“‘Take the path to the right,’ said the little, old witch, ’and keep to the right, no matter how thick the forest, and you’ll come to a fountain.  At the fountain you’ll find a beautiful nymph, and she’ll tell you what to do next.’”

“And did he?” questioned Rob, eagerly.

“Be still, Rob.  Let Polly tell it,” whispered Lena, laying her hand on his arm.

“The Prince mounted his horse,” continued Polly, “and just then he noticed the little path at the right of the pool.  He’d not seen it before.  He turned his horse into the path, and the horse acted as if he knew the way, and trotted along at a fine gait.

“At last he reached the fountain, but the nymph wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“‘What did the witch tell me to say?’ said the prince.

“Then a voice said: 

“’Cymbrel!  Cymbrel! 
 By a fountain or a well,
 Whistle thrice, and you shall see,
 A lovely nymph will come to thee!’

“Then the prince called out:  ‘Cymbrel!  Cymbrel!’ and whistled three times, and out of the fountain rose a lovely nymph.  There were pearls and diamonds in her hair, and her robe was of rainbow colored mist.

“She held out her hand, and the prince sprang from his horse, and bowed low before her.

“‘There never was anyone so lovely as you,’ said the prince, and he was—­”

“Just wild to win her,” said Rob, who had been silent a long time.

“That’s it,” agreed Polly, “he was wild to win her, and he didn’t say a word, for fear that the mist would melt, and she’d disappear.

“Then she spoke, and her voice sounded like music.

“‘I am enchanted,’” she said.

“And the prince said ‘So am I,’” said Rob.

“Oh, no he didn’t,” laughed Polly.

“You mustn’t interrupt,” said Lena.

“I’m not interrupting,” said Rob, “I’m only helping Princess Polly with the story, and telling how I’d have felt, if I’d been the prince.”

“Well, you aren’t the prince,” Lena replied, “so you listen.”

“When the prince looked up, and saw that the lovely nymph was smiling, he felt so strong and brave that he told her that he wanted to win her, and he asked what would—­would undo, oh that isn’t the word, but that’s what he meant,” said Polly, “so never mind, I’ll use it.  He wanted to know what would undo the enchantment.

“’You can not win me until I am disenchanted.  Free me, and I am yours.  My enchantment must last until the ogre who dwells in this forest is killed,’ whispered the nymph.

“The prince drew his sword.

“‘With this I will free you, and you shall be mine,’ he said, and mounting his horse he rode through the forest, looking this way, and that, in search of the ogre.

“Every evening he rode back to the fountain, and there he wearily told the nymph that he had not yet found the ogre.