I'll get it." The Harvester broke from a tree a large fan-shaped fungus, the surface satin fine, the base mossy, and explained to the Girl that these were the ballrooms of the woods, the floors on which the little people dance in the moonlight at their great celebrations.

Then he added a piece of woolly dog moss, and showed her how each separate spine was like a perfect little evergreen tree.
"That is where the fairies get their Christmas pines," he explained.
"Do you honestly believe in fairies ?" "Surely!" exclaimed the Harvester.

"Who would tell me when the maples are dripping sap, and the mushrooms springing up, if the fairies didn't whisper in the night?
Who paints the flower faces, colours the leaves, enamels the ripening fruit with bloom, and frosts the window pane to let me know that it is time to prepare for winter?
Of course! They are my friends and everyday helpers.

And the winds are good to me.

They carry down news when tree bloom is out, when the pollen sifts gold from the bushes, and it's time to collect spring roots.