The Prisoner Read Online Free PDF

bemusement.
    â€œAnd he’s terribly handsome!” added Annabelle breathlessly, clasping her delicate hands to her breast. “He looks like a prince!”
    â€œYou don’t know that,” Grace retorted. “You barely saw him.”
    â€œI did so see him,” Annabelle argued. “And there was moonlight shining down upon his handsome face, and he looked as if his heart was broken.”
    â€œHe did look a little sad.” Charlotte carefully arranged herself on the edge of Genevieve’s bed and rubbed her stiff leg.
    â€œHe wasn’t wearing a hat,” reflected Grace, frowning. “Don’t princes always wear hats?”
    â€œPrinces wear crowns,” Annabelle corrected.
    â€œI thought kings wore crowns,” said Charlotte.
    â€œKings wear bigger crowns,” Annabelle informed her with great authority. “That is why princes want to become kings—then they get to wear the biggest crown.”
    â€œAre you girls certain there is a man there?” Genevieve wanted nothing more than to return to sleep. Morning came relentlessly early in her busy little household, and she treasured every moment of respite she could get.
    â€œCome and see for yourself!” squealed Annabelle, tugging on her arm.
    â€œQuick, before he leaves and decides to throw himself in the river!” Clearly Grace sensed Genevieve needed some added incentive.
    Reluctantly Genevieve dragged herself out of bed and followed the three girls as they raced into their room.
    â€œStand there so he can’t see you,” Charlotte instructed, indicating the corner by the window.
    â€œWhy shouldn’t he see her?” wondered Annabelle. “Her hair is a bit untidy, but other than that she looks very nice—like a princess.”
    â€œWe don’t know who he is, Annabelle,” Grace cautioned. “For all we know he could be a dangerous cutthroat.”
    Annabelle’s blue eyes grew round. “Do you really think so?” She sounded perfectly exhilarated by this new possibility.
    â€œI only meant that a strange man shouldn’t see Genevieve in her nightgown,” explained Charlotte impatiently. “It isn’t fitting—is it, Genevieve?”
    â€œNo, it isn’t,” Genevieve agreed. “Now, would you all please lower your voices before you waken the entire house.”
    The three girls obediently fell silent. Genevieve slowly drew back part of the curtain, then peered cautiously through the exposed sliver of window.
    â€œGracious me!” she gasped, whipping the curtain closed.
    â€œDid you see him?” asked Grace excitedly.
    â€œIsn’t he handsome?” Annabelle squealed.
    â€œHe didn’t see your nightgown, did he?” fretted Charlotte.
    Jamie bounded into the room, his red-blond hair tousled and his eyes surprisingly alert for an eight-year-old lad who was supposed to be asleep. “What’s going on?”
    â€œIs someone sick?” piped Simon, who was three years older but not much taller, scrambling in behind him.
    Jack followed the two boys in, scowling. “How does anyone get any sleep around here?”
    â€œGenevieve has a secret admirer waiting for her outside,” reported Annabelle.
    â€œWe think he’s a prince,” Grace added.
    â€œOr maybe a cutthroat,” finished Charlotte.
    Jamie and Simon needed no further enticement. Before Genevieve could stop them, they tore across the room and ripped back the curtain to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger on the street below.
    â€œI see him!” squealed Jamie, ecstatic. “Look!”
    The other children swarmed around the window, knocking and jostling one another as they each fought to secure a better view.
    â€œHello down there!” called Simon cheerfully. He pressed his freckled nose against the glass and waved, inspiring all the other children to do the