t stay----.' 'Good
has come----.' 'Away, away----.' And the joining came like the sound of
the river that flows free again.

Out, out, into the night,
The belfry bells are ours by right!

And then, as King Bellamant stood there, thrilled and yet, as it were,
turned to stone, by the magic of this conflict that raged above him,
there came a sweeping rush down the belfry ladder. The lantern he
carried showed him a rout of little, dark, evil people, clothed in dust
and cobwebs, that scurried down the wooden steps gnashing their teeth
and growling in the bitterness of a deserved defeat. They passed and
there was silence. Then the King flew from rope to rope pulling lustily,
and from above, the bells answered in their own clear beautiful
voices--because the good Bell-folk had driven out the usurpers and had
come to their own again.

Ring-a-ring-a-ring-a-ring-a-ring! Ring, bell!
A little baby comes on earth to dwell. Ring, bell!
Sound, bell! Sound! Swell!
Ring for joy and wish her well!
May her life tell
No tale of ill-spell!
Ring, bell! Joy, bell! Love, bell! Ring!

* * * * *

'But I don't see,' said King Bellamant, when he had told Queen Belinda
all about it, 'how it was that I came to hear them. The Enchanter of the
Ringing Well said that only lovers could hear what the bells had to say,
and then only when they were together.'

'You silly dear boy,' said Queen Belinda, cuddling the baby princess
close under her chin, 'we _are_ lovers, aren't we? And you don't suppose
I wasn't with you when you went to ring the bells for our baby--my heart
and soul anyway--all of me that matters!'

'Yes,' said the King, 'of course you were. That accounts!'

VIII

JUSTNOWLAND

'Auntie! No, no, no! I will be good. Oh, I will!' The little weak voice
came from the other side of the locked attic door.

'You should have thought of that before,' said the strong, sharp voice
outside.

'I didn't mean to be naughty. I didn't, truly.'

'It's not what you mean, miss, it's what you do. I'll teach you not to
mean, my lady.'

The bitter irony of the last words dried the child's tears. 'Very well,
then,' she screamed, 'I won't be good; I won't try to be good. I thought
you'd like your nasty old garden weeded. I only did it to please you.
How was I to know it was turnips? It looked just like weeds.' Then came
a pause, then another shriek. 'Oh, Auntie, don't! Oh,