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NE day when Prince Perivale was a little boy, he was walking with his father the king in the gardens of the palace. There was a high stone wall round the garden so that no venturer from outside could get in; nor was there any way by which those inside the garden could get out, supposing, as was less likely, that they wished to do so. But as the young prince was walking with his father, now leaving his hand and running this way and that, now coming back to it again, he espied suddenly, hidden in a tangle of trees, a little green door in the wall. And he gave a cry and ran back eagerly to his father.

“There’s a door there, father. I saw a door, a little green door. Shall we go through that door, father? Where does that door go to?”

His father the king frowned and said nothing.

“Did you know that there was a door there, father?” went on the prince. “I didn’t. Shall we see where it goes?”

The king tugged at his beard and frowned again. “No, my son,” he said at last, “we will not go through it.”

“Oh!” said Perivale, and the corners of his mouth began to turn down. “I did want to go through that dear little door.”

“If you had gone through that door,” said the king solemnly, “you would never have come back again.”

“Is it a magic door?” asked the little prince in an awed whisper.

HE king pushed his way through the tangle of trees and stood looking at the door. It was locked, and there was no key in the lock. It looked as though it had not been opened for years, nor could ever be opened again. With a little sigh of relief the king turned round for Perivale’s hand and drew him away to another part of the garden.

“What was it, father?” whispered Perivale, now a little frightened.

“It was through that door that King Stephen, your great-grandfather, passed on a summer evening, and was seen no more.”

“What happened to him?”

“Nobody ever knew. Some said he was killed by robbers, some that he was eaten by wild beasts. There is a legend that through that door a man steps into an enchanted forest in which he wanders forever. The king, my father, was of opinion that, as the door is opened, a bottomless pit forms itself on the other side into which one falls headlong. However it be, this is certain—that no one of our ancestors who has ventured through that door has been seen again.”

“Perhaps there’s a dragon waiting on the other side,” said the little prince excitedly.

“Perhaps there is. But we shall do well not to talk of it. We could not unlock the door now if we would, and we would not if we could. The trees will grow over it again, and we shall forget it.”

But the little prince did not forget it. Often he thought of it, and told himself strange stories of the wonders to which the green door led. Sometimes it came into his dreams, and then the way was full of terrors, but when he awoke to the sunlight, then the way led by ripple of brooks and twittering of birds to a happiness beyond his understanding.

And as he grew up he heard much idle talk of it by those who had never seen the door: and he noticed that each one who talked of it told a different story, yet each one pledged his word that his story was the only true story of it; but on this they all agreed, that whoever had passed through the door had passed out of mortal sight forever.

N DUE time Perivale grew up and succeeded his father as King of Wistaria. At the time of his coronation there was great account in the country of the new king. It was said by those who should have been in a position to know that King Perivale was the handsomest, the wisest, the most manly and the most gallant young king that had ever sat upon the throne. It was reputed that there was no science within the knowledge of the most learned magicians of the country at which he could not better them, no form of manly exercise at which he did not surpass the most talented of his subjects. With his bow he could split a wand at two hundred paces, with his sword he could engage at the same time any three swordsmen in his army. He knew more of the art of fighting than any of his generals, of the art of hunting than any of his huntsmen, and, had only Wistaria been in possession of a seacoast, he would undoubtedly have been fully qualified to take his country’s fleet into a victorious action. All this, and more, was commonly reported of him.

A little later there were other stories told of him. For by this time it had been announced that the beautiful Princess Lilia was coming to Wistaria to wed with the king. And it was told how the king and the princess had happened across each other in the forest, neither knowing who the other was, and how they had met secretly on many a day afterward and had fallen in love with each other, but had feared that they could not marry, because Liliaas Perivale thoughtwas not a princess, and Perivaleas Lilia thoughtwas not a king. How delighted then were they when