Once upon a time there was a lad by the name of Jack. Jack liked adventure, colorful clothes and gaiety. The village where he lived was sad and dull, the dwellings built of brown mud and thatched with straw. The streets, though cobbled, were muddy, and most of the valley was covered with somber woods where wolves took their share of the farmers' sheep.
"Look," said Jack and pointed. "The village is dull and the land is sad! I'm going to see the world!"
"Yes, Jack," whispered Claire and fingered her straw-colored hair.
"I'm going to meet glamorous people and speak with pretty girls with golden hair and sky-blue eyes!" said Jack.
"Yes, Jack," whimpered Claire and a tear fell from her red-lidded eye.
"I'm going to fight terrible monsters and find chests full of treasures!" bragged Jack.
"Yes, Jack," breathed Claire, twisting fingers in her rumpled scarf.
"Well, maybe I'll come back some day," conceded Jack nervously.
"Yes, Jack," moaned Claire and wiped her nose with a tear-stained handkerchief.
"Well, good-bye!" croaked Jack and, jumping the gurgling stream, marched off.
"I'll wait for you by this linden tree, Jack!" called Claire and stared after him until he disappeared among the trees.
Jack went high and he went low. He went far and he went wide. He climbed high mountains and waded low swamps, passed through forests steaming with heat and crossed icy deserts. He came to big cities and to tiny hamlets. He visited the king's bright palace as well as a sinister cave. He met tall people and he met small people. Some were fat and some were skinny, some were rich and some were poor. Some were dark and some were light, some were handsome and some were ugly. Jack found riches and he was robbed, sometimes he feasted and sometimes he hungered. He fell sick and he got well. And no one cared.

Jack came back one day. His clothes were dusty and stained and dull. His step was tired. He entered the valley, walking among majestic trees. He jumped the brook with its merry murmur. He saw the land and it was green and fresh; the wolves had been chased from it.
He arrived at the village with its sunny lanes and colorful flowers in boxes set in the shining windows. The thatched dwellings had an air of peace and comeliness. And its people cared.

Beneath the linden tree stood Claire, waiting. Over her golden hair she had draped a frilly white scarf that matched the frilly white clouds up in the air. She wore a pretty blue dress to match the color of her eyes, and those shining blue eyes outshone the blueness of the sky. She also wore a sweet smile on her lovely face. She raised a graceful arm and touched his stark face with her pearly little hand.

"Hello, Jack," she whispered, "welcome home!"