ad message, and
flying out rejoined her bother.

"Did she hear you?" asked he.

"Oh, yes," said Rosedrop. "I told her all about it, and she looked very
sad indeed. How sorry I am for her. I am sure I shall feel dreadfully
when the Phoenix dies."

Now Isal really did hear all that Rosedrop told her; for as the Tufter
flew through the open window, a suggestion entered the open window of
her mind as she lay asleep, and this is what it showed her:--A lonely
woodman's hut in the forest upon the bank of a great blue river; in the
hut a solitary man, pale and thin, worn out with sickness and sorrow
stretched upon a bed; not a living thing about the house; the axe lying
rusty from disuse by the trunk of a fallen tree; one little bed deserted
in the other corner of the room, toward which the sick man is turned
with longing look, while his lips move but refuse to speak the name his
heart dwells upon. And just as the Tufter flew out, having told her
message, so did the picture vanish from Isal's mind, and in its place
followed others in quick succession, all of them centering about one
person--a maiden, who is now playing by the same hut, now surrounded
mysteriously by strange birds, now waking to find herself kissed by a
noble-looking man, who marries her and makes her Queen of the land. With
this she awoke, and saw the Prince leaning over her.

"What were you dreaming about, Morning-Star, that made you look so sad
just before I kissed you?" said the Prince. Then Isal told him her
dream.

"My father is sick unto death," she said sorrowfully, when she had
finished, "and longs to see his daughter." But the Prince comforted her,
and told her that he would send messengers who should travel over the
whole country to find her father and bring her word of him. So the
messengers were sent out in search of the woodman. But the Prince did
not know nor Isal, that he lived so far away and so hidden that it
would not be possible to reach him before he died.

Meanwhile the Phoenix and the Tufters kept watch over the whole
matter. The eldest Tufter returned one night from a visit to the palace
where he had seen his friend, the Rabbit. "The Peacock," said he, "would
have nothing to do with me since I took to calling on the Rabbit; but I
am not sorry, for he is very tiresome and is for ever talking about his
tail. The Rabbit is much more sensible, though he has some strange
tastes. Do you know, he is very fond of chewing parsley? Is it not