An elf suggested rheumatism for the old person, and Filamina herself thought of colic for the baby.
"Go and mix me," she said to an afrit, "some rheumatism and some colic in a bottle. I am going to make that greedy king take it himself. As for the root-beer," she continued, "those of you who think you can do it, can take any of the stuff you find on the shelves here, and try to make good root-beer out of it. To-morrow, we will see if any of you have made beer that is really good. I will give a handsome reward to the one who first finds out how it ought to be made."
Thereupon, Filamina went up to her own room to take a nap, while quite a number of fairies, giants, dwarfs and others set to work to try and make good root-beer. They made experiments with nearly all the decoctions and chemicals they found on the shelves, or stored away in corners, and they boiled, and soaked, and mixed, and stirred, until far into the night.
It was a moonlight night, and one of the gnomes went from the Dim-lit Vault, where his companions were working away, into the court-yard, and there he met the ghost, who was gliding around by himself.
"I'll tell you what it is," said the gnome, "I don't want to be here to-morrow morning, when that stuff is to be tasted. They're making a lot of dreadful messes in there. I'm going to run away, till it's all over."
"It doesn't make any difference to me," said the ghost, "for I wouldn't be asked to drink anything; but, if you're going to run away, I don't mind going with you. I haven't got anything to do." So off the two started together, out of the great gate.
"Hold up!" soon cried the gnome, who was running as fast as his little legs would carry him. "Can't you glide slower? I can't keep up with you?"
