"Yes; she cried till all the brightness went out of her pretty eyes. Then she stopped crying and laughed instead, because—Oh; because crying didn't help a bit."
"You've been crying, Aunty Evelyn!" said Doris suddenly. "Why-e! your eyes are all teary now!"
"I've got a cold; I'm afraid," prevaricated Miss Tripp.
"I don't like that story," objected Doris. "Unless——" and her eyes brightened, "the prince came back. Let him come back, Aunty Evelyn; please let him; it'll spoil the story if he doesn't."
Miss Tripp drew a deep breath. "I—wish he might come back," she said; "but I—I'm afraid he never will, dear; and the poor little princess will have to go on alone till——"
"Till what?" demanded Doris indignantly. "I c'n tell a better story 'an that," she added.
"Tell it, dear."
"Well; the princess went out in her horrid ol' black clo'es an' travelled an' travelled, an' travelled till she was mos' tired out, an' everywhere she went she asked 'where is my prince?' An' at first all the people said, 'We don't know where any prince is.' But the princess jus' made up her mind she would find him; an'—an' bimeby she did—jus' as easy! He was right there all the time; only he was enchanted by an awful bad fairy so she couldn't see him, an' so——"
Doris paused to draw breath, and Richard gravely took up the tale, nodding the while like a gay little china mandarin. "He was 'chanted an' she was 'chanted, an' they bof was 'chanted, an'——"