"Yes, and I got so excited when the ogre came out, and rushed at the
prince, that I was all out of breath just TELLING it," said Polly.

"And when you told about the gale you frightened me," said Lena,
"because I was SURE that the ogre was coming!"

Polly had a charming way of telling her stories, and those who listened,
remembered them, and thought of them again and again.

Perhaps Rob thought oftener of them, than did any other of her friends.
He was very fond of Polly, and never thought of her as Polly Sherwood,
but always as Princess Polly.

He would not have told his thoughts to anyone, but in his heart he
longed to do something brave that she might know that he had not boasted
idly, when he had said that her fairy tales had made him long to do
valiant deeds.

For days after the morning spent at Sherwood Hall, Rob dreamed of the
story that Polly had told.

"Oh, pshaw! Those things don't happen nowadays," he muttered, in
disgust. "Not that fairy things EVER happened," he added, "but knights
really lived, and they did things that proved their courage."

While Rob dreamed, and pondered over the valiant knights of old, Polly,
blowing huge soap bubbles, stood in the sunlight, making them larger and
larger, and laughing when they floated away on the soft breeze.

She, too, was dreaming.