Epimetheus, do tell me; I know I cannot be happy till you tell me all
about it."

Then Epimetheus grew a little angry. "How can I tell you, Pandora?" he
said, "I do not know any more than you do."

"Well, you could open it," said Pandora, "and we could see for
ourselves!"

But Epimetheus looked so shocked at the very idea of opening a box
that had been given to him in trust, that Pandora saw she had better
not suggest such a thing again.

"At least you can tell me how it came here," she said.

"It was left at the door," answered Epimetheus, "just before you came,
by a queer person dressed in a very strange cloak; he had a cap that
seemed to be partly made of feathers; it looked exactly as if he had
wings."

"What kind of a staff had he?" asked Pandora.

"Oh, the most curious staff you ever saw," cried Epimetheus: "it
seemed like two serpents twisted round a stick."

"I know him," said Pandora thoughtfully. "It was Mercury, and he
brought me here as well as the box. I am sure he meant the box for me,
and perhaps there are pretty clothes in it for us to wear, and toys
for us both to play with."