down, she exemplified the truth of her observation.

"Where the head goes, the body will follow," they say, and Ida's
little body was soon on the other side of the hedge; the adage says
nothing about clothes, however, and part of Ida's dress was left
behind. It had caught on the stump as she scrambled through. But
accidents will happen, and she was in the road, which was something.

"It is like going into the world to seek one's fortune," she thought;
"thus Gerda went to look for little Kay, and so Joringel sought for
the enchanted flower. One always comes to a wood."

And into the wood she came. Dame Nature had laid down her new green
carpets, and everything looked lovely; but, as has been before said,
it certainly was damp. The little singer under the tree cared no more
for this, however, than the blackbird above him.

"Will you tell me, please, where you got your primroses?" asked Ida.

The child made a quaint, half-military salute; and smiled.

"Yonder," he said laconically, and, pointing up the wood, he went on
with the song that he could not understand:

"Ah, my sweet home, Jerusalem,
Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end,
Thy joys that I might see!"

Ida went on and on, looking about her as she ran. Presently the wood