Christmas-Tree Land

'It was the prettiest sight in the world to see Auréole in her bower every morning.'

'But summer and sunshine do not always last, and in time sorrow came to Auréole as to others.

'Her mother had died when she was a little baby, and her father was already growing old. But he felt no anxiety about the future of his only child, for it had long been decided that she was to marry the next heir to his crown, the Prince Halbert, as by the laws of that country no woman could reign. Auréole had not seen Halbert for many years, when, as children, they had played together; but she remembered him with affection as a bright merry boy, and she looked forward without fear to being his wife.

'"Why should I not love him?" she said to herself. "I have never yet known any one who was not kind and gentle, and Halbert will be still more so to me than any one else, for he will be my king and master."

'And when the day came for the Prince to return to see her again, she waited for him quietly and without misgiving. And at first all seemed as she had pictured it. Halbert was manly and handsome, he had an open expression and winning manners, he was devoted to his gentle cousin. So the old King was delighted, and Auréole said to herself, "What have I done to deserve such happiness? How can I ever sufficiently show my gratitude?"

'She was standing in her bower when she thought thus, surrounded as usual by her pets. Suddenly among the trees at some little distance she heard a sound of footsteps, and at the same time a harsh voice, which she scarcely recognised, speaking roughly and sharply.

'"Out of my way, you cur," it said, and then came the sound of a blow, followed by a piteous whine.

'Auréole darted forward, and in another instant came upon Halbert, his face dark and frowning, while a poor little dog lay bleeding at his feet.

'"Halbert!" exclaimed Auréole. Her cousin started; he had not heard her come. "Did you do this? Did you strike the little dog?"

'Halbert turned towards her; he had reddened with shame, but he tried to laugh it off.

'"It is nothing," he said; "the creature will be all right again directly. Horrid little cur! it rushed out at me from that cottage there and yelped and barked just when I was eagerly hastening to your bower, Princess."

'But Auréole hardly heard him, or his attempts at excusing himself. She was on her knees before the poor dog.

'"Why, Fido," she said, "dear little Fido, do you not know me?" Fido feebly tried to wag his tail.

'"Is it your dog?" stammered Halbert. "I had no—not the slightest idea——"

'But Auréole flashed back an answer which startled him. "My dog," she said. "No. But what has that to do with it? Oh, you cruel man!"

'Then she turned from him, the little dog all panting and bleeding in her arms. Halbert was startled by the look on her face.

'"Forgive me, Auréole," he cried. "I did not mean to hurt the creature. I am hasty and quick-tempered, but you should not punish so severely an instant's thoughtlessness."

'"It was not thoughtlessness. It was cowardly cruelty," replied Auréole slowly, turning her pale face towards him. "A man must have a cruel nature who, even under irritation, could do what you have done. Farewell," and she was moving away when he stopped her.

'"What do you mean by farewell? You are not in earnest?" he exclaimed. But Auréole looked at him with indignation.

'"Not in earnest?" she repeated. "Never was I more so in my life! Farewell, Halbert."

'"And you will not see me again?" he exclaimed.

'"I will never see you again," Auréole replied, "till you have learnt to feel for the sufferings of your fellow-creatures, instead of adding to them. And who can say if that day will ever come? Farewell again, Halbert."

'The Prince stood thunderstruck, watching her slight figure as it disappeared among the trees. He felt like a man in a dream. Then, as he gradually became conscious that it was all true, his hot temper broke out in anger at Auréole, in mockery at her absurdity and exaggeration, and he tried to believe what he said, that no man could be happy with so fanciful and unreasonable a wife, and that he had nothing to regret. In his heart he was angry with himself, though to this he would not own, and conscious also that Auréole's instinct had judged him truly. He was selfish and utterly thoughtless for others, and far on the way therefore to becoming actually cruel. He had, like Auréole, been surrounded by luxury and indulgence all his life, but had not, like her, acquired the habit of feeling for others and looking upon his own blessings as to be shared with those who were without them.

'Auréole kept to her word. She would not see Halbert again, though the King, her father, did his utmost to shake her resolution. She remained firm. It was better so for both of them, she repeated. It would kill her to be the wife of such a man, and do him no good. So in bitter and angry resentment, rather than sorrow, Prince Halbert went away, and Auréole's life returned to what it had been before his coming.

THE STORY OF A KING'S DAUGHTER

(Continued).

'It seemed so at least, but in reality it was very different. Auréole had received a shock which she felt deeply, and which she could not forget. It grieved her, too, to see her father's distress and disappointment, and sometimes she asked herself if perhaps she had done wrong in deciding so hastily. But the sight of the little dog Fido, which had recovered, though with the loss of one eye, always removed these misgivings. "A man who could be so cruel to a harmless little creature, would have quickly broken my heart," she said to herself and sometimes to her father. And as time went on, and news came that Prince Halbert was becoming more and more feared and disliked in his own home from the increasing violence of his temper, the old King learnt to be thankful that his dear Auréole was not to be at the mercy of such a man.

'"But what will become of you, my darling, when I am gone?" he would say.

'"Fear not for me," Auréole assured him. "I have no fear for myself, father, dear. Why, I could live safely in the woods with my dear animals. If I had a little hut, and Fido to guard me, and Lello my fawn, and the little rabbit, and all my pretty birds, I should be quite happy!"

'For the forester to whom Fido belonged had begged Auréole to keep him, as even before its hurt the dog had learnt to love her and spring out to greet her, and wag his tail with pleasure when she passed his master's cottage, which lay on the way to her glade. But though Auréole was not afraid for herself, she was often very miserable when she thought of her country-people, above all the poor and defenceless ones, in the power of such a king as Halbert gave signs of being, after the long and gentle rule of her father. Yet there was nothing to be done, so she kept silence, fearing to cloud with more sorrow and anxiety the last days of the old King.

'They were indeed his last days, for within a year of Halbert's unfortunate visit her father died, and the fair Auréole was left desolate.

'Her grief was great, even though the King had been very old, and she had long known he could not be spared to her for many more years. But she had not much time to indulge in it, for already, before her father was laid in his grave, her sorrow was disturbed by the strange and unexpected events which came to pass.

'These began by a curious dream which came to Auréole the very night of her father's death.

