The gentle summer had passed, the winter had again come and gone, and
the troops were gathering in response to the command of their
mistress. They had been industrious. Each came armed with a stout
staff, made from the toughest wood and shod with the hardest flint. In
myriads they arrived--whole armies of them--and eagerly awaited the
command to go forward. They moved in column, headed by captains, down
the steep declivities. They toiled with a will. Many died of fatigue,
but their places were soon filled by other eager workers. At length
their toil was rewarded, and the bright and beautiful waters gushed
forth in great fountains.

The fairies have long since disappeared, but the waters still flow and
fill the little valley with sweet, health-giving streams.