THE PRINCESS AND—WE SHALL SEE WHO
HEN she came to the top, she found herself in a little square
place, with three doors, two opposite each other, and one opposite
the top of the stair. She stood for a moment, without an idea in
her little head what to do next. But as she stood, she began to
hear a curious humming sound. Could it be the rain? No. It was
much more gentle, and even monotonous than the sound of the rain,
which now she scarcely heard. The low sweet humming sound went on,
sometimes stopping for a little while and then beginning again. It
was more like the hum of a very happy bee that had found a rich
well of honey in some globular flower, than anything else I can
think of at this moment. Where could it come from? She laid her
ear first to one of the doors to hearken if it was there—then to
an-  other. When she laid her ear against the third door, there could
be no doubt where it came from: it must be from something in that
room. What could it be? She was rather afraid, but her curiosity
was stronger than her fear, and she opened the door very gently and
peeped in. What do you think she saw? A very old lady who sat
"Oh, Mr. Editor! I know the story you are
going to tell: it's The Sleeping Beauty; only
you're spinning too, and making it longer."
"No, indeed, it is not that story. Why should
I tell one that every properly educated child
knows already? More old ladies than one have
sat spinning in a garret. Besides, the old lady
in that story was only spinning with a spindle,
and this one was spinning with a spinning-wheel,
else how could the princess have heard the sweet
noise through the door? Do you know the difference?
Did you ever see a spindle or a spinning
wheel? I daresay you never did. Well, ask your
mamma to explain to you the difference.
Between ourselves, however, I shouldn't wonder if
she didn't know much better than you. Another
thing is, that this is not a fairy story; but a
gob-  lin story. And one thing more, this old lady
spinning was not an old nurse—but—you shall see
who. I think I have now made it quite plain that
this is not that lovely story of The Sleeping
Beauty. It is quite a new one, I assure you, and
I will try to tell it as prettily as I can."
Perhaps you will wonder how the princess could tell that the old
lady was an old lady, when I inform you that not only was she
beautiful, but her skin was smooth and white. I will tell you
 more. Her hair was combed back from her forehead and face, and
hung loose far down and all over her back. That is not much like
an old lady—is it? Ah! but it was white almost as snow. And
although her face was so smooth, her eyes looked so wise that you
could not have helped seeing she must be old. The princess, though
she could not have told you why, did think her very old indeed—quite
fifty—she said to herself. But she was rather older than
that, as you shall hear.
While the princess stared bewildered, with her head just inside the
door, the old lady lifted hers, and said, in a sweet, but old and
rather shaky voice, which mingled very pleasantly with the
continued hum of her wheel:
"Come in, my dear; come in. I am glad to see you."
That the princess was a real princess you might see now quite
plainly; for she didn't hang on to the handle of the door, and
stare without moving, as I have known some do who ought to have
been princesses but were only rather vulgar little girls. She did
as she was told, stepped inside the door at once, and shut it
gently behind her.
"Come to me, my dear," said the old lady.
 And again the princess did as she was told. She approached the old
lady—rather slowly, I confess, but did not stop until she stood
by her side, and looked up in her face with her blue eyes and the
two melted stars in them.
"Why, what have you been doing with your eyes, child?" asked the
"Crying," answered the princess.
"Because I couldn't find my way down again."
"But you could find your way up."
"Not at first—not for a long time."
"But your face is streaked like the back of a zebra. Hadn't you a
handkerchief to wipe your eyes with?"
"Then why didn't you come to me to wipe them for you?"
"Please, I didn't know you were here. I will next time."
"There's a good child!" said the old lady.
Then she stopped her wheel, and rose, and, going out of the room,
returned with a little silver basin and a soft white towel, with
which she washed and wiped the bright little face. And the
 princess thought her hands were so smooth and nice!
When she carried away the basin and towel, the little princess
wondered to see how straight and tall she was, for, although she
was so old, she didn't stoop a bit. She was dressed in black
velvet with thick white heavy-looking lace about it; and on the
black dress her hair shone like silver. There was hardly any more
furniture in the room than there might have been in that of the
poorest old woman who made her bread by her spinning. There was no
carpet on the floor—no table anywhere—nothing but the
spinning-wheel and the chair beside it. When she came back, she
sat down and without a word began her spinning once more, while
Irene, who had never seen a spinning-wheel, stood by her side and
looked on. When the old lady had got her thread fairly going
again, she said to the princess, but without looking at her:
"Do you know my name, child?"
"No, I don't know it," answered the princess.
"my name is Irene."
"That's my name!" cried the princess.
 "I know that. I let you have mine. I haven't got your name.
