Then Wild Star appeared, his hands full of spring flowers that he had found deep in the forest in the sunniest and most protected place, the very first spring flowers.  “Helma must have gotten past that wall, now it’s spring,” he said; “and here are some flowers to greet her.  See, I left the roots on, the way she likes them.  Let’s plant them by the door stone.”

They dug up the earth with their hands, Forest Children’s hands, Wild Star’s hands, Eric’s and Ivra’s,—­and planted the flowers all about the door stone.  Then Wild Star flew away a little languidly.

Ivra looked after him.  “He’ll soon find the deepest, darkest, coolest place,” she said, “make himself a nest of smooth leaves and dream away the summer.  Fall and winter are his flying times.  We shall see him at no more parties for a while.”

“And the Snow Witches?  What will become of them?” asked Eric.

“They will get into hollows of old trees and under rocks, draw in their skirts and their hair, curl up and sleep.”

“Good news!” thought Eric.  But he did not say it for he knew Ivra liked the Snow Witches almost best of all to play with and would miss them.

Now the Tree Girl came through the gap in the hedge.  She was wearing a green frock, green sandals, and pussy willow buds made a wreath in her hair.

“Spring, spring!” she cried as she came up the path.  “We heard the sap running in our tree all night.  Father has gone on a spring wandering, and I shall stay within tree no longer for a while.”

“We know, we know!” crowed Ivra. “I knew before my eyes were open this morning.  Eric had to smell the ground first.  Imagine!  We have been cleaning house.  Mother will surely come now.  Don’t you feel it?”

The Tree Girl lifted her face up in the new warm wind.  Her soft hair floated feather-like.  “Yes, I feel it.  She is on the way.  Spring brings everything.”

A bird flashed from the trees.  It lighted on the hedge for a second and was away again.  But Eric had had time to recognize the beautiful bird he had seen caged in the Witch’s fir.

“The caged bird!” he cried to Ivra.  “It is free!  It is flying away.”

The Bird Fairies were flying away, too.  They were going to meet the birds corning up from the south and teach them their songs as they flew.  They came to say good-by to the children.

“Look for us next winter,” they called back, as they fluttered off in a silvery cloud.

And finally, at high noon, just as Ivra had known she would since early morning, Helma came,—­running through the forest, jumping the hedge, and gathering Ivra and Eric into her arms.

They three knelt on the ground by the spring flowers embracing each other for a long, long minute.

“Did you find the key to that gate?” Eric asked when his breath came back, “Or did they let you come at last.”

“I didn’t have to find the key, and they didn’t let me come.  They would never have done that.  But the minute I had on a light spring frock I found I could climb the wall easily enough, and so I came running all the way.  And now they shall never get me back behind doors again.  I am free!  I am as free as you, my children!”