he tower, door bangs and Ogre locks it with
key a yard long. Goes back to Witch, who hands him vial
filled from caldron with black mixture._

_Witch._ Pour drop by drop upon Prince Hero's tongue.
First he will bark. His hands and feet
Will turn to paws, and he will seem a dog.
Seven drops will make the change complete.
The poison has no antidote save one,
And he a prince again can never be,
Unless seven silver plums he eats,
Plucked from my golden apple-tree.

_Ogre._ Revenge is sweet,
And soon 'twill be complete!
Then to my den I'll haste for gold to delve.
I'll bring it at the black, bleak hour of twelve!

_Witch._ And I upon my broomstick now must fly
To woodland tryst. Come, Horned Owl
And Venomed Toad! Now play the spy!
Let no one through my orchard prowl.

[_Exit Witch and Ogre to dirge music._

SCENE II. _Enter King and Queen weeping. They pace up
and down, wringing hands, and showing great signs of
grief. Godmother enters from opposite side. King speaks._

_King._ Good dame, Godmother of our daughter dear,
Perhaps thou'st heard our tale of woe.
Our children twain are stolen away
By Ogre Grim, mine ancient foe.

All up and down the land we've sought
For help to break into his tower.
And now, our searching all for nought,
We've come to beg the Witch's power.

[_Godmother springs forward, finger to lip, and anxiously waves
them away from orchard._

_Godmother._ Nay! Nay! Your Majesty, go not
Within that orchard, now I pray!
The Witch and Ogre are in league.
They've wrought you fearful harm this day.
She brewed a draught to change the prince
Into a dog! Oh, woe is me!
I passed the tower and heard him bark:
Alack! That I must tell it thee!

[_Queen shrieks and falls back in the King's arms, then recovering
falls to wailing._

_Queen._ My noble son a _dog?_ A _beast?_
It cannot, must not, _shall_ not be!
I'll brave the Ogre in his den,
And plead upon my bended knee!

_Godmother._ Thou couldst not touch his heart of stone.
He'd keep _thee_ captive in his lair.
The Princess Winsome can alone
Remove the cause of thy despair.
And I unto the tower will climb,
And ere is gone the sunset's red,
Shall bid her spin a counter charm--
A skein of Love's own Golden Thread.
Take heart, O mother Queen! Be brave!
Take heart, O gracious King, I pray!
Well can she spin Love's Golden Thread,
And Love can _always_ find a way! [_Exit Godmother._

_Queen._ She'