Just Not Yet.

. . .The Princess hesitated,
for she did not want to see her true love,

not yet, not just yet,

he was the end of stories not yet begun,
and she did not want to make magic Forests,
she wanted to see real ones.

So she watched the old lady pick up from the grass the end of what appeared to be one of those long, trailing gossamer threads left by baby spiders traveling on the air in the early dawn. But it was as strong as linen thread, and fine as silk, and when the Old Woman gave it a little tug it tugged tight and could be seen to run away, out of the orchard, over the meadow, into the woods and out of sight.

'You gather it in,' said the Old Woman, 'and see where it takes you.'

The thread glittered and twisted,
and the Princess began to roll it neatly in,
and took a few steps along it, and gathered it,
and rolled it into a ball,
and followed it, out of the orchard, across the meadow,
and into the woods, and. . .
-From "The Story of the Eldest Princess" A.S. Byatt.