Lily was an inquisitive 7-year-old with large, brilliant eyes and an unending creative mind. She cherished investigating the little nursery behind her home, where she accepted small pixies resided among the blossoms.
One evening, she found a little, sparkling quill laying on a flower petal. "A pixie feather!" she heaved, holding it delicately. Invigorated, she hurried to show her grandma, who grinned and said, "Perhaps it's a gift for you."
That evening, Lily set the plume under her cushion and murmured, "Thank you, little pixie!" As she floated to rest, she longed for a gleaming pixie who moved in the twilight, snickering delicately.
The following morning, something supernatural occurred — her once-shriveled sunflower had sprouted for the time being! Lily applauded with euphoria. "The pixies heard me!" she thought.
From that day on, she really focused on her nursery with much more love, accepting her small companions were watching. Regardless of whether genuine, the enchanted she felt in her heart was sufficient to keep her marvel alive.
