the things near her, and the
pictures first of all, for she had a great liking for pictures. One in
particular attracted her attention. She came back to it several times,
and at length stood absorbed in it.

A blue summer sky, with white fleecy clouds floating beneath it, hung
over a hill green to the very top, and alive with streams darting down
its sides toward the valley below. On the face of the hill strayed a
flock of sheep feeding, attended by a shepherd and two dogs. A little
way apart, a girl stood with bare feet in a brook, building across it a
bridge of rough stones. The wind was blowing her hair back from her
rosy face. A lamb was feeding close beside her; and a sheepdog was
trying to reach her hand to lick it.

"Oh, how I wish I were that little girl!" said the princess aloud. "I
wonder how it is that some people are made to be so much happier than
others! If I were that little girl, no one would ever call me naughty."

She gazed and gazed at the picture. At length she said to herself,

"I do not believe it is a picture. It is the real country, with a real
hill, and a real little girl upon it. I shall soon see whether this
isn't another of the old witch's cheats!"

She went close up to the picture, lifted her foot, and stepped over the
frame.

"I am free, I am free!" she exclaimed; and she felt the wind upon her
cheek.

The sound of a closing door struck on her ear. She turned--and there
was a blank wall, without door or window, behind her. The hill with the
sheep was before her, and she set out at once to reach it.

Now, if I am asked how this could be, I can only answer, that it was a
result of the interaction of things outside and things inside, of the
wise woman's skill, and the silly child's folly. If this does not
satisfy my questioner, I can only add, that the wise woman was able to
do far more wonderful things than this.

VI.

Meantime the wise woman was busy as she always was; and her business
now was with the child of the shepherd and shepherdess, away in the
north. Her name was Agnes.

Her father and mother were poor, and could not give her many things.
Rosamond would have utterly despised the rude, simple playthings she
had. Yet in one respect they were of more value far than hers: the king
bought Rosamond's with his money; Agnes's father made hers with his
hands.

And while Agnes had but few things--not seeing many things about her,
and not even knowing that there were ma