A thick fog, from which stands out, on the right, close to the footlights, the trunk of a large oak, with a board nailed to it. A vague, milky, impenetrable light prevails. TYLTYL and MYTYL are at the foot of the oak.
TYLTYL Here Is the tree!...
MYTYL There's the board!...
TYLTYL I can't read it.... Wait, I will climb up on this root.... That's it.... It says, "Land of Memory."
MYTYL Is this where it begins?...
TYLTYL Yes, there's an arrow....
MYTYL Well, where are grandad and granny?...
TYLTYL Behind the fog.... We shall see....
MYTYL I can see nothing at all!... I can't see my feet or my hands.... (Whimpering) I'm cold!... I don't want to travel any more.... I want to go home....
TYLTYL Come, don't keep on crying, just like Water.... You ought to be ashamed of yourself.... A great big little girl like you.... Look, the fog is lifting already.... We shall see what's behind it....