senting to marry him.'

'Sire,' she replied, 'I know too well what I am like to be hurt by what
you say, but I assure you that I have no wish to marry your son I had
rather be called Princess Cabbage-Stalk than Queen Curlicue.'

This made King Grumpy very angry.

'Your father has sent you here to marry my son,' he said, 'and you may
be sure that I am not going to offend him by altering his arrangements.'
So the poor Princess was sent away in disgrace to her own apartments,
and the ladies who attended upon her were charged to bring her to a
better mind.

At this juncture the guards, who were in great fear that they would be
found out, sent to tell the King that his son was dead, which annoyed
him very much. He at once made up his mind that it was entirely the
Princess's fault, and gave orders that she should be imprisoned in
the tower in Prince Curlicue's place. The Princess Cabbage-Stalk was
immensely astonished at this unjust proceeding, and sent many messages
of remonstrance to King Grumpy, but he was in such a temper that no one
dared to deliver them, or to send the letters which the Princess wrote
to her father. However, as she did not know this, she lived in hope of
soon going back to her own country, and tried to amuse herself as well
as she could until the time should come. Every day she walked up and
down the long gallery, until she too was attracted and fascinated by the
ever-changing pictures in the windows, and recognised herself in one
of the figures. 'They seem to have taken a great delight in painting
me since I came to this country,' she said to herself. 'One would think
that I and my crutch were put in on purpose to make that slim, charming
young shepherdess in the next picture look prettier by contrast. Ah!
how nice it would be to be as pretty as that.' And then she looked at
herself in a mirror, and turned away quickly with tears in her eyes from
the doleful sight. All at once she became aware that she was not alone,
for behind her stood a tiny old woman in a cap, who was as ugly again as
herself and quite as lame.

'Princess,' she said, 'your regrets are so piteous that I have come to
offer you the choice of goodness or beauty. If you wish to be pretty
you shall have your way, but you will also be vain, capricious, and
frivolous. If you remain as you are now, you shall be wise and amiable
and modest.'

'Alas I madam,' cried the Princess, 'is it impossible to be at once wise
and beautiful?'

'