Jack was too flabbergasted this time even to open his mouth; his eyes opened instead.
"Did you say right into the very sky?" he asked at last; for, see you, Jack had wondered more about the sky than about anything else.
"RIGHT UP INTO THE VERY SKY" repeated the queer old man, with a nod between each word. "It's a good bargain, Jack; and, as fair play's a jewel, if they don't—why! meet me here to-morrow morning and you shall have Milky-White back again. Will that please you?"
"Right as a trivet," cried Jack, without stopping to think, and the next moment he found himself standing on an empty road.
"Two in each hand and one in my mouth," repeated Jack. "That is what I said, and what I'll do. Everything in order, and if what the queer little old man said isn't true, I shall get Milky-White back to-morrow morning."
So whistling and munching the bean he trudged home cheerfully, wondering what the sky would be like if he ever got there.
"What a long time you've been!" exclaimed his mother, who was watching anxiously for him at the gate. "It is past sun-setting; but I see you have sold Milky-White. Tell me quick how much you got for her."
"You'll never guess," began Jack.