beautiful!" exclaimed Princess Pansy, clapping her hands. To
have a present without a birthday was more than she had ever believed
possible.

"What will you have?" asked the Fairy, raising her wand. The Princess
did not stop to think.

"I will have a wax doll, please, with blue eyes and yellow hair and
pink cheeks, dressed in a white silk frock with lots of little frills,"
she said, rapidly. "And, if you _could_ manage it," she added,
glancing sideways at the Prince, her brother, "I think I should like
one that doesn't melt when you put it near the fire."

"I think I can manage it," said the Fairy Zigzag, and down came her
wand with a sharp tap on the table. Princess Pansy gave a cry of
delight. In front of her lay the most beautiful wax doll any little
girl of eight years old has ever possessed. She had blue eyes and
yellow curls and pink cheeks; she was dressed in a white silk frock
with rows and rows of little frills; she had a gold crown perched on
her head, and she wore high-heeled shoes on her dainty feet; she had a
real pocket with a real lace handkerchief sticking out of it; she
carried a fan in one hand and a scent bottle in the other; and she
actually possessed real six-buttoned gloves, which could be drawn on
and off her little hands. Princess Pansy was breathless. She had
never seen anything so beautiful before.

"You must thank the Fairy Zigzag," whispered the King and Queen. The
little Princess gave a sigh and looked up; it seemed so stupid to say
"Thank you" for such a superb dolly as hers. After all, she had to say
nothing whatever, for the Fairy Zigzag was no longer there; she had
gone away without a chariot, or a cloud of blue smoke, or even a bang!

"She has given nothing to her godson," said the courtiers to one
another; and they fully expected that Prince Perfection would fly into
a passion. However, Prince Perfection did not fly into a passion. He
looked at the little Princess as she laughed with joy over her
beautiful new doll; he thought just once of the steamboat that would
have gone by real steam, and the cannon that would have fired real
gunpowder, and the balloon that would have taken him wherever he wished
to go; and then he remembered that he was ten years old and a Prince,
and he flung back his head and began to whistle.

"It doesn't matter," he said, indifferently. "I have five hundred and
fifty-four presents upstairs, and I don't care for dolls."

Little Princess Pa