Immediately, and with a sound like a thunder-clap a terrible black genie appeared before her. "What wouldst thou have?" he cried in a great voice. "I am ready to obey thee as thy slave and the slave of all those who have the lamp in their hands."
The little girl was so frightened at the sight of this terrible being she had called up that she stood there unable to move.
"Speak, Mistress!" cried the gander, "for here come the soldiers."
And indeed at that moment the door was thrown open and the soldiers burst into the room. They had heard the noise of the genie's coming and were afraid Ellen was getting away. But as they saw a terrible black being crouching there before the little girl, they shrank back in terror. The next instant, however, one of the boldest of them sprang forward to tear the lamp from Ellen's hands.
At that she found her voice. "I wish," she cried, "to be in a place of safety with my gander."
Immediately, before she could catch her breath, she found herself being whisked through the air by the genie. Then before she could catch her breath she was set gently upon the ground.
When she could look about her she saw that she and the gander were standing on a grassy plain some distance from the castle. She still held the lampin her hands, and the genie was still with her.
"Hast thou any further commands?" asked he, in his terrible voice.
"No," answered Ellen, trembling violently.
"Then I will go," said the genie, and he began to fade away.
"Oh, wait a minute," the child called after him. "What shall I do with the lamp?"
"Wouldst thou not wish to keep it?"
"Why no, it isn't mine."
"Shall I return it to the castle?"
"Oh no, Mistress," the gander interrupted, "they might rub it and tell the genie to bring us back and keep us prisoners."
"Then destroy it," the genie suggested.
"But what would become of Aladdin and his castle and everything if I did?"
"They would stay as they are. And moreover if the lamp were destroyed he would no longer be tormented with fearslest an enemy should steal it and send me to destroy all he has."
"Very well," said Ellen, "I'll do it. But I can't break the lamp. HowcanI destroy it?"
"I will cause the earth to open,—to open down to the great fires below. Then throw the lamp in and the flames will destroy it."
"Very well," said the little girl.
The genie struck his foot upon the ground and muttered some magic words. Immediately the ground was rent open, and down in this chasm could be heard the roaring of the under fires. "Make haste," he cried. "Cast the lamp into the flames or they will devour thee."
Hardly knowing what she did Ellen threw the lamp from her down into the fiery chasm.
Immediately there was a loud roaring like thunder. The earth and sky seemed to shake and the castle to tremble from its foundation to its highest turret. A mist came before Ellen's eyes. Whenit cleared away all was still. The chasm had closed and the distant castle was still in its place.
The gander, which had crouched down in its terror with its head and neck stretched along the ground, arose slowly and looked about it.
The genie had become as thin as smoke, but he was standing there dark and gigantic as before. "I am free! I am free!" he cried in a joyful voice. "At last I may come and go as I choose, no longer a slave of the lamp. It is you, child, who have freed me, and I am not ungrateful, as you shall soon see. If I have made Aladdin rich and powerful, I will make you ten times more so. You shall have a castle even more magnificent than his with slaves and treasures and horses and chariots."
Ellen gasped. "Oh no," she said, "I don't think I want all that. I have to go home pretty soon, and I don't believe I'd like to have to live in a castle."
"But you could still go home," said the genie. "You could go home in such magnificence as you never dreamed of, with outriders and trumpeters and dressed in cloth of gold and precious stones."
But the thought of such magnificence frightened Ellen. "No, no," she repeated. "I'm afraid my mother wouldn't like it."
The genie looked disappointed. "Well," he said, "Of course, it's just as you like." He was still fading away and growing more mistlike.
"I wish," Ellen exclaimed, "that Aladdin knew what had become of the lamp."
"Thy wish shall be granted," answered the genie. "I will myself tell him that it has been destroyed. And now farewell, and remember if thou shouldst ever wish to have that castle thou needst only clap thy hands three times and call upon the genie of the lamp to fulfil his promise and it shall be thine."
The genie had grown so transparent now that it was only by straining her eyes that Ellen could still see his shape as one sees an empty glass. Then he was gone entirely. "Thank you very much," she called after him. She waited a moment and as there was no answer she called again, "Thank you!" Then she turned to the gander. "I think he's gone," she said, adding in a whisper, "and I'm glad he has, because hedidfrighten me a little, he was so very big and black."
The gander made no answer except to ask Ellen if she were ready to go. He seemed anxious for them to be on their way once more, so the little girl mounted on his back and they were soon flying swiftly along.
