Белая птичка

The Little House

           Oneofherarmswasextendedandthishadbotheredthemforasecond,buttheybuiltaverandahroundit,leadingtothefrontdoor.Thewindowswerethesizeofacolouredpicture-bookandthedoorrathersmaller,butitwouldbeeasyforhertogetoutbytakingofftheroof.Thefairies,asistheircustom,clappedtheirhandswithdelightovertheircleverness,andtheywereallsomadlyinlovewiththelittlehousethattheycouldnotbeartothinktheyhadfinishedit.Sotheygaveiteversomanylittleextratouches,andeventhentheyaddedmoreextratouches.

           Forinstance,twoofthemranupaladderandputonachimney.

           “Nowwefearitisquitefinished,”theysighed.Butno,foranothertworanuptheladder,andtiedsomesmoketothechimney.

           “Thatcertainlyfinishesit,”theycriedreluctantly.

           “Notatall,”criedaglow-worm,“ifsheweretowakewithoutseeinganight-lightshemightbefrightened,soIshallbehernight-light.”

           “Waitonemoment,”saidachinamerchant,“andIshallmakeyouasaucer.”

           Nowalas,itwasabsolutelyfinished.

           Oh,dearno!

           “Graciousme,”criedabrassmanufacturer,“there’snohandleonthedoor,”andheputoneon.

           Anironmongeraddedascraperandanoldladyranupwithadoor-mat.Carpentersarrivedwithawater-butt,andthepaintersinsistedonpaintingit.

           Finishedatlast!

           “Finished!howcanitbefinished,”theplumberdemandedscornfully,“beforehotandcoldareputin?”andheputinhotandcold.

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