Patty then took an affectionate leave of her parents, and she and her husband stepped into the barge. Still the water flowed from the pitcher’s mouth, until the lake grew into a mighty river, down which they floated until they came in sight of their beautiful home, standing high upon the rocks which bordered the stream.
Hundreds of flags floated from the towers, and booming cannon sent forth a noisy welcome. Crowds of rejoicing people stood to receive their beloved mistress, whose kindness had long ago endeared her to their grateful hearts; and, when at length they landed, the people rushed forward—happy if they even succeeded in kissing the hem of her garment.
After that Patty lived many years in peace and prosperity; but the magic pitcher was seen no more, for Patty was happy, and its loving task was done.
* * * * * *
As the Story Lady ceased speaking, the actors vanished from the magic circle into thin air.
“Oh, I wish I could learn to tell stories like that!” exclaimed Mary Frances.
“You can,” said the Story King, heartily; “for you have come to the home of good story-tellers.”
“Yes, you can, my dear, because you love stories,” said the Story Queen.
“And for that reason you will always be young,” added the Story King; “for good story-tellers never grow old.”
“It seems too good to be true; the Story Lady is so wonderful,” returned Mary Frances.