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CHAPTER XXII
They all resumed their journey at sunrise, carrying with them a fair supply of food which the townspeople had brought; and by noon they had crossed the boundary into a different kingdom, where the cruelties of the wicked King John were wholly unknown, and where Prince Arthur became almost the gayest member of the band.
Late in the afternoon they came within sight of another castle; and as they were now journeying through a very lonely region, they decided that it would be a wise plan to apply at this place for accommodations for the night.
Somewhat to their dismay, however, they discovered upon drawing nearer that the castle was surrounded by a forest so dense that not even the smallest member of the band could penetrate between the trunks and branches. Nor did there seem to be a road for them to take, the only thing resembling a road having been abandoned so long that it was quite overgrown.
It was here that Will o'Dreams found opportunity to render a most important service. Without the slightest spirit of boasting he stepped forward, saying, "Follow me!"
To the amazement of all, the trees parted so that a way was opened and the entire band now found it quite easy to follow in the footsteps of the giant.
Together they all began to climb the hill in the direction of the mysterious castle.
But while the children are wending their way up the hill, let us take leave of them for a time, that we may have a peep at one of the rooms of the castle.
The room has been described as "the finest room in a king's palace," and while this would seem a somewhat exaggerated statement, there were at least many evidences of elegance to be noted.
Rich tapestries hung about the walls. They presented certain stories from mythology in the form of pictures traced in golden threads. There were golden candlesticks, and even the chairs and tables were of gold.
At the far side of the room, which was very large, there appeared to be a sort of alcove before which a damask curtain was closely drawn.
Before this curtain sat a lady of honor. She seemed a very great person indeed, her dress being inferior only to that of a queen in richness and elegance. She had a double chin and a very large stomach, which in her day were considered quite suitable to a person in her position.
Somewhat out of keeping with the golden furniture and the rich tapestries was the great fireplace containing an almost commonplace crane and kettle, and bordered by irregular areas of smoked wood and stone, indicating that the ventilation of the room needed looking after in the worst way.
In addition to the lady of honor there were other persons in the room: a scullion, or cook, with rather comical features and a red nose, who sat before the fireplace; a line of guards in mailed armor who were stationed around the walls, finely erect, with spears held perpendicularly, their ends resting on the floor; and a herald, or messenger, standing just inside an inner door.
But—wonderful to relate—the lady of honor, the scullion, the guards in mail, and the herald, were all sound asleep! Moreover, they had all been sound asleep for precisely one hundred years.
I should add that two other individuals already known to us were in the room: the Masked Lady and Mr. Literal. The Masked Lady held in her hands a time-glass precisely like an hourglass in every respect, save that it was designed to measure the passage of a full century. The last grains of sand were just falling when she looked up, startled, because Mr. Literal had broken the stillness by yawning. He was plainly bored, and he was looking about the room at the various sleepers as if he were thoroughly tired of them all.
After Mr. Literal had finished his yawn a truly unearthly silence reigned. There wasn't so much as the ticking of a clock or the falling of embers in the fireplace. Silence, a long, long silence.
Then a distant door opened and closed sharply. There was the muffled tramp of many feet. And then—what have we here? Everychild entered the room!
He was followed instantly by Cinderella, Hansel and Grettel, Will o'Dreams, Prince Arthur, Tom Hubbard, Little Bo-Peep, Little Boy Blue, the children of the Old Woman who lived in a shoe (who numbered some forty boys and girls all told), and last of all, the little black dog.
There was necessarily a good deal of bustle and noise while the members of the band were entering; but when Everychild had had time to look about him he was smitten with silence, and all his companions suddenly became as quiet as mice.
Then Everychild perceived the Masked Lady, and for once he was very glad to see her. He approached her eagerly, if somewhat timidly.
"What is this strange place?" he whispered.
And as the Masked Lady did not reply to him, he turned to Cinderella. "Am I—are we—dreaming?" he asked.
Cinderella reassured him promptly. "We are not dreaming," she said. "I have seen other places as beautiful. The ballroom where I danced—it might have been in this very castle. Yet how strange it is to find them all asleep!" And she gazed about the room with amused wonder.
"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.
And then she said, in a voice which would have set the birds to singing, if there had been any near by—
"Is it you, my prince? You have waited a long while!"