"How are you, ferry-man?" he asked. "Where are you going?"
"I am going wherever the ball of thread leads me, for I must fetch the Self-playing Guitar."
"This guitar," said the old man, "belongs to Goldmore, the lord of that island. It is a difficult matter to have to do with him; but perhaps you may succeed. You have often ferried me over the water; I will ferry you now."
The old man pushed off, and they reached the island.
On arriving the ball of thread went straight into a palace, where Goldmore came out to meet the traveller, and asked him where he was going and what he wanted.
He explained:
"I am come for the Self-playing Guitar."
"I will only let you have it on condition that you do not go to sleep for three days and nights. And if you do, you will not only lose all chance of the Self-playing Guitar; but you must die."
What could the poor man do, but agree to this?
So Goldmore conducted him to a great room, and locked him in. The floor was strewn with sleepy-grass, so he fell asleep directly.
Next morning in came Goldmore, and on waking him up said:
"So you went to sleep! Very well, you shall die!"
