And there were nests in the hawthorn hedge.

And there was a small wicket gate.
When Robin caught sight of it she wondered--for a moment--if she were going to cry.

Only because it was part of the dream and could be nothing else--unless one wakened.
On the tiny porch covered with honeysuckle in bloom, a little, old fairy woman was sitting knitting a khaki sock very fast.

She wore a clean print gown and a white apron and a white cap with a frilled border.

She had a stick and a nutcracker face and a pair of large iron bowed spectacles.