Only Cinderella, with a certain strange quiet upon her, remained in her place, while the Masked Lady and Mr. Literal stood regarding her.

Words broke from her tremulously: "And so it is to be the Sleeping Beauty! I had hoped . . . there was to be one who would find my crystal slipper and come for me . . ."

She had scarcely uttered the words when the Masked Lady stepped forward and touched her face with gentle fingers and kissed her brow.

A happy transformation occurred in Cinderella's face. She stood gazing into vacancy a moment, her eyes shining. An instant later she dashed from the room, to be present at the wedding ceremony. Already, in the distance, the strains of the Lohengrin march could be heard.

The Masked Lady would have gone into the chapel then, but she was detained by Mr. Literal, who said irritably: "That march--you know it's really quite modern. Wagner, isn't it?"

The Masked Lady replied with a certain repression: "Beautiful things are never modern--yet always modern. They have existed always, from the dawn of time, waiting for the proper occasion for their use. Come, I must be present at the wedding of Everychild."

"Still," said Mr. Literal drily, "I should say there have been many weddings at which you were not present."

But she was not listening. She had gone; and he smilingly followed.

The sound of music gradually died away. There was a distant murmur of voices. Then again the music sounded, louder, with a quality of triumph in it. Louder and louder it sounded.

The bridal party returned! Flower girls ran before, scattering flowers. Everychild and the Sleeping Beauty appeared, followed by the king and queen.

A great throng entered the room: lords and ladies, the companions of Everychild, led now by Cinderella.

The bride and the bridegroom were surrounded. They were acclaimed in loud voices. They were lifted aloft. The little black dog barked madly.

Such a scene had never been witnessed before.

CHAPTER XXIV

TIME Pa.s.sES

The same room in the castle--the room where the pomp and ceremony had been.

But it was empty now. The flowers which had been scattered on the floor had been swept away. Silence reigned.

Presently two doors opened: one on the right, the other on the left.

But though the doors opened, not a sound was to be heard, and for an instant no one appeared.

And then--some one was coming.

Father Time entered at one of the doors. He walked slowly and quietly across the room. He carried his scythe and sand-gla.s.s. He glanced neither to left nor right.

He went out at the other door!

PART V

ARGUMENT: ON HIS WANDERINGS EVERYCHILD BETHINKS HIM OF HIS PARENTS, AND DISCOVERS THAT THOUGH HE HAS SEEMED TO LOSE THEM, HE HAS NOT REALLY DONE SO.

CHAPTER XXV

WILL O'DREAMS REPORTS A DISCOVERY

We have seen how time pa.s.sed in the castle where Everychild and his companions had come to dwell. Now let us see what followed.

On a beautiful summer day Everychild and the Sleeping Beauty sat in the great room of the golden furniture and the fire place and the alcove.

They occupied two little golden chairs near the middle of the room.

They were rocking placidly and saying nothing to each other. Now they rocked backward and forward together, and again they rocked quite contrariwise.

And what have we here? Close to the Sleeping Beauty there was a tiny cradle, all of gold. And in it--well, you could see tresses of wonderful golden hair, and the most marvelous blue eyes which would open and shut, and a complexion which was simply perfect. Just now the eyes were closed.

At a little distance from them there was a spectacle most beautiful to behold. This was afforded by the Masked Lady and the task in which she was engaged. She stood near an immense open window, beside the most beautiful dove-cote ever seen. It was silver and green, topping a pillar of gold. It had several compartments, all containing pure white doves. These were engaged in bringing or carrying messages. At intervals doves entered the open window and perched on the Masked Lady's arms. These were placed in the cote and others were removed from the cote and carried to the window, from which they flew away and disappeared.

While the Masked Lady was engaged in this task it was to be noted that there was a very sad expression in her eyes. She was turning over certain things in her mind.

The truth is that Everychild had been married just a year, and she was thinking how it would be necessary before long for him to be conducted to the grim Mountain of Reality. She knew that this was a very terrible experience, or that it would seem so just at first; and that is why there was a sad expression in her eyes. She knew very well, however, that the matter could not be put off very much longer.

Indeed, she had been able to detect an occasional shadow in Everychild's eyes which proved that he was already beginning to see the formidable Mountain of Reality in the distance. I should also explain that the messages she was sending and receiving with the aid of the white doves all had a bearing upon the plan she had in mind of taking Everychild, ere long, upon the most difficult journey he was ever to make.

Although silence reigned in the room, there was the murmur of children's voices in the distance, occasionally rising to a joyous shout. The children were clearly at play in some invisible court; and when their cries were particularly joyous, Everychild and the Sleeping Beauty glanced at each other and smiled indulgently.

At length the voices of the children became inaudible; and a moment later Cinderella entered the room. She stood an instant, her hands on her hips and an almost impatient expression in her eyes; and then she approached Everychild and the Sleeping Beauty.

Everychild glanced up at her with a slightly patronizing smile. "Well, Cinderella?" he asked.

She put her hair back rather energetically and exclaimed--"Oh, I'm bored. That's the honest truth. Those games out there--they _do_ get so tiresome. And Grettel is such a simpleton, really. She keeps saying 'Think of something else for us to play, Cinderella--think of something else.' She never thinks of anything herself. Neither does Hansel, nor any of them."

She sighed and glanced back the way she had come, and it was to be noted that the sound of playing had not been resumed.

It was the Sleeping Beauty who replied. "Never mind, Cinderella," she said. "You know I realize quite well what it is to be bored." She had spoken gently; and now she smiled with a certain playfulness. "The prince with the missing slipper will find you soon enough. You've only to be patient, and the day will come when you'll seldom be bored any more."

"I don't know, I'm sure," said Cinderella; and with perfect candor she added, "Aren't _you_ bored? You look it: sitting there as if you hadn't a single thought in your head."

The Sleeping Beauty laughed. "You dear, foolish thing!" she replied.

"Bored? The idea! I'm perfectly happy. Of course, there are times . . ." She broke off and meditated, and actually sighed. "Come, we'll go and look at the goldfish," she added briskly.

They went away together, taking cradle and all. All of a sudden they seemed as energetic as sparrows. They seemed for the moment really indifferent to Everychild, who remained in his chair alone.

When they had gone he leaned forward in an elegant yet somewhat dejected att.i.tude, his hands clasped between his knees. Then he arose, shrugging his shoulders as if a burden were clinging to them, and turned toward the Masked Lady.

"What are you doing?" he asked wonderingly.

She set free a fine dove, which immediately disappeared through the window.