“And the way the forest opened as we climbed the hill,” added Everychild, “just as if we were expected.  Did anything like it ever happen before?”

The Masked Lady remarked almost dreamily:  “When Everychild seeks the place where the Sleeping Beauty lies, forests always open and the steepest paths are easy to climb.”

Everychild caught at the name.  “The Sleeping Beauty—­I have heard of her,” he said.  And he added, “Is she here?”

The Masked Lady did not reply in words, but the obscure smile on her lips was very significant.

It was Cinderella who clasped her hands in sudden ecstacy and cried, “She must be here.  A place so lovely—­it couldn’t have been meant for any one else!” She spoke with such elation that all the other children looked at her with beaming eyes.

Everychild asked in perplexity—­“But if she be here . . . ?”

“You haven’t forgotten, have you?” asked Cinderella.  “She was doomed to sleep a hundred years, until the prince came to waken her with a kiss.”

“And is she still waiting?” asked Everychild.

“I haven’t a doubt in the world that she is still waiting.”

“She is always waiting,” said the dreamy voice of the Masked Lady.

“But not—­not here?” asked Everychild.

“There’s never any telling where you’ll find things,” replied Cinderella.  “We might look at least.”

No one had observed that the Masked Lady had straightened up with a very dramatic gesture. The sand in the glass she held had all fallen!

No sooner had she spoken than Cinderella advanced to the alcove hidden by the damask curtain.  The other children watched her intently.  She barely touched the curtain—­yet it was drawn aside.  And everything within the alcove became visible.

There was a perfectly beautiful bed, all trimmed with gold and silver lace, so it is said.  And on it reposed a slight, queen-like young lady, fully dressed, yet sound asleep.  Her cheeks were delicately tinted, indicating perfect health.  Her lips were slightly parted; her bosom rose and fell tranquilly.  A naked little Cupid knelt on her pillow, his wings aloft, his eyes intently inspecting her closed eyelids.

Everychild seemed really to lose control of himself.  He gazed, and then he advanced in a manner so determined that Cinderella drew back, leaving him alone with the sleeper, save for the Cupid on the pillow and the lady of honor asleep in her chair.

“It is the Sleeping Beauty!” exclaimed Everychild.  Somehow or other he knew positively.  He knelt down beside her and gazed at her reverently.  Slowly and gently he reached for the hand nearest him. He took it into his own; and then—­he never could have told what put it into his head to do so!—­he shyly kissed the beautiful hand.

And the Sleeping Beauty?  She sighed and opened her eyes.  For an instant she gazed dreamily at the ceiling.  Then she sat up, placing her feet on the floor.  With wonder and delight she leaned a little forward, her eyes fixed on Everychild’s.