"Well, I didn't think you could, but it's too bad, for I could have told you how to go. If I only had brought anything to begin with I'd make something to ride on; but I didn't know the journey would be so long and weary."
"Do you mean," said Ellen, "that if you had anything to begin with you could really make something to ride on?"
"Oh yes. Almost everybody, before they start out for the Queerbodies', learns to make something out of nothing; but I was in such a hurry to start I only learned to make much out of little, and that's the trouble now."
"Haven't you anything in your pocket to begin on?" asked Ellen, for the lad's pockets were bulging with something that jingled every time he moved.
"Nothing that would do. It must be something that was once alive. Now you don't happen to have such a thing about you as a twig or a chip of wood?"
"No. That is, nothing but a little wooden pig, and it was never alive."
"No, but the wood was when it was growing. Will you let me see it?"
As Ellen drew the toy from her pocket the boy took it from her eagerly. His eyes sparkled. "The very thing!" he cried. "I can make a magnificent riding-horse out of this." Holding the pig to his mouth, the boy began to whisper magic in its wooden ear. As he did so the pig began to grow. It grew and it grew, while Ellen stared in wonder.
When it was too large for the boy to hold in his hands he set it down on the ground. Still he kept whispering in its ear and the pig kept on growing, until at last it was as large as a pony.
When it was that big the lad stopped. "There!" he said to Ellen, looking at the pig with pride, "how is that for a riding-horse?"