She is in there now, making Aunt Desire's room look like it did when she was a girl." "Oh, isn't it lovely!" exclaimed Joyce.

"It is better than all the fairy tales that I have ever read or heard,--almost too good to be true!" Just then Cousin Kate called her, and she ran across the hall.
Standing in the doorway, she looked all around the freshly furnished room, that glowed with the same soft, warm pink that colors the heart of a shell.
"How beautiful!" cried Joyce, glancing from the rose on the dressing-table to the soft curtains of the windows, which all opened towards the morning sun.

"What a change it will be from that big bare dormitory with its rows of narrow little cots." She tiptoed around the room, admiring everything, and smiling over the happiness in store for poor old Number Thirty-one, when she should find herself in the midst of such loveliness.
Joyce's cup of pleasure was so full, that it brimmed over when they turned to leave the room.

Cousin Kate slipped an arm around her, and kissed her softly on the forehead.
"You dear little fairy tale lover," she said.

"Do you know that it is because of you that this desert has blossomed?
If you had never made all those visits to the Little Sisters of the Poor, and had never won old Madame Desire's love and confidence by your sympathy, if you had never told Jules the story of the giant scissors, and wished so loud that you could fly to her rescue, old monsieur would never have known that his sister is living.