The tree that had shaded half the grounds by winter was gone. In its place stood a trunk wider than the main house, silver-green bark rising out of the garden without a single branch for what looked like a mile, and a canopy above that was weather.
The green cast that had ridden the daylight while she drank was already fading, and under a crown standing miles above the roofline, ordinary warm sunlight came down on the garden as it always had.
On the terrace the maids stood in a line with their faces turned up, each of them still holding whatever she had been carrying when the light came.
At the trunk, five of the household's elves were moving around frantically, awed but concerned, checking if their little lady was still as healthy as before she decided to grow a few miles in height.
"Jasmine is waiting for you!" Rosie's voice came again, though the little lady herself was nowhere to be seen.
...
