“But it seems to work miracles,” persisted the old man, “and one cannot tell how far its powers may extend.” So they consulted the Golden Heart. “There is,” said the voice, “in a far country beyond a vast desert, almost impossible to cross, a marsh traversed by a stream. On the further bank of that stream, at a place where rises a tall crag like the entrance to a tomb, there grows a plant bearing a cluster of pale red berries. It only shows itself once in a thousand years, and on this day three months the time for it to appear will be due. You must reach the place on the evening before its appearance, and allow nothing to tempt you from the spot, for it grows up in one night, and lasts but a few hours. When it has grown as high as your knee, break off the spike of berries, crush them in your hands, and anoint your face with the juice. It has the power of restoring perfect beauty, as well as perfect health, and it can only benefit one person in a thousand years. Hardly any one in the world has heard of its existence. You must start at once, as the way is long, and you must go by the Great Gates, which are at the other side of the world, and which lead to the desert.” That evening the Ugly Prince set out. He took with him the witch’s shoe, and the old cormorant’s wings hung at his saddle; he also placed the three feathers in his cap. Before he went he called the little boy. “I am going on a long journey,” he said, “and it will be many months before I can return; you must be very good until I come back. Stay here with the Princess. If I never come back the King has promised that this palace shall be your home. And now, my dear little child, my faithful friend, good-bye, for I must go. Good-bye. You will not forget me?” The little boy clung round his neck till the servants came to tell the Prince that his horse was saddled; then he rushed up to the highest tower of the Palace, and, leaning far out of the window, watched the gallant figure riding away, as it seemed to him, into the sunset. * * * * * It was in the eleventh week after his departure that the Ugly Prince drew near the Great Gates that lie at the other side of the world. He had only one week left in which to cross the desert beyond them, and he saw, on approaching, that they were locked; he had not counted on such a possibility, and it was with a heavy heart that he marked how strong they were, and how they towered in the air above him. As he dismounted to lead his horse nearer—for the animal looked with terrified eyes upon the huge bars through which the wind was humming and vibrating—something fell from the saddle. It was the witch’s shoe. He picked it up and ran to the Gates, striking the lock and saying: “Left-foot shoe, left-foot shoe, Open, Gates, and I’ll go through.”