"So? Anybody could have written a letter and put it there. In case you've forgotten, three other people five in your house: your mother, your brother, and your father."
"And your Siamese cat," Poco said sweetly to Angela. "Don't forget her."
"Her cat!" exclaimed Georgina. "Good grief!"
"Siamese catsare very talented," Poco went on. "People don't yet know all the things they can do."
Georgina rolled her eyes. "AH right, where is this fantastic letter?" she asked Angela. "You said you were going to show us, and you didn't even bring it with you."
"Yes I did."
"Well, where is it? I suppose you're going to tell us it's invisible. It's from one of those fairy godmothers that only appear to people who believe in them. Like Tinkerbell. But if we clap our hands together really hard and fast, the magic will go to work and --"
"George, ssh!" said Poco. "Look!"
While Georgina was talking, Angela had reached into the cotton vest she was wearing and taken something out of an inside pocket. It was a piece of paper, rolled up, with a thin gold thread tied around the middle. She held the paper up triumphantly for them to see, and when she did, a very fine golden dust flew out of one end and fell to the grass in a shimmering stream.
"Wow!" exclaimed Poco, reaching out to the place in the grass where the dust had fallen. She tried to pick some up, but it had disappeared.
Georgina said nothing, but her eyes widened.
"That happens every time I go to open the letter!" Angela exclaimed. "I can never see where it comes from. Look, there's nothing inside.".
She unrolled the paper, which was thin but stiffer than ordinary paper. It made a crinkly sound as it came unfurled. Angela showed Pocoand Georgina the open letter. There wasn't a bit of gold dust on it anywhere. Strange-looking purple writing covered the page. The friends leaned forward together and read the following:
With great honor I present myself- Pilaria of the Kingdom of the Faeries, Eighth Tribe, Fourth Earth, Under the Sun-Star Aravan, May It Shine on Our Land Forever and Ever.
ANGELA HARRALL:
Your message has been received Unfortunately, boxes of chocolates like the one you requested have long been out of stock. A hundred years ago they were all the rage, but fashions change. The kingdom has not filled such an order in fifty or sixty years and no longer prepares them. We are sorry that we cannot grant your wish in this matter.
Respectfully,
The Gray-Eyed Faerie,
PILARIA
"Good grief, Angela. What kind of chocolates did you ask for?" Georgina demanded, after she had read all the way through.
Angela blushed. She was a stocky child who was known for her excellent appetite. "Well . . . I read about a box of candy that could never be finished," she explained. "The girl in the story asked for one from her fairy godmother, and she got it. It was great. Whenever she put the cover back on, all the chocolates she'd eaten grew back again so she could start all over."
There was a long silence while everyone read the letter again. And again. The purple script was beautiful. It descended the page in marvelous loops and swirls and looked vaguely Chinese. Pilaria's signature was elegant beyond words.
"This was not done by a Siamese cat," Poco announced finally.
"No." Georgina tested the paper's thinness between two fingers. "It might be old airmail paper," she said doubtfully.
"It's too stiff," Angela said.
"I've never seen writing like this," Georgina said. "Or ink this color." She paused. "But the letter is stupid. Nobody would ever believe such baloney. 'Eighth Tribe, Fourth Earth, Under the Sun-Star Aravan.' I mean really!"
Angela looked at her angrily. She rolled the letter back up fast -- it seemed to want to roll up by itself anyway -- and slipped the circle of gold thread around it. She was preparing to put it back in her vest pocket when Georgina gasped. Poco sat forward, her eyes round with astonishment. "The gold dust!" she cried. "There it is again!"
A rather larger amount of dust had dropped out of the letter and was falling in a shining river toward the ground. But once there, the, stuff completely disappeared, just as it had the first time.
Angela shook her head helplessly. "That's what always happens," she said, tucking the amazing letter back into her inside pocket...
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