Do you wish on shooting stars? I do! Always the same wish. All my life, I've played at just such silly games. Perhaps we all of us do in different ways. A thousand years ago, when a certain great poet was a child, did ever he refrain from stepping on cracks, as he went whistling to school? If one is careful, you know, and reaches one's destination in triumph, it may mean much. A new hair-ribbon, absolution for a tiny sin, rice pudding for supper. But perhaps you were never naughty. I am sure you didn't wear hair-ribbons, and--but this is hard to believe--possibly you don't like rice pudding! You couldn't resist Sarah's, I am sure! I--I wish on hay wagons. I adore odd numbers. Particularly do I revel in thirteen. At the same time, my defiance ends there. I cannot spill salt without a shudder, and first stars and baby moons are burdened with my desires. I am sure that every wish would come true, and the veriest pebble turn an infallible talisman in my hand, if only I believed enough. There's a sunset behaving riotously outside. I am sure that it appears much more sedate in New York! Whimsically yours, H.R.H. ME P.S. I forgot to answer your questions about the Other Doctor. He is thirty-two, rather tall, and most particularly exasperating. M. NEW YORK CITY August 4th Dear Princess: If Denton may send you books, so may I. In this mail three friends of mine go to you: _A Romance of the Nursery_, _Paul and Fiametta_, and Grahame's _Golden Age_. Please be kind to them. I rather think you must be like Fiametta,--a slim, brown child, with oval face, and curious, parti-colored hair dark as the oak-settle in the hall--that the sunshine burnished into brightness. I dreamed of you last night, an adventurous dream. Some day I will write you about it. Not now! With the books I am sending you a talisman. I hope it will bring you all you wish. Of course, I do not know, but I have told it to try. There is a secret hidden at its heart. But I do not believe that you can find it out all by yourself. That would take a Poet! Now write me, and tell me how egotistical I am! But remember, after all, I am nothing more or less than Mere Man. I hope you will care for your added charm, for the books, and a little for Your friend, RICHARD WARREN NEW YORK CITY August 7th Dear Lady: Have I in any way offended you? I have had no word from you since the 31st. I am praying that you are not angry because I allowed myself the selfish pleasure of adding to your library. Or is it the talisman? I hope not! You see, it was not just a purchased thing. It belonged to my father. But I would far rather than you were vexed with me than too ill to write. Anxiously, RICHARD WARREN THE CASTLE August 7th