"Wrede,.Patricia.C.-.Chronicles.Of.The.Enchanted.Forest.v1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

Just before noon, she spied a small grove of trees next to the road
ahead of her. It looked like a cool, pleasant place to rest for a few
minutes, and she hurried forward. When she reached the grove, however,
she saw that the trees were made of the finest silver, and their
shining green leaves were huge emeralds. In the center of the grove
stood a charming pavilion made of gold and hung with gold curtains.

Cimorene slowed down and looked longingly at the cool green shade
beneath the trees. Just then a woman's voice called out from the
pavilion, "My dear, you look so tired and thirsty! Come and sit with
me and share my luncheon."

The voice was so kind and coaxing that Cimorene took two steps toward
the edge of the road before she remembered the frog's advice. Oh, no,
she thought to herself, I'm not going to be caught this easily! She
turned without saying anything and hurried on down the road.

A little farther on she came to a tiny, wretched-looking hovel made of
cracked and weathered gray boards. The door hung slantwise on a broken
hinge, and the whole building looked as though it were going to topple
over at any moment. Cimorene stopped and stared doubtfully at it, but
she had followed the frog's advice this far, and she thought it would
be silly to stop now. So she shook the dust from her skirts and put on
her crown (so as to make a good impression). She marched up to the
door, knocked three times, and snapped her fingers just as the frog had
told her. Then she pushed the door open and went in.

2

In Which Cimorene Discovers the Value of a Classical Education and Has
Some Unwelcome Visitors Inside, the hovel was dark and cool and damp.

Cimorene found it a pleasant relief after the hot, dusty road, but she
wondered why no sunlight seemed to be coming through the cracks in the
boards. She was still standing just inside the door, waiting for her
eyes to adjust to the dark, when someone said crossly, "Is this that
princess we've been waiting for?"

"Why don't you ask her?" said a deep, rumbly voice.

"I'm Princess Cimorene of Linderwall," Cimorene answered politely.

"I was told you could help me."

"Help her?" said the first voice, and Cimorene heard a snort. "I
think we should just eat her and be done with it."

Cimorene began to feel frightened. She wondered whether the voices
belonged to ogres or trolls and whether she could slip out of the hovel