Next morning, in the grey light of dawn, the Master of the Horse let out the seven foals again, and off they set over hill and dale, through woods and bogs, and off went Cinderlad after them. When he had run thus for a long time, he too came to the cleft in the rock. There the old hag was once more sitting spinning from her distaff, and she cried to Cinderlad;
‘Come hither, come hither, my handsome son, and let me comb your hair for you.’
‘Come to me, then; come to me!’ said Cinderlad, as he passed by jumping and running, and keeping tight hold of one of the foals’ tails.
When he had got safely past the cleft in the rock, the youngest foal said:
‘Get on my back, for we have still a long way to go.’ So the lad did this.
And thus they journeyed onwards a long, long way.
‘Dost thou see anything now?’ said the Foal.
‘No,’ said Cinderlad.
So they journeyed onwards a good bit farther.
‘Dost thou see anything now?’ asked the Foal.