It was a cruel task, for the cliff was steep, and there was scarcely any foothold but an occasional rock and bush; but I never once thought of discouragement, and I stuck to it with all my might. My bare feet and my hands were torn by the rocks, but I kept on, up and up, and in time I stood on the top. I hastened away along the edge of the cliff, and came after a long walk to a place where the cliff turned back shoreward; and there I looked down, and saw the roofs of the village straggling up its hillside behind the cove. _He Hears the Voice of the Seal Again_ I lay down and put my head out over the edge of the cliff, and at that moment there came to me from the still water of the cove a faint, sad voice, singing: “O wonderful pancake batter! O table and fork and plate! I wonder whatever’s the matter, That he keeps me waiting so late? He said he was willing to serve us Regardless of danger or pelf, But I’m getting so dreadfully nervous I really am scarcely myself. O why does he loiter and linger While I wait so sorry and sick? Let him sever the Ragpicker’s finger And do it almightily quick. For then I shall sit at a table, My napkin over my knees, And tipple as long as I’m able, And gobble as long as I please, With plenty of good hot curry, And plenty of custard pie,-- If he only would hurry, hurry! O why does he linger, why?” The voice stopped, and I rose to my feet and made off across the moonlit fields. _“There used to be a baker at the castle,” said the Queen, “shortly after I was married, who made up a great many very pretty songs. The King used to say that he sang better than he baked. For my part, I was very sorry to lose him. His niece was going to be married in one of our villages, I forget which,--no, I believe it was a cousin; I am almost sure it was his cousin, and I think it was the niece who was looking after his mother while he was here, and she had to go and keep house for the cousin after she was married, and that left his mother all alone; so that he had to go back to his mother, and I always thought he was such a good son to give up his place here at the castle in order to take care of his poor old mother, and I’m sure very few would have done it in his place; but I must say that the next baker was very much better at gingerbread, though he never made up any songs, and I think the King himself missed the first one a good deal afterward, though he never would say so.”_ _“Go on!” cried Bojohn; and Solario proceeded._ I rose to my feet (said Alb) and made off across the fields. I found a path which wound down to the village, and I was presently standing in the street. All the storks were gone, probably within doors for the night. I set forth briskly to find the house of the One-Armed Sorcerer. I realized that the stork with the necklace was the Princess herself, and I knew that if she was to be saved from the Ragpicker I must act quickly.