She nodded to Tomos, who came forward and laid the Box down on the dark grass.

All the other swans gathered close to watch.

The roses bent lower.

The honeysuckle murmured.

The Midnight Swan stepped closer. It read the words on the side of the casket. ‘If you can open My closed lid Your heart’s desire Inside is hid. This is a strange box with strange words on it. Where did you get it?’

‘I … er … bought it,’ Seren said. ‘For a penny on a stall. Anyway, its not the Box but what’s in the Box that matters.’

She knelt down, and opened the lid.

The Egg gleamed white in the moonlight. It would have been perfect, but for the crack, which had definitely grown bigger, she thought, even in the last few minutes.

The other swans gave small cries of joy and amazement but the Midnight Swan was absolutely silent. For a moment she didn’t move at all. Then, her long neck stretching out, she carefully touched the Egg with her beak.

It rolled out onto the grass.

The Swan stared at it so long Seren thought she was angry. But then she raised her head and Seren saw two glistening tears. They fell onto the collar and became two more diamonds.

‘You did it,’ she said to the Crow. ‘You found it!’

The Crow tipped his head on one side. ‘I did, yes.’ He squirmed a little and glanced at Seren. ‘Well, actually it was…’

‘He was very brave,’ Seren said quickly. ‘Especially in the boat…’

But the Swan was not listening. She gave a pure clear cry of anguish and pain and love. She bent down close to the Egg and breathed on it, and the warm summer night seemed to become even hotter, and it seemed that everything in the Garden, even the stars, crowded a little closer to see what would happen.

Sudden cracks zigzagged the Egg’s hard shell. It split with a sharp, hard snap; then small pieces fell away and there was a hole, tiny, with something soft and strange moving inside the membrane.

‘It’s hatching,’ Tomos breathed.

Seren laughed. She looked at the Crow. His jewel eyes were fixed on the hole in the Egg. Already it was bigger and they could see the beak of the chick inside, nibbling, struggling.

‘Come,’ the Swan said quietly. ‘Come, my Cygnet.’

The Egg fell apart.

Moonlight shone on the creature that unfurled from it: a stiff, wet, weak creature, all awkward neck and gawky feet.

But it was clearly a cygnet, its downy fluff grey-white, its eyes blinking open.

All the garden gave a ripple of delight. The roses sang sweeter and the bells in the tower began to chime again but this time in glorious celebration. The cygnet tried to walk, fell over and tried again. It made a tiny squawk. At once the Swan gathered it into her flanks with her graceful neck, nuzzling it and comforting it.

When she looked up her eyes were bright. She looked full of joy, but her voice was still sharp.