“Well, well, David,” said the Cobbler, “you are just the little boy I have been looking for. I want you to come into my cottage, and I will show you something.” Now, the Cobbler was really a witch, and all he wanted to do was to get David into his cottage. Once he had the lad within its doors, he would cast a spell over him that would prevent him from wishing to leave. Then the old Cobbler could do with him as he pleased. But David knew nothing of all this. He entered the cottage; and as he entered, the witch’s spell began to take effect. He forgot the Garden for which he was seeking; he forgot the old woman to whom he had given the cup, and what she had told him; and, saddest of all, he forgot the Blue Bird. This meant that he could neither see nor hear it again till he thought of it himself and sought it of his own free will. On the table was a tempting supper of cereal and milk, and a large slice of mocha pie stood enticingly before him. The Cobbler motioned to him to be seated and told him that the supper was spread there for him. David was really very hungry, and he sat down and ate a good meal. Just as he finished the last mouthful of the pie, a little girl entered the room. David, looking at her, thought that he had never in his life seen so beautiful a child. She was about eight years of age. Her hair was golden brown, fine as spun gold, and she wore it pushed back from her face and held in place by a narrow shell band. Her forehead was high and well rounded. And her eyes were so kind and beautiful that David just stood and looked into them, as she in turn was looking into his. It seemed to them both as if they had known one another long, long ago; no, it was as if they had _always_ known one another--as if their meeting now were the most natural thing in the world. The little girl held out her hand to David. “What is your name?” he asked her as he took it. “Ruth,” said the child. “And yours?” “David,” he answered. They became friends at once and for ever and ever and ever. The months passed by, and David and Ruth worked and worked for the Cobbler--for both he and his wife knew how to keep the children busy. But as time went on, the two children grew older and wiser, till at last they grew so wise that they saw right through the old Cobbler and his wife. They knew that the pair pretended a great deal that was not true, simply in order to keep the children in ignorance so that they would fear their elders. For there is nothing that keeps one so filled with fear as ignorance. Many persons who want power just for themselves alone know this, and therefore try to keep others bound in the heavy chains of ignorance. Many months passed, then. Yet to Ruth and David they seemed but weeks; for the two were held under a certain spell which kept them always in the same state of blindness to past and future. Therefore time, as we know it, had hardly any existence for them; for, in the land where they now dwelt, this was the Law.