'No,' said Hildegarde, 'I think, as near as we can guess to the magic door, would be the best. Further up in the woods I mean, than where we cracked the nuts.'
So thither they hastened, full of eagerness and excitement.
'You crack first this time,' said Hildegarde, 'as I did the last.'
Leonore obeyed her, and both little girls peered anxiously into the nutshell. Their first idea was that it would contain some paper of directions, as had been the case before, but it was not so. On the contrary, the only thing they saw was a little mass of very, very fine colourless thread or silk, so fine indeed as to seem almost like cobweb. With the utmost care Leonore drew it out—it was stronger than it looked, for at one end was attached to it a small, delicately-fashioned silver hook, like the finest fairy fish-hook.
The children stared at each other.
'What can it mean?' they said.
Leonore gave the threads a little shake, one end dropped to the ground and, in doing so, unravelled itself.
'I see what it is,' exclaimed Hildegarde. 'It is a rope ladder, a fairy's rope ladder of course, for nothing stronger than a spider could possibly climb up it. Perhaps my nut will explain.'
So saying, she hastened to crack it, but to their surprise and momentary disappointment its contents were precisely the same as those of Leonore's nut.
'Well,' said Hildegarde, after a moment or two's reflection, 'we're evidently meant to find out for ourselves what to do with these queer things.'