“Euphrosyne’s dove!” exclaimed Titania. “There is a shaft above through which it can escape. Let us send it with a message to her.”
Upon a scrap of paper she hastily wrote the words:
“Euphrosyne, Fair Goddess of Mirth:
“Dragonfel the wicked enchanter holds us captive in his country. Help us, we beseech you, before it is too late.
“Queen Titania.”
While she wrote Florimel noticed with some uneasiness that water was trickling down the walls and that in some places on the floor pools had already formed.
“Tie the note to the dove’s neck,” he said. “Let us dispatch it immediately.”
They did so, and he flung the little creature upward toward the shaft. Its talons clutched a side precariously while it fluttered its wings to sustain itself in the frail, uncertain hold it had.
“Poor little thing!” said Titania, when she noticed that it was in great danger of falling. “It cannot help us.”