“I wish you would take me home with you,” said Winikin. “Where do you live?”
“There across the lake,” said the little boy, pointing to some distant hills.
The lads now played a game of battledore and kept tossing the shuttlecock higher and higher till at last it fell into the lake at a great distance, but remained floating on the surface.
“Let us jump in and see who will catch it first,” said Goldlocks.
Away he darted into the water, and soon swam out of sight among the bulrushes that grew on an islet in the middle of the lake. Winikin believed he could swim, too, so into the water he jumped. In the dusk a white water-lily looked like the lost shuttlecock. Poor Winikin snatched at it, lost his balance, and fell down in the water. He tried to scream out to his companion, but he could not make a sound. After this he could not remember what took place.
Luckily the lake was not deep; he quickly rose to the surface and the gentle waves bore him to the shore where he lay insensible for several hours.
It was near daybreak when Winikin came to his senses again. He stared about wondering whether it was all a dream, or whether he had really played with Goldlocks the day before. Then he saw one of the battledores lying besides him and the lost shuttlecock.
“I had better stop here, or else he won’t find me if he returns,” thought Winikin.
He looked up and saw a little boy galloping along as fast as his wooden horse would carry him! It was Finikin!
The good little fellow had carried home his basket of fruit and had seen his father improve after eating one of the golden pippins. Then he had gone to find Roger, the huntsman, who said he had sent Winikin to the magical garden. Away went Finikin at full speed, like a small knight-errant, to seek his brother.