Teddy and Tilly came through the wood, quarrelling in a noisy manner, and calling each other ugly names; not a bit afraid of the dark, although they certainly ought to have been. “You’re eating all the nuts,” bellowed Teddy. “Well, I gathered them,” shrieked Tilly. “No, you didn’t; I got most,” whimpered her brother crossly. “Oh, you story! You didn’t,” retorted Tilly. And then they called each other more ugly names, and fought and scratched until the whole wood resounded with their noise, and the birds trembled in their nests with fear. Suddenly, in front of them, they saw a small red ball, glowing like a scarlet coal, and it kept dancing up and down like a restless will-o’-the-wisp. “Oh, Teddy,” cried Tilly, “look at that pretty ball!” “It’s mine!” roared greedy Teddy, rushing forward. “I’ll have it.” “You shan’t!” cried Tilly, running after him. “I’ll get it.” But the red ball—which was none other than Gillydrop—rolled and rolled in front of the children through the dark wood, and led them deeper and deeper into the forest, until it bounded right on to a brown carpet lying under a great tree, where it lay glowing like a red-hot coal. Teddy and Tilly jumped on to the brown carpet with a scream of delight, thinking they would now seize the ball, when suddenly the sides of the brown leaf curled up, and it lengthened out into a long boat. The darkness under it grew thicker and thicker, the foliage of the tree above vanished, and the two naughty children found themselves in a boat, rolling and tossing on the black waves, with a gloomy, starless sky above them. Away at the end of the boat sat Gillydrop, who had now unrolled himself, and was guiding the magic skiff across the Sea of Darkness towards the Country of the Giants. “Oh, I want to go home!” cried Tilly, now very frightened. “And so do I!” roared Teddy, sitting close to her. As they said this, they both heard a mocking ripple of laughter, and saw the Red Elf dancing with glee at the end of the boat. “You’ll never go home again,” he cried mockingly, “because you have been naughty, and must be punished.” “I’ll never be naughty again,” sobbed Tilly. “No more will I,” echoed Teddy; and they both wept bitterly. “It’s too late now,” said Gillydrop, shaking his head. “Naughty children always get punished.” He might have said the same thing about himself; but then he was a faery, and felt ashamed to tell two human beings that he had been as naughty as themselves. Teddy and Tilly cried dreadfully as they thought of their poor mother waiting for them at home, and of the nice supper of bread and milk which she had prepared for them; but their tears were all of no avail, for the magic boat sailed on and on, though how it moved without sails or oars they could not tell.