The forest in which he had to spend the long days was a very beautiful
one, however, and he could take pleasure in that. It was a forest so
great that it was like a world in itself. There were in it strange,
splendid trees, the branches of which interlocked overhead, and when
their many leaves moved and rustled, it seemed as if they were whispering
secrets. There were bright, swift, strange birds, that flew about in the
deep golden sunshine, and when they rested on the boughs, they, too,
seemed telling one another secrets. There was a bright, clear brook, with
water as sparkling and pure as crystal, and with shining shells and
pebbles of all colours lying in the gold and silver sand at the bottom.
Prince Fairyfoot always thought the brook knew the forest's secret also,
and sang it softly to the flowers as it ran along. And as for the
flowers, they were beautiful; they grew as thickly as if they had been a
carpet, and under them was another carpet of lovely green moss. The trees
and the birds, and the brook and the flowers were Prince Fairyfoot's
friends. He loved them, and never was very lonely when he was with them;
and if his swine had not run away so often, and if the swineherd had not
beaten him so much, sometimes--indeed, nearly all summer--he would have
been almost happy. He used to lie on the fragrant carpet of flowers and
moss and listen to the soft sound of the running water, and to the
whispering of the waving leaves, and to the songs of the birds; and he
would wonder what they were saying to one another, and if it were true,
as the swineherd's children said, that the great forest was full of
fairies. And then he would pretend it was true, and would tell himself
stories about them, and make believe they were his friends, and that they
came to talk to him and let him love them. He wanted to love something or
somebody, and he had nothing to love--not even a little dog.

One day he was resting under a great green tree, feeling really quite
happy because everything was so beautiful. He had even made a little song
to chime in with the brook's, and he was singing it softly and sweetly,
when suddenly, as he lifted his curly, golden head to look about him, he
saw that all his swine were gone. He sprang to his feet, feeling very
much frightened, and he whistled and called, but he heard nothing. He
could not imagine how they had all disappeared so quietly, without making
any sound; but not one of them was anywhere to be