I am a little world made cunningly of elements, and an angelic sprite.

There once was a tiny sprite, much loved by children. She would frolic with the birds and the beasts in the forest, and sing songs, or play her flute; sometimes, she would visit the village, where the humans lived, and cavort with her favorite boys and girls.

The world has not yet seen enough of joy. It bears the reputation of an elusive sprite with finger always at lip bidding farewell.

She had come dancing up the lane, like a wind-blown sprite, through the mellow sunshine and lazy shadows of the August evening.

Sami was only drinking Sprite.