MYTYL (greatly alarmed) What does he want?...
THE FAIRY Why, he is the soul of Sugar!...
MYTYL (reassured) Has he any barley-sugar?...
THE FAIRY His pockets are full of it and each of his fingers is a sugar-stick....
(The lamp falls from the table and, at the same moment, its flame springs up again and turns into a luminous maid of incomparable beauty. She is dressed in long transparent and dazzling veils and stands motionless in a sort of ecstasy.)
TYLTYL It's the Queen!...
MYTYL It's the Blessed Virgin!...
THE FAIRY No, my children; it's Light....
(Meanwhile, the saucepans on the shelves spin round like tops; the linen-press throws open its folding-doors and unrolls a magnificent display of moon-coloured and sun-coloured stuffs, with which mingles a no less splendid array of rags and tatters that come down the ladder from the loft. But, suddenly, three loud knocks are heard on the door at the right.)
TYLTYL (alarmed) That's daddy!... He's heard us!...