You've got mine."
"How can that be?" asked the princess, bewildered. "I've always
had my name."
"Your papa, the king, asked me if I had any objection to your
having it; and, of course, I hadn't. I let you have it with
"It was very kind of you to give me your name—and such a pretty
one," said the princess.
"Oh, not so very kind!" said the old lady. "A name is one of those
things one can give away and keep all the same. I have a good many
such things. Wouldn't you like to know who I am, child?"
"Yes, that I should—very much."
"I'm your great-great-grandmother," said the lady.
"What's that?" asked the princess.
"I'm your father's mother's father's mother."
"Oh, dear! I can't understand that," said the princess.
"I dare say not. I didn't expect you would. But that's no reason
why I shouldn't say it."
"Oh, no!" answered the princess.
"I will explain it all to you when you are
 older," the lady went
on. "But you will be able to understand this much now: I came here
to take care of you."
"Is it long since you came? Was it yesterday? Or was it today,
because it was so wet that I couldn't get out?"
"I've been here ever since you came yourself."
"What a long time!" said the princess. "I don't remember it at
"No. I suppose not."
"But I never saw you before."
"No. But you shall see me again."
"Do you live in this room always?"
"I don't sleep in it. I sleep on the opposite side of the landing.
I sit here most of the day."
"I shouldn't like it. My nursery is much prettier. You must be a
queen too, if you are my great big grand-mother."
"Yes, I am a queen."
"Where is your crown, then?"
"In my bedroom."
"I should like to see it."
"You shall some day—not today."
"I wonder why nursie never told me."
"Nursie doesn't know. She never saw me."
 "But somebody knows that you are in the house?"
"How do you get your dinner, then?"
"I keep poultry—of a sort."
"Where do you keep them?"
"I will show you."
"And who makes the chicken broth for you?"
"I never kill any of my chickens."
"Then I can't understand."
"What did you have for breakfast this morning?" asked the lady.
"Oh! I had bread and milk, and an egg—I dare say you eat their
"Yes, that's it. I eat their eggs."
"Is that what makes your hair so white?"
"No, my dear. It's old age. I am very old."
"I thought so. Are you fifty?"
"Yes—more than that."
"Are you a hundred?"
"Yes—more than that. I am too old for you to guess. Come and
see my chickens."
Again she stopped her spinning. She rose, took the princess by the
hand, led her out of the room, and opened the door opposite the
 princess expected to see a lot of hens and chickens,
but instead of that, she saw the blue sky first, and then the roofs
of the house, with a multitude of the loveliest pigeons, mostly
white, but of all colours, walking about, making bows to each
other, and talking a language she could not understand. She
clapped her hands with delight, and up rose such a flapping of
wings that she in her turn was startled.
"You've frightened my poultry," said the old lady, smiling.
"And they've frightened me," said the princess, smiling too. "But
what very nice poultry! Are the eggs nice?"
BUT WHAT VERY NICE POULTRY.
"Yes, very nice."
"What a small egg-spoon you must have! Wouldn't it be better to
keep hens, and get bigger eggs?"
"How should I feed them, though?"
"I see," said the princess. "The pigeons feed themselves. They've
"Just so. If they couldn't fly, I couldn't eat their eggs."
"But how do you get at the eggs? Where are their nests?"
 The lady took hold of a little loop of string in the wall at the
side of the door and, lifting a shutter, showed a great many
pigeon-holes with nests, some with young ones and some with eggs in
them. The birds came in at the other side, and she took out the
eggs on this side. She closed it again quickly, lest the young
ones should be frightened.
"Oh, what a nice way!" cried the princess. "Will you give me an
egg to eat? I'm rather hungry."
"I will some day, but now you must go back, or nursie will be
miserable about you. I dare say she's looking for you everywhere."
"Except here," answered the princess. "Oh, how surprised she will
be when I tell her about my great big grand-grand-mother!"
"Yes, that she will!" said the old lady with a curious smile.
"Mind you tell her all about it exactly."
"That I will. Please will you take me back to her?"
"I can't go all the way, but I will take you to the top of the
stair, and then you must run down quite fast into your own room."
 The little princess put her hand in the old lady's, who, looking
this way and that, brought her to the top of the first stair, and
thence to the bottom of the second, and did not leave her till she
saw her half-way down the third. When she heard the cry of her
nurse's pleasure at finding her, she turned and walked up the
stairs again, very fast indeed for such a very great grandmother,
and sat down to her spinning with another strange smile on her
sweet old face.
About this spinning of hers I will tell you more another time.
Guess what she was spinning.