"I believe he did," said Ellen.
"Let us go and see." The Queerbody was all eagerness.
They hastened back to the room of the forgotten stories and bent over the castle jar. The Queerbody gave a cry of joy. It was half full of glistening wondercluff.
Reaching down into the jar she brought out great handfuls that shone and glistened. "Now I can finish the story," she cried.
She began patting and moulding with hands that trembled with eagerness and under her fingers the silvery feet of the fairy tale seemed almost to shape themselves. Then suddenly the figure stood complete, a tall and shining lady with a crown upon her head. The eyes, however, were blank and unseeing, and there was no breath to stir the silver robe.
"Take her hand," the Queerbody said to Ellen.
Timidly the little girl took the white hand of the Fairy Tale in hers. It was very cold, but as she held it, it seemed to grow warm and soft in her fingers.
"Speak to her," the Queerbody now commanded. At first Ellen could not think of what to say. Then, "Are you,—are you the forgotten Story I came to find?" she whispered.
Slowly the color flushed into the Fairy Tale's face; the life came into her eyes. Slowly very slowly she turned her head and looked down into Ellen's eager face. "Am I that Story?" she murmured. "Look in my eyes and see."