Accordingly , after tea we all set off , armed with jugs and cups . Felicity , thoughtful creature , also took a small basketful of jelly cookies along with her . We had to go back through the maple woods to the extreme end of Uncle Roger 's farm -- a pretty walk , through a world of green , whispering boughs and spice-sweet ferns , and shifting patches of sunlight . The raspberries were plentiful , and we were not long in filling our receptacles . Then we foregathered around a tiny wood spring , cold and pellucid under its young maples , and ate the jelly cookies ; and the Story Girl told us a tale of a haunted spring in a mountain glen where a fair white lady dwelt , who pledged all comers in a golden cup with jewels bright . `` And if you drank of the cup with her , '' said the Story Girl , her eyes glowing through the emerald dusk about us , `` you were never seen in the world again ; you were whisked straightway to fairyland , and lived there with a fairy bride . And you never WANTED to come back to earth , because when you drank of the magic cup you forgot all your past life , except for one day in every year when you were allowed to remember it . '' `` I wish there was such a place as fairyland -- and a way to get to it , '' said Cecily . `` I think there IS such a place -- in spite of Uncle Edward , '' said the Story Girl dreamily , `` and I think there is a way of getting there too , if we could only find it . '' Well , the Story Girl was right . There is such a place as fairyland -- but only children can find the way to it . And they do not know that it is fairyland until they have grown so old that they forget the way . One bitter day , when they seek it and can not find it , they realize what they have lost ; and that is the tragedy of life . On that day the gates of Eden are shut behind them and the age of gold is over . Henceforth they must dwell in the common light of common day . Only a few , who remain children at heart , can ever find that fair , lost path again ; and blessed are they above mortals . They , and only they , can bring us tidings from that dear country where we once sojourned and from which we must evermore be exiles . The world calls them its singers and poets and artists and story-tellers ; but they are just people who have never forgotten the way to fairyland . As we sat there the Awkward Man passed by , with his gun over his shoulder and his dog at his side . He did not look like an awkward man , there in the heart of the maple woods .
He strode along XXXXX masterfully and lifted his head with the air of one who was monarch of all he surveyed .
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