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Rollo pushed a little more, and still a little. No sound was heard—no voice demanded what they wanted; they gathered courage, till at last the door stood sufficiently ajar for them to see inside. It was a neat, plain, exceedingly clean, little kitchen which stood revealed to their view. Rollo and Maia, with another glance around them, another instant's hesitation, stepped in.

The floor was only sanded, the furniture was of plain unvarnished deal, yet there was something indescribably dainty and attractive about the room. There was no fire burning in the hearth, but all was ready laid for lighting it, and on the table, covered with a perfectly clean, though coarse cloth, plates and cups for a meal were set out. It seemed to be for three people. A loaf of brownish bread, and a jug filled with milk, were the only provisions to be seen. Maia stepped forward softly and looked longingly at the milk.

'Do you think it would be wrong to take some, Rollo?' she said. 'I am so thirsty, and they must be nice people that live here, it looks so neat.' But just then, catching sight of the three chairs drawn round the table, as well as of the three cups and three plates upon it, she drew back with a little scream. 'Rollo,' she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling, half with fear, half with excitement, 'I do believe we've got into the cottage of the three bears.'

'Rollo,' she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling, half with fear, half with excitement, 'I do believe we've got into the cottage of the three bears.'

Rollo burst out laughing, though, to tell the truth, he was not quite sure if his sister was in fun or earnest.

'Nonsense, Maia!' he said. 'Why, that was hundreds of years ago. You don't suppose the bears have gone on living ever since, do you? Besides, it wouldn't do at all. See, there are two smaller chairs and one arm-chair here. Two small cups and one big one. It's just the wrong way for the bears. It must be two children and one big person that live here.'

'I should think you might,' said Rollo. 'You see we can come back and pay for it another day when they're at home. If we had any money we might leave it here on the table, to show we're honest. But we haven't any.'

'No,' said Maia, as she poured out some milk, taking care not to spill any on the tablecloth, 'not a farthing. Oh, Rollo,' she continued, 'such delicious milk! Won't you have some?'

'No; I'm not thirsty,' he replied. 'See, Maia, there's another little kitchen out of this—for washing dishes in—a sort of scullery,' for he had opened another door as he spoke.

'And, oh, Rollo,' said Maia, peering about, 'see, there's a little stair. Oh, do let's go up.'

It seemed a case of 'in for a penny, in for a pound.' Having made themselves so much at home, the children felt inclined to go a little farther. They had soon climbed the tiny staircase and were rewarded for their labour by finding two little bed-rooms, furnished just alike, and though neat and exquisitely clean, as plain and simple as the kitchen.

'Really, Rollo,' said Maia, 'this house might have been built by the fairies for us two, and see, isn't it odd? the beds are quite small, like ours. I don't know where the big person sleeps whom the arm-chair and the big cup downstairs are for.'

'Perhaps there's another room,' said Rollo, but after hunting about they found there was nothing more, and they came downstairs again to the kitchen, more puzzled than ever as to whom the queer little house could belong to.

'We'll come back again, the very first day we can,' said Maia, 'and tell the people about having taken the milk,' and then they left the cottage, carefully closing the door and gate behind them, and made their way back to where they had left Nanni. It took them longer than they had expected—either they mistook their way, or had wandered farther than they had imagined. But Nanni had suffered no anxiety on their account, for, even before they got up to her, they saw that she was enjoying a peaceful slumber.

'Poor thing!' said Maia. 'She must be very tired. I never knew her so sleepy before. Wake up, Nanni, wake up,' she went on, touching the maid gently on the shoulder. Up jumped Nanni, rubbing her eyes, but looking nevertheless very awake and good-humoured.

'Bless you, no, sir,' replied Nanni. 'You haven't been very long away, surely? I never did have such a beautiful sleep. There must be something in the air of this forest that makes one sleep. And such lovely dreams! I thought I saw a lady all dressed in green—dark green and light green,—for all the world like the fir-trees in spring, and with long light hair. She stooped over me and smiled, as if she was going to say something, but just then I awoke and saw Miss Maia.'

