At the same instant, out from the pale white distance of the country of the moon glided a tall figure, as white and delicate and shimmering as the light that surrounded it.
"Is it—can it be the man in the moon?" whispered Chubby to the boy beside her.
Then the figure came closer, and they saw that it was a wonderful, mysterious-looking, white witch-woman.
"I am the Lady of the Moon," she said, in the same clear, cold voice. "Snow and stillness and space are wherever I go; when I smile, I make the whole world beautiful, but my smile takes the colour away from the flowers and the ripple away from the water and the warmth away from the sunshine."
She looked round, and her eye lighted on Jerry's kite. "What is that creature doing in my country?" she demanded.
All the impudence seemed to have gone out of the biggest kite in the village, for it lay there trembling at the feet of the Lady of the Moon, and had not so much as a word to say for itself. Jerry, however, summoned up courage to answer for it. After all, it was through him that the kite was there, and he naturally felt bound to defend it.
"If you please," he said, "it is my kite. I made it, all by myself,—it took six half-holidays; and Chubby painted the moon and the stars on it."
"I am afraid," said Chubby, hurriedly, "that the moon is not very much like the moon, but it was the best I could do with three paints and a brush that hadn't any hairs. The stars are right," she added anxiously.
The Lady of the Moon smiled contemptuously. "Stars, indeed!" she observed. "What does it matter how the stars are painted? The moon is far more important, and you have made a regular muddle of that! And who told you children that you might come into my country, I should like to know?"
"The wymp brought us," explained Jerry. "He was here a minute ago, but he has just left."