there was born a little daughter. And the king, being a modern fairy, determined to invite to the christening of his daughter twelve mortals —a thing never before countenanced in fairy ceremony. And of course all unreal people are always very particular about their ceremonies being just so.
It was a delicate and difficult task to make out that mortal invitation list, for it was very hard to find in the world twelve human beings who, at a fairy party, would exactly fit in. After long thought and consultation with all his ministers and councillors, the king made out the following list:—
A child; a poet; a scientist; a carpenter; a prophet; an artist; an artisan; a gardener; a philosopher; a woman who was also a mother; a man who was also a father; and a day labourer.
“Do you think that will do at all?” the fairy king asked the fairy queen, tossing over the list.
“Well, dear,” she replied, “it’s probably the best you can do. You know what people are.” She hesitated a mere breath a fairy’s breath—and added: “I do wonder a little, though, just why the day labourer.”
