The End of the Year
T HE girls sat upon the green moss and waited. Prince Marvel stood silent beside his horse. The silver armor was as bright as the day he donned it, nor was there a dent in his untarnished shield. The sword that had done such good service he held lightly in his hand, and the horse now and then neighed softly and turned to look at him with affectionate eyes.
Seseley began to tremble with excitement, and Berna and Helda stared at the prince with big round eyes.
But, after all, they saw nothing so remarkable as they expected. For presently -- and it all happened in a flash -- Prince Marvel was gone