"Who art thou?" she asked him, plaintively.
"Papageno," he answered.
"I do not know the name. But I am the daughter of the Queen of the Night."
"Well, I think you are, but to make sure"—He pulled from his pocket the portrait which had been given to him by the Prince and looked at it earnestly for a long time.
"According to this you shouldn't have any hands or feet," he announced gravely.
"But it is I," the Princess declared, looking in turn at the miniature. "Pray, where did you get this?"
"Your mother gave this to a young stranger, who instantly fell in love with you, and started to find you."
"In love with me?" she cried, joyfully.
"You'd think so if you saw the way he carries on about you," the fowler volunteered. "And we are to carry you back to your mother even quicker than we came."
"Then you must be very quick about it, because Sarastro returns from the chase at noon exactly, and if he finds you here, you will never leave alive."