'She dreamt that she was standing in her bower with her pets about her as usual. She felt bright and happy, and had altogether forgotten about her father's death. Suddenly a movement of terror made itself felt among her animals—the birds fluttered closer to her, the little rabbit crept beneath her skirt, the fawn and Fido looked up at her with startled eyes, and almost before she had time to look round their terror was explained. A frightful sound was heard approaching them, the terrible growl of a bear, and in another moment the monster was within a few yards. Even then, in her dream, Auréole's first thought was for her pets. She threw her arms round all that she could embrace, and stood there calmly, watching the creature with a faint hope that if she showed no terror he might pass them by. But he came nearer and nearer, till she almost felt his hot breath on her face, when suddenly, to her amazement, the monster was no longer there, but in his place the Prince Halbert, standing beside her and looking at her with an expression of the profoundest misery.

'"I have brought it on myself," he said. "I deserve it; but pity me, oh, Auréole! Sweet Auréole, pity and forgive me!" Then a cry of irrepressible grief burst from his lips, and at this moment Auréole awoke, to find her eyes wet with tears, her heart throbbing fast with fear and distress.

'"What can have made me dream of Halbert?" she said to herself. "It must have been seeing the messengers start yesterday," and then all came back to her memory, which at the first moment of waking had been confused, and she remembered her father's death and her own loneliness, and the scarcely-dried tears rushed afresh to her eyes.

'"Has any news come from Prince Halbert?" she inquired of her attendants when they came at her summons. And when they told her "none," she felt a strange sensation of uneasiness. For the messengers had been despatched at once on the death of the old King, which had been sudden at the last, to summon his successor, and there had been time already for their return.

'And as the day went on and nothing was heard of them, every one began to think there must be something wrong, till late at night these fears were confirmed by the return of the messengers with anxious faces.

'"Has the Prince arrived?" was their first question, and when they were told that nothing had been seen of him, they explained the reason of their inquiry.

'Halbert, already informed of the illness of the old King, had quickly prepared to set out with his own attendants and those who had come to summon him. They had ridden through the night, and had nothing untoward occurred, they would have ended their journey by daybreak. But the Prince had lost his temper with his horse, a nervous and restless animal, unfit for so irritable a person to manage.

'"We became uneasy," said the messengers, "on seeing the Prince lashing and spurring furiously the poor animal, who, his sides streaming with blood, no longer understood what was required of him, and at last, driven mad with pain and terror, dashed off at a frantic pace which it was hopeless to overtake. We followed him as best we could, guided for some distance by the branches broken as they passed and the ploughed-up ground, which, thanks to a brilliant moonlight, we were able to distinguish. But at last, where the trees began to grow more thickly——" and here the speaker, who was giving this report to Auréole herself, hesitated—"at last these traces entirely disappeared. We sought on in every direction; when the moon went in we waited for the daylight, and resumed our search. But all to no purpose, and at last we resolved to ride on hither, hoping that the Prince might possibly have found his way before us."

'"But this is terrible!" cried Auréole, forgetting all her indignation against Halbert in the thought of his lying perhaps crushed and helpless in some bypath of the forest which his followers had missed. "We must at once send out fresh horsemen in every direction to scour the country."

'The captain who had had command of the little troop bowed, but said nothing, and seemed without much hope that any fresh efforts would succeed. Auréole was struck with his manner.

'"You are concealing something from me," she said. "Why do you appear so hopeless? Even at the worst, even supposing the Prince is killed, he must be found."

'"We searched too thoroughly," replied the officer. "Wherever it was possible to get, we left not a square yard unvisited."

'"Wherever it was possible," repeated Auréole; "what do you mean? You do not think——" and she too hesitated, and her pale face grew paler.

'The captain glanced at her.

'"I see that you have divined our fears, Princess," he said in a low voice. "Yes, we feel almost without a doubt that the unfortunate Prince has been carried into the enchanted forest, from whence, as you well know, none have ever been known to return. It is well that his parents have not lived to see this day, for, though he brought it on himself, it is impossible not to feel pity for such a fate."

'Auréole seemed scarcely able to reply. But she gave orders, notwithstanding all she had heard, to send out fresh horsemen to search again in every direction.

'"My poor father," she said to herself; "I am glad he was spared this new sorrow about Halbert." And as the remembrance of her strange dream returned to her, "Poor Halbert," she added, "what may he not be suffering?" and she shuddered at the thought.

'For the enchanted forest was the terror of all that country. In reality nothing, or almost nothing, was known of it, and therefore the awe and horror about it were the greater. It lay in a lonely stretch of ground between two ranges of hills, and no one ever passed through it, for there was no pathway or entrance of any kind to be seen. But for longer than any one now living could remember, it had been spoken of as a place to be dreaded and avoided, and travellers in passing by used to tell how they had heard shrieks and screams and groans from among its dark shades. It was said that a magician lived in a castle in the very centre of the forest, and that he used all sorts of tricks to get people into his power, whence they could never again escape. For though several were known to have been tempted to enter the forest, none of them were ever heard of or seen again. And it was the common saying of the neighbourhood, that it would be far worse to lose a child by straying into the forest than by dying. No one had ever seen the magician, no one even was sure that he existed, but when any misfortune came over the neighbourhood, such as a bad harvest or unusual sickness, people were sure to say that the wizard of the forest was at the bottom of it. And Auréole, like every one else, had a great and mysterious terror of the place and its master.

'"Poor Halbert!" she repeated to herself many times that day. "Would I could do anything for him!"

'The bands of horsemen she had sent out returned one after the other with the same tidings,—nothing had been seen or heard of the Prince. But late in the day a woodman brought to the castle a fragment of cloth which was recognised as having been torn from the mantle of the Prince, and which he had found caught on the branch of a tree. When asked where, he hesitated, which of itself was answer enough.

'"Close to the borders of the enchanted forest," he said at last, lowering his voice. But that was all he had to tell. And from this moment all lost hope. There was nothing more to be done.

'"The Prince is as lost to us as is our good old King," were the words of every one on the day of the funeral of Auréole's father. "Far better for him were he too sleeping peacefully among his fathers than to be where he is."

'It seemed as if it would have certainly been better for his people had it been so. It was impossible to receive the successor of Halbert as king till a certain time had elapsed, which would be considered as equal to proof of his death. And the next heir to the crown being but an infant living in a distant country, the delay gave opportunity for several rival claimants to begin to make difficulties, and not many months after the death of the old King the once happy and peaceful country was threatened with war and invasion on various sides. Then the heads of the nation consulted together, and decided on a bold step. They came to Auréole offering her the crown, declaring that they preferred to overthrow the laws of the country, though they had existed for many centuries, and to make her, at the point of the sword if necessary, their queen, rather than accept as sovereign any of those who had no right to it, or an infant who would but be a name and no reality.

