of all! so young and handsome!"
and the old swans bowed their heads before him. Then he felt quite
ashamed, and hid his head under his wings, for he did not know what to
do; he was so happy, and yet not at all proud. He thought how he had
been persecuted and despised; and now he heard them saying that he was
the most beautiful of all birds. Even the elder-tree bent its branches
straight down into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and
mild. Then his wings rustled, he lifted his slender neck, and cried
rejoicingly from the depths of his heart:

"I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was the Ugly Duckling!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE LIGHT PRINCESS

I

_What! No Children?_

Once upon a time, so long ago that I have quite forgotten the date,
there lived a king and queen who had no children.

And the king said to himself, "All the queens of my acquaintance have
children, some three, some seven, and some as many as twelve; and my
queen has not one. I feel ill-used." So he made up his mind to be cross
with his wife about it. But she bore it all like a good patient queen as
she was. Then the king grew very cross indeed. But the queen pretended
to take it all as a joke, and a very good one too.

"Why don't you have any daughters, at least?" said he. "I don't say
_sons_; that might be too much to expect."

"I am sure, dear king, I am very sorry," said the queen.

"So you ought to be," retorted the king; "you are not going to make a
virtue of _that_, surely."

But he was not an ill-tempered king, and in any matter of less moment
would have let the queen have her own way with all his heart. This,
however, was an affair of State.

The queen smiled.

"You must have patience with a lady, you know, dear king," said she.

She was, indeed, a very nice queen, and heartily sorry that she could
not oblige the king immediately.

The king tried to have patience, but he succeeded very badly. It was
more than he deserved, therefore, when, at last, the queen gave him a
daughter--as lovely a little princess as ever cried.

II

_Won't I, Just?_

The day drew near when the infant must be christened. The king wrote all
the invitations with his own hand. Of course somebody was forgotten.

Now it does not generally matter if somebody _is_ forgotten, only you
must mind who. Unfortunately, the king forgot without intending to
forget; and so the chance fell upon the Princess Makemnoit, which was
awkward. F