left at home, and who, as we
know, did not care much about him.

The King, dancing the twenty-fifth polka with Rosalba, remarked with
wonder the ring she wore; and then Rosalba told him how she had got it
from Gruffanuff, who no doubt had picked it up when Angelica flung it
away.

'Yes,' says the Fairy Blackstick, who had come to see the young people,
and who had very likely certain plans regarding them. 'That ring I gave
the Queen, Giglio's mother, who was not, saving your presence, a very
wise woman; it is enchanted, and whoever wears it looks beautiful in the
eyes of the world, I made poor Prince Bulbo, when he was christened, the
present of a rose which made him look handsome while he had it; but he
gave it to Angelica, who instantly looked beautiful again, whilst Bulbo
relapsed into his natural plainness.'

'Rosalba needs no ring, I am sure,' says Giglio, with a low bow. 'She is
beautiful enough, in my eyes, without any enchanted aid.'

'Oh, sir!' said Rosalba.

'Take off the ring and try,' said the King, and resolutely drew the ring
off her finger. In HIS eyes she looked just as handsome as before!

The King was thinking of throwing the ring away, as it was so dangerous
and made all the people so mad about Rosalba; but being a Prince of
great humour, and good humour too, he cast eyes upon a poor youth who
happened to be looking on very disconsolately, and said--

'Bulbo, my poor lad! come and try on this ring. The Princess Rosalba
makes it a present to you.'

The magic properties of this ring were uncommonly strong, for no sooner
had Bulbo put it on, but lo and behold, he appeared a personable,
agreeable young Prince enough--with a fine complexion, fair hair, rather
stout, and with bandy legs; but these were encased in such a beautiful
pair of yellow morocco boots that nobody remarked them. And Bulbo's
spirits rose up almost immediately after he had looked in the glass, and
he talked to their Majesties in the most lively, agreeable manner, and
danced opposite the Queen with one of the prettiest maids of honour, and
after looking at Her Majesty, could not help saying--

'How very odd! she is very pretty, but not so EXTRAORDINARILY handsome.'

'Oh no, by no means!' says the Maid of Honour.

'But what care I, dear sir,' says the Queen, who overheard them, 'if YOU
think I am good-looking enough?'

His Majesty's glance in reply to this affectionate speech was such that
no painter could draw it. And the Fa