'Auréole was startled and bewildered, but firm in her refusal.

'"A king's daughter am I, but no queen. I feel no fitness for the task of ruling," she replied, "and I could never rest satisfied that I was where I had a right to be."

'But when the deputies entreated her to consider the matter, and when she thought of the misery in store for the people unless something were quickly done, she agreed to think it over till the next day.

'The next day came, Auréole was ready, awaiting the deputies. Their hopes rose high as they saw her, for there was an expression on her face that had not been there the day before. She stood before them in her long mourning robe, but she had encircled her waist with a golden belt, and golden ornaments shone on her neck and arms.

'"It is a good sign," the envoys whispered, as they remarked also the bright and hopeful light in her eyes, and they stood breathless, waiting for her reply. It was not what they had expected.

'"I cannot as yet consent to what you wish," said Auréole; "but be patient. I set off to-day on a journey from which I hope to return with good news. Till then I entreat you to do your best to keep all peaceful and quiet. And I promise you that if I fail in what I am undertaking, I will return to be your queen."

'This was all she would say. She was forbidden, she declared, to say more. And so resolute and decided did she appear, that the envoys, though not without murmuring, were obliged to consent to await her return, and withdrew with anxious and uneasy looks.

'And Auréole immediately began to get ready for the mysterious journey of which she had spoken. Her preparations were strange. She took off, for the first time since her father's death, her black dress, and clad herself entirely in white. Then she kissed her old nurse and bade her farewell, at the same time telling her to keep up her courage and have no fear, to which the old dame could not reply without tears.

'"I do not urge you to tell me the whole, Princess," she said, "as it was forbidden you to do so. But if I might but go with you." Auréole shook her head.

'"No, dear nurse," she replied. "The voice in my dream said, 'Alone, save for thy dumb friends.' That is all I can tell you," and kissing again the poor nurse, Auréole set off, none knew whither, and she took care that none should follow her. Some of her attendants saw her going in the direction of her bower, and remarked her white dress. But they were so used to her going alone to see her pets that they thought no more of it. For no one knew the summons Auréole had received. The night before, after tossing about unable to sleep, so troubled was she by the request that had been made to her, she at last fell into a slumber, and again there came to her a strange dream. She thought she saw her cousin; he seemed pale and worn with distress and suffering.

'"Auréole," he said, "you alone can rescue me. Have you courage? I ask it not only for myself, but for our people."

'And when in her sleep she would have spoken, no words came, only she felt herself stretching out her arms to Halbert as if to reach and save him.

'"Come, then," said his voice; "but come alone, save for thy dumb friends. Tell no one, but fear not." But even as he said the words he seemed to disappear, and again the dreadful, the panting roar she had heard in her former dream reached Auréole's ears, in another moment the terrible shape of the monster appeared, and shivering with horror she awoke. Yet she determined to respond to Halbert's appeal. She told no one except her old nurse, to whom she merely said that she had been summoned in a dream to go away, but that no harm would befall her. She clad herself in white, as a better omen of success, and when she reached her bower, all her creatures welcomed her joyfully. So, with Fido, Lello the fawn, and the little rabbit gambolling about her feet, the wood-pigeons on her shoulders, and all the strange company of birds fluttering about her, Auréole set off on her journey, she knew not whither.

'But her pets knew. Whenever she felt at a loss Fido would give a little tug to her dress and then run on barking in front, or Lello would look up in her face with his pleading eyes and then turn his head in a certain direction, while the birds would sometimes disappear for a few moments and then, with a great chirping and fluttering, would be seen again a little way overhead, as if to assure her they had been to look if she was taking the right way. So that when night began to fall, Auréole, very tired, but not discouraged, found herself far from home in a part of the forest she had never seen before, though with trembling she said to herself that for all she knew she might already be in the enchanter's country.

'"But what if it be so?" she reflected. "I must not be faint-hearted before my task is begun."

'She was wondering how she should spend the night when a sharp bark from Fido made her look round. She followed to where it came from, and found the little dog at the door of a small hut cleverly concealed among the trees. Followed by her pets Auréole entered it, when immediately, as if pulled by an invisible hand, the door shut to. But she forgot to be frightened in her surprise at what she saw. The hut was beautifully made of the branches of trees woven together, and completely lined with moss. A small fire burned cheerfully in one corner, for the nights were still chilly; a little table was spread with a snow-white cloth, on which were laid out fruits and cakes and a jug of fresh milk; and a couch of the softest moss covered with a rug made of fur was evidently arranged for Auréole's bed. And at the other side of the hut sweet hay was strewn for the animals, and a sort of trellis work of branches was ready in one corner for the birds to roost on.

'"How pleasant it is!" said Auréole, as she knelt down to warm herself before the fire. "If this is the enchanted forest I don't think it is at all a dreadful place, and the wizard must be very kind and hospitable."

'And when she had had some supper and had seen that her pets had all they wanted, she lay down on the mossy couch feeling refreshed and hopeful, and soon fell fast asleep. She had slept for some hours when she suddenly awoke, though what had awakened her she could not tell. But glancing round the hut, by the flickering light of the fire, which was not yet quite out, she saw that all her pets were awake, and when she gently called "Fido, Fido," the little dog, followed by the fawn and the rabbit, crept across the hut to her, and when she touched them she felt that they were all shaking and trembling, while the birds seemed to be trying to hide themselves all huddled together in a corner. And almost before Auréole had time to ask herself what it could be, their fear was explained, for through the darkness outside came the sound she had twice heard in her dreams—the terrible panting roar of the monster! It came nearer and nearer. Auréole felt there was nothing to do. She threw her arms round the poor little trembling creatures determined to protect them to the last. Suddenly there came a great bang at the door, as if some heavy creature had thrown itself against it, and Auréole trembled still more, expecting the door to burst open. But the mysterious hand that had shut it had shut it well. It did not move. Only a low despairing growl was heard, and then all was silent till a few minutes after, when another growl came from some distance off, and then Auréole felt sure the danger was past: the beast had gone away, for, though she had not seen him, she was certain he was none other than the monster of her dreams. The poor animals cowered down again in their corner, and Auréole, surprised at the quickness with which her terror had passed, threw herself on her couch and fell into a sweet sleep. When she woke, the sun was already some way up in the sky; the door was half open, and a soft sweet breeze fluttered into the hut. All was in order; the little fire freshly lighted, the remains of last night's supper removed, and a tempting little breakfast arranged. Auréole could scarcely believe her eyes. "Some one must have come in while I was asleep," she said, and Fido seemed to understand what she meant. He jumped up, wagging his tail, and was delighted when Auréole sat down at the little table to eat what was provided. All her pets seemed as happy as possible, and had quite forgotten their fright. So, after breakfast, Auréole called them all about her and set off again on her rambles. Whither she was to go she knew not; she had obeyed the summons as well as she could, and now waited to see what more to do. The animals seemed to think they had got to the end of their journey, and gambolled and fluttered about in the best of spirits. And even Auréole herself felt it impossible to be sad or anxious. Never had she seen anything so beautiful as the forest, with its countless paths among the trees, each more tempting than the other, the sunshine peeping in through the branches, the lovely flowers of colours and forms she had never seen before, the beautiful birds warbling among the trees, the little squirrels and rabbits playing about, and the graceful deer one now and then caught sight of.

