“The Ram likes it much better this way,” said the Princess. “And here is his name, like a doorplate on his house.” She made a funny little mark in the corner of the space. “Wherever you see that mark, Beloveds, it’s the Sign of the Ram; and it looks like his curving horns. Next door is a great white Bull. One time he was grazing in a meadow where some children were playing. He was very gentle, and let them wind garlands of flowers around his horns. At last, one of them climbed on his back, and away he went with her and swam over the sea. Did you ever see such remarkable, lofty horns?” All the time she was drawing.—“Here’s the sign of his House, and here go his stars.” The Others had stars collected, and when they had finished the Bull, she went on: “In this House are the Gemini Brothers, twin boys who do boxing and wrestling, and ground-and-lofty tumbling. Wonderful singers they are, too, Castor and Pollux, and especial friends of all sailors. They were great sailors themselves, and once drove all the wicked pirates out of the Ægean Sea.” “The Star ones?” asked Pat. “No; the real ones. We want two beautiful pebbles for the stars that they wear in their helmets. And up here”—the Princess whirled across—“in this last House that brings it around the circle are two more twins—the Fishes that Cassiopeia sang about to Little Bear. They can have only small stars, because they were discontented.” When they were done the Princess turned back to the place where she left off. “In this cage at the North is a Crab; and in the cage exactly opposite is a Goat, but not a common goat. He is a Sea-Goat—like this, with a kind of fish tail.” She left the Crab, and drew the Goat to show. “These two were once impertinent to Old Sol; and now he has them in his Menagerie; and I’m glad of it! Aren’t you, Kitten?” “What did they do?” asked Phyllisy. “It’s poetry,” said the Princess. She stopped drawing and clasped her hands around her knees, sitting in the middle of the Zodiac to say the poetry; and the Others sitting outside to listen. A kindly gentleman was Mr. Sol. He sallied forth one day, to take a stroll, Saying: “This morning I will make my goal, The South Pole.” With smiles for all he met, and greetings gay, He southward bent his steps,—nor would delay Because he saw, directly in his way, A Billy-Goat stood at bay! “Yez can’t go anny farther!” cried the Goat. “The language on that sign I’d have yez note: ‘The passage South is closed.’ Kape on yer coat! That’s the _Law_! Ye’d orter know’t!” His language rude could only cause surprise, And Sol advanced. Oh, who’d believe his eyes! With lowered head Bill rushes—and Sol lies, Knocked flat!—sprawly-wise!