Peter felt the floor of the balcony tip
beneath him; he tried to catch hold of something, but could find
nothing; suddenly, with a scream, he fell. He was falling, falling,
falling, falling, falling.
When Peter came to himself, instead of its being night, it was still
noonday, and he was sitting on the same stone in the same quiet roadside
grove from which he had caught sight of his Aunt Jane in her wonderful
coach. A blue jay screamed at him from overhead. For Aunt Jane, the
coach, and the enchanted castle had been only a dream. Peter, you see,
had fallen asleep under the pines, and while he slept, he had dreamed
the dream he purchased from the seller of dreams.
Very glad to be still alive, Peter rubbed his eyes, took up his basket
of eggs, and went down the road whistling.
[Illustration: Old man and boy in the forest.]
"How much does a dream cost?" asked Peter.
"A golden florin," answered the Seller of Dreams
THE TREASURE CASTLE
[Illustration: Three men in a flying castle tower.]
Once upon a time a hunter was roaming through the wildwood when he heard
a voice crying piteously for aid.
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