She began to draw in the sand with the pointed shell, and the Others watched it grow. She began at his head and worked back, quickly. “Is it going to be Little Bear?” asked Pat. “Yes,” said the Princess. “But I can’t make it really a likeness.” “You could, Dearie, if you had a pencil and paper,” said Phyllisy. “Nobody could, in the sand with a shell.” “It’s like him the way the map is America,” said Pat. “More—_much_.” “Now make the stars,” said the Kitten, when she drew his last foot. “No,” said the Princess. “You must do that.—Who’ll give a star to Little Bear?” “What shall we give?” asked Pat. But the Kitten spied a clear, shiny pebble, and she didn’t need to be told; she pounced at it quickly, and purred when the Princess took it from her. “‘And they fastened that star on the very tip of Little Bear’s tail,’” quoted Phyllisy. “Now we must all give stars.” So they scurried over the sand and brought suitable pebbles to the Princess,—and some of them were shells,—and she showed them where to place them, where he truly wore them; but they placed only the principal ones, because it was a sketch, not a likeness. “But you don’t _see_ even this—of a bear—in the sky?” said Pat, doubtfully. It wasn’t as easy for her to make believe as it was for Phyllisy. Phyllisy loved it. As for the Kitten, it was no trouble for her; real or make-believe, it was all alike. “No, indeed,” said Phyllisy, explaining to Pat, and perfectly familiar with it. “Just the stars of him, and play the rest. When it’s night, we’ll look, and see if we can find them ourselves.” “You can’t when it’s cloudy,” said Pat. “And it’s cloudy to-night—will be.” “And the Star People will have a holiday,” said the Princess. “Will they?” asked the Others, though she had just said it. “Sure as sure. When it’s a cloudy night and the sailors couldn’t see them wherever they were, they may go where they like.” “They might go where they like in the daytime,” said the Kitten. “So they might. But you have to sleep some time, Kit. And if you have to stay up all night to be looked at, you’d better take a long nap in the daytime. So, when it begins to be light, the Star People just quietly fade away in their places, then when night comes they wake up, fresh as daisies.” “Suppose some time they would go off, and it was a clear night—and they moved around?” said Pat. “I couldn’t imagine anything so dreadful,—nor the Star People, either! Don’t you fancy, because they haven’t any captain, that they have nothing to obey.” “What?” “They have _Law_!—and that’s something every one of them obeys without a single word, or ever stopping to argue. When anything is the Rule of the Sky, that ends it.—Unless you’re a comet.” “Oh, comets!” exclaimed Phyllisy.” What do they do?”