little girl, for
she lived in dreams, and it did not take much to content her. Half her
time was spent in a sort of inward play which never came out in words.
Sometimes in these plays she was a Princess with a gold crown, and a
delightful Prince making love to her all day long. Sometimes she kept a
candy-shop, and lived entirely on sugar-almonds and sassafras-stick.
These plays were so real to her mind that it seemed as if they _must_
some day come true. Her step-mother and the children did not often
figure in them, though once in a while she made believe that they were
all changed into agreeable people, and shared her good luck. There was
one thing in the house, however, which invariably took part in her
visions. This was a large wooden chest with brass handles which stood
upstairs in Mrs. Davis's room, and was always kept locked.

Mell had never seen the inside of this chest but once. Then she caught
glimpses of a red shawl, of some coral beads in a box, and of various
interesting looking bundles tied up in paper. "How beautiful!" she had
cried out eagerly, whereupon Mrs. Davis had closed the lid with a snap,
and locked it, looking quite vexed. "What is it? Are all those lovely
things yours?" asked Mell, and she had been bidden to hold her tongue,
and see if the kitchen fire didn't need another stick of wood. It was
two years since this happened. Mell had never seen the lid raised since,
but every day she had played about the big chest and its contents.

Sometimes she played that the chest belonged to the beautiful Princess,
and was full of her clothes and jewels. Sometimes a fairy lived there,
who popped out, wand in hand, and made things over to Mell's liking.
Again, Mell played that she locked her step-mother up into the chest,
and refused to release her till she promised never, never again, so long
as she lived, to scold about any thing. Mrs. Davis would have been very
vexed had she known about these plays. It made her angry if Mell so much
as glanced at the chest. "There you are again, peeping, peeping," she
would cry, and drive Mell before her downstairs.

So this evening, after the burning of the book, Mell's sore and angry
fancies flew as usual to the chest. "It's so big," she thought, "that
all the children could get into it. I'll play that a wicked enchanter
came and flew away with mother, and never let her come back. Then I
should have to take care of the children; and I'd get somebody to nail
some board