She ran even though the moving floor was already carrying her along at a terrific rate. She rushed down the staircase outside. Refusing to wait for the carriage, she ran towards the gates, even though they were closed. As she approached them, they opened however; and she sprinted out into the square. Out in the square, surrounded by their little groups of admirers, her friends saw her running towards the caravan. Realising she was upset, they quickly excused themselves to their disappointed followers and ran after her. ‘What’s wrong?’ each of them said anxiously as they clambered into the confines of the caravan where everyone was swiftly gathering. ‘The Princess,’ Carey explained bitterly, almost tearfully, ‘isn’t really alive after all! Like you, she’s just kept alive by a flame!’ ‘Oh, so this really is as good as it gets?’ Peregun said it in a way that was hard to interpret as either disappointment or contentment. ‘We do have a life that no other puppet can dream of; literally, in fact,’ Durndrin pointed out with a more definite sense of resignation.
