“Not so fast,” said the Wind, gently. “I go also. I want to be sure that there are enough closets—” or whatever would have corresponded to that before there was any Modern at all.
So the three went away together and groped about on the Outermost Way and beneath the Wild Wing of Things, and there the Wind swept it out tidily and there they made their home. And when it was all done,—which took a great while because the Wind kept wanting additions put on,—they came out and sat at the door of the place, the Great Black Hush and the Wind and the Special Baby between.
And as they did that a wonderful thing was true. For now that the Great Black Hush had withdrawn to his new home, lo, all the swinging plaything balls were shining through space, and there was light. And the man and the woman and the child at the door of the first home looked in one another’s faces. And the man and the woman were afraid of the light and their look clung each to the other’s in that fear; but the Special Baby stretched out his little hands and tried to put the light in his mouth.
“Don’t, dear,” said the woman, and her voice sounded quite natural.
“Pay attention to me and not to the Baby,” said the man, and his voice sounded quite natural, and very mighty, so that the woman obeyed—until the Special Baby wanted her again.
And that was when she made her lullaby, and it was the first song:—
WIND SONG[B]
Horn of the morning!
And the little night pipings fail.
The day is launched like a hollow ship