To feel the magic of the glen you must sit very still and look, not with your eyes, but with your heart. Then, if you are lucky, you too will discover the wonderful world that lies hidden behind the trees and flowers. Come and listen and I'll tell you a story of the old tree and of a secret place where wishes may still come true.

The sun was slipping behind the old gnarly tree, and there was magic in the air. Some say this special tree was here long before the giants came and built their cities of black tar and stone. Walking by you could tell that something was about to happen. Music and laughter was coming from the shadows. Rock gnomes were beating the drums and little elves were playing their pipes.

A huge crowd of little people were marching through the glen. Sparkle and Thistle were carried high above the others. Fennel was holding the magic hat and Mugwart led the cheers. Best of all, the sound of silver bells could be heard rising above the evening mist.
Burdock, the leader of the glen, stepped forward. The drums became still as Sparkle and Thistle were placed on the ground. Dew Drop, a cute little sprite, pushed through the crowd and stood beside her two friends. Just then, Laurel, the fairy of the glen, lit up the sky with her twinkling dust. She hovered near and spoak to the crowd. "Come one, come all and you will see, three heroes by our magic tree." Thistle looked at his friends and winked. "Yes-sir-ree," he bragged. "Heroes, that's what we'll be."

The fairy reached down and touched each sprite with her wand. "You have done well," she said. "And for this, I will grant each of you one special wish." Without thinking Thistle shouted out. "Oh yes," he said. "I wish I had all the pollen pies I could ever eat...Oh wait!" But it was too late. Pollen pies began popping out of every flower in the glen.

There were bluebell and honeysuckle, clover and jasmine pies. The elves began to cheer as they piled them higher and higher. There were hollyhock pies and marigold pies, so many pies that they couldn't keep count. Thistle shook his head and began to laugh. Then the others began to laugh too. "Be merry, said the fairy. Be bright." "The magic hat is safe and all is well this night." "The magic hat is safe!" the others began to cheer. Then the drums began to pound and all through the night there would be music and laughter.

The elves huddled close as Thistle told wonderful stories of mighty dragons and toy tractors. Near-by, Sparkle was smiling as a group of gnomes gathered around. "What was it like," they asked. "Yes, tell us of the giants' world and what they do at night." Just as Sparkle was about to speak, Burdock, his father, stepped near.
"So, now you're a hero," said the old man. "Yes sir, well, I mean no sir," said the boy. "How quickly we forget that it was your foolishness that nearly put an end to us all!" Sparkle bowed his head. "Listen and listen well," whispered Burdock. "The day will soon come when I must go. Then it will be you who must care for all that you see."

Sparkle glanced up. Never before had the old man seemed so distant. The young sprite sat on a shroom and took a deep breath. The night was dark but the light of a thousand moons could be seen shimmering in the spider's web. The celebration would last until dawn. But for Sparkle, something deep inside was whispering. "Yes," he thought. "Something very important was about to happen, and it was coming near."

The morning sun was creeping over the city streets. John-Michael's father was up raking leaves. Inside, the little giant was sleeping. He wasn't very big, not even five years old. The room was still. Only the clock could be heard ticking on the wall.

Suddenly, a great gust of wind blew and scattered all the leaves. Then came a tapping and in a flash, a small white humming bird slipped through the open window. The tiny bird dashed about. Then hovered close to the sleeping giant. He looked, and there resting in the boy's hand, was Willard's magic stone.
Just then a golden light filled the room. The tiny bird disappeared but in its place was Willard-the-Wizzard, standing on the dresser. S-l-o-w-l-y he looked around. On the floor he saw a small plant. It was dry and very sad. The wizard pointed his wooden staff and three red flowers began to bloom. The plant smiled and the wizard vanished, only to appear once again on John-Michael's pillow. He touched the magic stone with his staff. It shimmered and a soft light filled the room.
Then Willard straightened his pointed hat and sat very close to the sleeping boy. He blew sparkling dust high into the air. Up it twisted like swirling, twinkling clouds. Then he began to whisper. "You are different than the rest," he said. "There is a light that glows behind the trees and flowers. This light is in you and in me. You can not see this light with your eyes but only with your heart. Look and it will always lead you safely home. Now sleep, and let your dreams carry you far beyond the stars."

Suddenly, a door slammed. Heavy footsteps came stomping down the hall. The little giant's father was angry and shouting at the wind. Then another door slammed and the boy's eyes began to open. There was a burst of light. Willard was gone but the humming bird appeared once again. John-Michael smiled as he came near, but only for a moment. Then he disappeared through the open window. Like magic the leaves began to dance across the lawn. Up into the air they flew, then down they tumbled into a neat pile next to the tree.

Just then the boy's mother stepped in the room. "What's this," she asked, brushing aside the sparkling dust. "The humming bird left it," said the boy. "A humming bird," she asked. "Yes, he whispered in my ear." "What a wonderful dream," she said. John Michael reached under the covers for the magic stone. "But it wasn't a dream," he said. "Really it wasn't." His mother smiled and began to make the bed. "Can we play at the park today," asked the boy. "We'll see," she said. "We'll see."