'Not to where you left her. I will take you by a short cut,' said godmother, who, since they had left the cottage, had seemed to grow into just an ordinary-looking old peasant woman, very bent and small, for any one at least who did not peep far enough inside her queer hood to see her wonderful eyes and gleaming hair, and whom no one would have suspected of the marvellous crimson dress under the long dark cloak. Maia kept peeping up at her with a strange look in her face.
'What is it, my child?' said godmother.
'I don't quite know,' Maia replied. 'I'm not quite sure, godmother, if I'm not a little—a very little—frightened of you. You change so. In the cottage you seemed a sort of a young fairy godmother—and now——' she hesitated.
'And now do I seem very old?'
'Rather,' said Maia.
'Well, listen now. I'll tell you the real truth, strange as it may seem. I am very old—older than you can even fancy, and yet I am and I always shall be young.'
'In fairyland—in the other country, do you mean?' asked Rollo.
Godmother turned her bright eyes full upon him. 'Not only there, my boy,' she said. 'Here, too—everywhere—I am both old and young.'
Maia gave a little sigh.
'You are very nice, godmother,' she said, 'but you are very puzzling.' But she had no time to say more, for just then godmother stopped.