'And what do you think we've seen?' said Maia. 'The dearest little cottage you can fancy. Just like what Rollo and I would like to live in all by ourselves. And there was nobody there; wasn't it queer, Nanni?'

Nanni was much impressed, but when she had heard all about the children's adventure she grew a little frightened.

'I hope no harm will come of it,' she said. 'If it were a witch's cottage;' and she shivered.

'Nonsense, Nanni,' said Rollo; 'witches don't have cottages like that,—all so bright and clean, and delicious new milk to drink.'

But Nanni was not so easily consoled. 'I hope no harm may come of it,' she repeated.

By the lengthening shadows they saw that the afternoon was advancing, and that, if they did not want to be late for dinner, they must make the best of their way home.

'It would not do to be late to-day—the first time they have let us come out by ourselves,' said Maia sagely. 'If we are back in very good time perhaps Lady Venelda will soon let us come again.'

They were back in very good time, and went down to the dining-hall, looking very fresh and neat, as their cousin entered it followed by her ladies.

'You look all the better for your walk, my little friends,' said the old doctor. 'Come, tell us what you think of our forests, now you have seen the inside of them.'

'They are lovely,' said both children enthusiastically. 'I should like to live there,' Maia went on; 'and, oh, cousin, we saw the dearest little cottage, so neat and pretty! I wonder who lives there.'

'You went to the village, then,' Lady Venelda replied. 'I did not think you would go in that direction.'

'No,' said Rollo, 'we did not go near any village. It was a cottage quite alone, over that way,' and he pointed in the direction he meant.

'I know of no cottage by itself. I know of no cottages, save those in my own village. You must have been mistaken.'

'Young people should not contradict their elders,' said Lady Venelda freezingly, and poor Maia dared say no more. She was very thankful when the old doctor came to the rescue.

'Perhaps,' he said good-naturedly, 'perhaps our young friends sat down in the forest and had a little nap, in which they dreamt of this mysterious cottage. You are aware, my lady, that the aromatic odours of our delightful woods are said to have this tendency.'

Rollo and Maia looked at each other. 'That's true,' the look seemed to say, for the old doctor's words made them think of Nanni's beautiful dream. Not that they had been asleep, oh, no, that was impossible.

Everything about the cottage had been so real and natural. And besides, as Maia said afterwards to Rollo, 'People don't dream together of exactly the same things at exactly the same moment, as if they were reading a story-book,' with which Rollo of course agreed.

Still, at the time, they were not sorry that their cousin took up the doctor's idea, for she had seemed so very vexed before he suggested it.

'To be sure,' she replied graciously; 'that explains it. I have often heard of that quality of our wonderful woods. No doubt—tired as they were too—the children fell asleep without knowing it. Just so; but young people must never contradict their elders.'

The children dared not say any more, and, indeed, just then it would have been no use.

'She would not have believed anything we said about it,' said Maia as they went upstairs to their own rooms. 'But it isn't nice not to be allowed to tell anything like that. Father always believes us.'

'Yes,' said Rollo thoughtfully. 'I don't quite understand why Lady Venelda should have taken us up so about it. I don't much like going back to the cottage without leave—at least without telling her about it, and yet we must go. It would be such a shame not to pay for the milk.'

'Yes,' said Maia, 'and they might think there had been robbers there while they were out. Oh, we must go back!'

'Oh, Master Rollo and Miss Maia!' she exclaimed, 'we should be very thankful that no harm came to you this afternoon. I've been speaking to them in the kitchen about where you were, and, oh, but it must be an uncanny place! No one knows who lives there, though 'tis said about 'tis a witch. And the queer thing is, that 'tis but very few that have ever seen the cottage at all. Some have seen it and told the others about it, and when they've gone to look, no cottage could they find. Lady Venelda's own maid is one of those who was determined to find it, but she never could. And my Lady herself was so put out about it that she set off to look for it one day,—for no one has a right to live in the woods just hereabout without her leave,—and she meant to turn the people, whoever they were, about their business. But 'twas all for no use. She sought far and wide; ne'er a cottage could she find, and she wandered about the woods near a whole day for no use. Since then she is that touchy about it that, if any one dares but to mention a cottage hereabouts, save those in the village, it quite upsets her.'