'"Why," exclaimed Auréole, "this the terrible enchanted forest! It is a perfect fairyland."

'"You say true," said a voice beside her, which made her start. "To such as you it is a fairyland of delight. But to me!" and before Auréole could recover herself from her surprise, there before her stood the Prince Halbert! But how changed! Scarcely had she recognised him when every feeling was lost in that of pity.

'"Oh, poor Halbert," she cried, "so I have found you! Where have you been? What makes you look so miserable and ill?"

'For Halbert seemed wasted to a shadow. His clothes, torn and tattered, hung loosely about him. His face was pale and thin, and his eyes sad and hopeless, though, as he saw the pitying look in her face, a gleam of brightness came into his.

'"Oh, Auréole, how good of you to come! It is out of pity for me, who so little deserve it. But will you have strength to do all that is required to free me from this terrible bondage?"

'"Explain yourself, Halbert," Auréole replied. "What is it you mean? What bondage? Remember I know nothing; not even if this is truly the enchanted forest."

'Halbert glanced at the sun, now risen high in the heavens. "I have but a quarter of an hour," he said. "It is only one hour before noon that I am free."

'And then he went on to relate as quickly as he could what had come over him. Fallen into the power of the invisible spirits of the enchanted land, whose wrath he had for long incurred by his cruelty to those beneath him, among whom were poor little Fido, and the unhappy horse who had dropped dead beneath him as soon as they entered the forest, his punishment had been pronounced to him by a voice in his dreams. It was a terrible one. For twenty-three hours of the twenty-four which make the day and night, he was condemned to roam the woods in the guise of a dreadful monster, bringing terror wherever he came. "I have to be in appearance what I was formerly in heart," he said bitterly. "You cannot imagine how fearful it is to see the tender innocent little animals fleeing from me in terror, though I would now die rather than injure one of them. And even you, Auréole, if you saw me you too would rush from me in horror."

'"I have seen you," she replied. "I have twice seen you in my dreams, and now that I know all I shall not fear you."

'"Do you indeed think so?" he exclaimed eagerly. "Your pity and courage are my only hope. For I am doomed to continue this awful life—for hundreds of years perhaps—till twelve dumb animals mount on my back and let me carry them out of this forest. In my despair, when I heard this sentence, I thought of you and your favourites, whom I used to mock at and ill-treat more than you knew. They love and trust you so much that it is possible you may make them do this. But I fear for your own courage."

'"No," said Auréole, "that will not fail. And Fido is of a most forgiving nature. See here," she went on, calling to the little dog, "here is poor Halbert, who wants you to love him. Stroke him, Halbert," and as the Prince gently did so, Fido looked up in his face with wistful eyes, and began timidly to wag his tail, while Lello and the rabbit drew near, and the birds fluttered, chirping above their heads. It was a pretty picture.

'"See," said Auréole, raising her bright face from caressing the good little creatures, "see, Halbert, how loving and gentle they are! It will not be difficult. In many ways they are wiser than we. But I can never again believe that the spirits of the forest are evil or mischievous. Rather do I now think them good and benevolent. How happy seem all the creatures under their care!"

'"I know no more than I have told you," said Halbert; "but I too believe they must be good, cruelly as they have punished me, for I deserved it. And doubtless all those who are said to have disappeared in the forest have been kept here for good purposes. And such as you, Auréole, have nothing to fear in any country or from any spirits. But I must go," he exclaimed. "I would not have you yet see me in my other form. You must reflect over what I have said, and prepare yourself for it."

'"And when, then, shall I see you again?" she asked.

'"To-night, at sunset, at the door of your hut, you will see—alas, not me!" he whispered, and then in a moment he had disappeared.

'At sunset that evening Auréole sat at the door of the little hut, surrounded by her animals. She had petted and caressed them even more than usual, so anxious was she to prepare them for their strange task. She had even talked of it to Fido and Lello with a sort of vague idea that they might understand a little, though their only answer was for Fido to wag his tail and Lello to rub his soft nose against her. But suddenly both pricked up their ears, and then clinging more closely to their mistress, began to tremble with fear, while the birds drew near in a frightened flock.

'"Silly birds," said Auréole, trying to speak in her usual cheerful tone, "what have you to fear? Bears don't eat little birds, and you can fly off in a moment. Not that I want you to fly away;" and she whistled and called to them, at the same time caressing and encouraging the animals, whose quick ears had caught sooner than she had done the dreadful baying roar which now came nearer and nearer. It was exactly the scene of her dreams, and notwithstanding all her determination, Auréole could not help shivering as the form of the monster came in sight. "Suppose it is not Halbert," she thought. "Suppose it is all a trick of the spirits of this enchanted country for my destruction!" And the idea nearly made her faint as the dreadful beast drew near. He was so hideous, and his roars made him seem still more so. His great red tongue hung out of his mouth, his eyes seemed glaring with rage. It was all Auréole could do to keep her pets round her, and she felt that her terror would take away all her power over them.

Auréole could not help shivering as the form of the monster came in sight.

