“Nothing intelligent,” agreed the Princess, “so they let him alone, to be happy in his own way.”
“Is Little Bear his child?” asked the Kitten.
“No, Kitten. They aren’t related; they only both happen to be bears and neighbors. Major never goes away from his place—almost never,” she corrected herself. Then she stopped, and began again, talking to herself. “There was once—such a time as they had—” She shook her head, but she did’t say any more.
“Aren’t you going to tell it?” asked Pat.
“Bimeby,” said the Princess, suddenly energetic. “I’m going to draw him now.
“Now, my Hearties! How’s that for a bear? and just crying for stars. Look alive! and see what you’ll see when he has them on.”
They placed his pebbles, and seven were especially large, and all the time Pat kept saying: “I don’t see anything. What is it?”—and all the Princess would say was, “Look at him hard,—his stars,—never mind his legs.” And then Phyllisy saw something that made her laugh. “Oh, Dearie! Is that what made you think of it?—The Dipper—what he thinks?”
“S-sh,” said the Princess.
“What are you laughing at? Tell me now,” said Pat.
“Don’t you see, Pat?” explained Phyllisy. “It’s the old Dipper we always knew—part of it is. I never thought of it’s being the same.”