“That very identical basket you’re going to hand me.” So Pat brought it to the Princess, and Phyllisy and the Kitten came too. “And suppose, when she came near the top, she wove in this row of brown points like the teeth of a saw”—their heads were close together, following the Princess’s finger with their eyes. “Wouldn’t any one know that she meant them for mountains?” “Did she?” asked Phyllisy. “She did,” said the Princess. “Oh-h,” said the Others. “Or,” said the Princess, “suppose there were an Ancient Egyptian—the Ancientest kind—who lived on the edge of a flat desert; and could never—alive or dead—go to a mountain without crossing miles of blazing sand. If he happened, at the same time, to be a King (_and he did_), with thousands of slaves to work for him, he might set them to work to build him a mountain. And what shape would it be when it was done?” “What?” asked the Kitten. “I know what I think,” said Phyllisy, “maybe.” “Say it, Miss Phyllisy. I think so, too.” “A pyramid?” “Would it?” asked Pat. “_What_ shape would it?” repeated the Kitten. The Princess didn’t answer directly. “Let’s just once more suppose. Suppose there were a little girl, who wanted to draw the picture of a mountain. (_And I saw the picture._)”—“M-m-mm” purred the Kitten.—“Her pencil went up one side—so,” the Princess slanted up with her finger, and the Kitten did the same with hers, “and down the other,”—their fingers slid down again—“like a letter ‘A,’ very much spread out and without any cross-piece. Now: could there well be three kinds of people more different than an Indian Squaw, an Ancient Egyptian, and a Kitten—I mean a little girl? And yet they agree precisely about how a mountain ought to look. Doesn’t it seem as if they must be right?” The Others thought it did—looking at the Pyramid picture over the glass cabinet. Then the Princess leaned forward, with the lace all falling away, and her voice grew more impressive:— “There is Some One else who thinks just as they do; and she doesn’t stop with thinking, she takes the best of care that there shall be one perfect example of a truly symmetrical mountain.” “Oh-h,” said Phyllisy. “Was that what it was all for? I thought it was just conversation.” “Not at all,” said the Princess. “It was designed to lead you gradually up to that especial mountain.” “Are you going to tell us?” asked Pat. “If you don’t think it will tire you.” She said it very politely, like a question. And they all shook their heads—one great, vigorous shake. So the Princess began to tell it:—