Do you believe in fairies?

In Short

Leonora de Lima Andrews’ 1924 collection of verse and fantasy, Do You Believe in Fairies?, explores the tension between adult pragmatism and childlike wonder. Through imaginative prose tales, whimsical poetry, and sharp satirical verses, the book follows characters ranging from runaway little girls to giant-slaying clams and fretful infants seeking genuine adventure. It endures as a charming, witty artifact of early twentieth-century American literary fancy, balancing lighthearted escapism with gentle reflections on modern materialism and human growth.

The Story

The book opens with a spirited little girl running wildly through the countryside, longing to touch a fleecy cloud and chase the stars, only to be tripped by an orthodox stone representing adult rules. From here, the narrative weaves through a patchwork of magical encounters and satirical portraits. A blacksmith's daughter named Hope follows a two-tailed bunny into a deep forest, discovering a trapped fairy inside a green-grey stone who can only be freed when a singing prince arrives. Meanwhile, a fretful infant in Grown-up Land cries constantly for an adventure until the wise Oldest Woman in the World whisks him away on a carpet-sweeper to an adventure tree guarded by dull "Nobodies."

As the journey progresses, the tone shifts fluidly between fairy-tale realms and domestic satire. On a sun-drenched island, a cheerful giant named Gobble-me-up is tormented by cynical, laughing clams who insist true giants must be bloodthirsty cannibals; determined to reclaim his authentic giant status, he eats them. We meet Richard the Lion-Hearted, a young boy holding court against female classmates he compares to fish and trees, and witness parodies of classic nursery rhymes turned into modern financial anxieties about checks, stock tickers, and pawn-brokers.

Moving deeper into personal reflection, the collection explores mature yearnings and religious inquiry. A young girl sifts through card indices and theological debates to define a personal sense of perfection, while other poems capture city nights in the rain, window shoppers eyeing crimson evening gowns beside shivering impoverished children, and aging daydreams of luxury. The arc ultimately bends toward self-discovery and acceptance. In the final whimsical vision, a traveler climbs the golden stairs to St. Peter, who hands out souvenir alphabet feathers, teaching that confidence—not borrowed magic—truly lets one soar. The collection closes looking toward the deep sea, where the chained God of Things to Be waits patiently for freedom.

How It Unfolds

• The little girl runs: A spirited child dashes through the meadows toward the clouds, brushing off scrapes from literal and figurative stones that try to halt her joy.
• Hope finds the stone: A blacksmith’s daughter follows a two-tailed rabbit deep into the woods to rescue a captive fairy with the help of a singing apprentice.
• The fretful infant's flight: The Oldest Woman in the World rides a carpet-sweeper to help a crying baby taste his very first wild adventure.
• Gobble-me-up seeks revenge: A happy giant struggles with his identity after mocking clams tell him he fails to live up to traditional ogre standards.
• Richard holds court: A young boy named Richard navigates the social intricacies of childhood and his professed disdain for girls with supreme confidence.
• Daughter-Goose commentary: Familiar nursery rhymes are recast with sharp economic wit, featuring check-writing financiers and anxious stock brokers.
• Talc consults the sea: A pampered ancient princess laments her shiny nose on the chalky cliffs of early Britain.
• City nights and daydreams: Urban rain, New Year's window displays, and domestic poverty contrast sharply against glittering daydreams of turkey dinners and movie-star hats.
• The search for religion: A young seeker wades through heavy books and theological definitions to arrive at a personal understanding of ideals.
• Adolescent growing pains: The narrator looks back at the impenetrable, shimmering green-and-gold gates of childhood wonder that grow bittersweet with age.
• St. Peter's souvenirs: A weary traveler reaches heaven's gates to receive a comforting feather that proves confidence comes from within.

The People

• The Little Girl: A boundless, energetic child who wants nothing more than to grab the clouds and ignore the dull, rule-abiding adults in the valley. She embodies pure, untamed imagination.
• Hope: A sensible blacksmith's daughter who ventures into a dark forest following a strange two-tailed rabbit and helps liberate a lonely woodland fairy.
• The Fretful Child: A chronically crying baby in Grown-up Land who refuses milk and toys because he desperately hungers for a real adventure, transforming into a regular, smiling boy once he bites into one.
• Gobble-me-up: A burly, dessert-shaking giant who eats rhubarb and loves to sing, forced to reconcile his gentle happiness with the violent expectations of sarcastic clams.
• Richard: A self-assured young boy in Brookline who sucks on a lavender lollipop and maintains a humorous, philosophical resistance against the girls living across the street.
• The Oldest Woman in the World: A wise, gossipy modern elder who drives a carpet-sweeper through the sky and understands baby talk better than anyone else.
• The Seeker: An inquiring young woman who rejects rigid, inherited dogmas to investigate card indices, history, and life experience in search of a personal definition of religion and perfection.

In Its Own Voice

“If I jump a little I will land on the top of that mountain over there.”

This thought captures the boundless, gravity-defying imagination of the opening little girl as she races across the windy meadows.

“What are you crying for, anyway?”

The Oldest Woman in the World translates her mysterious baby talk into direct inquiry when she visits the inconsolable Fretful Child.

“Gobble-me-up is my name, A Happy Giant am I ... And I always feel just the same ... And I’ll sing this song till I die.”

The cheerful giant joyful chants his signature rhyme while splashing his toes in the soapy ocean waves before the cynical clams interrupt him.

What It's Really About

The book investigates the friction between institutional rigidity and the vital necessity of personal wonder. Andrews asks how humanity preserves idealism against the creeping forces of adult materialism, financial anxiety, and social conformity. Through playful allegory, the text argues that structured dogmas—whether in religion, education, or traditional fairy tales—often stifle genuine spiritual and emotional growth. It suggests that true maturity is not about abandoning childhood imagination, but about integrating it with self-reliance, questioning inherited rules, and fashioning one's own ideals out of lived experience.

Why Read It Today

Readers who love whimsical prose, gentle satire, and the poetic introspection of early twentieth-century American writers will find much to cherish here. Reading it feels like flipping through a forgotten scrapbook that effortlessly jumps from nursery-rhyme parodies to poignant observations of urban poverty and aging. While modern audiences may need to navigate period idioms and occasional archaic turns of phrase, the rewards are immense. It captures the bittersweet ache of growing up while reminding us that the capacity for wonder is worth defending. It stays with you as a light, clever companion that insists on finding poetry in both city rain and starlit skies.

What aspect of early twentieth-century fantasy or verse intrigues you the most?