Rollo and Maia looked at each other, but something made them feel it was better to say little before Nanni.

'And you won't want to go there again, I do hope,' the maid persisted. 'Whatever would I do if the witch got hold of you and turned you perhaps into blue birds or green frogs, or something dreadful? Whatever would your dear papa say to me? Oh, Miss Maia, do tell Master Rollo never to go there again.'

'Don't be afraid,' said Maia; 'we'll take care of ourselves. I can quite promise you we won't be turned into frogs or birds. But don't talk any more about it to-night, Nanni. I'm so sleepy, and I don't want to dream of horrible witches.'

But the next morning Rollo and Maia had a grand consultation together. They did not like the idea of not going to the cottage again, for they felt it would not be right not to explain about the milk, and they had besides a motive, which Nanni's strange story had no way lessened—that of great curiosity.

'It would be a shame not to pay for the milk,' said Rollo. 'I should feel uncomfortable whenever I thought of it.'

'So should I,' said Maia; 'even more than you, for it was I that drank it! And I do so want to find out who lives there. There must be children, I am sure, because of the little beds and chairs and cups, and everything.'

'If they are all for children, I don't know what there is for big people,' said Rollo. 'Perhaps they're some kind of dwarfs that live there.'

'Oh, what fun!' said Maia, clapping her hands. 'Oh, we must go back to find out!'

She started, for just as she said the words a voice behind them was heard to say, 'Go back; go back where, my children?'

They were walking up and down the terrace on one side of the castle, where Mademoiselle Delphine had sent them for a little fresh air between their lessons, and they were so engrossed by what they were talking of that they had not heard nor seen the old doctor approaching them. It was his voice that made Maia start. Both children looked rather frightened when they saw who it was, and that he had overheard what they were saying.

'We don't like to tell you, sir,' said Rollo frankly. 'You would say it was only fancy, as you did last night, and we know it wasn't fancy.'

'Oh, about the cottage?' said the old doctor coolly. 'You needn't be afraid to tell me about it, fancy or no fancy. Fancy isn't a bad thing sometimes.'

'But it wasn't fancy,' said both together; 'only we don't like to talk about it for fear of vexing our cousin, and we don't like to go back there without leave, and yet we should go back.'

Then Maia explained about the milk, adding, too, the strange things that Nanni had heard in the servants' hall. The old doctor listened attentively. His face looked quite pleased and good-humoured, and yet they saw he was not at all inclined to laugh at them. When they had finished, to the children's surprise he said nothing, but drew out a letter from his pocket.

Rollo and Maia exclaimed eagerly, 'Oh, yes; it is our father's. Do you know him? Do you know our father, Mr. Doctor?'

'I have known him,' said the old man, quietly drawing the contents out of the cover, 'I have known him since he was much smaller than either of you is now. It was by my advice he sent you here for a time, and see what he gave me for you.'

He held up as he spoke a small folded paper, which had been inside the other letter. It bore the words: 'For Rollo and Maia—to be given them when you think well.' 'I think well now,' he went on, 'so read what he says, my children.'

They quickly opened the paper. There was not much written inside—just a few words:

'Dear children,' they were, 'if you are in any difficulty, ask the advice of my dear old friend and adviser, the doctor, and you may be sure you will do what will please your father.'

For a moment or two the children were almost too surprised to speak. It was Rollo who found his voice first.

'Give us your advice now, Mr. Doctor. May we go back to the cottage without saying any more about it to Lady Venelda?'