"I hope," said Ellen after a silence, "that Aladdin won't mind about the lamp being burned up."
"I should think he would be glad," replied the gander. "He must have been terribly afraid all the time thatenemies would get it and make the genie destroy him and his castle."
"Yes, that is true," said Ellen; then she added after another silence, "And how glad that poor genie was that I had set him free at last."
"Mistress, do you see that gray mist before us?" said the gander. "I think we have reached the border of the Fairy Tale Country, and beyond that mist lies the country of the Queerbodies."
Ellen drew rein, and the gander allowed himself to sink slowly to the ground. There he folded and settled his wings, and he and his mistress stood looking at the wall of mist before them. It was like the mist that hangs over streams in the early morning. They could not tell at all how high it was. Sometimes it looked quite low, and sometimes it seemed to reach up to thesky itself so that they could not tell where one ended and the other began.
"Look," cried Ellen in a whisper. "Do you suppose that is one of the Queerbodies?"
A gigantic shadow had appeared upon the wall of mist. It moved with such tremendous strides that it was out of sight in a moment. And now they saw other shadows. Some seemed to be bending over and taking up handfuls of earth and examining them as if in search of something. Others seemed to reach up as if after invisible fruit. Some were talking and nodding together, and every now and then one would turn and hurry away, as if suddenly remembering some business.
They were not all as big as the first shadow, though some of them stretched up so high that their heads and shoulders were lost in the grayness of the sky.
"They must be the Queerbodies," said the gander in a low tone, "for I'm sure they're not fairy tales."
"But they look so big,—like giants. Do you think they'll hurt us? Just suppose they were wicked giants who ate children like so many radishes." Ellen had read some place in a fairy story of giants who did that.
"Maybe we'd better stop and ask some place," suggested the gander. "If they ate children I'm sure they'd eat ganders too, for some people who don't eat children at all eat ganders."
Then Ellen looked about and saw that not far away stood a very large, fine house. It was not by any means as magnificent as Aladdin's, but still it was very handsome.
"Let us ask at that house," said Ellen. "They live so close to the mist that I'm sure they must know what goes on beyond, even if they have never been there."
The gander was more than willing for this; so he took Ellen up and flew with her to the house. There she alighted and mounted the steps, but the door was so very grand and tall that she could notreach the knocker, and had to knock with her knuckles.
There was a moment's silence, and then a voice within called, "Sister Anne, Sister Anne, did you hear anything?"
Another voice answered, "I heard the brushing of the vine leaves against the lattice, but I heard nothing else."
"Your knuckles are too soft, Mistress," said the gander; "let me knock," and with his bill he struck against the door.
Again the same voice within called, "Sister Anne, Sister Anne, do you hear nothing now?" And the second voice answered, "I hear a woodpecker tapping upon a branch outside, but that is all."
"Mistress, it is no use," said the gander, "you will have to climb upon my back so as to reach the knocker, or they will never hear us."
So Ellen climbed upon the gander's back and then she found she could just reach the knocker. Rap, rap, rap! she struck upon the door.
"Sister Anne, Sister Anne, do you still hear nothing?" cried the first voice.
"Yes, now I hear some one knocking upon the door."
In a moment the door opened and a lady stood in the doorway gazing with wonder at the child and the gander.
"What is it, Sister? Who is there?" called the first voice impatiently.
"It's a child," answered the lady in the doorway. "A real child it looks like."
Almost instantly another lady came hurrying down the hall and joined the one at the door. She was more beautiful than thefirst, but her face had a scared look as though she had once had such a fright that she had never gotten over it.
"Why, yes, it is a real child," she cried. "You are a real child, aren't you? Where did you come from, and where are you going? Is that your gander? What are you going to do with it?"
There were so many questions that Ellen hardly knew which to answer first, but she began, "I came through the nursery wall, and I'm trying to find the Queerbodies' house, and this is Mother Goose's gander. She just lent it to me for awhile."
"Going to the Queerbodies' house!" The beautiful lady glanced at her sister. Then she took Ellen by the hand and drew her gently in. "Come in and tell me all about it."
"I think I must hurry on," said Ellen. "It's been a longer journey than I thought;" but she allowed herself to be drawn in.
The room where the strange ladies took her was very magnificently furnished, and there the beautiful one whose name was Fatima made her sit in a big armed chair. She offered another chair to the gander and he seated himself in it as gravely as possible, resting his wings on the arms. "And now," cried Fatima eagerly, "tell me all about it."
