"And oh!" he exclaimed, "I suppose sometimes the threads get twisted again when you have to send them down such a long way, and that's how stories get muddled sometimes." "Just so," said the white lady.

"My story threads need gentle handling, and sometimes people seize them roughly and tear and soil them, and then of course they are no longer pretty.

But listen now.

What will you have?
The first in the wheel is a very, very old fairy story.

I span it for your great-great-grandmothers; shall I spin it again for you ?" "Oh, please," said both children at once.
"Then sit down on the floor and lean your heads against my knees," said the lady.