The Flying Trunk

Oh! What stories the people had to tell!

Each one whom he asked had seen it differently, but they had all found it beautiful.

"I saw the Turkish god himself," said one. "He had eyes like glittering stars, and a beard like foaming water."

"He flew away in a cloak of fire," said another. They were splendid things that he heard, and the next day was to be his wedding day.

Then he went back into the wood to sit in his trunk; but what had become of it? The trunk had been burnt. A spark of the fireworks had set it alight, and the trunk was in ashes. He could no longer fly, and could never reach his bride.

She stood the whole day long on the roof and waited; perhaps she is waiting there still.

But he wandered through the world and told stories; though they are not so merry as the one he told about the matches.