Prilla and the Butterfly Lie by Kitty Richards Page A

couple of minutes, she was done. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked.

    Prilla wasn’t sure if Nettle was talking to her or to the caterpillar. She shook her head anyway.
    Nettle let the newly shorn caterpillar go. Prilla watched as it inched away as fast as it could—which was pretty slow.
    Nettle smiled at Prilla. “You sit and rest,” she said. “I’ll do the cleaning up.”
    Prilla lowered herself onto a moss-covered stone. She picked a stray piece of caterpillar fuzz from the hem of her pale pink silk skirt. Nettle and the other caterpillar shearers began sweeping up the loose fuzz.
    Thank goodness that ’ s over, Prilla thought. Maybe tomorrow I won ’ t do anything but blink over to the mainland as many times as I want. It would be a perfect day.
    Nettle put the caterpillar fuzz she’d swept up into a sack made of woven grass. She tied it shut with a flourish. Then she loaded it onto a wheelbarrow full of sacks.
    Jason picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow. He set off with the load toward the Home Tree, the towering maple tree where the fairies lived and worked. “Have fun, Prilla. Thanks for your help!” he cried.
    “Fly safely, Jason!” said Prilla. She waved.
    Nettle sat next to her on the stone and patted Prilla’s knee. “What a great day,” Nettle said. “I could tell how much you enjoyed it.”
    “Well, I—” Prilla began.
    “Being outside, working with those wonderful caterpillars.” Nettle leaned in close to Prilla. She lowered her voice as if she were about to tell her a secret. “Other talents might argue with me, but caterpillar shearing really is the most important talent. Wouldn’t you agree?”
    She went on, not waiting for Prilla to answer. “First of all, it helps the caterpillars grow nice woolly coats for when it’s time to build their cocoons. And then there’re all the great things we make out of the fuzz!” She began to list them on her fingers. “Soft pillows, cozy comforters, light-as-a-feather blankets, thick sweaters, those wonderful linens…”
    Her voice trailed off.
    Prilla nodded. She liked pillows, comforters, blankets, sweaters, and linens as much as the next fairy did. It seemed that caterpillar shearing was indeed very important.
    “Yes, it is a lovely talent,” she said out loud. I just hope I never have to help shear another caterpillar ever again! she silently added. She leaned back on her elbows.
    And before Prilla knew it, she had blinked over to the mainland. She saw a little girl holding a fluffy white dandelion. The girl pursed her lips to blow the seeds. Prilla flew toward her.…
    “I said, what do you think?” Nettle said suddenly.
    Prilla started. Nettle was looking at her expectantly.
    “Sorry, can you repeat that?” Prilla asked.
    And then Nettle said the dreaded words: “Same time tomorrow?”

P RILLA’S HEART SANK . She stared at Nettle’s hopeful face. No, thank you, she said in her head. I have other plans. I don ’ t like caterpillars. I don ’ t like them at all. She just didn’t say the words out loud.
    “Why, sure,” Prilla found herself saying. “I’d be happy to help you out again.”
    “Great!” said Nettle. “I knew you’d love my talent as much as I do!”
    Nettle stood and picked up the last sack of caterpillar fuzz. She slung it over her shoulder and headed back to the Home Tree, whistling merrily.
    Well, that didn ’ t go very well, Prilla thought. And it certainly changes my plans for tomorrow! She’d have to blink over to the mainland that night after dinner instead.
    As she got up to leave, the still evening air was stirred by a sudden brisk breeze. Out of the corner of her eye, Prilla saw a flash of purple. And there, standing in front of her, was Vidia.
    “Hello, dearest,” said Vidia. “Did you have a nice day today? Do something fun?” Her tone was mocking, as usual.
    “Well, I—” Prilla began.
    “Come, darling. Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” Without waiting for