“Do you know where you come from?” “Um,” said Poppy. “There was Maeve, and there was some sad, and she wanted some happy where she could see it. So she cut some of the happy out of herself, and she made it into pretty stones that sparkled in the sun. All different stones, blue and red and green and silver. Only they weren’t stones, they were eggs, and when they hatched, they were pixies.”
