It was indeed the negro strolling with a crony along the brookside, and when he had sauntered out of earshot Haskins did not worry about the hymn tunes. He slipped the cylinder record on to the machine, and set the thing going. Then, for the next minute, he and Tod listened in amazement to a message from Fairyland. "This to the wide world," babbled the machine in the sweetest and most melodious of voices. "This to the Fairy Prince, who will come and waken me from dreams. Come, dear Prince, to the Pixy's House, and watch that the jealous ogress, who guards me, does not see you. I cannot read, I cannot write; but I talk my message to you, dear Prince. To the stream I commit the message on this first day of April in this year five. May the river bear the message to you, dear Prince. Come to me! Come to me! Come to me! and waken your Princess to life with a kiss." The machine still continued to work, but the voice became abruptly silent. There was no more of the message, so when the point of the phonograph reached the end of the inscribed wax Gerald removed it. When it was again in his pocket he turned toward the amazed Tod. "What do you think of that?" he demanded triumphantly. "I think that the date explains the whole thing," said Tod grimly. "See: the first of April. Five! That means, nineteen hundred and five, which is this very year. Some one's having a joke." "I don't believe it," said Haskins, and began to scribble in his pocketbook what the machine had said. He had a good memory, and reproduced the message from the Fairy Princess very correctly. Later he determined to verify the same, but meanwhile kept the precious roller in his pocket and asserted his determination to search for the Pixy's House. "What bosh!" grumbled Tod, disdainfully. "Maybe there's no such place. But if you will be a lunatic, ask Geary about the matter." "No," said Gerald decidedly. "I shall not say a word to Geary, and I must ask you to say nothing either. This is the first piece of romance which has come my way, and I don't want it spoiled by sharing it with other people." "My way," echoed Macandrew, staring. "I like that. You forget that I found the cylinder, my son. I am the person who is supposed to have received the letter." "Toddy, you are not a Turk or a Mormon, so this delicious Princess, who speaks like a silver bell, is not for you. Keep to Charity Bird, and allow me a chance of finding a wife." "O Lord! Jerry, you ain't serious?" "Yes and no! After all I am young, and--as the cook said--of that 'appy disposition that I can love any one. Why shouldn't I seek in some Fairy Woods for the Sleeping Beauty?" "Sleeping!" sniggered Tod, lighting his pipe, "then she must have written that silly message in her sleep. Or perhaps she talks in it," he added, recollecting that the message was a spoken one. "A nice wife to have, upon my word. You won't get a wink of sleep."