Fairy Dust and the Quest for the Egg

First Chapter

When baby Sara Quirtle laughed for the first time, the laugh burbled out of her and flitted through her window. It slid down the side of her house and pranced along her quiet lane. It took a right on Water Street, and frolicked on to the wide sea that separated the mainland from Never Land. There the laugh set out, skipping from the tip-top of one wave to the tip-top of the next.

But after two weeks of dancing over the ocean, the laugh veered too far to the south. It would have missed the island entirely if Never Land hadn't moved south, too. The island was looking for the laugh.

The fact is, you can't find Never Land if it doesn't want you, and if it does want you, you can't miss it.

The island is an odd place. The humans (or Clumsies, as the fairies call them) and the animals who live there never grow old. Never. That's why the island is called Never Land.

The only reason the island rides the waves is because Clumsy children believe in it. If a time ever comes when they all lose faith, Never Land will lift up and fly away. Even now, if a single Clumsy child stops believing in fairies, a Never fairy dies -- unless enough Clumsy children clap to show that they believe.

Sometimes the island is huge, and sometimes it's small. Its inhabitants mostly live near the shore. The forests and the plains and Torth Mountain, where the dragon Kyto is imprisoned, are largely unexplored.

As soon as the island moved, Mother Dove knew a laugh was on its way. High time, she thought. She felt lucky whenever a new arrival was coming. And the fairies would be jubilant.

She told Beck, the finest animal-talent fairy in Never Land. Beck told her friend Moth, who could light the entire Home Tree with her glow. Moth told Tinker Bell and eight other fairies.

You see, when a baby laughs for the first time, the laugh turns into a fairy. Often it turns into a mainland fairy -- a Great Wanded fairy or a Lesser Wanded fairy or a Spell-Casting fairy or a Giant Shimmering fairy. Occasionally it turns into a Never fairy.

Word spread to all the talents. Each one wanted the new fairy, and each one made an extra effort to deserve her. The keyhole-design-talent fairies whipped up a dozen fresh designs. The caterpillar-herders found a caterpillar that had been missing for a week. And the music-talent fairies, who had just lost a fairy to disbelief, practiced an extra hour every day.

Approaching the island, the laugh slipped under a mermaid's rainbow. It breezed by the pirate ship in Pirate Cove, too silly to be scared. When it touched shore, it sped up and hurtled along the beach, not even pausing to admire the flock of giant yellow-shelled tortoises.

The laugh shrank and became more concentrated. After it passed the fifty-fourth conch shell, it canted inland. It hadn't gone far, however, before the air hardened against it. The laugh was forced to slow down to a crawl.

The trouble was that Never Land was having doubts. This laugh was a little different, and the island wasn't sure whether to let it in.

Below lay Fairy Haven. Fairies were flying in and out of their rooms in the Home Tree, a towering maple that is the heart of Fairy Haven. Fairies were washing windows, taking in laundry, watering windowsill flowerpots -- making everything shipshape in honor of the evening's celebration of the Molt.

The laugh sensed it belonged down there. It tried to descend, but it couldn't.

In the lower stories of the Home Tree, fairies were busy in their workshops. Two sewing-talent fairies were rushing to finish an iris-petal gown. Bess, the island's foremost artist, was putting the finishing touches on a portrait of Mother Dove.

If Bess -- or any of the others-had known the laugh was overhead, she'd have flown out her window and helped it along. She'd have called more fairies to help too. And they'd have come, every single one -- even nasty Vidia, even dignified Queen Clarion.

On the tree's lowest story, fairies bustled about the kitchen, unaware of the laugh. Two cooking-talent fairies hefted a huge roast of mock turtle into the oven. Three sparrow men (male fairies) argued over the best way to slice the night's potato. And a baking-talent fairy consulted with a coiffure-talent fairy over the braiding of the bread.

Above, the laugh pushed on, fighting for every inch.

It passed above the oak tree that was the Home Tree's nearest neighbor. The laugh had no idea that a crew of scullery-talent fairies was working under the tree. Protected by nutshell helmets, they were collecting acorns for tonight's soup.

In the barnyard beyond the oak tree, four dairy-talent fairies milked four dairy mice. The fairies failed to see the laugh's faint shadow as it crossed over each mouse's back.

In the orchard on the other side of Havendish Stream, a squad of fruit-talent fairies picked two dozen cherries for two dozen cherry pies. If only they'd looked up!

The laugh reached the edge of Fairy Haven where Mother Dove sat, as always, on her egg in the lower branches of a hawthorn tree. The nest was next to the fairy circle, where tonight's celebration would be held.

Did the laugh feel the pull of Mother Dove's goodness? I don't know, but it bunched itself for a final effort.

If Mother Dove hadn't been distracted, she'd have felt the laugh. But she was listening as a fairy recited her lines for a skit tonight, and she was watching as another fairy practiced her flying polka. Mother Dove wanted to nod encouragingly to them, but she had to keep her head still so Beck could brush her neck feathers.

Overhead, the laugh pushed with all its might. At the same moment, Never Land decided to let it in.

It spun once, then zoomed faster and faster, above Mother Dove, back over the orchard, past the mice and the oak tree, on a downward course. It achieved final sneeze force and exploded right outside the knothole door to the Home Tree.

And there, in the Tree's pebbled courtyard, was Prilla, the new fairy, flat on her back, one wing bent, legs in the air, the remnants of the laugh collecting around her to form her Arrival Garment.