So Ellen began and told her about her journey, while Fatima listened with her chin in her hand, and her eyes never leaving the child's face. Sister Anne listened too. "But now," Ellen ended, "I feel afraid to go any further, for it looks as though there were giants beyond that mist. Do you know whether they're cross giants or not?"
Fatima started up and clasped her hands. "Oh if I only knew what theyarelike," she cried. "I watch from my window and long so to know what they are doing and how they look that sometimes it seems as if I could not bear it. Some day I know I shall go through the mist just to find out."
"Fatima! Fatima!" cried Sister Anne warningly. Then she added, turning to Ellen, "She's so curious. She always has been so, and that's what all her troubles came from."
"Oh yes," murmured Fatima, dropping back in her chair. "I suppose you know my story? I suppose you've heard of Bluebeard, haven't you?" and leaning forward again she looked eagerly at Ellen.
"Oh yes, I have all about him in a book at home. It has colored pictures, and there's a picture of Fatima with her hair all down, and one of Sister Anne up on the tower and the brothers coming in, and ever so many more."
"Oh yes, I shall never forget that time when my brothers came rushing in. And then that day when I looked in the room and saw all the heads in a row and dropped the key—"Fatima shuddered, and hid her face in her hands.
"Are you really that Fatima?" asked Ellen. She was afraid it was hardly polite to ask, but she did want so much to know.
"Yes, she is," Sister Anne answered for her, for Fatima seemed unable to speak. "And I often remind her of all the troubles her curiosity brought on her that time. A little more and her head would have been chopped off; but she doesn't seem to have learned anything. She'd go off to the Queerbodies' country now if I'd let her, just so as to see what they're like. Then the first thing she knew they'd be making her into another story, and she'd never get back."
"Yes, Idowant to know," cried Fatima. She leaned forward, and caught Ellen by the wrist so suddenly that it startled her. "Couldn'tyoucome back and tell me all about it," she cried.
"Why I—I don't know whether Icome back this way; I hoped there was a shorter way home," and Ellen's lip trembled, for she was getting a little tired of her long journeyings in spite of her wish to find the lost story.
"Then your gander; maybe he could come back."
"Oh yes," answered the gander, "I'll have to come back this way. But the thing is, do we want to go any further. I didn't like the looks of those giants myself."
"Oh yes," urged Fatima. "I wouldn't be afraid. Maybe it's only their shadows that are so big. And then I tell you what; I'll give you something that may help you along. Look!" With fingers that trembled with eagerness she drew a key-ring from her pocket and slipped from it a key. The key seemed to be of pure gold, but upon one side of it was a rusty spot. Ellen wondered whether it was the key that had unlocked the door of the forbidden chamber.
"Take this," said Fatima. "It is a magic key, and there is never a lock it will not fit nor a catch it will not undo."
Ellen was slow about taking it. She glanced at the gander. "I don't believe I want to go back, but I don't know."
The gander answered her look. "We'll go on then," he said, "and if we have that key they can't keep us locked up, and my wings will be always good to carry us out of trouble."
"And you'll bring me back word?" cried Fatima.
"Yes, I will," the gander promised.
And now Fatima was eager for them to go. It seemed as though she could not wait to have her curiosity satisfied. Sister Anne would have had them stay and rest awhile and have some refreshment after their long journey, but Fatima could not hide her impatience to have them start. And indeed Ellen and the gander were in as much haste as she.
Fatima went with them to the very edge of the wall of mist and the lastthing they heard as they plunged into it was her voice calling after them, "Don't forget, you are to bring me word, and make haste; make haste."
"Oh how cold and still and gray," cried Ellen. They were in the very heart of the mist. She could hear the steady beat of the gander's wings, but the grayness around was so thick that she could see nothing but the dim outline of his neck before her. She would not have known whether they were moving at all if it had not been for the stir of air against her face.
"Mistress, do you see light before us?" asked the gander.
"No, nothing but the grayness."
"One might travel around and around in this mist, and yet never find one's way out," said the gander half to itself.
On and on it flew. "Is there no light before us yet?" it asked again, and its wings seemed to flag.
"No, there is nothing."
"Can you hear any sound?"
Ellen listened. "Nothing but the beating of your wings."
"Mistress, I no longer know whether I am flying forward or not. For all I can tell I may be going around in a circle."
