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Updated: May 6, 2025
"Oh, let us make haste!" "Tread softly," whispered the moon-fay, "and stoop well under these boughs, for if anything awakes to behold the blue moon, the memory of it can never die. On earth only the nightingale of all living things has beheld a blue moon; and the triumph and pain of that memory wakens him ever since to sing all night long.
There too, but nearer to hand, was the moon-fay himself waiting a great figure of lofty stature, clad in furs of blue fox-skin, and with heron's wings fastened above the flaps of his hood; and these lifted themselves and clapped as Hands and the Princess drew near. "Are you coming to the blue moon?" called the fay, and his voice whistled and shrewed to them like the voice of a wind.
Hands-pansy gave back answer stoutly: "Yes, yes, we are coming!" And indeed what better could he say? "But," cried Nillywill, holding back for a moment, "what will the blue moon do for us?" "Once you are there," answered the moon-fay, "you can have your wish and your heart's desire; but only once in a blue moon can you have it. Are you coming?" "We are coming!" cried Nillywill.
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