kable gifts to
prince or princess, or any child of sufficient importance in their eyes,
always at the christening. Now this we can understand, because it is
an ancient custom amongst human beings as well; and it is not hard to
explain why wicked fairies should choose the same time to do unkind
things; but it is difficult to understand how they should be able to
do them, for you would fancy all wicked creatures would be powerless on
such an occasion. But I never knew of any interference on the part of
the wicked fairy that did not turn out a good thing in the end. What a
good thing, for instance, it was that one princess should sleep for a
hundred years! Was she not saved from all the plague of young men who
were not worthy of her? And did she not come awake exactly at the right
moment when the right prince kissed her? For my part, I cannot help
wishing a good many girls would sleep till just the same fate overtook
them. It would be happier for them, and more agreeable to their friends.

Of course all the known fairies were invited to the christening. But the
king and queen never thought of inviting an old witch.

For the power of the fairies they have by nature; whereas a witch gets
her power by wickedness. The other fairies, however, knowing the danger
thus run, provided as well as they could against accidents from her
quarter. But they could neither render her powerless, nor could they
arrange their gifts in reference to hers beforehand, for they could not
tell what those might be.

Of course the old hag was there without being asked. Not to be asked
was just what she wanted, that she might have a sort of reason for doing
what she wished to do. For somehow even the wickedest of creatures likes
a pretext for doing the wrong thing.

Five fairies had one after the other given the child such gifts as each
counted best, and the fifth had just stepped back to her place in the
surrounding splendour of ladies and gentlemen, when, mumbling a laugh
between her toothless gums, the wicked fairy hobbled out into the middle
of the circle, and at the moment when the archbishop was handing the
baby to the lady at the head of the nursery department of state affairs,
addressed him thus, giving a bite or two to every word before she could
part with it:

"Please your Grace, I'm very deaf: would your Grace mind repeating the
princess's name?"

"With pleasure, my good woman," said the archbishop, stooping to shout
in her ear: "the i