“It’s a big place, this world,” thought the little Prince.  “I wonder when I shall come to the end of it.”  You see, he had never been outside the palace grounds.  And he had only ridden a little Finnish pony.  And now he sat high up, perched on the back of the great black horse, who galloped with hoofs that thundered beneath him, and leapt over rivers and streams and hillocks, and anything else that came in his way.

On and on galloped the little Prince on the great black horse.  There were no houses anywhere to be seen.  It was a long time since they had passed any people, and little Prince Ivan began to feel very lonely, and to wonder if indeed he had come to the end of the world, and could bring his journey to an end.

Suddenly, on a wide, sandy plain, he saw two old, old women sitting in the road.

They were bent double over their work, sewing and sewing, and now one and now the other broke a needle, and took a new one out of a box between them, and threaded the needle with thread from another box, and went on sewing and sewing.  Their old noses nearly touched their knees as they bent over their work.

Little Prince Ivan pulled up the great black horse in a cloud of dust, and spoke to the old women.

“Grandmothers,” said he, “is this the end of the world?  Let me stay here and live with you, and be safe from my baby sister, who is a witch and has iron teeth.  Please let me stay with you, and I’ll be very little trouble, and thread your needles for you when you break them.”

“Prince Ivan, my dear,” said one of the old women, “this is not the end of the world, and little good would it be to you to stay with us.  For as soon as we have broken all our needles and used up all our thread we shall die, and then where would you be?  Your sister with the iron teeth would have you in a minute.”

The little Prince cried bitterly, for he was very little and all alone.  He rode on further over the wide world, the black horse galloping and galloping, and throwing the dust from his thundering hoofs.

He came into a forest of great oaks, the biggest oak trees in the whole world.  And in that forest was a dreadful noise—­the crashing of trees falling, the breaking of branches, and the whistling of things hurled through the air.  The Prince rode on, and there before him was the huge giant, Tree-rooter, hauling the great oaks out of the ground and flinging them aside like weeds.

“I should be safe with him,” thought little Prince Ivan, “and this, surely, must be the end of the world.”

He rode close up under the giant, and stopped the black horse, and shouted up into the air.

“Please, great giant,” says he, “is this the end of the world?  And may I live with you and be safe from my sister, who is a witch, and grows like a seed of corn, and has iron teeth?”

“Prince Ivan, my dear,” says Tree-rooter, “this is not the end of the world, and little good would it be to you to stay with me.  For as soon as I have rooted up all these trees I shall die, and then where would you be?  Your sister would have you in a minute.  And already there are not many big trees left.”