The dragon waited a while with its mouth still open for the boy to throw some more in. As he did not do this, however, it closed its mouth and began to chew the golden egg.
It chewed, and it chewed, and it chewed, and all the while it chewed it seemed to be growing sleepier and sleepier. At last it swallowed the egg, and then its eyes shut tight and it went fast asleep.
The boy turned and beckoned to Ellen. "Come on," he shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Oh don't talk so loud," Ellen whispered, coming up to him as fast as she could. "You might waken him."
The lad burst into a shout of laughter that made the little girl tremble. "Not I," he cried. "He'll sleep for nine minutes yet. One minute has gone already."
The gander flew up and on, and the boy was not slow to follow, riding his blue and pink pig right over the dragon. Ellen was in terror lest it should waken in spite of what the boy had said, but he did not seem in the least afraid. He even seemed to take pleasure in making the pig trot the full length of the dragon's tail just as children take pleasure in walking along a railroad track.
At last they were safely over, and Ellen drew a sigh of relief.
On and on they went, and instead of the rocky walls on either side of them growing lower they grew higher and higher, arching over more and more until at last they met and made a sort of gallery. There was very little light here, and when at last the pig stopped and the gander settled to the ground Ellen had to look twice before she saw that they were in front of a heavily barred door. "Where are we now?" she asked.
The eyes of the boy were flashing with eagerness. "It is the door of the Queerbodies' house," he cried. He sprang from the pig, and, taking hold of the handle, he tried to open it. "Locked!" he added.
Slipping his hand into his pocket he drew from it a whole handful of keys. Then Ellen knew that they were what had jingled every time he moved.
He began to try one key after another, but none of them seemed to fit.
As he was busy in this way a curious roar sounded through the gallery, echoing and re-echoing from the rocky walls. "What's that?" cried Ellen.
"Oh, only the dragon yawning. He must have wakened up," answered the lad coolly, still busy with his keys.