“We don’t. We could be lost any time,” said Pat. “You might have been once, but not after this. There’s a whole Royal Family right before your eyes now: Queen Cassiopeia on her throne and King Cepheus beside her and their pretty daughter, Andromeda.—That is one of Cepheus’ stars—and there’s another.” The Princess drew lines with her finger from the stars of the big “W” to the ones they wanted to find. And the Others picked them out, passing from star to star like crossing a brook, jumping from stone to stone. There were different colors, too, to help them. The Princess saw them plainly,—red stars and blue and yellow, and never before had the Others seen anything but all alike and plain shining. At first they believed it only because the Princess said so; then they began to see it themselves, but it was still too light to see very well. And they found a few stars of Andromeda. “There is a beautiful young hero who belongs with them,” said the Princess. “He’s down below the treetops now; he will come up later. He is Perseus,—the Rescuer. He helped the Cassiopeia family out of terrible trouble when they were all Earth People.” “Oh!” exclaimed Phyllisy. “Perseus-and-the-Gorgon?” “No less. A friend of yours, Miss Phyllisy?” Miss Phyllisy nodded, and Pat twisted her eyebrow. “Well,—she’s eleven and nine months, and I’m only nine and seven months,” she said, just as if she were arguing something. “I only happened to, Pat,” said Phyllisy. “She’ll tell you some time; then you’ll know him too,” said the Princess. “I want to show you somebody splendid. Tip your heads up. Do you see four stars that make a long diamond,—three brighter and one not so bright at the point? That’s Draco’s head,—the great Dragon. See his spiky wings lifted. His tail comes down this way. Look,—a curl,—so.” She swung her finger around. “Isn’t he fine? Keep your eye right on him and I’ll tell you who he is. He isn’t one of your common, everyday dragons you meet so often.—Is your eye on him, Pat?” Pat tipped her head up, then she tipped it down and nodded. The Princess squeezed the young Other One, who was sleepy, in the hollow of her arm, and began in a story-telling voice: “There was once a young man named Jason, who had a great many adventures. One of them was when he set out to bring home the fleece of a ram. (A ram is a grown-up lamb, Kitten.” The Kitten made a funny little bleating noise, like a mother-cat; but she was only partly awake.) “And this was a golden fleece. And it hung on a tree all-by-alone, where any one might have stolen it,—ONLY, it was guarded by a great dragon that lay curly at the foot of the tree, and never closed his eyes, watching it. And that was the very identical Dragon you’re looking at this minute.” “Tell us what happened then, Dearie,—when he didn’t close his eyes,” urged Phyllisy, after they had looked again at the Dragon.