“Did I say alone? Ah, no such thing! Full in her face was shining the king. ‘Welcome, Sir Lark! You look tired,’ said he. ‘ Up is not always the best way to me. While you have been singing so high and away, I’ve been shining to your little wife all day.’ “He had set his crown all about the nest, And out of the midst shone her little brown breast; And so glorious was she in russet gold, That for wonder and awe Sir Lark grew cold. He popped his head under her wing, and lay As still as a stone, till the king was away.”
As soon as Tricksey-Wee had finished her song, the lark’s wife began a low, sweet, modest little song of her own; and after she had piped away for two or three minutes, she said—
“You dear children, what can I do for you?”
“Tell us where the she-eagle lives, please,” said Tricksey-Wee.
“Well, I don’t think there can be much harm in telling such wise, good children,” said Lady Lark; “I am sure you don’t want to do any mischief.”
“Oh, no; quite the contrary,” said Buffy-Bob.
“Then I’ll tell you. She lives on the very topmost peak of Mount Skycrack; and the only way to get up is to climb on the spiders’ webs that cover it from top to bottom.”
“That’s rather serious,” said Tricksey-Wee.
“But you don’t want to go up, you foolish little thing! You can’t go. And what do you want to go up for?”
“That is a secret,” said Tricksey-Wee.