green sward, sighing very
dismally and many of them shedding tears from their human eyes.

It was only the approach of night that hastened Wilhelm on his journey
to the city, and, as he trudged along, he could not help thinking of
the singular adventure with the swans. Presently he came upon a
countryman sitting by the roadside, and to him he told the story of the
castle and the swans.

"Ah," said the countryman, "you are an innocent lad to be sure! That
was the castle of the old witch, and the swans you saw are unfortunate
princes whom she has enchanted."

Then Wilhelm begged him to tell him about the old witch and the poor
princes, and the countryman told him all from first to last, only I
will have to make it much shorter, as it was a long tale.

It seems that the old witch was once a princess who was famed for her
beauty and wit. She had a younger sister who was quite as beautiful,
but much more amiable and much less ambitious. These sister princesses
lived in the castle together, and the elder, whose name was Mirza,
guarded the younger very jealously lest the younger should be first
married. One time the Prince Joseph determined he would wed. He was
the handsomest and bravest prince in the land and all the princesses
set their caps for him, Mirza among the others. But it came to the
prince's ears that Mirza was learned in and practised witchcraft, so,
despite her beauty and her grace, he would have no thought of Mirza,
but chose her younger sister to wife.

When the prince wedded the younger princess, Mirza was enraged beyond
all saying, and forthwith she dismissed her court and gave up her life
to the singing of incantations and the dreadful practices of a witch;
and so constant was she in the practice of those black arts that her
back became bent, her hair white, and her face wrinkled, and she grew
to be the most hideous hag in the whole kingdom. Meanwhile, the prince
had become king; and his wife, the queen, had presented him with a
daughter, so beautiful that her like had never been seen on earth.
This little princess was named Mary, a name esteemed then, as now, as
the most beautiful of all names. Mary increased in loveliness each day
and when she was fifteen the fame of her beauty and amiability was
worldwide.

But one day, as the princess sat counting her pearls in her chamber,
the old witch Mirza flew in through the window on a broomstick and
carried the princess Mary off to her forlorn old