The child looked helplessly about her.
"I wonder if I were to blow upon the horn the huntsman gave me whether some one would hear and answer?" she suggested.
"You might try it."
Ellen raised the horn to her lips and blew. They both listened, but there was no reply.
Again she blew. Still silence.
The third time she drew a deep breath and blew with all her might. The gander stayed his flight to listen, and now, away toward the right hand, theresounded a faint halloo. The gander turned and flew in that direction, and they had gone but a little way when the grayness before them grew lighter. Another moment or so, and they were through the mists and out upon the other side.
But Ellen looked about her in dismay. They were in the midst of a great barren desert. There was no tree nor house insight, no bird nor living thing.
Yes, there was one thing alive, for just as Ellen thought this, something stirred and stood up from a heap of rocks nearby. It was a lad of about twelve or thirteen. At first Ellen thought it was the son of the gardener they had at home; it certainly looked like him. The little girl was very fond of this lad, though people used to say he was queer and not quite right in his mind. He often made up stories and told them to her. She never had felt as glad to see him, though, as she felt then. When she went closer, however, the lad did not seem to know her, so she wondered whether it was the gardener's son after all. It certainly looked like him.
"Was that you blowing a horn?" asked the lad.
"Yes; we were lost in the mist and wanted to get out, but we wanted to get out on the side where the Queerbodies live."
"Well, this is it."
Ellen looked about her. "But where are they? I saw their shadows on the mist."
The lad laughed. "Oh that's nothing. Why, I used to see their shadows against the sky even when I was at home, but you'll have to travel far from here before you find them. I suppose you have a compass."
"No. What for?"
"To find your way across the desert. Now I have a compass all right, but I'm so tired I can't go a step further." The lad paused and looked at the gander. "I don't suppose your gander could carry double?"
"No, I couldn't," answered the gander.
"Well, I didn't think you could, but it's too bad, for I could have told you how to go. If I only had brought anything to begin with I'd make something to ride on; but I didn't know the journey would be so long and weary."
"Do you mean," said Ellen, "that if you had anything to begin with youcouldreallymake something to ride on?"
"Oh yes. Almost everybody, before they start out for the Queerbodies', learns to make something out of nothing; but I was in such a hurry to start I only learned to make much out of little, and that's the trouble now."
"Haven't you anything in your pocket to begin on?" asked Ellen, for the lad's pockets were bulging with something that jingled every time he moved.
"Nothing that would do. It must be something that was once alive. Now you don't happen to have such a thing about you as a twig or a chip of wood?"
"No. That is, nothing but a little wooden pig, and it was never alive."
"No, but the wood was when it was growing. Will you let me see it?"
As Ellen drew the toy from her pocket the boy took it from her eagerly. His eyes sparkled. "The very thing!" he cried. "I can make a magnificent riding-horse out of this." Holding the pig to his mouth, the boy began to whispermagic in its wooden ear. As he did so the pig began to grow. It grew and it grew, while Ellen stared in wonder.
When it was too large for the boy to hold in his hands he set it down on the ground. Still he kept whispering in its ear and the pig kept on growing, until at last it was as large as a pony.
When it was that big the lad stopped. "There!" he said to Ellen, looking at the pig with pride, "how is that for a riding-horse?"
"I think it's fine, but I shouldn't call it a riding-horse; I think it's more of a riding-pig."
"All the same," said the lad. "Now the next thing is a bridle. When a magic pig like this once does start goingit won't stop for a word. I suppose you haven't anything about you that would serve for a bridle."
"Nothing but this," and Ellen touched the golden chain that the dwarfs had hung about her neck.
"That will do," cried the boy; "give it here." He seemed to feel so sure that Ellen would lend him the chain that she did not know how to say no, so she took it off and handed it to him.
The lad quickly arranged it as a bridle, and then before he mounted the pig he took out his compass and made sure of the direction in which they were to go.
"And now I'm ready," he cried; "follow me."
With that he leaped on the pig's back, and no sooner had he touched it than away it went like the wind. Its blue legs with the pink spots twinkled along so fast that it took all the gander knew to keep up with them.
On and on they went; the wind whistled past Ellen's ears, and the groundsped away beneath so fast that she grew almost dizzy.
The lad, however, did not seem to mind how fast they went. Now and then he settled himself more comfortably on the pig's back, and now and then he took out his compass and looked at it to make sure they were going in the right direction.
