u saw the tangle it comes to me in! And
the threads I send down! It is not _often_ such little people as you
come up here themselves, but it does happen sometimes. And there is
plenty ready for you--all ready for the wheel."

"How wonderful!" said Hugh. "And oh!" he exclaimed, "I suppose sometimes
the threads get twisted again when you have to send them down such a
long way, and that's how stories get muddled sometimes."

"Just so," said the white lady. "My story threads need gentle handling,
and sometimes people seize them roughly and tear and soil them, and then
of course they are no longer pretty. But listen now. What will you have?
The first in the wheel is a very, very old fairy story. I span it for
your great-great-grandmothers; shall I spin it again for you?"

"Oh, please," said both children at once.

"Then sit down on the floor and lean your heads against my knees," said
the lady. "Shut your eyes and listen. That is all you have to do. Never
mind the cats, they will be quite quiet."

[Illustration: STORY SPINNING.--p. 141.]

Hugh and Jeanne did as she told them. They leaned their heads, the
smooth black one of the little girl, the fair-haired curly one of the
boy, on the lady's white robe. You can hardly imagine how soft and
pleasant it was to the touch. A half-sleepy feeling came over them; they
shut their eyes and did not feel inclined to open them again. But they
did not really go to sleep; the fairy lady began to work the wheel, and
through the soft whirr came the sound of a voice--whether it was the
voice of the lady or of the wheel they could not tell. And this was the
old, old story the wheel spun for them.

"Listen, children," it began.

"We are listening," said Jeanne, rather testily. "You needn't say that
again."

"Hush, Jeanne," said Hugh; "you'll stop the story if you're not quiet."

"Listen, children," said the voice again. And Jeanne was quite quiet.

"Once on a time--a very long time ago--in a beautiful castle there lived
a beautiful Princess. She was young and sweet and very fair to see. And
she was the only child of her parents, who thought nothing too rare or
too good for her. At her birth all the fairies had given her valuable
gifts--no evil wishes had been breathed over her cradle. Only the fairy
who had endowed her with good sense and ready wit had dropped certain
words, which had left some anxiety in the minds of her parents.

"'She will need my gifts,' the fairy had said. 'If