A long time before you and I were born, there was a girl named Beatrice. She was a disobedient child, full of mirth and mischief, and she never, ever listened to her parents. They berated her daily for this.

“What were you doing, Beatrice, that you could not sweep the cupboard?”

“I was playing in the woods,” Beatrice would always say.

“Beatrice, why have you not made your bed?”

“I was playing in the woods.”

“Beatrice, why have you not looked after the cat?”

“I was playing in the woods.”

Both her mothers grew tired of trying to discipline her, and tried instead to offer a reward if Beatrice would have her chores complete. Now, Beatrice was a clever girl, and right away began to plot and plan, hoping to get somebody else to do her chores in her stead.

Just as Beatrice began to plot, far away, in Faerieland, the faerie Lute had been given three impossible tasks. They had been a favorite of the old King of the Court, and the new one, who was called Mallow, thought unfavorably upon Lute for this reason. Mallow said that to remain in her court, Lute must bring to her water that kills, the sun in a jar, and a box that moves on its own.

All of these were impossible to find in Faerieland, and likely impossible to find at all, or so Lute thought. But still, when all of Faerieland had been exhausted, Lute climbed up and up and up the outside staircase and emerged into this place, the sunlit land.

I will pause to tell you something about Lute—faerie are of sizes large and small, and can in many cases change their forms at will. Lute was a very small faerie, no longer than a finger, and so the scale of the sunlit land was one of giants.

It so happens that the first structure Lute saw was Beatrice’s hut, which she had made in a crude imitation of the Baba Yaga. Lute saw this, and thought ah! This must be some witch’s home, surely they will know how to get these impossible things!

They flew through the planks of the door, and cleared their throat. “Hello? Witch of this wood?”

Beatrice heard a small voice, and whirled around to see the tiny faerie Lute. “I am no witch! I am the wild girl of this wood!” she insisted loudly, and Lute trembled. “Why have you disturbed me here, in my place of power?”

“Oh wild girl of the woods, I have come to ask your help! I need three impossible things, and I know not where to find them!”

Beatrice’s eyes lit up. “I have a good deal of influence on this place,” she began, pitching her voice to sound more like a crone. “If you tell me what you seek, we may broker a deal!”

Lute’s heart sank, for they did not like the idea of being indebted to a witch, whether or not she called herself one. But they had no choice, and said to Beatrice, “I need water that kills, the sun in a jar, and a box that moves on its own.”

Beatrice sat thoughtfully for a few moments, and then nodded, and held out her hand. “I will get you these three impossible things, in three days’ time. But, in return, you must perform three services for me.

“First, you must expel the army of grey bunnies that live in the cupboard. Second, you must ward off the monster underneath the bed by keeping all the sheets in order. Third, and this is the most tricky of all, you must remain in the company of a horrible furred demon and ensure that it is fed.”

Lute was taken aback by these requests, but being able to have the impossible items from the first mortal they met was surely a stroke of luck, and so they agreed.

On the first day, Lute cleaned the cupboard, driving out the dust-bunnies that had piled and piled up inside. On the second day, Lute made Beatrice’s bed so that the monster underneath would have no cause to emerge. On the third day, Lute nearly fell into the cat’s yawning mouth, but managed to keep him company and kept him fed and pleased, if not happy.

After the three days were up, Lute returned to Beatrice’s forest hut, and there, she presented them with three objects: A bottle of weed-killer, a mechanical light-bulb, and a boxy wind-up toy.

“This water will kill any green it touches. This jar will catch the sun if you turn this crank. If you wind this key, this box will move without you touching it,” she explained to Lute.

“Many thanks, great wild girl!”

Beatrice smiled beatifically, and sent Lute on their way. She then returned home to her parents’ house and reaped the rewards of Lute’s devotion to her chores, while Lute went down and down and down the outside staircase, and presented, with great aplomb, their impossible items.