Wouter looked for Omicron, but could not find her.
It often happens that we miss something because it is too big.
“See,” said Fancy, “there—to the right—no—rather farther off—there—there—the Pole Star. That’s her left eye. You can’t see the right, because she is stooping after Orion, her doll. She is holding him on her lap and playing with him.”
Wouter now saw her clearly, and cried “Omicron! Omicron!”
“No, no,” said the maid-of-honour, “that won’t do, prince. The queen expressly directed that your confinement was to be on the cellular system. It is only as a great favour that you two are shut up within the same universe. When your brothers spoilt the Milky Way some time ago by letting floods loose over it, they were put very much farther apart.”
Wouter was greatly grieved at this. He would so have liked to kiss all those stars, with the doll in their lap, which were his little sister.
“Oh! Fancy,” he cried, “do let me be with Omicron!”
Fancy said neither yes nor no. There was something in her manner as if she were thinking over the possibility of bringing a very difficult matter to pass.
But Wouter, taking courage from her hesitation, repeated his prayer:
“Oh! let me be with my little sister. I don’t mind if I have to eat grass again, or build continents. I will do my very best at it, if I may only be with Omicron!”