The first words the lady said were—
“What is that in your hand, Mossy?”
Now Mossy was the name his companions had given him, because he had a favourite stone covered with moss, on which he used to sit whole days reading; and they said the moss had begun to grow upon him too.
Mossy held out his hand. The moment the lady saw that it was the golden key, she rose from her chair, kissed Mossy on the forehead, made him sit down on her seat, and stood before him like a servant. Mossy could not bear this, and rose at once. But the lady begged him, with tears in her beautiful eyes, to sit, and let her wait on him.
“But you are a great, splendid, beautiful lady,” said Mossy.
“Yes, I am. But I work all day long—that is my pleasure; and you will have to leave me so soon!”
“How do you know that, if you please, madam?” asked Mossy.
“Because you have got the golden key.”
“But I don’t know what it is for. I can’t find the keyhole. Will you tell me what to do?”
“You must look for the keyhole. That is your work. I cannot help you. I can only tell you that if you look for it you will find it.”
“What kind of box will it open? What is there inside?”
“I do not know. I dream about it, but I know nothing.”
“Must I go at once?”