'"Oh, Halbert," she exclaimed, "is it you? I know you cannot speak, but can you not make some sign to show me that it is you? I am so frightened." She had started up as if on the point of running away. The monster, who was close beside her, opened still wider his huge mouth, and gave a roar of despair. Then an idea seemed to strike him—he bent his clumsy knees, and rubbed his great head on the ground at her feet; Auréole's courage returned. She patted his head, and he gave a faint groan of relief. Then by degrees, with the greatest patience, she coaxed the animals to draw near, and at last placed Fido and Lello on the beast's immense back. But though they now seemed less frightened they would not stay there, but jumped off again, and pressed themselves close against her. It was no use; after hours, at least so it seemed to Auréole, spent in trying, she had to give it up.

'"I cannot do it, Halbert," she said. A groan was his reply. Then another thought struck her.

'"I will climb on your back myself," she exclaimed; "and then perhaps I can coax the animals to stay there."

'The poor beast tried to stoop down still lower to make it easier for Auréole to get on. She managed it without much difficulty, and immediately Fido and Lello and the rabbit saw her mounted, up they jumped, for they had no idea of being left behind. The wood-pigeons came cooing down from the branch where they had taken refuge in their fright, and perched on her shoulders. Auréole looked up, and called and whistled to the other birds. Down they came as if bewitched, and settled round her, all the seven of them on the beast's furry back.

'"Off, Halbert," cried Auréole, afraid to lose an instant, and off, nothing loth, the beast set. It was hard work to keep on. He plunged along so clumsily, and went so fast in his eagerness, that it was like riding on an earthquake. But when now and then he stopped, and gave a low pitiful roar, as if begging Auréole's pardon for shaking her so, she always found breath to say: "On, Halbert, on; think not of me."

'And so at last, after hours of this terrible journey, many times during which Auréole's heart had been in her mouth at the least sign of impatience among the animals, they reached the borders of the enchanted country, and as the panting beast emerged from the forest with his strange burden, poor Auréole slipped fainting off his back. Her task was done.

'When she came back to her senses and opened her eyes, her first thought was for the beast, but he had disappeared. Fido and Lello, and all the others were there, however; the dog licking her hands, the fawn nestling beside her, and at a little distance stood a figure she seemed to know, though no longer miserable and wretched as she had last seen him. It was Halbert, strong and handsome and happy again, but with a look in his eyes of gentleness and humility and gratitude that had never been there in the old days.

'"Halbert," said Auréole, sitting up and holding out her hand to him, "is all then right?"

'"All is right," he replied; "you can see for yourself. But, oh, Auréole, how can I thank you? My whole life would not be long enough to repay or——"

'"Think not about thanking me," interrupted Auréole. "My best reward will be the delight of restoring to my dear country-people a king whose first object will now, I feel assured, be their happiness;" and her eyes sparkled with delight at the thought.

'She was right. Nothing could exceed the joy of the nation at the return of Auréole, and thanks to her assurances of his changed character, they soon learned to trust their new king as he deserved.

'No one ever knew the true history of his disappearance, but all admired and respected the noble and unselfish courage of Auréole in braving the dangers of the enchanted forest itself. Her pets all lived to a good old age, and had every comfort they could wish for. It was said that Halbert's only sorrow was that for long he could not persuade Auréole to fulfil her father's wishes by marrying him. But some years later a rumour came from the far-off country where these events happened, telling of the beautiful "king's daughter" having at last consented to become a king's wife as well, now that she knew Halbert to be worthy of her fullest affection.

'And if this is true, I have no doubt it was for their happiness as well as for that of their subjects, among whom I include the twelve faithful animals.'

A WINDING STAIR AND A SCAMPER.

Godmother's voice stopped. For a moment or two there was silence.

'I hope it was true,' said Maia, the first to find her tongue. 'Poor Halbert, I think he deserved to be happy at the end. I think Auréole was rather—rather—cross, don't you, Silva?'

Silva considered. 'No,' she said. 'I can't bear people that are cruel to little animals. Oh!' and she clasped her hands, 'if only Rollo and Maia could see some of our friends in the wood! May they not, godmother?'

'All in good time,' said godmother, rather mysteriously.

Maia looked at her. 'Godmother,' she said, 'how funny you are! I believe you like puzzling people better than anything. There are such a lot of things I want to ask you about the story. Who was it lived in the forest? Was it a wizard? I think that would be much nicer than invisible spirits, even though it is rather frightening. And who was it made Auréole's breakfast and shut the door, and all that? I am sure you know, godmother. I believe you've been in the enchanted forest yourself. Have you?'

Godmother smiled. 'Perhaps,' she said. But when Maia went on questioning, she would not say any more. 'Keep something to puzzle about,' she said. 'Remember that that is half the pleasure.'

And then she took Maia up on her knee and gave her such a sweet kiss that the child could not grumble.

'You are very funny, godmother,' she repeated.

Suddenly Rollo started.

'Maia,' he exclaimed, 'I am afraid we are forgetting about going home and meeting Nanni and everything. It must be getting very late. It is so queer,' he added with a sigh, glancing round the dear little kitchen, 'I seemed to have forgotten that this isn't our home, and yet we have only been here an hour or two, and——'

'Yes,' said Maia, 'I feel just the same. Indeed Auréole and her pets seem far more real to me now than Lady Venelda and the white castle.'

'And the old doctor and all the lessons you have to do,' said godmother; and somehow the children no longer felt surprised at her knowing all about everything. 'But you are right, my boy, good boy,' she went on, turning to Rollo. 'There is a time for all things, and now it is time to go back to your other life. Say good-bye to each other, my children,' and when they had done so—very reluctantly, you may be sure—she took Rollo by one hand and Maia by the other, Waldo and Silva standing at the cottage-door to see them off, and led them across the little clearing, away into the now darkening alleys of the wood.

'Are you going with us to where Nanni is?' asked Maia.

'Not to where you left her. I will take you by a short cut,' said godmother, who, since they had left the cottage, had seemed to grow into just an ordinary-looking old peasant woman, very bent and small, for any one at least who did not peep far enough inside her queer hood to see her wonderful eyes and gleaming hair, and whom no one would have suspected of the marvellous crimson dress under the long dark cloak. Maia kept peeping up at her with a strange look in her face.

'What is it, my child?' said godmother.

'I don't quite know,' Maia replied. 'I'm not quite sure, godmother, if I'm not a little—a very little—frightened of you. You change so. In the cottage you seemed a sort of a young fairy godmother—and now——' she hesitated.

'And now do I seem very old?'

'Rather,' said Maia.

'Well, listen now. I'll tell you the real truth, strange as it may seem. I am very old—older than you can even fancy, and yet I am and I always shall be young.'