'Yes,' said the old doctor. 'You may go anywhere you like in the woods. No harm will come to you. It is no use your saying any more about the cottage to Lady Venelda. She cannot understand it because she cannot find it. If you can find it you will learn no harm there, and your father would be quite pleased for you to go.'

'You will always have a holiday once a week,' said the doctor. 'It would not be good for you to go too often. Work cheerfully and well when you are at work, my children. I will see that you have your play.'

CHAPTER V.
THE STORY OF A KING'S DAUGHTER.

Godmother turned to the little strangers. The two pairs of blue eyes were still fixed upon her. Her eyes looked very kind and gentle, and yet very 'seeing', as she caught their gaze.

'I believe,' thought Maia, 'that she can tell all we are thinking;' and Rollo had something of the same idea, yet neither of them felt the least afraid of her.

'And we are very pleased to be here,' said they; 'but——' and then they hesitated.

'You are puzzled how it is I know your names, and all about you, are you not?' she said, smiling. 'I puzzle most children at first; but isn't it rather nice to be puzzled?'

This was a new idea. Thinking it over, they began to find there was something in it.

'If you knew all about everything, and could see through everything, there wouldn't be much interest left. Nothing to find out or to fancy. Oh, what a dull world!'

'Are we to find out or to fancy you?' asked Maia. She spoke seriously, but there was a little look of fun in her eyes which was at once reflected in godmother's.

Rollo and Maia both kissed the soft white face. It was so soft, and there seemed a sort of fresh, sweet scent about godmother, as if she had been in a room all filled with violets, only it was even nicer. She smiled, and from a little basket on her arm, which they had not noticed, she drew out several tiny bunches of spring flowers, tied with green and white ribbon—so pretty; oh, so very pretty!

'So you scented my flowers,' she said. 'No wonder; you have never scented any quite like them before. They come from the other country. Here, dears, catch,' and she tossed them up in the air, all four children jumping and darting about to see who would get most. But at the end, when they counted their treasures, it was quite right, each had got three.

'Oh, how sweet!' cried Maia. 'May we take them home with us, godmother?' It seemed to come quite naturally to call her that, and Maia did it without thinking.

'Certainly,' godmother replied; 'but remember this, don't throw them away when they seem withered. They will not be really withered; that is to say, long afterwards, by putting them in the sunshine, they will—some of them, any way—come out quite fresh again. And even when dried up they will have a delicious scent; indeed, the scent has an added charm about it the older they are—so many think, and I agree with them.'

'Then they are fairy flowers?' they half whispered. 'You said they came from the other country. Do you come from there too, godmother? Are you a fairy?'

'Fancy me one if you like,' she said. 'Fancy me whatever you like best, you will not be far wrong; but fairyland is only one little part of that other country. You will find that out as you get older.'

'Shall we go there some day, then?' exclaimed Maia. 'Will you take us, dear godmother? Have Waldo and Silva ever been?'

'Oh, what a lot of questions all at once!' cried godmother. 'I can't answer so many. You must be content to find out some things for yourself, my little girl. The way to the other country for one. Shall you go there some day? Yes, indeed, many and many a time, I hope.'

'Oh, how nice!' she said. 'And when? May we go to-day? Oh, Silva, do ask godmother to let us go to-day,' she exclaimed, catching hold of Silva in her eagerness. But Silva only smiled, and looked at godmother; and somehow, when they smiled, the two faces—the young one with its bright rich colour, and the old one, white, so white, except for the wonderful, beautiful eyes, that it might have been made of snow—looked strangely alike.

'Silva has learned to be patient,' said godmother, 'and so she gets to know more and more of the other country. You must follow her example, little Maia. Don't be discouraged. How do you know that you are not already on the way there? What do you think about it, my boy?' she went on, turning to Rollo, who was standing a little behind them listening, but saying nothing.

'That's right,' said godmother. And Maia felt more and more puzzled, as it seemed to her that Rollo understood the meaning of godmother's words better than she did.

