nd, trotting back to his mistress, bent down
his head before her as if asking excuse for ridding himself of the
unbearable.

The princess was furious. She had forgotten all her past life up to the
time when she first saw the child: her beauty had made her forget, and
yet she was now on the very borders of hating her. What she might have
done, or rather tried to do, had not Peggy's tail struck her down with
such force that for a moment she could not rise, I cannot tell.

But while she lay half-stunned, her eyes fell on a little flower just
under them. It stared up in her face like the living thing it was, and
she could not take her eyes off its face. It was like a primrose trying
to express doubt instead of confidence. It seemed to put her half in
mind of something, and she felt as if shame were coming. She put out
her hand to pluck it; but the moment her fingers touched it, the flower
withered up, and hung as dead on its stalks as if a flame of fire had
passed over it.

Then a shudder thrilled through the heart of the princess, and she
thought with herself, saying--"What sort of a creature am I that the
flowers wither when I touch them, and the ponies despise me with their
tails? What a wretched, coarse, ill-bred creature I must be! There is
that lovely child giving life instead of death to the flowers, and a
moment ago I was hating her! I am made horrid, and I shall be horrid,
and I hate myself, and yet I can't help being myself!"

She heard the sound of galloping feet, and there was the pony, with the
child seated betwixt his wings, coming straight on at full speed for
where she lay.

"I don't care," she said. "They may trample me under their feet if they
like. I am tired and sick of myself--a creature at whose touch the
flowers wither!"

On came the winged pony. But while yet some distance off, he gave a
great bound, spread out his living sails of blue, rose yards and yards
above her in the air, and alighted as gently as a bird, just a few feet
on the other side of her. The child slipped down and came and kneeled
over her.

"Did my pony hurt you?" she said. "I am so sorry!"

"Yes, he hurt me," answered the princess, "but not more than I
deserved, for I took liberties with him, and he did not like it."

"Oh, you dear!" said the little girl. "I love you for talking so of my
Peggy. He is a good pony, though a little playful sometimes. Would you
like a ride upon him?"

"You darling beauty!" cried Rosamond, s