32. To Magpie's Nest Sale

And so we spent a very entertaining witching hour with Mr. Eddy. In fact, dawn was about to break when we descended from the attic and were deposited under the street lantern by our cloud. Before leaving, I got to ask him what I could do about my nightmares.

“Exteriorize them. Put them on paper. Write them out. Turn them into literature.” Then he gave a laugh and said, “Some people seem to have been able to turn mine into money. That makes my nightmares less frightening, doesn’t it? Or does it? I suppose it depends on whether you think about this a lot or not. Most people wouldn’t. They’d just go spend the money.”

And to fight my nightmares I decided to write a poem. And when it was done, I took it to Michael’s place. But I didn’ t get a chance to show it to him, because I found he had his own plans. He was babysitting Alpin and was about to take his cousin with him to a nest sale. I was invited to tag along.

In case you don’t know what a nest sale is, I will explain that there is a shady fairy called Magpie, disapproved of by all honest members of her trade, who has an enormous nest-shaped shop she keeps filling with all kinds of stuff acquired in ways one must not ask  too many questions about.

Twice a year she cleans her shop and has a sale to get rid of old things because she needs to make space for new ones. On these occasions Magpie’s prices are temptingly low, which she can afford since she has often paid nothing for her goods herself.

Most of us do most of our shopping at Moonlight Market, held every night save those with a new moon, but when we want something we have lost mysteriously, it is Magpie’s Nest we go to.       

“What will you buy me?” Alpin asked Michael excitedly

“I am only going to Magpie’s sale because I’ve been told there is the chance that she might have the shoe I lost,” explained Michael.

“You already have a new pair,” said Alpin. “One shoe you made for yourself and another your father made for you and gave you for Christmas. Plus my sisters found one of the shoes you lost. That means you have three shoes. If I know how to count, and I do, you have one more than any other leprechaun. You don’t need three shoes, you only have two feet. To insist on searching for the fourth shoe is plain greed. Be generous and let someone else have it, Michael.”

“No, it’s not greed. It’s prudence. My leprechaun shoe with its special powers mustn’t fall into just any hands.”

“I still think you should buy me something instead of paying for an old shoe.”

“Should I see it, I’m not going to buy it. I’m going to claim it. I can prove it is mine.”

“If she’s as mean as they say she is, she won’t just return it to you. She is sure to put up a fight. That might be interesting to watch, but I still want you to buy something for me before you kill each other. Besides, if you do, she might not peck your eyes out for claiming your shoe. By the way, does Magpie offer buyers refreshments?”

“No,” replied Michael. “But if I have trouble with her over my shoe, I will suggest she do that.”

To distract Alpin, Michael then suggested we sing songs on the road to Magpie’s.

                          

“The speckled hen bird sat pretty, high up on the green lemon tree!” sang Alpin on the way to Magpie’s sale.

“With her beak she cuts off  the flowers, with her beak she cuts off the leaves!” continued the fairy Moth. 

They had both learned this song from Señora Estrella.

Moth was a great friend of Michael’s and he always asked her to accompany him when he went shopping. She was very posh and gave wonderful advice about which things were in fashion. It came in useful, because Michael never knew what to buy.

“I’d rather you didn’t sing songs about birds now that we are nearing Magpie’s territory,” said Michael nervously. He had barely spoken when a man from the West Indies overtook them singing his own bird song.

                      

“Yellow bird, up high in the banana tree! Yellow bird, you sit all alone like me!”

The man interrupted himself to chuckle slyly and winking an eye at us continued on his way down the road. Before anyone could issue a comment, two Victorian gentlemen strolled by singing resoundingly:

                             

“On a tree by a river a little tom-tit sang, ‘Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow!’”

They tipped their hats simultaneously at Michael and skipped off waving their canes.

And then we all heard a giggle behind us and as we turned to see who was responsible for it. Lady Murasaki herself  began to sing.

                                

“To the plum tree branch the warbler comes, to sing all spring long!”

The Purple Lady is a great friend of  Don Alonso’s, for he admires her  novel about the Japanese gentleman Genjii, the first ever written in the world, as much as she likes the one he is the hero of. And she is also a friend of Michael’s for they like to have tea together on nights when the moon is full. They play music by turns, she on her konghou and he on his harp. So she bowed to us and we to her and she went her way flanked by three little maids with parasols.

“Is it that I am a spoilsport?” wondered Michael, even more uncomfortable than before. 

“I can do everybody better,” crowed Alpin. And he recited the following poem:

“One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for a wedding,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret, never to be told,

Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten is a bird you must not miss!

Magpie!”