'Ah well, then,' he said, 'I don't mind explaining things a little. She would not send idle folk to tease us; she is always busy herself. We are packing pattern-flowers. Our artists design them, and our most skilful metal-workers make them, and then we send them up to be copied again.'
'Up to our world, do you mean?' asked Leonore. 'I didn't know we had so many new patterns of flowers.'
The gnome shook his head.
'You don't,' he said; 'only a very few find their way to the place you come from. We send them first to the flower-fairies, and they copy them in common stuff—stuff like what all your flowers up there are made of,' with a tone of contempt, 'and then they send them off again—seeds or roots—whichever they think best, and that's how new flowers start.'
'But where do they send them to?' asked Hildegarde curiously. 'You say not many come to our world.'
'That's not my business,' he replied. 'Your world isn't the only one. You can ask the flower-fairies if ever you pass their way. Now I must get on with my work. If you cross the tent you will see the toy-packers at the other side.'
The children's eyes sparkled.
'Toys,' they repeated. 'Do you make toys down here?'