'In fairyland—in the other country, do you mean?' asked Rollo.

Godmother turned her bright eyes full upon him. 'Not only there, my boy,' she said. 'Here, too—everywhere—I am both old and young.'

Maia gave a little sigh.

'You are very nice, godmother,' she said, 'but you are very puzzling.' But she had no time to say more, for just then godmother stopped.

'See, children,' she said, pointing down a little path among the trees, 'I have brought you a short cut, as I said I would. At the end of that alley you will find your faithful Nanni. And that will not be the end of the short cut. Twenty paces straight on in the same direction you will come out of the wood. Cross the little bridge across the brook and you will only have to climb a tiny hill to find yourselves at the back entrance of the castle. All will be right—and now good-bye, my dears, till your next holiday. Have you your flowers?'

'Oh, yes,' exclaimed both, holding up the pretty bunches as they spoke; 'but how are we to——'

'Don't trouble about how you are to see me again,' she interrupted, smiling. 'It will come—you will see,' and then before they had time to wonder any more, she turned from them, waving her hand in farewell, and disappeared.

'Rollo,' said Maia, rubbing her eyes as if she had just awakened, 'Rollo, is it all real? Don't you feel as if you had been dreaming?'

'No,' said Rollo. 'I feel as if it'—and he nodded his head backwards in the direction of the cottage—'were all real, and the castle and our cousin and Nanni and all not real. You said so too.'

'Yes,' said Maia meditatively, 'while I was there with them, I felt like that. But now I don't. It seems not real, and I don't want to begin to forget them.'

'Suppose you scent your flowers,' said Rollo; 'perhaps that's why godmother gave them to us.'

Maia thought it a good idea.

'Yes,' she said, poking her little nose as far as it would go in among the fragrant blossoms, 'yes, Rollo, it comes back to me when I scent the flowers. I think it is because godmother's red dress was scented the same way. Oh, yes!' shutting her eyes, 'I can feel her soft dress now, and I can hear her voice, and I can see Waldo and Silva and the dear little kitchen. How glad I am you thought of the flowers, Rollo!'

'But we must run on,' said Rollo, and so they did. But they had not run many steps before the substantial figure of Nanni appeared; she was looking very comfortable and contented.

'You have not stayed very long, Master Rollo and Miss Maia,' she said, 'but I suppose it is getting time to be turning home.'

'And have you spent a pleasant afternoon, Nanni?' asked Rollo quietly. 'How many stockings have you knitted?'

'How many!' repeated Nanni; 'come, Master Rollo, you're joking. You've not been gone more than an hour at the most, but it is queer—it must be the smell of the fir-trees—as soon as ever I sit down in this wood, off I go to sleep! I hadn't done more than two rounds when my head began nodding, so I had to put my knitting away for fear of running the needles into my eyes. And I had such pleasant dreams.'

'About the beautiful lady again?' asked Maia.

'I think so, but I can't be sure,' said Nanni. 'It was about all sorts of pretty things mixed up together. Flowers and birds, and I don't know what. And the flowers smelt, for all the world, just like the roses round the windows of my mother's little cottage at home. I could have believed I was there.'

Rollo and Maia looked at each other. It was all godmother's doing, they felt sure. How clever of her to know just what Nanni would like to dream of.

By this time they were out of the wood. The light was brighter than among the trees, but still it was easy to see that more than Nanni's 'hour' must have passed since they left her.

'Dear me,' she exclaimed, growing rather frightened, 'it looks later than I thought! And we've a long way to go yet,' she went on, looking round; 'indeed,' and her rosy face grew pale, 'I don't seem to know exactly where we are. We must have come another way out of the wood—oh, dear, dear——'

'Don't get into such a fright, Nanni,' said Rollo; 'follow me.'

He sprang up the hilly path that godmother had told them of, Maia and Nanni following. It turned and twisted about a little, but when they got to the top, there, close before them, gleamed the white walls of the castle, and a few steps more brought them to a back entrance to the terrace by which they often came out and in.

'Well, to be sure!' exclaimed Nanni, 'you are a clever boy, Master Rollo. Who ever would have guessed there was such a short cut, and indeed I can't make it out at all which way we've come back. But so long as we're here all in good time, and no fear of a scolding, I'm sure I'm only too pleased, however we've got here.'

As they were passing along the terrace the old doctor met them.

'Have you had a pleasant holiday?' he asked.

'Oh, very,' answered both Rollo and Maia, looking up in his face, where, as they expected, they saw the half-mysterious, half-playful expression they had learnt to know, and which seemed to tell that their old friend understood much more than he chose to say.

'Did you find any pretty flowers?' he asked, with a smile, 'though it is rather early in the year yet—especially for scented ones—is it not?'

'But we have got some,' said Maia quickly, and glancing round to see if Nanni were still by them. She had gone on, so Maia drew out her bunch, and held them up. 'Aren't they sweet?' she said.

The old man pressed them to his face almost as lovingly as Maia herself. 'Ah, how very sweet!' he murmured. 'How much they bring back! Cherish them, my child. You know how?'

'Yes, she told us,' said Maia. 'You know whom I mean, don't you, Mr. Doctor?'

The old doctor smiled again. Maia drew two or three flowers out of her bunch, and Rollo did the same. Then they put them together and offered them to their old friend.

'Thank you, my children,' he said; 'I shall add the thought of you to many others, when I perceive their sweet scent.'

'And even when they're withered and dried up, Mr. Doctor, you know,' said Maia eagerly, 'the scent, she says, is even sweeter.'

'I know,' said the doctor, nodding his head. 'Sweeter, I truly think, but bringing sadness with it too; very often, alas!' he added in a lower voice, so low that the children could not clearly catch the words.

'We must go in, Maia,' said Rollo; 'it must be nearly supper-time.'

'Yes,' said Maia; 'but first, Mr. Doctor, I want to know when are we to have another holiday? Lady Venelda will do any way you tell her, you know.'

'All in good time,' replied the doctor, at which Maia pouted a little.

'I don't like all in good time,' she said.

'But you have never known me to forget,' said the old doctor.

'No, indeed,' said Rollo eagerly, and then Maia looked a little ashamed of herself, and ran off smiling and waving her hand to the doctor.

