“Make some more Star People while you consider, Dearie,” urged Phyllisy.
So the Princess moved along the sand (and they were glad it was a good, gray day, not glaring), and she drew more, the same way as Little Bear. They didn’t try to be likenesses, but you would know whom they were meant for,—Cassiopeia and the Dragon and Orion and more,—and the Others put in the stars. It used a great many pebbles and shells, though they put in only the principal ones. But they ought to be pretty ones, so they went a good way off to find them.
DRACO
“This is the way Draco looked, guarding the Golden Fleece, except his expression. He had to look fierce then, but he always had a sweet nature.—You’ll observe that he has no teeth. He did have, but Jason took them. He threw the magic drops straight into Draco’s jaws when they were gaping open to swallow him, and the Dragon went so immediately to sleep that he hadn’t even time to close his mouth. Then Jason took, not only the fleece, but his teeth; because he always liked to have a few dragon’s teeth in his pocket. He had used them before, for a Bewitchment, and he never knew when he might need them.—Very few people know about this, but it’s just as true as the part they do know.” The Princess spoke severely, but the Others giggled.
They thought Draco ought to have stars on his tail, but she said his wings folded back over most of it when they weren’t set up. Hercules gave him the small star on his nose, because he had a great many, and Draco needed that one to make him symmetrical.
When they came back from farther off, they couldn’t guess what the long wavy line was meant for, that she was drawing beyond Orion—in deep loops down and back.
“This is the Starland River,” she explained. “The Ancients called it the Eridanus. That was the name of one of their own Earth rivers. Once Phaeton tried to drive the chariot of the Sun,—the Sun God was his father,—but he didn’t know how, and horses, chariot, and all plunged into the river, and he was drowned for his folly, but the chariot and horses came out shining again the next morning at sunrise. And Phaeton’s three sisters stood on the bank of the river and mourned and mourned for him, and wouldn’t go away. So Jupiter kindly changed them into poplar trees;—and right here—and here—and here”—she showed the places and the Others laid especial shells—“are the stars that mark the tall poplars on the bank. At least, that’s what I think. You may choose others if you like, but they are certainly there.”
The Princess surprisingly sprang up, and the pointed shell flew out of her hand, over the hard sand, and beyond the worrying green-white edge, into the gray sea.
“What did you do that for?” Pat remonstrated.
“Because-that-was-a-sign-that-it-wouldn’t-be-lucky-to-have-any-more-drawing-on-the-sand-because-that-was-Enough,” said the Princess.
“Will you tell it now?” asked the Kitten.