with the river.

He saw land at last far on a-head, and as he drew near it he understood
whither the boat was bound. All along the shore there were hundreds
and hundreds of dolls crowding down to the water's edge, looking as if
they had expected him. They stared at him with their shining round
eyes; but he just clasped his little goat tighter and closer, and
sailed on nearer and nearer to the land. The dolls did not move; they
stood still, smiling at him with their painted lips, then suddenly they
opened their painted mouths and put out their painted tongues at him;
but still he was not afraid. He clasped the goat yet a little closer,
and called out, "Apple-blossom, I am waiting; are you here?" Just as he
had expected, he heard Apple-blossom's voice answering from the back of
the toy-town--

"Yes, dear brother, I am coming." So he drew close to the shore, and
waited for her. He saw her a long way off, and waved his hand.

"I have come to fetch you," he said.

"But I cannot go with you unless I am bought," she answered, sadly,
"for now there is a wire spring inside me; and look at my arms, dear
brother;" and pulling up her pink muslin sleeves, she showed him that
they were stuffed with sawdust. "Go home, and bring the money to pay
for me," she cried, "and then I can come home again." But the dolls had
crowded up behind, so that he might not turn his boat round. "Straight
on," cried Apple-blossom, in despair; "what does it matter whether you
go backwards or forwards if you only keep straight when you live in a
world that is round?"

So he sailed on once more beneath the sky that was getting grey,
through all the shadows that gathered round, beneath the pale moon, and
the little stars that came out one by one and watched him from the sky.

I saw him coming towards the land of story-books. That was how I knew
about him, dear children. He was very tired and had fallen asleep, but
the boat stopped quite naturally, as if it knew that I had been waiting
for him. I stooped, and kissed his eyes, and looked at his little pale
face, and lifting him softly in my arms, put him into this book to
rest. That is how he came to be here for you to know. But in the
toy-land Apple-blossom waits with the wire spring in her breast and the
sawdust in her limbs; and at home, in the big house at the end of the
village, the tall aunt weeps and wails and wonders if she will ever see
again the children she loves so well.

She will not wait v