Fairy Tales for Young Readers by E. Nesbit

difficulty.
    So a year went by, and the seasons changed the face of the country from brown to green, and from green to yellow, and from yellow to russet, and from russet to white. But in the garden within the ring of the wood nothing changed at all. There it was always high midsummer, and the roses flamed in the sunshine, and the jasmine flowers shone like stars in the twilight. And the years went on and on, and people were born and grew up, and married, and died, and still all was summer and sleep and silence in the palace in the wood.

    And at long last the hundred years were all but accomplished. There remained but one day of all their many, many, many days.
    And on that day a prince came riding through the town. He stopped in the market-place, and said:
    â€œWhere is the country palace of your king?”
    â€œWe have no king,” a stout grazier answered him; “we’re a free and happy Republic, we are.”
    â€œBut you had a king once,” said the Prince. “Where was his country palace?”
    â€œI’ve heard Granfer tell it was out yonder,” said the grazier, “beyond the wood that no man can pass.”
    So the Prince went on, and by asking his way of all the old people he met on the country road he came at last to the wood that no man could pass.
    â€œIt ain’t no good, master,” said an old shepherd, who could just remember hearing that there was a palace inside there; “you’ll never get through. What’s set you on finding out a place that’s dead and gone, and clean forgot?”
    â€œI dreamed,” said the Prince, “three happy nights I dreamed that within your king’s country palace I should find the light of my eyes and the desire of my heart.”
    â€œAnd what are they?” the shepherd asked.
    â€œI do not know yet,” said the Prince, “but I shall know.”
    â€œI’d turn back and get me home along, if I was you,” said the shepherd. “Why, suppose it was lions inside there, or dragons? There’d be a pretty how-de-do!”
    â€œI can’t turn back,” said the Prince; “my dream is calling me, and I must follow. You take my horse and be good to him. If I come back safe to my own kingdom, I will pay you. If not, then you have a good horse for your pains.”
    So saying, he dismounted, drew his sword, and went forward to the wood.
    â€œ You ’ ll never get through,” said the old shepherd. “A many’s tried that. Why, the boys is always at it. They never gets nothing but scratched faces and torn hands to show for it. What do you expect to get?”

    â€œI don’t know,” said the Prince again; “but I shall know.”
    And he struck with his sword at the great twisted branches interwoven with briars and thick honeysuckle and thorny eglantine. And though they were so hard and thorny, at the touch of his sword they grew soft as dandelion stalks, so that he cut his way through them as easily as a man mows young grass with a scythe.
    â€œWell, if ever I did!” said the old shepherd.
    The Prince went on deeper and deeper to find the heart of the wood, and when he found the heart it was a green garden, all bright and fair and orderly, with rolled grass plots and smooth paths, and roses of all the colours there are, and starry tangles of jasmine. And in the middle of the wood’s heart was the palace of his dreams. The garden was so still that it seemed to him as though he might even yet be dreaming, so he plucked a red rose, and smelt it, and knew that it all was real, and no dream.
    On he went, up the terraces and through the hall, where, at the table, and at their service, King, Queen and courtiers slept, looking like life-sized figures in wax. At the end of the hall were golden curtains, and it was from behind them that his dream beckoned to him. He parted the curtains and went in. There on the carved ebony bed lay the Princess, between the