Маленькая принцесса
The Magic
Therewasawreathofflowersonit.Shepulledthewreathoff.
"Thesearegarlandsforthefeast,"shesaidgrandly."Theyfillalltheairwithperfume.There’samugonthewash-stand,Becky.Oh—andbringthesoapdishforacenterpiece."
Beckyhandedthemtoherreverently.
"Whataretheynow,miss?"sheinquired."You’dthinktheywasmadeofcrockery—butIknowtheyain’t."
"Thisisacarvenflagon,"saidSara,arrangingtendrilsofthewreathaboutthemug."Andthis"—bendingtenderlyoverthesoapdishandheapingitwithroses—"ispurestalabasterencrustedwithgems."
Shetouchedthethingsgently,ahappysmilehoveringaboutherlipswhichmadeherlookasifshewereacreatureinadream.
"My,ain’titlovely!"whisperedBecky.
"Ifwejusthadsomethingforbonbondishes,"Saramurmured."There!"—dartingtothetrunkagain."IrememberIsawsomethingthisminute."
Itwasonlyabundleofwoolwrappedinredandwhitetissuepaper,butthetissuepaperwassoontwistedintotheformoflittledishes,andwascombinedwiththeremainingflowerstoornamentthecandlestickwhichwastolightthefeast.OnlytheMagiccouldhavemadeitmorethananoldtablecoveredwitharedshawlandsetwithrubbishfromalong-unopenedtrunk.ButSaradrewbackandgazedatit,seeingwonders;andBecky,afterstaringindelight,spokewithbatedbreath.
