"
"Horribly good," quoted Cyril.
"Everybody talked about her goodness, and the Prince of the country got
to hear about it, and he said that as she was so very good she might be
allowed once a week to walk in his park, which was just outside the town.
It was a beautiful park, and no children were ever allowed in it, so it
was a great honour for Bertha to be allowed to go there."
"Were there any sheep in the park?" demanded Cyril.
"No;" said the bachelor, "there were no sheep."
"Why weren't there any sheep?" came the inevitable question arising out
of that answer.
The aunt permitted herself a smile, which might almost have been
described as a grin.
"There were no sheep in the park," said the bachelor, "because the
Prince's mother had once had a dream that her son would either be killed
by a sheep or else by a clock falling on him. For that reason the Prince
never kept a sheep in his park or a clock in his palace."
The aunt suppressed a gasp of admiration.
"Was the Prince killed by a sheep or by a clock?" asked Cyril.
"He is still alive, so we can't tell whether the dream will come true,"
said the bachelor unconcernedly; "anyway, there were no sheep in the
park, but there were lots of little pigs running all over the place."
"What colour were they?"
"Black with white faces, white with black spots, black all over, grey
with white patches, and some were white all over."
The story-teller paused to let a full idea of the park's treasures sink
into the children's imaginations; then he resumed:
"Bertha was rather sorry to find that there were no flowers in the park.
Pages:
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185