વાર્તાનું શાસ્ત્ર-૧ "How much I should like to fly out of the window and be a nightingale too !" she said. "Then we would play to-gether in the wood, and I should have a voice like yours-ever so sweet and ever so sad." Sometimes she tried to sing, but she found her voice was not in the least like the nightingale's. JOW ૧૨૨ Every day she became more anxious to be a nightingale, until at last she thought about it always, and yet seemed no nearer to her wish. She hoped sometimes that her curls might turn to feathers; but after several weeks of wishing she saw that the curls were still made of yellow hair. She began to be afraid she would never be anything but a little girl.' One day she heard some of the maids talking together. They were speaking of the Wise Man, the magician, who lived in the dark Icave on the side of the hill, and could do the most wonderful things. In fact they said, there was hardly anything he couldn't do; you had only to tell him what you wanted most and he could manage it for you. "Perhaps be could turn me into a nightingale," thought Agatha. "I'll go and ask him, anyway." So while the maids were still talking she slipped out of the castle, and through the wood,
