But the littlest Jackdaw said, "It came true, and went away, because it was
never intended for us."

Now some days after this the old Jack-daw again came carrying something that
shone like an evening star--a little spike of gold with a burning emerald set
in the end of it. "And what do you think of that?" said he to his wife.

"I daren't come near it," she answered, "for fear it should burn me!"

That night the little Jackdaw lay awake, while all the others slept, waiting
to hear the green stone break out into sorrow, and to see if its winged mate
would come seeking it. But after hours had gone, and nothing stirred or spoke,
he slipped softly out of the nest, and went down to search for the poor little
winged mate who must surely be about somewhere.

And now, truly, among the grasses and flowers he heard something sobbing and
sighing; a little winged thing darted into sight and out again, searching the
ground like a dragon-fly at quest. And all the time, amid the darting and
humming of its wings, came sobbing and wringing of hands.

The young Jackdaw called: "Little wings, what have you lost? Is it not a spike
with a green light at the end of it?"

"My wand, my wand!" cried the fairy, beside herself with grief. "Just about
sunset I was asleep in an empty wren's nest, and when I woke up my wand was
gone!"

Then the little Jackdaw, being moon-struck, and not knowing the value of
things, flew up to the nest and brought back the fairy her wand.