ambling old-fashioned house. A man was cleaning an automobile and
through the open window Mary Rose could hear his cheery whistle. There
was something about the old-fashioned house and the spacious yard that
reminded Mary Rose of Mifflin, where people loved children and had
pets. The puzzled frown left her face, and clutching George Washington
closer she went out of the back door and across the alley.

"If you please," she said, her heart beating so fast that she was
almost choked, "would you take a cat to board?"

She had to say it a second time before the man heard her. He looked up
in surprise. He had a frank, pleasant face with twinkling eyes and
Mary Rose liked him at once.

"Hullo, brother," he said, quite as cordially as a Mifflin man would
have spoken. "And where did you drop from?"

"I didn't drop," answered literal Mary Rose. "I came across the
alley," and she nodded toward the big apartment house. It now turned a
white brick face to her. Mary Rose almost forgot her errand when she
saw that. In Mifflin houses were the same color all the way around.
"Why--why, it's two-faced!" she cried. "The front is all red and now
the back is all white. It's just like an enchanted palace."

"It is an enchanted palace," grumbled the man.

Mary Rose flew to his side. "Oh, is there a princess there? A
beautiful princess?" she begged.

The man colored under the tan the sun and wind had spread over his
face. "There is," he admitted, "a most beautiful princess."

"And a witch?" insisted Mary Rose. "A wicked witch?" The color flew
into her face also.

"The wickedest witch that could ever enslave a beautiful princess. Her
darned old name is Independence!"

Mary Rose did not understand and she thought it was an odd name for a
witch but she wished to know more. "And is the prince there?" she
demanded thirstily.

The man's face turned redder than before. "The prince is here," he
said sadly. "Right here. And he might as well be in Jericho," he
added under his breath.

"I've heard the Presbyterian minister speak of Jericho but I never read
of it in any fairy-tale. Oh, dear! I hope the prince won't go there.
I want him to stay here and rescue the pretty princess from that wicked
witch In-independence," she stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

The man looked at her. He had to look away down to find her, for he
was tall, over six feet, and Mary Rose was not much more than half
that, but when he finall