"Are you a fairy?" he asked hoarsely, for the night-mist was in his voice.
"No," she said, "I'm a little girl. You're a wood-boy, I suppose?"
He stayed silent, regarding her with a puzzled face. Who was this little white creature with the tender voice that had slipped so suddenly out of the night?
"As a matter of fact," the girl continued, "I've come out to have a look at the fairies. There's a ring down in the wood. You can come with me if you like, wood-boy."
He nodded his head silently, for he was afraid to speak to her, and set off through the wood by her side, still clasping the flowers to his breast.
"What were you looking at when I found you?" she asked.
"The palace—the fairy palace," the boy muttered.
"The palace?" the girl repeated. "Why, that's not a palace; that's where I live."
The boy looked at her with new awe; if she were a fairy—— But the girl had noticed that his feet made no sound beside her shoes.
"Don't the thorns prick your feet, wood-boy?" she asked; but the boy said nothing, and they were both silent for a while, the girl looking about her keenly as she walked, and the boy watching her face. Presently they came to a wide pool where a little tinkling fountain threw bubbles to the hidden fish.