After they had gone a long distance in this way he drew rein. "There!" he said, "the desert is passed; but there is a greater danger than it to come."
"What is that?"
"Look!" And the lad pointed.
Ellen looked, and then she saw that what she had thought was a stretch of grass and rocks before them, was really an enormous green and gray dragon that lay stretched in a rocky defile.
His neck and tail were coiled upon the ground; his wings stretched up the rocky walls on each side of him, and their tips were like tall green trees against the sky. Presently he turnedhis head and Ellen could see his big blinking eyes, each as big as a barrel. He yawned and his mouth was like a red cavern.
Ellen was frightened.
"Suppose he comes at us," she whispered.
"Oh no, he won't pay any attention to us," the lad assured her. "That is,unless we try to go past him, and then he'd snap us up in a twinkling."
"Couldn't we go round?"
"No, this is the only way, right between these rocks."
"I could fly over," said the gander boldly.
The lad laughed. "Fly over! Why look at his wings. He'd catch you in a minute. Have you ever seen a bird after a little butterfly? That's the way he'd catch you if you tried any such tricks as that."
"Then whatarewe to do?" asked Ellen.
"Wait," answered the lad. "They'll come to feed him after a while; maybe in a week or so; and after he's been fed he always sleeps for ten minutes; then we can safely go past, for nothing will waken him for those ten minutes. You might hit him on the head with an axe and he wouldn't stir."
"A week or so!" cried Ellen in dismay. "Why I can't wait a week or so,I have to be home this evening before dark."
"Well, I don't see what we can do unless you have something to feed him with."
"I have a golden egg. That's all."
"A golden egg!" cried the lad joyfully. "Why didn't you say so before? Why, it's just the thing. Give it to me."
He took the egg from Ellen and slowly rode over toward the dragon. The great creature watched him with its blinking eyes, and when the lad seemed to be coming too near it raised its head and hissed warningly. Ellen trembled, the sound was so loud and terrible, as though a dozen engines were letting off steam all at once.
The lad, however, did not seem at all frightened. He checked the pig and motioned to the dragon to open its mouth. Ellen had seen people motion to the elephant at the Zoo in that same way when they wanted it to lift up itstrunk, and open its mouth to have peanuts thrown in.
The dragon seemed to understand, for after the boy had motioned once or twice it opened its great jaws. Then the lad threw the golden egg in, and it seemed just as small a thing for the dragon as a peanut or a currant would to an elephant.
The dragon waited a while with its mouth still open for the boy to throw some more in. As he did not do this, however, it closed its mouth and began to chew the golden egg.
It chewed, and it chewed, and it chewed, and all the while it chewed it seemed to be growing sleepier and sleepier. At last it swallowed the egg, and then its eyes shut tight and it went fast asleep.
The boy turned and beckoned to Ellen. "Come on," he shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Oh don't talk so loud," Ellen whispered, coming up to him as fast as she could. "You might waken him."
The lad burst into a shout of laughter that made the little girl tremble. "Not I," he cried. "He'll sleep for nine minutes yet. One minute has gone already."
"Then let's hurry."
The gander flew up and on, and the boy was not slow to follow, riding his blue and pink pig right over the dragon. Ellen was in terror lest it should waken in spite of what the boy had said, but he did not seem in the least afraid. He even seemed to take pleasure in making the pig trot the full length of the dragon's tail just as children take pleasure in walking along a railroad track.
At last they were safely over, and Ellen drew a sigh of relief.
On and on they went, and instead of the rocky walls on either side of them growing lower they grew higher and higher, arching over more and more until at last they met and made a sort of gallery. There was very little light here, and when at last the pig stopped and the gander settled to the groundEllen had to look twice before she saw that they were in front of a heavily barred door. "Where are we now?" she asked.
The eyes of the boy were flashing with eagerness. "It is the door of the Queerbodies' house," he cried. He sprang from the pig, and, taking hold of the handle, he tried to open it. "Locked!" he added.
Slipping his hand into his pocket he drew from it a whole handful of keys. Then Ellen knew that they were what had jingled every time he moved.
He began to try one key after another, but none of them seemed to fit.
As he was busy in this way a curious roar sounded through the gallery, echoing and re-echoing from the rocky walls. "What's that?" cried Ellen.
"Oh, only the dragon yawning. He must have wakened up," answered the lad coolly, still busy with his keys.
"But won't he follow us?"
