Mairgrit, the Crabapple Fairy

Madeline has sent another letter with a picture of a fairy she has met in Minglemist.  She looks lovely, but according to Madeline she's sort of snooty.  I'll let her speak in her own words:

I have painted Mairgrit in her favorite tree.  She sits there almost every afternoon, viewing the orchard with a distant expression.  She won't speak to me; only lifts her nose and turns the other way.  And she's mean to poor Robert, the onion ghillie, as I mentioned in my last letter.  But she does make a picturesque sight, perched just so in her tree.  She makes me feel awkward, dressed in my scruffy jeans with my hair straggling over my shoulders.  Plus I wear glasses.  And my long legs always seem to be running into things.  But enough about my looks.  Other news:  I have not made any progress on finding the dragon rider, but he has to be somewhere.  I have met the neighbors who have a farm near the cottage we are staying in.  There are two children; Pennywink, who is about 17 and trains ponies, and Fezzle, a slow moving fellow with sandy hair and a turned up nose.  He's 19, a year younger than me, short and stocky, as most of the river people are in the Felkie Valley.  Pennywink reminds me of a fox, small and quick, with a pointed chin and a mass of cinnamon colored hair. 

Well, I have to get supper for T. P., who has been out all day stalking another dragon, wearing some sort of a leaf and twig affair around his head for camouflage.  He has been making up all sorts of nasty smelling dragon bait and leaving it around the yard and garden at feeding stations.  So far the gad-about fairies have been eating most of it.  I've tried and tried to shoo them away, but they come right back, smacking their lips and talking in their strange language: "Humphledorfen stewie!" one will say, and the others nod their heads.