INTRODUCTION 



MANY years ago a little girl with knitted brows and 

 every outward sign of strong concentration was pulling 

 at one end of a chicken's " merry-thought." The brows 

 relaxed and the mouth widened into a delighted smile, 

 " I've won it," she shouted, holding up the longer end, 

 " and I wish to go to Cashmere." 



" I don't believe you know where Cashmere is, and 

 you will not go now, because you have told your wish," 

 shouted her cousin defiantly, for he had not been 

 pleased to be beaten by a girl. 



Nevertheless, by dint of hard wishing and a good 

 deal of patience, after long years the little girl arrived 

 in Cashmere, but by that time she was no longer little, 

 and people talked of the land of roses as " Kashmir " 

 with a K. What she saw and did when she arrived 

 there will be told to you in future chapters; that she 

 felt her wishes were not wasted is proved by the fact 

 that she hopes the day may come when she will be able 

 to return to that beautiful valley and make better 

 acquaintance with it. Meanwhile, if she, or rather I- 

 for I may as well identify myself at once with the 

 heroine of the merry -thought can do anything to 



