"No, Mr. Magpie," he said firmly. "Fair exchange is no robbery. Let us see the key, first."
The bird, seeing that it was of no use to try to get the curl and keep the key too, flew away. It was not very long before he returned with a bit of shining metal in his beak. It proved to be a beautifully carved little key, bright as a sunbeam, and Iona held it in both hands while putting her head down to let the magpie choose a curl. As she did so, her acorn cap fell off, and no cry of hawk ever made a bird fly away faster than that magpie flew from the big little girl.
"O, what a pity!" said Iona, nearly crying. "The birds will think worse of us than ever."
"No," returned Pierre, taking off his own cap, and standing beside her, "it is good luck for the magpie, for he will get a big curl now, instead of a little one. I see him up there now, chattering away in the top of that big oak."
Pierre took his knife out of his pocket and choosing a curl in the back of Iona's head, where its loss would not be much noticed, he cut it off and hung it over a bush, where it shone like gold.
Then the children hurried away and hid behind a tree where they watched until they saw the magpie fly down, seize the curl, and fly off swiftly.
So then with light hearts the children went back through the woods and out again upon the river bank.
"Do you remember the number you chose, Pierre?"
"Yes. Do you remember your letter?"