“‘Now, I call that downright clever!’ said Draco. ‘It thowth what it ith to uthe your reathon.’
“‘Merope always was the brightest one of our family, really,’ said Maia. ‘What did you do then?’
“‘Kept on. And after I came out of the dark I was not very far from the new stars.’
“‘Oh, tell us about them!’ said Cassiopeia. ‘How are they made? Tell us every single thing!’
“‘I can’t,’ said Merope. ‘I’m not good at understanding such things. There were a great many—all colors. I think they are made of something very light—and spread out—it was like fog, in places; then, in other places, it was whirling—I don’t know what makes it begin to whirl: then it seemed to thicken up, when it whirled—’
“‘How, thicken up?’ asked Orion.
“‘I can’t explain; but the star-fog collected and drew together into a ball, and that was the star. There were all sizes and kinds. Sometimes there was one in the centre and more little stars whirling around in rings outside it. And trails of fog—I never could describe it. You would have to see for yourself. And they sang. Oh, it was beautiful!’ Then she stopped again, to recall it; and that was trying to the others, because she certainly did not make things very clear to them.
“‘Now, Merope,’ said Cassiopeia, ‘you give your mind to it, and describe things a little better. I wish I’d gone myself. I could tell what I’d seen and heard. What was the singing like?’
“‘It wasn’t like anything,’ said Merope. ‘That’s why I can’t tell you. It was quite, quite beautiful. Every star—when it whirled—seemed to have its own song—’
“‘Like tops?’ asked Perseus.