Ethelmund hummed happily as he dabbed paint on his Lord's knees.

Ethelmund hummed happily as he dabbed paint on the Lord’s knees. The painting was his favorite part of toymaking. Of course this was no toy, but it was satisfying all the same to see the bare wood transformed by color. 

He would finish the painting today and the crucifix would be ready as soon as the paint had dried. He was already planning the big one for the church – he had never tried to carve a life-​​sized face, but he was looking forward to the challenge.

“Is that paint I smell?” a gentle voice asked behind him.

'Is that paint I smell?'

Ethelmund turned in surprise – it was the Queen herself! In his barn! “Why – why – why – yes!” he stuttered. “Your Majesty!” he added, trying to decide how to bow with his brush and paint pot still in his hands.

But the Queen smiled sweetly. “May I see?”

He stepped shyly aside and smiled proudly as she looked at his work.

'I don't understand.'

“Why – I don’t understand. Are you painting it before you finish carving?”

“But – but I am finished carving,” he protested.

“Oh, you mean the face is – it’s supposed to look that way?” she asked, confused.

“Look what way?” he asked, turning red.

“Oh, well – nothing. If it is supposed to look that way, why…”

'Oh, well--nothing.'

“Doesn’t Your Majesty like it?”

“Hmm… since you ask, couldn’t you make the head a little larger? And the face less… or more rounded?”

“Well, that is… Your Majesty… I can’t exactly add more wood once I carve it off.”

“And I think that our Lord is rather too skinny, don’t you? I shall be tempted to feed Him every time I see Him.”

'I think that our Lord is rather too skinny, don't you?'

Ethelmund shrugged miserably. “Does Your Majesty think I should start over?”

“Well, since you offered, I suppose you should.”

“Isn’t His Majesty eager to have it finished?” he asked hopefully.

“Now, Goodman, you know this will hang in our chapel for generations. It wouldn’t do to hang inferior work simply to save a week or two now.”

“That’s so,” he sighed.

“Nevermind, Goodman. I am sure the next one will be simply perfect. There’s no need to rush yourself. Remember: generations!”

'There's no need to rush yourself.'