"It might be that we ought to find some other road," said Everychild. "You know this is called the Road of Troubled Children." "I am told," said the giant, speaking for the first time, "that if you watch for the guide-posts it presently turns into the Road of Happy Children." A harsh voice behind them exclaimed. "It is false!" And turning his head, the giant beheld Mr. Literal glowering down upon him from behind. However, he paid not the slightest attention. "Anyway," said Everychild, "it doesn't matter so much what road we take if we only find the truth at the end. We mustn't forget that's what we're looking for." "You'll find that in a book," declared the harsh voice of Mr. Literal. "I think we'll find it, no matter what road we take," said the giant. "You'll find it in your hearts," another voice was heard to say. And now it was to be noted that the Masked Lady had also appeared. "And when we find it," said Cinderella, "--then what shall we do?" "When we find it we shall know what to do," said the giant. "When you find it you'll be prepared to die," declared Mr. Literal. "When they find it they shall be prepared to live," the voice of the Masked Lady was heard to say. A laugh like the crackling of dry fagots was heard; and Mr. Literal exclaimed musingly: "The little simpletons! They seek to find the truth at their age! Little do they know that I have spent my whole life anxiously seeking it!" The Masked Lady said softly: "It is found by those who have ceased to seek it anxiously." Then the members of the band sat in silence for a time, each trying to decide what the truth would mean. Hansel was thinking that it would mean the secret of getting something to eat at every hour of the day and night. Cinderella decided it would mean a way of finding the prince who had danced with her at the ball. And Everychild got no further than the decision that it would mean something that would make every day perfectly delightful. In the meantime the forest had become glorious with the heat and light of the ascending sun. The waking noises of the birds had given place to the business of being boldly active. And the children, with a common impulse, would have resumed their journey. But just at that moment a traveler was seen to be approaching. It was Everychild who went forward to salute the traveler, who proved to be a boy with hanging head and lagging feet. His hands were thrust into his pockets and there were tear-stains on his cheeks. "Good morning," said Everychild. "Don't bother me," said the boy. "I'm running away." "I didn't see you run," said Everychild. The boy stopped and looked at Everychild reproachfully. "It's called running away," he said; "though everybody knows you don't run, and for that matter, there's no _away_ about it. Mostly you turn around and go back. But I call it running away just the same. It takes a load off my mind."