l alone in a small house which contained but one
room. She had lived alone ever since the time her mother had gone to the
palace of the Great King. At first Maggie had cried very bitterly to
think of living alone without her mother; so did her mother, too, as for
that matter, for no mother ever loved her child more dearly than she did
Maggie.

"Maggie," she had said to her, when she knew she must go, "I shall love
you just as tenderly as ever, and always think of you, even while I am
in the Great King's palace. It is a long journey thither, and I expect I
shall be obliged to go through a great many dark and strange places
before coming there; and I fear, the most of all, to leave you in this
little old house all alone; but you know I cannot disobey the King, and
so must follow this servant whom he has sent to bring me. But, O,
Maggie, do follow me _some time_, for I shall be anxiously watching for
you till you come! Be sure, now, and don't disappoint me; and when you
come I think you had better start early in the morning, for the road is
a long and dangerous one."

Perhaps this was a long speech to make; but when mothers go on such
journeys as Maggie's mother was to go on, it is not an unusual custom
for them to do so,--and especially when we remember how she would leave
Maggie all alone; it was only to be wondered she said no more.

When her mother had really gone, the first thing Maggie did was to sit
down upon the door-step and cry bitterly. She could not bear to think
her mother had really gone, and that if ever she wanted to see her she
must start upon that long, long journey. At first I don't think she
loved to think about the Great King who had taken her mother away, and
she was obliged to think over the beautiful things her mother had said
of him many times, before she could be glad he had called her mother.
But at last she rose from the door-step, and went into the house. She
had not much in it, 'tis true; she hadn't much to put in it; and if she
had had more, the house was so small there would have been no place for
anything but what already was there. The principal thing in the room was
the chimney-place. It was so large as to cover the whole of one side of
the room. There was a broad stone hearth, on which sometimes Maggie
would place a few sticks she had picked up in the streets, and light
them; but the little fire they made looked just as if it were ashamed of
itself for burning in such a great fireplace