“MARIE GOING TO THE MOON.”
Not another instant did Marie lose. At once she set off on her long journey to the point where the moon touches the earth. For days and days she walked, begging food at houses by the way, and at last she reached the desired point; but, alas! when she saw the Old Man and asked him to give her back Prince Charlie’s ball, he told her that the balls were not in his keeping, and the only one to help her was the boatman who ferried a boat across daily from the moon to the stars, for the seven balls had been placed in the sky as seven stars. They waited until the queer boat came alongside the moon, and the Old Man helped Marie into the boat.
When the boatman heard Marie’s story and her request, he at once steered towards a point where shone seven stars in this fashion.
The one in the centre shone brightly, but those around it were dim and gave but little light. “That is Prince Charlie’s, I am sure,” said Marie, “the one in the middle;” and when she looked closely at it, she found a little mark that Prince Charlie had made upon it one day. How she thanked the boatman! But the boatman smiled at her sadly, for he knew that any one once touched by the magic tweezers and enclosed in the golden ball, could never be brought to life again.
The boatman rowed her back to the moon, and the Old Man helped her out gently and lovingly. “Kind little girl,” he said, “you can never see bonnie Prince Charlie again in this world, but take the ball to the earth, bury it in your garden, weep tears of loving sorrow over the tiny grave, and you will be rewarded.”
Marie clasped the ball lovingly. When she reached the earth again, she set off at once for home, hardly stopping to rest or eat by the way, for she wished to see what would happen when she buried the golden ball.