But one day he climbed up and up to the topmost turret of the castle.  From there he could see the whole world.  And far, far away, beyond the mountains, beyond the forests, beyond the wide plains, he saw his father’s palace where he had been born.  The roof of the palace was gone, and the walls were broken and crumbling.  And little Prince Ivan came slowly down from the turret, and his eyes were red with weeping.

“My dear,” says the Sun’s little sister, “why are your eyes so red?”

“It is the wind up there,” says little Prince Ivan.

And the Sun’s little sister put her head out of the window of the castle of cloud and whispered to the winds not to blow so hard.

But next day little Prince Ivan went up again to that topmost turret, and looked far away over the wide world to the ruined palace.  “She has eaten them all with her iron teeth,” he said to himself.  And his eyes were red when he came down.

“My dear,” says the Sun’s little sister, “your eyes are red again.”

“It is the wind,” says little Prince Ivan.

And the Sun’s little sister put her head out of the window and scolded the wind.

But the third day again little Prince Ivan climbed up the stairs of cloud to that topmost turret, and looked far away to the broken palace where his father and mother had lived.  And he came down from the turret with the tears running down his face.

“Why, you are crying, my dear!” says the Sun’s little sister.  “Tell me what it is all about.”

So little Prince Ivan told the little sister of the Sun how his sister was a witch, and how he wept to think of his father and mother, and how he had seen the ruins of his father’s palace far away, and how he could not stay with hen happily until he knew how it was with his parents.

“Perhaps it is not yet too late to save them from her iron teeth, though the old groom said that she would certainly eat them, and that it was the will of God.  But let me ride back on my big black horse.”

“Do not leave me, my dear,” says the Sun’s little sister.  “I am lonely here by myself.”

“I will ride back on my big black horse, and then I will come to you again.”

“What must be, must,” says the Sun’s little sister; “though she is more likely to eat you than you are to save them.  You shall go.  But you must take with you a magic comb, a magic brush, and two apples of youth.  These apples would make young once more the oldest things on earth.”

Then she kissed little Prince Ivan, and he climbed up on his big black horse, and leapt out of the window of the castle down on the end of the world, and galloped off on his way back over the wide world.

He came to Mountain-tosser, the giant.  There was only one mountain left, and the giant was just picking it up.  Sadly he was picking it up, for he knew that when he had thrown it away his work would be done and he would have to die.