“I don’t know what is the matter with my clothes,” said he, “my breeches are all down about my feet. They are like an old man’s trousers. And my shoes and stockings! Where did I get such big shoes and stockings? And this great jerkin, it is too big for me. I am going to throw it off.”
“That is right, little boy,” said the dryad, “throw it off, and pull off those shoes and stockings; you can walk a great deal better in your bare feet. You must have been asleep and in a dream you put on your father’s clothes.”
“I expect that was it,” said he, “it must have been that.”
“Now run along home, little boy,” said the dryad, “and carry carefully your father’s jerkin and his shoes and stockings. Perhaps if you put them where you found them, he may never know. Now run along!”
And the little boy ran along.
The dryad was now alone, but she was still frightened. She was sure there were no trees here which would suit her and she was afraid of meeting some other cruel person, so she slipped into a side street, and there she saw a light coming through a glass door. This was the only light in the street and she went up to it and looked in.
Inside was a small room, not very well furnished, and by a table, with a light on it, there sat a girl, trimming a hat. The dryad smiled with pleasure; she was not afraid of a girl, especially one who was so pretty, and looked so gentle. Perhaps she might tell her where there was a good oak tree; so she opened the door, without making any noise, and stepped in.
At first the girl was startled and dropped the hat she was trimming, but when the dryad quickly told her who she was and what a sad plight she was in, she was reassured. She had heard of dryads and was glad to see one.
“But you must remember this,” she exclaimed, “on no account must you kiss me. I am engaged to be married and I would not have you kiss me, for the world.”