"Oh, so you did want to try on the pretty frock after all," cried the Witch, and drew her up the stairs. Eric followed to the yellow room. "No," said Ivra. But the Witch brought it out and tried to slip it over her head. It was sheerest gossamer web, and shimmered like moonlight. And the little rosebuds seemed to make it belong to Ivra. Eric forgot all about being a prisoner, and forgot the little caged creatures around the wall. He was delighted with the frock being pushed down on Ivra's shoulders. "How beautiful you'll be!" he cried. But Ivra wriggled away from it and stood clear. Her rudely made brown frock and worn sandals looked odd in that satin room. "I didn't come to see the frock," she said, shaking her head till her pigtails bobbed. "I came to get Eric." The Beautiful Wicked Witch laughed. "Get him if you can," she said. Then she turned her back on the children and began to braid her black hair among the mirrors. They went to the window and waited there, watching her. "The door doesn't open out,--only in, I think," Eric whispered. "So we can't get out." "Mother has told me how it would be," Ivra whispered back. "We'll have to wait until she's asleep and then find a way." Then Ivra sat down on the floor and began to rock back and forth and sing a lullaby. It was a lullaby her mother had sung to her all her babyhood, Ivra sang in a very little voice, almost a murmur only, but by listening Eric and the Beautiful Wicked Witch could catch the words. She sang the same words over and over and over. Night is in the forest, Tree Mother is nigh. By-abye, by-abye-bye. Sleep is in the forest-- His feathers brush your eye. By-abye, by-abye-bye. Mother's arms are holding you, Forest dreams are folding you. By-abye, by-abye--bye. The Beautiful Wicked Witch sat down before the mirrors after a while, still watching her reflection, but listening to the song, too. Her head gradually sank lower and lower, first resting chin in hand and at last right down on her arm stretched along the floor. Her face lay turned towards the children, and they saw the mirth slowly fade in her great black eyes, the lids drop lower and lower,--and then she was asleep suddenly. Now she looked almost as young as themselves, and like a pale child who has fallen to sleep at its play. But the children did not stop to look at her. Once they were sure she was asleep they were off searching for the door. Up and down the stairs and all around the rooms they ran on tiptoes. But it was no use, and at last they came back to the window. "We must jump," whispered Ivra. Eric looked down, and wondered. It was a long way to the ground! "The snow is soft beneath the crust," Ivra said. "It will only cut us a little." "Let's take the bird," Eric said. Ivra ran to it, and opened the cage door. It hopped onto her finger eagerly, and she held its bill so that it would not sing. Eric opened the window. "I'll jump first," he whispered.