At a little distance from them there was a spectacle most beautiful to behold.  This was afforded by the Masked Lady and the task in which she was engaged.  She stood near an immense open window, beside the most beautiful dove-cote ever seen.  It was silver and green, topping a pillar of gold.  It had several compartments, all containing pure white doves.  These were engaged in bringing or carrying messages.  At intervals doves entered the open window and perched on the Masked Lady’s arms.  These were placed in the cote and others were removed from the cote and carried to the window, from which they flew away and disappeared.

While the Masked Lady was engaged in this task it was to be noted that there was a very sad expression in her eyes.  She was turning over certain things in her mind.

The truth is that Everychild had been married just a year, and she was thinking how it would be necessary before long for him to be conducted to the grim Mountain of Reality.  She knew that this was a very terrible experience, or that it would seem so just at first; and that is why there was a sad expression in her eyes.  She knew very well, however, that the matter could not be put off very much longer.  Indeed, she had been able to detect an occasional shadow in Everychild’s eyes which proved that he was already beginning to see the formidable Mountain of Reality in the distance.  I should also explain that the messages she was sending and receiving with the aid of the white doves all had a bearing upon the plan she had in mind of taking Everychild, ere long, upon the most difficult journey he was ever to make.

Although silence reigned in the room, there was the murmur of children’s voices in the distance, occasionally rising to a joyous shout.  The children were clearly at play in some invisible court; and when their cries were particularly joyous, Everychild and the Sleeping Beauty glanced at each other and smiled indulgently.

At length the voices of the children became inaudible; and a moment later Cinderella entered the room.  She stood an instant, her hands on her hips and an almost impatient expression in her eyes; and then she approached Everychild and the Sleeping Beauty.

Everychild glanced up at her with a slightly patronizing smile.  “Well, Cinderella?” he asked.

She put her hair back rather energetically and exclaimed—­“Oh, I’m bored.  That’s the honest truth.  Those games out there—­they do get so tiresome.  And Grettel is such a simpleton, really.  She keeps saying ’Think of something else for us to play, Cinderella—­think of something else.’  She never thinks of anything herself.  Neither does Hansel, nor any of them.”

She sighed and glanced back the way she had come, and it was to be noted that the sound of playing had not been resumed.

It was the Sleeping Beauty who replied.  “Never mind, Cinderella,” she said.  “You know I realize quite well what it is to be bored.”  She had spoken gently; and now she smiled with a certain playfulness.  “The prince with the missing slipper will find you soon enough.  You’ve only to be patient, and the day will come when you’ll seldom be bored any more.”