she said passionately.

Udo got on to his four legs with dignity.

"Keep your wish," he said. "There are plenty of other ways of getting
out of enchantments. I'll learn up a piece of poetry by our Court
Poet Sacharino, and recite it backwards when the moon is new.
Something like that. I can do this quite easily by myself. Keep your
wish."

He went slowly out. His tail (looking more like a bell-rope than
ever) followed him solemnly. The fluffy part that you pull was for a
moment left behind; then with a jerk it was gone, and Wiggs was left
alone.

"I won't give up my wish," cried Wiggs again. "I'll wish it now
before I'm sorry." She held the ring up. "I wish that----" She
stopped suddenly. "Poor Prince Udo he seems very unhappy. I wonder
if it _is_ a good wish to wish to dance when people are unhappy." She
thought this out for a little, and then made her great resolve.
"Yes," she said, "I'll wish him well again."

Once more she held the ring up in her two hands.

"I wish," she said, "that Prince Udo----"

I know what you're going to say. It was no good her wishing her good
wish, because she had been a bad girl the day before--making the
Countess an apple-pie bed and all--disgraceful! How could she
possibly suppose----

She didn't. She remembered just in time.

"Oh, bother," said Wiggs, standing in the middle of the room with the
ring held above her head. "I've got to be good for a day first.
_Bother!_"

* * * * *

So the next day was Wiggs's Good Day. The legend of it was handed
down for years afterwards in Euralia. It got into all the
Calendars--July 20th it was--marked with a red star; in Roger's
portentous volumes it had a chapter devoted to it. There was some
talk about it being made into a public holiday, he tells us, but this
fell through. Euralian mothers used to scold their naughty children
with the words, "Why can't you be like Wiggs?" and the children used
to tell each other that there never was a real Wiggs, and that it was
only a made-up story for parents. However, you have my word for it
that it was true.

She began by getting up at five o'clock in the morning, and after
dressing herself very neatly (and being particularly careful to wring
out her sponge) she made her own bed and tidied up the room. For a
moment she thought of waking the grown-ups in the Palace and letting
them enjoy the beautiful morning too, but a little reflection showed
her that this would no