Tink pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen. Prilla's wings skipped a beat. She had never seen so many fairies! Fairies from the kitchen and helping talents were at work in the kitchen. Each fairy had his or her special job to do. One kitchen fairy had the "knowing when the dish is done" job. Another kitchen fairy had the "stove to plate transfer" job.
The air was full of flying fairies, but as soon as Prilla entered, they all froze, registering her presence. Prilla blushed so deeply that her glow turned orange. Then all the fairies went back to work. Tink looked for the source of the clatter she and Prilla had heard earlier. There it was, shattered china and a bowl of pea soup. Tink's fingers itched to fix it, but she knew she had to take care of Prilla first. Then her eyes were drawn to the shelves. There was the steamer she had fixed last week. There was the pressure cooker that had given her endless trouble. And she saw the circular tube pan that had kept going oblong. She knew it was silly, but she couldn't resist a little wave to each of them.
Tink turned to Prilla. If she had the kitchen or helping talent, she would be all smiles, excited and eager. But Prilla's expression was vague, her eyes glassy.
Prilla was on the windowsill of a human girl's bedroom. On the floor was an assortment of doll furniture. A large doll overwhelmed a chair at the kitchen table. A small doll's head was barely above the table. The girl was searching for something in a brown paper bag. Prilla flew to the toy stove. She put one hand on the handle of the kettle. She drooped her wings and made herself as still as a doll, and tried to lower her glow. Inside she was roaring with laughter. Would the girl think she was a new doll?
The girl turned and said, "I wish had… Oh! What…"
"Prilla!" yelled Tink.
Prilla jumped in the air. There was Tink, one hand on her bangs, and the other on her hips.
"What were you… oh, never mind." Tink didn't care what Prilla had been doing. "You don't see anything you're talented at, do you?"
"I don't know, maybe," Prilla faltered.
Tink sighed. "You'd know."
Prilla sighed too. She wondered if she could get away with pretending to have a talent.
Dulcie, a kitchen fairy, flew up with a basket of poppy seed rolls. Prilla and Tink helped themselves. It was Prilla's first food ever, and she wasn't sure what to expect. She felt her mouth water, which was curious. She bit in cautiously.
Dulcie said, "Are you the new fairy? Fly with you. Is the roll too salty?"
Prilla was too busy tasting to answer. She shut her eyes. The roll wasn't too salty; it was perfect, except that it melted away too fast. She took another bite. Mm, buttery, a little poppy seed crunch, a hint of sweetness, and a hint of herb! She loved it. She'd like about ten more rolls. Eating was a joy!
A joy! Prilla remembered what Tink had said about the scout. Scouting was his joy. Prilla opened her eyes. "I have a talent!"
She turned a cartwheel. "Tink, I have a talent! My talent is eating!"
Tink reached for her bangs. "That's not a talent! Everyone loves Dulcie's rolls."
"Oh," Prilla said.
Why isn't it a talent, Prilla wondered, even if everybody else also has it?
"It's true then," Dulcie said to Tink. "She doesn't have a talent."
Prilla felt herself blush again. She wished she was still a dandelion fluff.
"I'm sure she does," Tink said. "She just hasn't found it yet."