“You have but to press the corner of the Veil, and it will become small enough to fit into the tiniest box. You have but to lift it from the box, and shake it out, and it will become as you behold it now. Do as I have said, and you will see.”
The Prince obeyed, and presently the Veil lay in the golden casket. The Wise One handed him a golden key. “Lock it, and fasten it securely within your robe where none can rob you of it,” he told him. “On its safety all your hopes depend.”
Gravely Prince Radiance did as the ancient fairy bade him.
“Lift out the Sword,” directed the Wise One, “and draw it from its scabbard.”
Again the Prince obeyed. As he laid his hand upon the hilt it was as if the Sword answered to his touch, and leapt from its scabbard, a flashing flame of blue, that shed a dazzling light on all around it.
“It is the Sword of Flames,” the Wise One told him, “a powerful weapon—potent in your hands alone. It will serve you well. See that you do not lose it. See that you do not use it until its day comes.”
Prince Radiance looked at him in wonder. “How shall I know the day?” asked he.
“When the day comes you will need none to tell you,” was the answer. “And now take the Pouch—the third and last gift.”
The Prince replaced the Sword of Flames in its sheath, and bound it on. Then stooping he took out the Pouch.
“Open it,” said the Wise One.