Lady Venelda asked them no questions, and made no remarks beyond saying she was glad they had had so fine a day for their ramble in the woods. She seemed quite pleased so long as the children were well and sat up straight in their chairs without speaking at meal-times, and there were no complaints from their teachers. That was the way she had been brought up, and she thought it had answered very well in her case. But she was really kind, and the children no longer felt so lonely or dull, now that they had the visits to the wood to look forward to. Indeed, they had brought back with them a fund of amusement, for now their favourite play was to act the story which godmother had told them, and as they had no other pets, they managed to make friends with the castle cat, a very dignified person, who had to play the parts of Fido and Lello and the rabbit all in one; while the birds were represented by bunches of feathers they picked up in the poultry-yard, and the great furry rug with which they had travelled turned Rollo into the unhappy monster. It was very amusing, but after a few days they began to wish for other companions.

'If Silva and Waldo were here,' said Rollo, 'what fun we could have! I wonder what they do all day, Maia.'

'They work pretty hard, I fancy,' said Maia. 'Waldo goes to cut down trees in the forest a good way off, I know, and Silva has all the house to take care of, and everything to cook and wash, and all that. But I should call that play-work, not like lessons.'

'And I should think cutting down trees the best fun in the world,' said Rollo. 'That kind of work can't be as tiring as lessons.'

'Lessons, lessons! What is all this talk about lessons? Are you so terribly overworked, my poor children? What should you say to a ramble in the woods with me for a change?' said a voice beside them, which made the children start.

It was the doctor. He had come round the corner of the wall without their seeing him, for they were playing on the terrace for half an hour between their French lesson with Mademoiselle and their history with the chaplain.

'A walk with you, Mr. Doctor!' exclaimed Maia. 'Oh, yes, it would be nice. But it isn't a holiday, and——'

'How do you know it isn't a holiday, my dear young lady,' interrupted the doctor. 'How do you know that I have not represented to your respected cousin that her young charges had been working very hard of late, and would be the better for a ramble? If you cannot believe me, run in and ask Lady Venelda herself; if you are satisfied without doing so, why then, let us start at once!'

'Of course we are satisfied,' exclaimed Rollo and Maia together; 'but we must go in to get our thick boots and jackets, and our nicer hats,' added Maia, preparing to start off.

'Not a bit of it,' said the doctor, stopping her. 'You are quite right as you are. Come along;' and without giving the children time for even another 'but,' off he strode.

To their amazement, however, he turned towards the house, which he entered by a side door that the children had never before noticed, and which he opened with a small key.

'Doctor,' began Maia, but he only shook his head without speaking, and stalked on, Rollo and his sister following. He led them some way along a rather narrow passage, where they had never been before, then, opening a door, signed to them to pass in in front of him, and when they had done so, he too came in, and shut the door behind him. It was a queer little room—the doctor's study evidently, for one end was completely filled with books, and at one side, through the glass doors of high cupboards in the wall, all kinds of mysterious instruments, chemical tubes and globes, high bottles filled with different-coloured liquids, and ever so many things the children had but time to glance at, were to be perceived. But the doctor had evidently not brought them there to pay him a visit. He touched a spring at the side of the book-shelves, and a small door opened.

'Come, children,' he said, speaking at last, 'this is another short cut. Have no fear, but follow me.'

Full of curiosity, Rollo and Maia pressed forward. The doctor had already disappeared—all but his head, that is to say—for a winding staircase led downwards from the little door, and Rollo first, then Maia, were soon following their old friend step by step, holding by one hand to a thick cord which supplied the place of a handrail. It was almost quite dark, but they were not frightened. They had perfect trust in the old doctor, and all they had seen and heard since they came to the white castle had increased their love of adventure, without lessening their courage.

'Dear me,' said Maia, after a while, for it was never easy for her to keep silent for very long together, 'it isn't a very short cut! We seem to have been going down and down for a good while. My head is beginning to feel rather turning with going round and round so often. How much farther are we to go before we come out, Mr. Doctor?'

But there was no answer, only a slight exclamation from Rollo just in front of her, and then all of a sudden a rush of light into the darkness made Maia blink her eyes and for a moment shut them to escape the dazzling rays.

'Good-bye,' said a voice which she knew to be the doctor's; 'I hope you will enjoy yourselves.'

Maia opened her eyes. She had felt Rollo take her hand and draw her forwards a little. She opened her eyes, but half shut them again in astonishment.

'Rollo!' she exclaimed.

'And you said it was not much of a short cut,' replied Rollo, laughing.

No wonder Maia was astonished. They were standing a few paces from the cottage door! The sun was shining brightly on the little garden and peeping through the trees, just in front of which the children found themselves.

'Where have we come from?' said Maia, looking round her confusedly.

'Out of here, I think,' said Rollo, tapping the trunk of a great tree close beside him. 'I think we must have come out of a door hidden in this tree.'

'But we kept coming down,' said Maia.

'At first; but the last part of the time it seemed to me we were going up; we must have come down the inside of the hill and then climbed up a little way into the tree.'

'Oh, I am sure we weren't going up,' said Maia. 'I certainly was getting quite giddy with going round and round, but I'm sure I could have told if we'd been going up.'

'Well, never mind. If godmother is a witch, I fancy the doctor's a wizard. But any way we're here, and that's the principal thing. Come on, quick, Maia, aren't you in a hurry to know if Waldo and Silva are at home?'

He ran on to the cottage and Maia after him. The door was shut. Rollo knocked, but there was no answer.

'Oh, what a pity it will be if they are not in!' said Maia. 'Knock again, Rollo, louder.'

Rollo did so. Still there was no answer.

'What shall we do?' said the children to each other. 'It would be too horrid to have to go home and miss our chance of a holiday.'

'We might stay in the woods by ourselves,' suggested Rollo.

'It would be very dull,' said Maia disconsolately. 'I don't think the old doctor should have brought us without knowing if they would be here. If he knows so much he might have found that out.'

Suddenly Rollo gave an exclamation. He had been standing fumbling at the latch.

'What do you say?' asked Maia.

'The door isn't locked. Suppose we go in? It would be no harm. They weren't a bit vexed with us for having gone in and drunk the milk the first time.'

'Of course not,' said Maia; 'they wouldn't be the least vexed. I quite thought the door was locked all this time. Open it, Rollo. I can't reach so high or I would have found out long ago it wasn't locked.'

With a little difficulty Rollo opened the door.

Everything in the tiny kitchen looked as they had last seen it, only, if that were possible, still neater and cleaner. Maia stared round as if half expecting to see Waldo or Silva jump out from under the chairs or behind the cupboard, but suddenly she darted forward. A white object on the table had caught her attention. It was a sheet of paper, on which was written in round clear letters:

'Godmother will be here in a quarter of an hour.'