'That is right,' said godmother again. 'But this is dull talk for you, little people. What is it to be to-day, Silva? What is old godmother to do for you?'

'The day will soon be closing into evening,' she said,' and Rollo and Maia cannot stay after sunset. We have not very long, godmother—no time to go anywhere.'

'Ah, I don't know about that,' godmother replied. 'But still—the first visit. What would you like, then, my child?'

'Let us gather round the fire, for it is a little chilly,' said Silva, 'and you, dear godmother, will tell us a story.'

Maia's eyes and Rollo's, too, brightened at this. Godmother had no need to ask if they would like it. She drew the large chair nearer the fireplace, and the four children clustered round her in silence waiting for her to begin.

'It is too warm with my cloak on,' she said, and she raised her hand to unfasten it at the neck and loosen it a little. It did not entirely fall off; the dark green hood still made a shade round her silvery hair and delicate face, but the cloak dropped away enough for Maia's sharp eyes to see that the dress underneath was of lovely crimson stuff, neither velvet nor satin, but richer and softer than either. It glimmered in the light of the fire with a sort of changing brilliance that was very tempting, and it almost seemed to Maia that she caught the sparkle of diamonds and other precious stones.

'May I stroke your pretty dress, godmother?' she said softly. Godmother started; she did not seem to have noticed how much of the crimson was seen, and for a moment Maia felt a little afraid. But then godmother smiled again, and the child felt quite happy, and slipped her hand inside the folds of the cloak till it reached the soft stuff beneath.

'Oh, how soft!' said Maia in delight. 'What is it made of? It isn't velvet, or even plush. Godmother,' she went on, puckering her forehead again in perplexity, 'it almost feels like feathers. Are you perhaps a bird as well as a fairy?'

At this godmother laughed. You never heard anything so pretty as her laugh. It was something like—no, I could never tell you what it was like—a very little like lots of tiny silver bells ringing, and soft breezes blowing, and larks trilling, all together and very gently, and yet very clearly. The children could not help all laughing, too, to hear it.

'Call me whatever you like,' said godmother. 'A bird, or a fairy, or a will-o'-the-wisp, or even a witch. Many people have called me a witch, and I don't mind. Only, dears,' and here her pretty, sweet voice grew grave, and even a little sad, 'never think of me except as loving you and wanting to make you happy and good. And never believe I have said or done anything to turn you from doing right and helping others to do it. That is the only thing that could grieve me. And the world is full of people who don't see things the right way, and blame others when it is their own fault all the while. So sometimes you will find it all rather difficult. But don't forget.'

'No,' said Maia, 'we won't forget, even though we don't quite understand. We will some day, won't we?'

'And just now,' said Silva, 'it doesn't matter. We needn't think about the difficult world, dear godmother, while we're here—ever so far away from it.'

'No, we need not,' said godmother, with what sounded almost like a sigh, if one could have believed that godmother could sigh! If it were one, it was gone in an instant, and with her very prettiest and happiest smile, godmother turned to the children.

The four figures drew still nearer, the four pair of eyes were fixed on the sweet white face, into which, as she spoke, a little soft pink colour began to come. Whether it was from the reflection of the fire or not, Maia could not decide, and godmother's clear voice went on.

'Well, well, once upon a time,' repeated godmother, 'though, by the by, how do you know I was not going to say it? Well, then, once upon a time, a long ago once upon a time, there lived a king's daughter.'

'A princess,' interrupted another voice, Maia's this time. 'Why don't you say a princess, dear godmother?'

'And don't interrupt any more, please,' said Waldo and Rollo together, quite forgetting that they were actually interrupting themselves.

CHAPTER III. THE MYSTERIOUS COTTAGE.

CHAPTER V. THE STORY OF A KING'S DAUGHTER.

CHAPTER III.
THE MYSTERIOUS COTTAGE.

CHAPTER V.
THE STORY OF A KING'S DAUGHTER.