One of those rarefied concoctions of portentous folk motifs that never quite coalesces into anything. The first-person text is calligraphic; the facing, full-page illustrations are most often in color, and in the jewel-like mode of miniatures--but some are soft black-and-white pencil drawings. There is no significance, either way. In the text, a father, once a boat-builder, tells his daughter how he nursed an injured Canada goose back to health; a woman appeared, asking if he needed a sailmaker, and proved to be a remarkable one; the two were married, their daughter Dawn was born, and the father built the three of them a sailboat ("the one that's yours now"); a customer wanted similar sails, the mother objected, then gave in; finishing the sails, she turned back into a goose. . . "plucking the last feathers from her breast and weaving them into sailcloth." On the last page, the text shifts into the third-person--and we're told that Dawn set off, "in the boat made for the three of us," to find her. Mawkish folderol--which probably would strike some girls (and lots of grownups) as appealingly romantic.