"And what
are you all doing there on the floor, like fish tumbled out of a
basket? Get up and tell me what's wrong with you! Where is the
child?"
The fairies all choked and gasped and groaned and tried to speak. Then
the leader of the party staggered up to his feet and stammered out:
"The child is where it was before we went for it. We could not bring
it; we could not take it; we could not touch it. You might as well be
asking us to bring a lily from the fields of heaven."
"And why could you not take it?" the King asked. "Was the mother
holding it so fast in her arms? Could you not make her look the other
way while you'ld be taking it? Could you not put some charm on her so
that she'ld let it go? Or was she praying all the time, so that you
could do nothing with her? Or was she making those signs over it that
none of us can stand?"
"No, no," said the leader, so low that they could scarcely hear him;
"no, it wasn't that; the mother was doing none of them things. The
mother was dead!"
For a minute everybody was still.
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