One sweet spring day, when the robins were calling "Good luck!" to each other from the trees, Cherry-Bloom went softly down the path into the valley, and ever a little more slowly, and a little more slowly, up the path on the other side, to the castle of the Dragon.
She had heard that it was unsafe to go nearer than a hundred yards, so she stopped at what she thought must be short of that limit.
There was not a sound but the chirr-irr of insects in the warm air, and the happy call of the birds. She waited; she waited so long that she began to wish that something would happen. But nothing did.
If the Dragon were at home, he was remarkably quiet.
Perhaps he was asleep.
Perhaps he was away.
Emboldened by this idea, she went on a few steps; then a few more, on and on, until she actually reached the big stone
