Out of the Highland mist emerged three camels. Their riders, white bearded men wearing oriental gowns and turbans, were quarrelling.
‘You may be a wise man, Balthazar, but you skipped the geography classes, didn’t you?’ Melchior lashed out.
‘Oh really?’ Balthazar replied, with a smug grin on his face.
Before them appeared a cleit, from which emanated the soft, inviting light only a campfire in the middle of winter can produce. The men dismounted and went inside, where they found a baby in a crib, flanked by the mother and the father.
‘Is this The One?’ Caspar asked. ‘We are looking for a baby that will face many challenges, but that will ultimately change our world.’
Without blinking an eye the father retorted: ‘She’s a Scottish lass. She won’t take crap from anyone.’
‘What’s her name?’ Melchior asked.
‘Stella,’ the mother answered.
‘Stella,’ the three men whispered simultaneously, in awe.
They started unpacking their gifts.