ith little
figures of men and animals.

"Dreams to sell! Dreams to sell!" called out the old man as soon as he
caught sight of Peter. "Don't you want to buy a dream, young man?"

"What kind of dreams have you?" asked Peter.

"Good, bad, true, false--all kinds," replied the seller of dreams. "I
have even a few thrilling nightmares. Dreams to sell! Dreams to sell!"

"How much does a dream cost?" asked Peter.

"A golden florin," answered the merchant.

"I'll have one, please," said Peter; and he handed over the florin he
had found.

The old man took a kind of wonderful sugarplum out of the ivory horn,
and gave it to Peter to eat.

"You will have the dream next time you sleep," said he, and trudged on.

So Peter continued his journey, stopping every once in a while to look
back at the strange old man, who was slowly climbing the hill. At length
Peter came to a little quiet grove of pines, and there he sat down on a
big stone and ate the luncheon which his mother had prepared for him.
The sun was high in the heavens; it was close on to high noon. Now, as
Peter was contentedly munching his bread and cheese, he heard, at first
far away, then quite near at hand, the clear notes of a coachman's horn.
The notes of the second call died away in a great pattering of hoofs and
tinkling of little bells, and suddenly, arriving in a great swirl of
yellow dust, came a magnificent coach drawn by twelve white horses. A
lady, very richly dressed and wearing many sparkling diamonds, sat
within the coach. To Peter's astonishment, the lady was his Aunt Jane.

The coach stopped with a great jingling of the twelve harnesses, and
Aunt Jane leaned out of the window, and said to Peter, "What are you
doing here, child?"

"I was on my way to your cottage with a basket of fine fresh eggs,"
answered Peter.

"Well, it's fortunate I found you," said Aunt Jane, "for I have given up
living in the cottage, and have now got a castle of my own. Jump in,
Peter, and don't forget your basket."

So Peter climbed into the coach, closed the door behind him, and was
driven away. The coach went over hill and down dale; it went through
strange forests from whose branches green parrots whooped and shrieked;
it rolled through valleys in strange shining mountains. Peter stole a
look at Aunt Jane and saw that she was wearing a crown.

"Are you a queen, Aunt Jane?" he asked.

"Indeed, I am," replied his aunt. "You see, Peter, two days ago, while I
was lo