'See, Rollo,' exclaimed Maia triumphantly, 'this must be meant for us. What a good thing we came in! I don't mind waiting a quarter of an hour.'

'But that paper may have been here all day. It may have been sent for Waldo and Silva,' said Rollo. 'You know they told us godmother only comes sometimes to see them.'

'I don't care,' said Maia, seating herself on one of the high-backed chairs. 'I'm going to wait a quarter of an hour, and just see. Godmother doesn't do things like other people, and I'm sure this message is for us.'

Rollo said no more, but followed Maia's example. There they sat, like two little statues, the only distraction being the tick-tack of the clock, and watching the long hand creep slowly down the three divisions of its broad face which showed a quarter of an hour. It seemed a very long quarter of an hour. Maia was so little used to sitting still, except when she was busy with lessons, to which she was obliged to give her attention, that after a few minutes her head began to nod and at last gave such a jerk that she woke up with a start.

'Dear me, isn't it a quarter of an hour yet?' she exclaimed.

'No, it's hardly five minutes,' said Rollo, rather grumpily, for he thought this was a very dull way of spending a holiday, and he would rather have gone out into the woods than sit there waiting. Maia leant her head again on the back of her chair.

'Suppose we count ten times up to sixty,' she said. 'That would be ten minutes if we go by the ticks of the clock, and if she isn't here then, I won't ask you to wait any longer.'

'We can see the time,' said Rollo; 'I don't see the use of counting it loud out.'

Maia said nothing more. Whether she took another little nap; whether Rollo himself did not do so also I cannot say. All I know is that just exactly as the hand of the clock had got to fourteen minutes from the time they had begun watching it, both children started to their feet and looked at each other.

'Do you hear?' said Maia.

'It's a carriage,' exclaimed Rollo.

'How could a carriage come through the wood? There's no path wide enough.'

'But it is a carriage;' and to settle the point both ran to the door to see.

It came swiftly along, in and out among the trees without difficulty, so small was it. The two tiny piebald ponies that drew it shook their wavy manes as they danced along, the little bells on their necks ringing softly. A funny idea struck Maia as she watched it. It looked just like a toy meant for some giant's child which had dropped off one of the huge Christmas-trees, waiting there to be decked for Santa Claus's festival! But the queerest part of the sight for them was when the carriage came near enough for them to see that godmother herself was driving it. She did look so comical, perched up on the little seat and chirrupping and wo-wohing to her steeds, and she seemed to have grown so small, oh, so small! Otherwise how could she ever have got into a carriage really not much too large for a baby of two years old?

On she drove, and drew up in grand style just in front of where the children were standing.

'Jump in,' she said, nodding off-handedly, but without any other greeting.

'But how——?' began Maia. 'How can Rollo and I possibly get into that tiny carriage?' were the words on her lips, but somehow before she began to say them, they melted away, and almost without knowing how, she found herself getting into the back seat of the little phaeton, with Rollo beside her, and in another moment—crack! went godmother's whip, and off they set.

They went so fast, oh, so fast! There did not seem time to consider whether they were comfortable or not, or how it was they fitted so well into the carriage, small as it was, or anything but just the delicious feeling of flying along, which shows that they must have been very comfortable, does it not? In and out among the great looming pine-trees their strange coachman made her way, without once hesitating or wavering, so that the children felt no fear of striking against the massive trunks, even though it grew darker and gloomier and the Christmas-trees had certainly never looked anything like so enormous.

'Or can it be that we have really grown smaller?' thought Maia; but her thoughts were quickly interrupted by a merry cry from godmother, 'Hold fast, children, we're going to have a leap.'

Godmother was certainly in a very comical humour. But for her voice and her bright eyes when they peeped out from under her hood the children would scarcely have known her. She was like a little mischievous old sprite instead of the soft, tender, mysterious being who had petted them so sweetly and told them the quiet story of gentle Auréole the other day. In a different kind of way Maia felt again almost a very little bit afraid of her, but Rollo's spirits rose with the fun, his cheeks grew rosier and his eyes brighter, though he was very kind to Maia too, and put his arm round her to keep her steady in preparation for godmother's flying leap, over they knew not what. But it was beautifully managed; not only the ponies, but the carriage too, seemed to acquire wings for the occasion, and there was not the slightest jar or shock, only a strange lifting feeling, and then softly down again, and on, on, through trees and brushwood, faster and faster, as surely no ponies ever galloped before.

'Are you frightened, Rollo?' whispered Maia.

'Not a bit. Why should I be? Godmother can take care of us, and even if she wasn't there, one couldn't be frightened flying along with those splendid little ponies.'

'What was it we jumped over?' asked Maia.

Godmother heard her and turned round.

'We jumped over the brook,' she said. 'Don't you remember the little brook that runs through the wood?'

'The brook that Rollo and I go over by the stepping stones? It's a very little brook, godmother. I should think the carriage might have driven over without jumping.'

'Hush!' said godmother, 'we're getting into the middle of the wood and I must drive carefully.'

But she did not go any more slowly; it got darker and darker as the trees grew more closely together. The children saw, as they looked round, that they had never been so far in the forest before.

'I wonder when we shall see Silva and Waldo,' thought Maia, and somehow the thought seemed to bring its answer, for just as it passed through her mind, a clear bright voice called out from among the trees:

'Godmother, godmother, don't drive too far. Here we are waiting for you.'

'Waldo and Silva!' exclaimed the children. The ponies suddenly stopped, and out jumped or tumbled into the arms of their friends Rollo and Maia.

'Oh, Waldo! oh, Silva!' they exclaimed. 'We've had such a drive! Godmother has brought us along like the wind.'

Silva nodded her head. 'I know,' she said, smiling. 'There is no one so funny as godmother when she is in a wild humour. You may be glad you are here all right. She would have thought nothing of driving on to——' Silva stopped, at a loss what place to name.

'To where?' said the children.

'Oh, to the moon, or the stars, or down to the bottom of the sea, or anywhere that came into her head!' said Silva, laughing. 'For, you know, she can go anywhere.'

'Can she?' exclaimed Maia. 'Oh, what wonderful stories we can make her tell us, then! Godmother, godmother, do you hear what Silva says?' she went on, turning round to where she thought the carriage and ponies and godmother were standing. But——