A little hand appeared beside the face, and a finger pointed to one of the big air plants above her. Kirk beheld a marvellous white, dove-shaped flower, nodding upon a slender stalk.
"I climbed up on the big vine; it is just like a ladder."
"Then you can't be the queen!"
Two very large, very dark eyes looked at him questioningly.
"Queens don't pick flowers," he explained. "They hide in 'em."
"The queen?"
"Some of them live in trees, and some preside over lakes and fountains.
Which kind are you?"
"Oh! I am neither, I live in my father's house." She tossed her head in the direction of the Savannas behind her. "Do you wish to cross the stream?"
"If you please."
"Wait." The face disappeared. There was a sound from behind the twisted tree-trunk, a twig fell, then a piece of bark, and the next instant the girl herself stepped into view.