Violet Jacob > Stories told by the miller

THE TREE OF PRIDE 117
had his dagger hidden upon him, began to try
and cut a way through with it. But as fast as
he cut one stem, another grew in its place, and
he found his work useless; there seemed
nothing to do but to sit and wait for the end.
In a week the Enchantress would return to see
them put to death, and he could only promise
himself that, while he had his concealed weapon,
he would sell all their lives dear. Neither he
nor the Princess had any hope of escape, for
even should they be able to get through the
tangled walls, they knew that the Bat-creatures
could easily prevent their getting out of the
forest.
At night, when the Bats were astir, the Bat-
King would make the wall disappear, for he
liked to look at his captives and tell them how
little time they had left. In this way several
days went by.
Now, the Princess had worn her white wreath
till every bit of blossom had fallen, so that by
the time she arrived in the forest it was scarcely
more than a twist of withered leaves. She had
taken it off reluctantly and thrown it down
close to the place where they were now con¬
fined, and one day, as she and her lover paced