“Now we will build a palace!” said the Stranger Child. “Help me to get the stones together.” And it stooped down and began to pick up stones of many pretty colours.
Fanchon and Frederic helped, and the Stranger Child placed the beautiful stones one upon another, and soon there rose tall pillars shining in the sun, while an airy golden roof stretched itself from pillar to pillar. Then the Stranger Child kissed the flowers that were peeping from the grass, and whispered to them lovingly, and they shot up higher and higher, and, twining together, formed sweet-scented arbours and covered walks in which the children danced about, full of delight and gladness.
The Stranger Child clapped its hands, and immediately the golden roof, that was made of insects’ golden wings, fell to pieces with a hum, and the pillars melted away into a splashing silver stream, on whose banks flowers grew and peeped into the water.
Then the Stranger Child plucked little blades of grass and gathered twigs from trees, strewing them on the ground before Fanchon and Frederic. The blades of grass turned into the prettiest little live dolls ever seen, and the twigs became gay little huntsmen.
The dolls danced around Fanchon, and let her take them in her lap, and they whispered in such delicate little voices: “Be kind to us! Love us, dear Fanchon.”
The huntsmen shouted: “Halloa! Halloa! the hunt’s up!” and blew their horns, and bustled about. Then tiny hares came darting out of the bushes, with tiny dogs after them, and the huntsmen pursued them with shouts. This was delightful!
Then suddenly these wonders disappeared. And Fanchon and Frederic cried out: “What has become of the dolls? Where are the huntsmen?”
The Stranger Child answered: “Oh, they are always here waiting for you! They are close beside you, so you may have them at any minute. But just now would you not rather go with me through the wood?”
“Oh, yes! yes!” cried Fanchon and Frederic.
The Stranger Child took hold of their hands, crying: “Come! Come!”