While she stood looking eagerly at the strange and beautiful sights,
she noticed coming toward her a group of the queerest people she had ever seen.
They were not as big as the grown folk she had always been used to; but neither were they small.
In fact, they seemed about as tall as Dorothy,
who was a well-grown child for her age, although they were, so far as looks go, many years older.
Three were men and one a woman, and all were oddly dressed.
They wore round hats that rose to a small point a foot above their heads,
with little bells around the brims that tinkled sweetly as they moved.
The hats of the men were blue; the little woman's hat was white,
and she wore a white gown that hung in pleats from her shoulders.
Over it were sprinkled little stars that glistened in the sun like diamonds.
The men were dressed in blue, of the same shade as their hats,
and wore well-polished boots with a deep roll of blue at the tops.
The men, Dorothy thought, were about as old as Uncle Henry, for two of them had beards.
But the little woman was doubtless much older.
Her face was covered with wrinkles, her hair was nearly white, and she walked rather stiffly.
When these people drew near the house where Dorothy was standing in the doorway,
they paused and whispered among themselves, as if afraid to come farther.
But the little old woman walked up to Dorothy, made a low bow and said, in a sweet voice: