The boy stepped on more briskly.
"There! Now we're in the palace. And here's the seat of honour—isn't it fine? And here's a bench at the side—but a guest must always have the seat of honour."
"And what about the master of the house?" asked the girl, with a laugh.
"He'll sit on the bench, of course."
They smiled at each other.
"And see, it's decked out all ready, with sprays of green and red fir blossoms."
"Yes, indeed—a real palace. It's two years now since we had a talk together, and now to meet in a palace…!"
"We've not seen much of each other, it's true," said he, with a ring of remembrance in his voice. "And we used to be together whole summers in the old days. Do you remember how you were mistress of the house, with twenty-five milch cows in the shed, and as many sheep as Jacob at the end of his last year's service?"
"Yes, yes, I remember." Her blue eyes sparkled, and the two young people's laughter echoed over the hillside.
The forest woke from his dreams, and stopped to listen to the tale of the children at play.