"I didn't drop," answered literal Mary Rose. "I came across the alley," and she nodded toward the big apartment house. It now turned a white brick face to her. Mary Rose almost forgot her errand when she saw that. In Mifflin houses were the same color all the way around. "Why—why, it's two-faced!" she cried. "The front is all red and now the back is all white. It's just like an enchanted palace."
"It is an enchanted palace," grumbled the man.
Mary Rose flew to his side. "Oh, is there a princess there? A beautiful princess?" she begged.
The man colored under the tan the sun and wind had spread over his face. "There is," he admitted, "a most beautiful princess."
"And a witch?" insisted Mary Rose. "A wicked witch?" The color flew into her face also.
"The wickedest witch that could ever enslave a beautiful princess. Her darned old name is Independence!"
Mary Rose did not understand and she thought it was an odd name for a witch but she wished to know more. "And is the prince there?" she demanded thirstily.
The man's face turned redder than before. "The prince is here," he said sadly. "Right here. And he might as well be in Jericho," he added under his breath.
"I've heard the Presbyterian minister speak of Jericho but I never read of it in any fairy-tale. Oh, dear! I hope the prince won't go there. I want him to stay here and rescue the pretty princess from that wicked witch In-independence," she stumbled over the unfamiliar word.
The man looked at her. He had to look away down to find her, for he was tall, over six feet, and Mary Rose was not much more than half that, but when he finally did find her Mary Rose was amazed to see the look of determination that came into his sunburned face.