“You were young then?” asks Fanchon.
“I was not yet born,” the old woman tells her.
And Fanchon says:
“So, grandmother, there were things in the world even before you were born?”
And when their talk is done, her grandmother gives Fanchon an apple with a hunch of bread and bids her:
“Run away, little one; go and play and eat your apple in the garden.”
And Fanchon goes into the garden, where there are trees and grass and flowers and birds.