"No; he only guards the entrance to the defile."
Finding that none of the keys he first held would open the lock the lad had drawn out another handful; but these were no better than the others. One after another he tried all that he had, but not any would unlock the door. Having tried the last of all, the boy threw it down and sank upon the floor in despair.
"It is no good," he cried. "It is just as I feared. And yet I've been collecting those keys for the last seven months."
"Can't you unlock it?"
"No."
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I didn't mind the desert or the dragon, but this was what I was afraid of all along."
"Mistress," said the gander, "Where is the key that the lady Fatima gave you? If what she said was true, it should unlock the door."
"Oh yes!" cried Ellen. "I forgot it."
With eager fingers she took the key from her pocket and pressed it into the lad's hand. "Try this," she said.
Very hopelessly the boy arose and put the key to the lock. His face changed as he found it seemed to go in it easily. He turned the key, the lock slipped back, the door opened, and Ellen, following close at his heels, entered at last the House of the Queerbodies.
Ellen and her companions were standing in a circular golden hall. All around the hall were arched doorways, and overhead, supported by golden pillars, was a blue dome studded with jewels that shone like stars. There were no windows to be seen, but all the hall was filled with a clear and pleasant light that seemed to come from the dome.
As Ellen looked wonderingly about, she heard a tapping sound behind her, and turning saw a tall man oddly dressed in green and yellow, and holding in his hand an ivory rod tipped with gold. It was this rod that she had heard as it tapped on the floor.
The man stood looking at her and her friends in silence for a few moments.
Then he said, "Now how did you allget in here I should like to know; I have not opened the door to any one this morning."
"I had a key," answered Ellen, "and it fitted the door, so this lad unlocked it. We didn't know there was any one here to open it for us."
"Yes, I am the keeper of the gate, but I don't open for every one that knocks. But how did you find your way to the door, in the first place?"
"I came on this gander; it's Mother Goose's gander, you know."
"Oh, then, that is all right. But how about this lad? Did he come on the gander too?"
"No, I came on the pig," answered the boy, speaking for himself.
"I don't know that pig. Where did you get it?"
The lad told him. The gate-keeper shook his head. "It isn't really your pig, you know. You ought to have made it out of nothing. But did you come across the desert?"
"Yes."
"And you passed the dragon?"
"Yes."
"And unlocked the door! Well, I suppose it's all right. And what do you want to set about, now that you are here?"
"I should like to try my hand at fitting a puzzle together," answered the lad boldly.
Ellen stared. She had never heard anything so curious; for the lad to have come all that way and through all those dangers, and then want to play with a puzzle the first thing.
The gate-keeper, however, did not seem at all surprised. He walked over to one of the golden pillars and took a key from the bunch at his side. And now Ellen noticed that in each of the pillars was a narrow door. The gate-keeper unlocked the one in front of which he stood, and when he opened it the little girl could see that the pillar was hollow and fitted with shelves justlike a closet. From a shelf the man took a box of puzzle blocks and put it in the lad's hand.
"That's your room in there," he said, pointing to one of the arched doorways.
The lad took the puzzle, and hastened away with such eager joy that he seemed to have quite forgotten Ellen and everything, even the magic pig that followed close at his heels.
The little girl looked after him. "I should think if he just wanted a puzzle he could have gotten one at home," she said.
"Not such puzzles as these," answered the man. "Did you ever see a Queerbodies' puzzle when it was finished?"
"I don't think I did."
"Then come here, and I'll show you some."
The man led Ellen over to a large case and opening the lid he bade her look in. There, all placed in rows, were countless boxes of puzzles,—puzzles that were finished. As Ellen looked shegave a little cry of astonishment and delight. The pictures she saw were just such as one might see upon any puzzle blocks,—pictures of children swinging in a garden, of a farm-yard scene, or a child's birthday party. The difference was that all of these were alive. The swing really swung up and down; the trees and flowers stirred their leaves; the tiny cows switched their tails to scare away flies too small for Ellen to see, and a cock upon the fence swelled his neck and crowed. The children at the party looked at the gifts and then began to play. Ellen even fancied that she could hear their voices very tiny and clear as they laughed and talked together.
"Do you have puzzles like that at home?" asked the keeper of the gate.
"Oh no," cried Ellen. She drew a long breath as the man closed the case. "Can everybody that comes here make puzzles like those?"
