Sylvia started--opened her eyes--no, there was no king to be seen, only the apple-woman, who had been gently shaking her awake, and who now stood pointing out to her a little group of four people hurrying towards them, of whom the foremost, hurrying the fastest of all, was a fair-haired little girl with a cream-coloured felt hat and feathers, who, sobbing, threw herself into Sylvia's arms, and hugged and hugged as if she never would let go.
"Oh, Sylvia, oh, my darling!" she cried.

"I thought you were lost for always.

Oh, I have been so frightened--oh, we have all been so frightened.

I thought perhaps they had taken you away to one of the places where the tops of the beds come down, or to that other place on the river, the Morgue, where they drown people, only I didn't say so, not to frighten poor grandmother worse.

Oh, grandmother _dear_, aren't you glad she's found ?" Sylvia was crying too by this time, and the old apple-woman was wiping her eyes with a corner of her apron.