ul than she supposed. The
cook's great black cat, pursued by the housekeeper's terrier, had
bounced against her bedroom door, which had not been properly fastened,
and the two had burst into the room together and commenced a battle
royal. How the nurse came to sleep through it was a mystery, but I
suspect the old lady had something to do with it.

It was a clear warm morning. The wind blew deliciously over the
Mountainside. Here and there she saw a late primrose but she did not
stop to call upon them. The sky was mottled with small clouds.

The sun was not yet up, but some of their fluffy edges had caught his
light, and hung out orange and gold-coloured fringes upon the air. The
dew lay in round drops upon the leaves, and hung like tiny diamond
ear-rings from the blades of grass about her path.

'How lovely that bit of gossamer is!' thought the princess, looking at
a long undulating line that shone at some distance from her up the
hill. It was not the time for gossamers though; and Irene soon
discovered that it was her own thread she saw shining on before her in
the light of the morning. It was leading her she knew not whither; but
she had never in her life been out before sunrise, and everything was
so fresh and cool and lively and full of something coming, that she
felt too happy to be afraid of anything.

After leading her up a good distance, the thread turned to the left,
and down the path upon which she and Lootie had met Curdie. But she
never thought of that, for now in the morning light, with its far
outlook over the country, no path could have been more open and airy
and cheerful. She could see the road almost to the horizon, along
which she had so often watched her king-papa and his troop come
shining, with the bugle-blast cleaving the air before them; and it was
like a companion to her. Down and down the path went, then up, and
then down and then up again, getting rugged and more rugged as it went;
and still along the path went the silvery thread, and still along the
thread went Irene's little rosy-tipped forefinger. By and by she came
to a little stream that jabbered and prattled down the hill, and up the
side of the stream went both path and thread. And still the path grew
rougher and steeper, and the mountain grew wilder, till Irene began to
think she was going a very long way from home; and when she turned to
look back she saw that the level country had vanished and the rough
bare mountain