veliest ever seen.

The palace stood on the borders of a mighty forest, on the further
side of which lay Fairyland. But there was only one window in the
palace that looked out upon this forest, and that was the round window
of the room in which Hilda, Harold, and Hector slept. And since the
round window was never open except at night, after the three children
had been put to bed, they knew very little about how the forest
looked, or what kind of flowers grew there, or what sort of birds sang
in the dark branches of the lofty trees. Sometimes, however, as they
lay with their three heads on their three pillows, and with all their
eyes open, waiting for the Spirit of Forgetfulness to come and fasten
down their eyelids, they would see stars, white, blue, and red,
twinkling in the sky overhead; and below, amongst the gloomy shadows
of the trees, other yellow stars which danced about and flitted to and
fro. These flitting stars were supposed by grown-up people to be
will-o'-the-wisp, jack-o'-lanterns, fire-flies, and glow-worms. But
the three children knew them to be the torches borne by the elves as
they capered hither and thither about their affairs. For although the
Forest of Mystery (as it was named) was not, strictly speaking, in
Fairyland, but formed the boundary between that and the rest of the
world, yet many fairies held nightly revels there. The children wished
that a few of these tiny people would come in through the round window
some evening and pay them a visit. But if such a thing ever happened
it was not until after the children had fallen asleep; and then, when
they woke up in the morning, they had forgotten all about it.

The garden was on the side of the palace opposite to the Forest of
Mystery; it was called the Garden of Delight. It was full of flowers,
pink, white, and blue; and there were birds, and fountains, in the
marble basins of which gold-fishes glowed and swam. In the centre of
the garden was a round green lawn for the children to play on; but at
the end of the garden was a tall thick hedge, on which no blossoms
ever grew, and which was prickly with sharp-pointed leaves and thorns.
This hedge also had a name, but the children did not know what it was.
It was impossible either to get round the hedge, or to get over it, or
to get through it--except in one place, where a small opening had been
made. But through that opening no one might pass, for the land on the
other side belonged to a dwarf, whose