Fairy rings and other things

"I've brought a book," he announced, and stepped respectfully around the little lines of sticks on the ground. "Puck of Pook's Hill, " He read from the cover. "The title is nice to say - say it Maggie: Puck of Pook's Hill - but the story makes little sense. It's about fairies," and he lowered himself carefully next to her, settling himself within the outlines of the little dining room. "Fairies," he went on, gazing at her solemnly, "are the creatures who buy up all those used teeth."

"There's no such thing," she said.
"No such thing!" Uncle Morris looked offended. "No such thing ? Maggie, do you know that some fairies have been known to spend as much as an entire dollar on a single molar? And you say there's no such thing? A dollar for one tooth! And do you know why?"

She put a strand of hair in her mouth.

"They make drinks out of them!" Uncle Morris explained. "Drinks! Did you know that? They drop each tooth into a buttercup of boiling dew, and let it steep for a few minutes, then they drink the liquor."

Maggie scrapped off a thin channel of pale-green scum from the rock under he knee and rubbed it along her thumbnail.

"Save that," Uncle Morris said, observing her. "That's frog make-up. They use it around their eyes."

Maggie examined her tinted nail and wondered for a moment what it would be like to brighten the eyelid of a frog with its yellow-green film. Just a slender circle, she thought, one here, one here.

"Here," Uncle Morris offered. "we'll collect it on this leaf," and for a brief moment Maggie held out her thumb, but she withdrew it quickly and wiped it clean on the edge of the rock.

"And do you know what they call it, " he went on, "this wonderful liquor brewed from the molars of thousands of young mouths across the land?" He looked at her. "Do you know?"

"No."

"Uncle Morris lowered his head and his voice at the same time. "Tooth tea," he said confidentially. "Tooth tea. But sometimes their tongues get tangled, and they call it 'two teeth' instead, which confuses the fairy cooks no end - they put two molars into a single buttercup instead of one, and that makes the tea to tart. Then the fairies become angry, and they all start yelling at once, "The two-teeth tooth tea is too, too tart. " Sometimes you can hear them, late at night, although most people mistake the sound for the chirping of crickets. Have you ever heard them?"

--excerpt from Sylvia Cassedy's "Behind the Attic Wall"