“Why, yes, my bonny lassie,” said the Good Folk.  “They shine on the grass here o’ night.  Dance with us, and maybe you’ll find one.”

And she danced and she danced and she danced, but ne’er a one did she see.  So down she sate; I suppose she wept.

“Oh dearie me, oh dearie me,” says she, “I’ve swam and I’ve paddled and I’ve danced, and if ye’ll not help me I shall never find the stars in the sky to play with.”

But the Good Folk whispered together, and one of them came up to her and took her by the hand and said, “If you won’t go home to your mother, go forward, go forward; mind you take the right road.  Ask Four Feet to carry you to No Feet at all, and tell No Feet at all to carry you to the stairs without steps, and if you can climb that—­”

“Oh, shall I be among the stars in the sky then?” cried the lassie.

“If you’ll not be, then you’ll be elsewhere,” said the Good Folk, and set to dancing again.

So on she went again with a light heart, and by-and-by she came to a saddled horse, tied to a tree.

“Goode’en to ye, Beast,” said she; “I’m seeking the stars in the sky to play with.  Will you give me a lift, for all my bones are an-aching.”

“Nay,” said the horse, “I know nought of the stars in the sky, and I’m here to do the bidding of the Good Folk, and not my own will.”

“Well,” said she, “it’s from the Good Folk I come, and they bade me tell Four Feet to carry me to No Feet at all.”

“That’s another story,” said he; “jump up and ride with me.”

So they rode and they rode and they rode, till they got out of the forest and found themselves at the edge of the sea.  And on the water in front of them was a wide glistening path running straight out towards a beautiful thing that rose out of the water and went up into the sky, and was all the colours in the world, blue and red and green, and wonderful to look at.

“Now get you down,” said the horse; “I’ve brought ye to the end of the land, and that’s as much as Four Feet can do.  I must away home to my own folk.”

“But,” said the lassie, “where’s No Feet at all, and where’s the stair without steps?”

“I know not,” said the horse, “it’s none of my business neither.  So goode’en to ye, my bonny lassie;” and off he went.

So the lassie stood still and looked at the water, till a strange kind of fish came swimming up to her feet.

“Goode’en to ye, big Fish,” says she, “I’m looking for the stars in the sky, and for the stairs that climb up to them.  Will ye show me the way?”

“Nay,” said the Fish, “I can’t unless you bring me word from the Good Folk.”

“Yes, indeed,” said she.  “They said Four Feet would bring me to No Feet at all, and No Feet at all would carry me to the stairs without steps.”

“Ah, well,” said the Fish; “that’s all right then.  Get on my back and hold fast.”

And off he went—­Kerplash!—­into the water, along the silver path, towards the bright arch.  And the nearer they came the brighter the sheen of it, till she had to shade her eyes from the light of it.