without knowing whither we drove, dreaming that he and I were starting on a fairy-trip out into the wide world.
Then we reached fairyland.
The old woman stood in the verandah and courtesied her welcome. She wore a gold-embroidered cap, and a skirt of stiff green homespun. She was a buxom, cosy, motherly person, and called me 'madam.'
Our luggage was carried in, and the coachman had orders to return next evening at eight o'clock. We went for a walk along the lake till dinner was ready.
The sun was just sinking. We saw the big ball of fire disappear between the trees, and watched the illumination of the sky. The beach leaves shone like newly-minted coins, and over the lake the fading sunlight rippled like mother-o'-pearl. We stood watching first the glowing forest, then the shining lake. From the other side of the lake sounded the chimes of church bells curiously near, and yet solemnly far away. From the undergrowth came sleepy twitters. No other sounds. We stood close to each other, cheek against cheek, silent, fascinated, happy.
The ball of the sun had disappeared. The fire in the clouds died away, a pale mist blotted out the colours of the lake.
Then we heard a voice calling from the cottage, and we went in—went in to continue the fairy-tale inside the old fairy's wood-hut.
