Birdie's Book - Andrea Burden [26]
“Come with me, Birdie,” she said, the huge wings folding like a butterfly’s as she walked away from us. “Kerka, too!”
“Okay, but who are you?” I asked, following, my eyes on her wings.
The fairy queen turned to answer; her gossamer wings and glistening dress made a swishing sound. “I’m Patchouli, the Queen of the Willowood Fairies. Come quickly, now.”
Queen Patchouli led us out of the blue garden onto a path of stones carved like leaves. This path went right into a weeping willow woods that I hadn’t even noticed because the blue garden was so awesome. We walked between the trees until the queen stopped and pulled aside layers of soft leaf-filled branches on a huge willow tree. She motioned for us to follow her inside.
Under the tree’s shelter was a cozy room draped with white gauzy curtains that let in the light. Music traveled on the breeze and rustled the streaming willow branches. “It’s time for you both to choose proper attire,” Queen Patchouli said.
I exchanged a look with Kerka, who did her usual shrug. Then I saw my very own suitcase sitting on the ground, but with one new detail. A shining gold A glistened on the front, in the same script as had been on Mo’s Aventurine violin case. I looked inquisitively at Queen Patchouli (who, in my head, I was now calling Queen P.).
“What is my suitcase doing here?” I asked.
“It has your clothes in it,” the fairy queen said. She flicked her hands toward the suitcase. Her fingers tinkled; she was wearing rings with tiny bells on them! “Go ahead. Open it!”
I opened the latches and felt a rumble as the entire bag began to shake. I stepped back. The suitcase turned inside out, rose up like a stretched accordion, and slowly became a ten-foot-tall wooden wardrobe. An old woman’s face was carved at the top, wreathed with flowers.
“I was only staying at Mo’s for three days,” I joked. “I certainly didn’t pack all that!”
I inched toward the large wardrobe. The sides were covered in the same stickers as my old suitcase. The fairy queen pulled open the wardrobe doors. It was packed with clothes, and mirrors hung on the inside of each door. Kerka came up beside me to look in as well.
“Go on,” the fairy queen urged. “Dress for adventure.” She looked from Kerka to me. “And don’t worry, the clothes are all fairy-made, so they will fit both of you.”
Kerka and I riffled through colorful dresses, silk saris, suede ponchos, satin kimonos, velvet jackets, and gypsy skirts hanging on the racks. My favorites were a cloak trimmed in golden beads like berries, a cotton sarong embroidered with fall leaves, and a skirt of peacock feathers. There was every fabric I’d ever seen hanging there, plus some that were unfamiliar and felt like water or cobwebs.
We opened a huge bottom drawer to find more: knobby-knit sweaters, patched jeans, woolly tights, and patterned leggings. On a top shelf was more footwear than it seemed possible to hold, everything from galoshes and glittered shoes to cowboy boots and tap shoes. The queen showed us one more drawer, which telescoped out to display masks, fairy wings, necklaces, tiaras, bangles and bracelets, paper fans, scarves of every shape and size, and hats with ribbons and feathers in every color of the rainbow.
“So, dress for adventure, right?” I said to the fairy queen.
“Adventure, danger, whatever you want to call it,” said the queen. “You’ll do wonderfully, but don’t take too long!” With that, she swept out of our dressing-room bower.
“Come on, Kerka, let’s do wonderfully!” I said.
We dug into the clothes like pirates dive into a treasure chest. I picked a pair of boots much like Mo’s but with glittery green laces.
“What do you think?” I asked, lacing them up.
“Definitely, yes!” said Kerka. “Fun but practical.”
“Well?” Kerka asked. I turned and saw that her eyes and nose were covered by a sequined bird mask.
“Absolutely not!” I declared. “Too much of a disguise.”
I chose a spring green tunic stitched with daisies that reminded me of Belle, and a long lacy white