in their
kennels, and the horses in their stalls. Outside the birds slept on
the branches, and the drowsy bees slept in the drooping flowers. Not
even a leaf stirred upon a single tree within the castle yard, but all
was quiet and as still as death. A hedge of thorn trees shot up around
the palace and, in a single night, the hedge grew so thick that not a
chink of light shone through it, and so tall that not even the tallest
palace spire could be seen above it.

Years went by and Briar Rose was forgotten. No one living knew what
was hidden behind the great hedge. Old tales were sometimes told of a
beautiful princess who lay there asleep and, every now and then, a bold
young prince would try to force his way through the hedge; but the
thorns were so sharp that no one had ever caught so much as a glimpse
even of the old castle, in which this beautiful princess slept.

At last there came a handsome prince, bolder than all the others, who
cried, "I will break down this hedge! I will set this princess free!"
Now it happened that that very day ended the long sleep of the Briar
Rose. All the hundred summers had just passed by. The wish had come
true and it was now time for the beautiful princess to awake, but the
bold prince did not know this. He drew his sword. He rushed upon the
hedge, when, lo! the sharp thorns turned aside; the branches opened and
there before him stood the sleeping palace.

He burst the gates. Not even a leaf stirred upon a single tree within
the castle yard. Not a dog bayed in the kennels. Not a horse whinnied
in the stalls. Not a bird sang in the branches. Not a bee droned in
the flowers. All was as still as death. He burst the palace doors.
There slept the king upon his golden throne. There slept the queen
within her royal parlor. There slept the judges on the council
benches. There slept the lords and ladies of the court; but the
princess, the beautiful princess, where was she? He looked in all the
splendid rooms. He searched the halls and corridors but no princess
could he find. He climbed the winding stairway,--higher and higher up
he went, higher and yet higher still. At last he reached the little
chamber. Would he find her here? He turned the rusty key. The low
door opened. He entered. There before him lay--could it be she, the
sleeping beauty? Her eyes were closed, but her cheeks were pink like
the wild roses at the gate. Her lips were red like the scarlet ribbon