“I daren’t come near it,” she answered, “for fear it should burn me!”
That night the little Jackdaw lay awake, while all the others slept, waiting to hear the green stone break out into sorrow, and to see if its winged mate would come seeking it. But after hours had gone, and nothing stirred or spoke, he slipped softly out of the nest, and went down to search for the poor little winged mate who must surely be about somewhere.
And now, truly, among the grasses and flowers he heard something sobbing and sighing; a little winged thing darted into sight and out again, searching the ground like a dragon-fly at quest. And all the time, amid the darting and humming of its wings, came sobbing and wringing of hands.
The young Jackdaw called: “Little wings, what have you lost? Is it not a spike with a green light at the end of it?”
“My wand, my wand!” cried the fairy, beside herself with grief. “Just about sunset I was asleep in an empty wren’s nest, and when I woke up my wand was gone!”
Then the little Jackdaw, being moon-struck, and not knowing the value of things, flew up to the nest and brought back the fairy her wand.
“Oh!” she cried, “you have saved my life!” And she thanked the Jackdaw till he grew quite modest and shy.
“What is it for? What can you do with it?” he asked.
“With this,” she answered, “I can make anything beautiful come true! I can give you whatever you ask; you have but to ask, and you shall have.”
Then the little Jackdaw, being moon-struck, and not knowing the value of things, said, “Oh, if I could only sing like a nightingale!”