"No, indeed. Sometimes even when they get the puzzles finished they don'tcome alive, and then they're good for nothing but to be thrown away. Do you see all these doorways?"
"Yes."
"Well, there are people in all those rooms, and in every room they're doing something different."
"What are some of the things they do?"
"Over there," and the man pointed to one of the doorways, "they're making garments out of thin air; in the room next to that they're stringing stars."
"Stringing stars?"
"Yes. They fish for them with nets from the windows and then string them for crowns and necklaces. It's very pretty to see. Then there's a whole room where they do nothing but make forgotten stories over into new ones."
"Oh! Oh!" cried Ellen, clasping her hands. "That's what I came for. I came to look for a forgotten story.Doyou suppose it's there?"
"Why, I don't know. I shouldn'twonder. But do you want to make it over?"
"No, I want to find it the way it is. My grandmamma used to know it, but she's forgotten it now, so I want to find it, so as to tell her about it."
"Well, I don't know," said the man doubtfully. "We might go and ask about it. I don't know very much about the different rooms myself, but come and we'll see."
The room of the forgotten stories, to which the gate-keeper now led Ellen was very large. So large that when the little girl stood in the doorway and looked about her she could hardly see where it ended. Upon the floor in rows stood countless golden jars. Among these rows figures were moving about or pausing at different jars to take something from them. They all seemed very busy, though Ellen could not make out what they were doing at first.
Quite near the door a girl or a woman was standing; Ellen could not tell whichshe was. She looked like a woman, but her hair hung down her back in a heavy plait. She wore some sort of loose brown garments. Her hands were clasped before her and she seemed to be thinking deeply; so deeply that she did not notice the gate-keeper nor Ellen nor the gander as they stood looking at her.
Suddenly she began to smile to herself, and, bending over one of the jars, she thrust her hand into it and brought it forth filled with some substance like wet clay, only much more beautiful than clay, for it glistened and shone between her fingers with all the colors of the rainbow. This she began to pat and mould into shape as she held it, humming softly to herself meanwhile as if from sheer happiness.
The gate-keeper waited a few minutes to see whether she would notice him, and then he tapped upon the floor with his ivory staff. The Queerbody looked around at the sound.
"Excuse me," said the man, "but here's a little girl who has just come, and she says she's come to look for a forgotten story; can you tell her anything about it?"
The Queerbody gazed earnestly at Ellen. "A forgotten story!" she repeated slowly. "This is the place to come for forgotten stories, but it may be that it has been made into something else. How long is it since it was forgotten,—this story that you want?"
Ellen told her a long time; ever since her grandmother was a little girl.
The Queerbody shook her head. "I'm afraid it may have been made over," she said; "but there's no telling. There are some stories that have been here for many, many years; this one I was just beginning to use, for instance," and she held out her hands full of the shimmering stuff for Ellen to see.
"Why, is that a forgotten story?" asked Ellen. "I didn't know stories ever looked like that."
"This is only part of a story. When a story has been forgotten it is all divided up and put into different jars. Wondercluff we call it then. When we make a new story we take a handful from this and a handful from that, and when it's done you'd never know it was just old things pieced together. But what did your forgotten story look like? Can you tell me anything about it?"
Ellen could not tell her very much. "It was about a little princess called Goldenhair, and she had a wicked stepmother. The stepmother made her wear a sooty hood, but the fairies helped the princess. Then one time Goldenhair was combing her hair in the scullery and the stepmother came in and made her cut all her hair off; and I don't know the rest."
The Queerbody began to laugh. She held out the handful of wondercluff toward Ellen. "Why this is a part of that very story," she cried, "and youcame just in time. A little later and it would have been made into something else. Wait a bit. See if I can't put it together."
She reached down into other jars, and took out handful after handful of different wondercluff. Heaping it on a marble table she began to pat and mould it, working deftly with her slim long fingers. And as she worked, beneath her hands a figure began to grow.
Ellen watched, as if fascinated.
First the head with a golden crown. "It must have a crown because the story's about a princess and royal folk," the Queerbody explained. Next appeared the body in a long flowing robe fastened by an embroidered girdle. Then beautiful white hands and arms. At last it was all done but the feet.
With her eyes fixed lovingly upon the figure she had made, the Queerbody reached down into a jar that she had not touched before. Suddenly her look changed. The smile faded from herface and she turned her eyes on Ellen. "Oh, I forgot," she said in a low, sad voice. She drew her hand from the jar. There was nothing in it.
