The Fairy Bell Sisters: Silver and the Fairy Ball

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“Now for the eggs, Silver,” Clara said. “Just give me a minute to butter the pan. I really should have done that before we started.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Then I’ll watch as you crack.”

If Clara had thought about it, she would have known that it’s pretty hard to ask someone to wait to crack an egg, especially if that someone is Silver. Clara might have mentioned, too, that Silver should check the recipe before she took the next step. Or asked someone to help.

But Lily was busy upstairs.

And Rosie was still out with Squeak.

And Clara didn’t remind Silver to follow the instructions.

And Silver didn’t follow the instructions.

Crack.

Crack.

If you think Silver smashed the eggs against the bowl and filled the batter with shells... you are only partially right. What she also didn’t remember was—

“Not like that!” cried Clara.

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The cake turned out fine.

“I think it’s better blueberry cake than the Bakewell sisters make,” said Rosie. “Even if you didn’t separate the eggs.”

“Or whip the whites and fold them in,” said Clara, “the way the recipe says to.”

“I’m not sure I like the crunchiness,” said Lily.

“Eggshells are full of goodness,” said Rosie, though she did not sound too convincing.

There was a knock at the door.

“Snail mail!” cried Lily. The Mail Snail carried a creamy white envelope in its pouch. “Ooh! It’s from Queen Mab herself. Just as I told you!”

The envelope was addressed to the Fairy Bell sisters. They opened it together. Inside was an invitation.

Silver was so excited! Her first ball! She’d finally hear Queen Mab’s insect orchestra! She’d walk on satin ribbons to get to the fairy palace. She’d pet the queen’s own little pony and cradle her magic white mice. She’d eat as many cupcakes as she wanted. And open presents. And stay up late, dancing till dawn.

There was just one thing that puzzled her.

“What does ‘eligible’ mean?” she asked her sister Clara. Clara was bouncing Squeak on her knee, to Squeak’s utter delight.

“Apa! ” said Squeak.

“Oh, you want more, do you?” said Clara.

But before Clara could answer Silver’s question, Lily cut in.

“Eligible means you have to be eight fairy years old to go to the ball,” said Lily. “And you are not eight.”

“I am eight,” said Silver. “Or I will be eight very soon. On Saturday.”

“Yes, that’s true,” said Rosie gently. “But the ball is on Friday and your birthday is the next day, Silver. You’ll still be seven on Friday night when the ball is held. So you’ll have to wait until next year to go to your first ball.”

“No!” cried Silver. “That’s not fair!”

“Better luck next year!” said Lily.

“Squeak! ” cried Squeak.

Silver flew to her room and cried and cried. Not go to the ball! Impossible!

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But it was possible. In fact, it was true. Silver Bell was not allowed to go to the ball. It was the Fairy Way. Silver Bell was so sad she cried fairy tears that covered the evening flowers with morning-time dew. Even Squeak tugging at her skirt and saying, “No lolo,” did not make her feel any better.

“What do you mean, ‘Don’t be sad’?” Silver replied to Squeak, rather crossly. “You’d be sad, too, if you were one day too young to go to the ball.”

On Tuesday morning, Silver did not even have fairy breakfast with her sisters. And this was a particular sacrifice on her part because Tuesday fairy breakfasts are utterly delicious: lingonberry jam and wheat-berry toast; pomegranate juice poured over fresh-cut oranges; sweet oatmeal with sultanas and apples; blue hen eggs, medium-boiled and prunes. Plus, that Tuesday, there was leftover blueberry cake.

“Apa! ” said Squeak.

“Here’s some more,” said Silver as she popped some cake crumbs into Squeak’s mouth. “But Clara will take care of you today. I’m afraid I need to go out for a while.”

Silver flew sadly above the fairy houses to the tip of Cathedral Pines. She usually felt better there, for the pines were very high, and when the mist was rising, the sunlight streamed through the branches and made the whole thing look just like a dream. But today, even the chittering of the squirrels and the far-off whistles of the ospreys did not cheer her up. She sat down on the moss and sighed.

Just then Silver’s best friend Poppy Flower flew up and landed lightly next to her. Poppy wrapped an arm around Silver.

“I just heard!” said Poppy. “I am so sorry you can’t go to the ball, Silver. You must feel dreadful!” She gave Silver a tight hug.