He felt now quite content to let it all be like a pretty dream which they both knew about, but which was not for everyday life.
Only one impression remained on his mind.

He got the greatest wish to learn to throw balls like the princess of the Brown Bull story, and for some days every time they went out, he kept peering in at the toy-shop windows to see if such a thing as golden balls was to be had.

And at last Jeanne asked him what he was always looking for, and then he told her.
She agreed with him that golden balls would be a very pretty play, but she was afraid such a thing could not be found.
"They were fairy balls, you know, Cheri," she said, gravely.
"Yes," Hugh replied, "he knew they were; he did not expect such balls as they were, of course, but still he didn't see why they might not get some sort of gold-looking balls.

There were red and blue, and green ones in plenty.

He didn't see why there should be no gold ones." "Gold is so very dear," said Jeanne.
"Yes, real gold is, of course," said Hugh; "but there are lots of things that look like gold that can't be real gold--picture frames, and the edges of books, and lots of other things." "Yes," said Jeanne, "but still, I don't see that the stuff any of those are made of would do to make balls of." However, she joined Hugh in the search, and many a day when they were out they peeped together not only into the toy-shops, but into the windows of the queer old curiosity shops, of which, in the ancient town which was Jeanne's home, there were many.