"What did you forget?" asked the little girl.
"I forgot the castle. I can't finish the story after all."
"But why not? She's all done but her feet. I should think you could easily do those."
"No, you see they have to be made of castle wondercluff. There was a castle in the story, and I haven't used any of that yet."
"Whatdoyou mean?"
"You see, when a story is broken to pieces all the parts of it are put in different jars, as I told you. All the king wondercluff in a jar, and birds in another jar, magic in another, witches in another, and so on. All the castles were put in this jar, and now I remember another Queerbody was making a story this morning and she used the last piece ofcastle there was. Look for yourself. The jar is empty."
Ellen looked in the jar. There was nothing there. "Can't you use something else?"
"Of course not." The Queerbody spoke with some impatience. "Don't you remember the story begins with a castle where the princess lives?"
Suddenly, like a flash, Ellen remembered the genie and his promise. At the same moment the gander plucked at her sleeve. "Mistress, the castle you were promised," he whispered. There was no need of his reminding her.
"If I were to get a castle for you could you finish the story?" she asked the Queerbody hesitatingly.
"Yes, but where could you get a castle, you little girl?"
"I think I can get one." Ellen looked about. "We'd better go out in the hall," she whispered. She was afraid if she summoned the genie in there it would frighten the busy people around her.
She led the way back into the silent, empty hall while the gatekeeper and the Queerbody followed her wondering.
Ellen walked on until she stood under the centre of the dome. Then she stopped and looked at the others. "You needn't be afraid," she said, "he won't hurt you;" but she herself felt a little nervous at the idea of calling up the genie again. However, she drew a long breath, and then, clapping her hands three times, she summoned him to appear.
There was a loud noise as of thunder that made the gander cower behind Ellen, while the gatekeeper and the Queerbody trembled and turned pale. Immediately the genie appeared, more gigantic and terrible-looking than ever.
"Thou hast called me, and I am here at thy command," he said to Ellen. "Wilt thou now have the castle, the treasures, the slaves and horsemen that I promised thee?"
"Not the treasures and all that," answered Ellen, and her voice soundedvery little and soft after the genie's, "but I should like the castle now if I may have it?"
"It shall be thine. And where wilt thou have it?"
"I'd like it in a golden jar over in that room," said Ellen, pointing over to the forgotten story room.
"In a jar!" cried the genie in amaze, and he scowled as though he thought Ellen was making fun of him. But when she explained how it was, and why she wanted the castle, he burst into a roar of laughter that echoed and re-echoed against the blue dome. "I have heard of a genie in a bottle, but never of a castle in a jar," he cried. "However, it shall be thine. But hast thou no further wishes?"
"No, that's all," said Ellen.
"Then look in the jar and thou wilt find it there. Henceforth I appear to thee no more."
Immediately, and with another crash as of thunder, the genie was resolved intoair and disappeared. For a moment the hall seemed clouded with a thin gray vapor and then that too faded away and all was as it had been before.
Ellen and the others looked at each other while the gander craned its neck this way and that, as if to make sure that the genie had really gone.
The Queerbody was the first to speak. She drew a long breath. "I shouldn't like to seehimagain," she said. "But I wonder if he really put the castle there."
"I believe he did," said Ellen.
"Let us go and see." The Queerbody was all eagerness.
They hastened back to the room of the forgotten stories and bent over the castle jar. The Queerbody gave a cry of joy. It was half full of glistening wondercluff.
Reaching down into the jar she brought out great handfuls that shone and glistened. "NowI can finish the story," she cried.
She began patting and moulding with hands that trembled with eagerness and under her fingers the silvery feet of the fairy tale seemed almost to shape themselves. Then suddenly the figure stood complete, a tall and shining lady with a crown upon her head. The eyes, however, were blank and unseeing, and there was no breath to stir the silver robe.
"Take her hand," the Queerbody said to Ellen.
Timidly the little girl took the white hand of the Fairy Tale in hers. It was very cold, but as she held it, it seemed to grow warm and soft in her fingers.
"Speak to her," the Queerbody now commanded. At first Ellen could not think of what to say. Then, "Are you,—are you the forgotten Story I came to find?" she whispered.
Slowly the color flushed into the Fairy Tale's face; the life came into her eyes. Slowly very slowly she turned her head and looked down into Ellen's eager face. "Am I that Story?" shemurmured. "Look in my eyes and see."