tibor, and softly hum into his ear that I love him only, but that I
am a captive in the gnome's palace under the mountains. Do not forget
a single word of my greeting, and bring me back a message from my
beloved.'

So the bee spread his shining wings and flew away to do as he was
bidden; but before he was out of sight a greedy swallow made a snatch at
him, and to the great grief of the princess her messenger was eaten up
then and there.

After that, by the power of the wonderful wand she summoned a cricket,
and taught him this greeting:

'Hop, little cricket, to Ratibor, and chirp in his ear that I love him
only, but that I am held captive by the gnome in his palace under the
mountains.'

So the cricket hopped off gaily, determined to do his best to deliver
his message; but, alas! a long-legged stork who was prancing along the
same road caught him in her cruel beak, and before he could say a word
he had disappeared down her throat.

These two unlucky ventures did not prevent the princess from trying once
more.

This time she changed the turnip into a magpie.

'Flutter from tree to tree, chattering bird,' said she, 'till you come
to Ratibor, my love. Tell him that I am a captive, and bid him come with
horses and men, the third day from this, to the hill that rises from the
Thorny Valley.'

The magpie listened, hopped awhile from branch to branch, and then
darted away, the princess watching him anxiously as far as she could
see.

Now Prince Ratibor was still spending his life in wandering about the
woods, and not even the beauty of the spring could soothe his grief.

One day, as he sat in the shade of an oak tree, dreaming of his lost
princess, and sometimes crying her name aloud, he seemed to hear another
voice reply to his, and, starting up, he gazed around him, but he could
see no one, and he had just made up his mind that he must be mistaken,
when the same voice called again, and, looking up sharply, he saw a
magpie which hopped to and fro among the twigs. Then Ratibor heard with
surprise that the bird was indeed calling him by name.

'Poor chatterpie,' said he; 'who taught you to say that name, which
belongs to an unlucky mortal who wishes the earth would open and swallow
up him and his memory for ever?'

Thereupon he caught up a great stone, and would have hurled it at the
magpie, if it had not at that moment uttered the name of the princess.

This was so unexpected that the prince's arm fell helple