In an incredibly short time they saw the stage transformed into a giant stairway. After that, from somewhere far above the stage, dangling from ropes, various bits of scenery drifted down. Seized by workmen, these bits were fitted into their places and—
“Behold! Here is magic for you!” exclaimed the prima donna. “Here we have a mountain.”
As Petite Jeanne moved to the front of the stage she found herself facing a mountainside with slopes of refreshing green. A winding path led toward its summit. At the top of the path were the stone steps of a palace.
“Come,” said her enchantress, “Come to the castle steps and rest with me for a time.”
As Jeanne followed her up the winding path she felt that she truly must be in fairyland. “And with such a guide!” she breathed.
“Now,” said the prima donna, drawing her down to a place beside herself, “we may sit here and tell secrets, or fortunes, or what would you like?” She laughed a merry laugh.
“Do you know,” she said as her mood changed, “you are really very like me in many ways? I sing in parts you might take without a make-up. I, who am very old,” she laughed once more, “I must be made up for them very much indeed.”
“Oh, no, surely not!” the little French dancer exclaimed. “You are very young.”
“Thank you, little girl.” The prima donna placed a hand upon her knee. “None of us wish to grow old. We would remain young forever and ever in this bright, beautiful and melodious world.
“I saw you dancing here this afternoon,” she went on after a moment’s silence.