account for her presence. Then he spied a lovely little house, with

thatched roof and low eaves, surrounded by an exquisite garden, with

doves and peacocks walking in it. Of course this must be where the

gracious lady who loved the moonlight lived. Forgetting his appearance,

he walked towards the door, determined to make inquiries, but as he

passed a little pond full of gold and silver fishes, he caught sight of

himself and turned to find the door to the kitchen. There he knocked,

and asked for a piece of bread. The good-natured cook brought him in,

and gave him an excellent breakfast, which the prince found nothing the

worse for being served in the kitchen. While he ate, he talked with

his entertainer, and learned that this was the favourite retreat of

the Princess Daylight. But he learned nothing more, both because he was

afraid of seeming inquisitive, and because the cook did not choose to be

heard talking about her mistress to a peasant lad who had begged for his

breakfast.

As he rose to take his leave, it occurred to him that he might not be

so far from the old woman's cottage as he had thought, and he asked the

cook whether she knew anything of such a place, describing it as well as

he could. She said she knew it well enough, adding with a smile--

“It's there you're going, is it?”

“Yes, if it's not far off.”

“It's not more than three miles. But mind what you are about, you know.”

“Why do you say that?”

“If you're after any mischief, she'll make you repent it.”

“The best thing that could happen under the circumstances,” remarked the

prince.

“What do you mean by that?” asked the cook.

“Why, it stands to reason,” answered the prince “that if you wish to do

anything wrong, the best thing for you is to be made to repent of it.”

“I see,” said the cook. “Well, I think you may venture. She's a good old

soul.”

“Which way does it lie from here?” asked the prince.

She gave him full instructions; and he left her with many thanks.

Being now refreshed, however, the prince did not go back to the cottage

that day: he remained in the forest, amusing himself as best he could,

but waiting anxiously for the night, in the hope that the princess would

again appear. Nor was he disappointed, for, directly the moon rose, he

spied a glimmering shape far across the glade. As it drew nearer, he saw

it was she indeed--not dressed in white as before: in a pale blue like

the sky, she looked lovelier still. He thought it was that the blue

suited her yet better than the white; he did not know that she was

really more beautiful because the moon was nearer the full. In fact the

next night was full moon, and the princess would then be at the zenith

of her loveliness.

The prince feared for some time that she was not coming near his

hiding-place that night; but the circles in her dance ever widened as

the moon rose, until at last they embraced the whole glade, and she

came still closer to the trees where he was hiding than she had come the

night before. He was entranced with her loveliness, for it was indeed a

marvellous thing. All night long he watched her, but dared not go near

her. He would have been ashamed of watching her too, had he not become

almost incapable of thinking of anything but how beautiful she was. He

watched the whole night long, and saw that as the moon went down she

retreated in smaller and smaller circles, until at last he could see her

no more.

Weary as he was, he set out for the old woman's cottage, where he

arrived just in time for her breakfast, which she shared with him. He

then went to bed, and slept for many hours. When he awoke the sun was

down, and he departed in great anxiety lest he should lose a glimpse

of the lovely vision. But, whether it was by the machinations of the

swamp-fairy, or merely that it is one thing to go and another to return

by the same road, he lost his way. I shall not attempt to describe his

misery when the moon rose, and he saw nothing but trees, trees, trees.

She was high in the heavens before he reached the glade. Then indeed

his troubles vanished, for there was the princess coming dancing towards

him, in a dress that shone like gold, and with shoes that glimmered

through the grass like fireflies. She was of course still more beautiful

than before. Like an embodied sunbeam she passed him, and danced away

into the distance.

Before she returned in her circle, the clouds had begun to gather about

the moon. The wind rose, the trees moaned, and their lighter branches

leaned all one way before it. The prince feared that the princess would

go in, and he should see her no more that night. But she came dancing on

more jubilant than ever, her golden dress and her sunny hair streaming

out upon the blast, waving her arms towards the moon, and in the

exuberance of her delight ordering the clouds away from off her face.

The prince could hardly believe she was not a creature of the elements,

after all.

By the time she had completed another circle, the clouds had gathered

deep, and there were growlings of distant thunder. Just as she passed

the tree where he stood, a flash of lightning blinded him for a moment,

and when he saw again, to his horror, the princess lay on the ground.

He darted to her, thinking she had been struck; but when she heard him

coming, she was on her feet in a moment.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I beg your pardon. I thought--the lightning” said the prince,

hesitating.

“There's nothing the matter,” said the princess, waving him off rather

haughtily.

The poor prince turned and walked towards the wood.

“Come back,” said Daylight: “I like you. You do what you are told. Are

you good?”

“Not so good as I should like to be,” said the prince.

“Then go and grow better,” said the princess.

Again the disappointed prince turned and went.

“Come back,” said the princess.

He obeyed, and stood before her waiting.

“Can you tell me what the sun is like?” she asked.

“No,” he answered. “But where's the good of asking what you know?”

“But I don't know,” she rejoined.

“Why, everybody knows.”

“That's the very thing: I'm not everybody. I've never seen the sun.”

“Then you can't know what it's like till you do see it.”

“I think you must be a prince,” said the princess.

“Do I look like one?” said the prince.

“I can't quite say that.”

“Then why do you think so?”

“Because you both do what you are told and speak the truth.--Is the sun

so very bright?”

“As bright as the lightning.”

“But it doesn't go out like that, does it?”

“Oh, no. It shines like the moon, rises and sets like the moon, is much

the same shape as the moon, only so bright that you can't look at it for

a moment.”

“But I would look at it,” said the princess.

“But you couldn't,” said the prince.

“But I could,” said the princess.

“Why don't you, then?”

“Because I can't.”

“Why can't you?”

“Because I can't wake. And I never shall wake until----”

Here she hid her face in her hands, turned away, and walked in the

slowest, stateliest manner towards the house. The prince ventured to

follow her at a little distance, but she turned and made a repellent

gesture, which, like a true gentleman-prince, he obeyed at once. He

waited a long time, but as she did not come near him again, and as the

night had now cleared, he set off at last for the old woman's cottage.