There was once upon a time a King and a Queen who had three daughters. The eldest was called Elsa, the second Elfrida, and the third Heartsease. All the fairies were invited to the christening of the two eldest daughters, and not one was left out. They came and showered gifts on the two babies, and promised them beauty, riches, prosperity, happiness, and long life. But when Heartsease was born, the King happened to be very busy drawing up a treaty with a neighbouring State, about the rights of preserving gold-fish in a certain pond which lay between the two kingdoms, so that when he invited the fairies to the christening he left out one of them: the Fairy of the Yellow Mines, who was wicked and powerful.

The other fairies came, and they said that Heartsease should be the kindest and the cleverest princess ever seen: her eyes should be as blue as forget-me-nots, her smile as bright as the morning, her hands as delicate as snowdrops, and her heart of pure gold. Moreover, she should sing like a lark, and ride wild horses, and do needlework better than all other princesses. Towards the end of the feast, the Fairy of the Yellow Mines arrived in a chariot drawn by two snorting dragons. She was all yellow, and her face was dry as a piece of parchment, and pinched and wrinkled with spite and envy.

"So it appears I am not worthy to be invited to this feast," she said. "I know I am old-fashioned, but in my time kings used to take the trouble to be civil to fairies. But since I have come unbidden I must not depart without bestowing a gift. Heartsease, in spite of her eyes the colour of forget-me-nots, in spite of her smile like the morning and her hands like snowdrops, shall not be pretty to look at, for her skin shall be marked with my special signature. And he who woos her will woo her for herself and for her heart, and not for her face."

So saying, the Fairy of the Yellow Mines chuckled, and flew away in her yellow chariot.

The King and the Queen were dreadfully vexed when this happened, and they at once asked Heartsease's godmother, who was none other than the Fairy of the Azure Lake, whether she could not do anything to help them.

"Alas! I cannot undo the mischief that has been done," she answered, "but nevertheless Heartsease shall be wooed and won, and her bridegroom shall be greater than that of her beautiful sisters." And when she had said this, the Fairy of the Azure Lake drove away in her chariot, which was made of honeysuckle, and driven by ten obedient bees.

Heartsease was the most beautiful little baby ever seen. Her hair was curly, her skin as soft as that of a rose-leaf, with many dimples in it, and her smile made those who looked at her happy the whole day long. Two years passed, and the King and the Queen began to think that the wicked fairy's words had only been a bad joke, when one day Heartsease began to cry, and it became clear that she was not well. She was put to bed, and the Court doctor was sent for. He looked at her, and said that the case was a very serious one. During a whole month little Heartsease was mortally sick, and she was given many nasty medicines which she drank without complaining. The King and the Queen never left her bedside day and night.

At last, at the end of the sixth week, the doctor said the turning-point had come, and that little Heartsease would get well. From that day onwards she began to recover, and in a month's time she was able to run about. But alas! her lovely soft skin had disappeared. It was pitted all over with deep marks, so that it appeared to be all shrivelled, and as yellow as the face of the Fairy of the Yellow Mines; and nobody could recognise in this dried-up, wizened face the lovely little child that had once been Heartsease. And in spite of her eyes, which were still as blue as forget-me-nots, and in spite of her smile, people could scarcely bear to look at her, poor little thing, such a fright had she become. And this, of course, was the doing of the Fairy of the Yellow Mines, who had cast a spell on Heartsease's face.

The King ordered all the looking-glasses in the house to be broken, lest Heartsease should catch sight of herself and be sad, and so she continued to play with her toys and ride on her white pony and be happy. But the King and the Queen were sad, because they loved Heartsease the best of all their daughters.

One day, when Heartsease was eight years old, she went out for a walk with her two sisters, and they met a vagabond in dark, tattered cloak who was playing a hurdy-gurdy, which is a thing like a big violin, with strings, and keys, and a handle at the end of it which you turn. The vagabond looked very poor and miserable, and he took off his cap and asked for a few pence, for he had not a penny to buy bread with.

Now Elsa and Elfrida, Heartsease's sisters, were very proud. They scowled at the vagabond, and told him to go about his business quickly, or else they would send for the soldiers and have him locked up in gaol. But Heartsease was sorry for him and said: "I cannot give you any money, because I have not got any, but take this: perhaps it will make you happy, because I love it very much, and talk to it when I am alone." And she took her favourite old doll which she always carried about with her, and gave it to him. It was not a pretty doll, and she had played with it so much that its clothes were frayed and torn; but it had a beautiful crown made of gold paper, and a necklace of large blue beads. And Heartsease loved it above all things, and it was her companion; because Elsa and Elfrida never let her play with them, for they said she was too small.

As soon as she had done this Elsa and Elfrida burst out laughing.

"Fancy giving a beggar a doll!" they said. "We should like to know what he can do with it!"

"Thank you kindly, little Princess," said the vagabond. "I shall never forget your kindness."

"A lot of good a beggar's kindness will do her," said Elsa.

"Perhaps he will bring her a bridegroom," said Elfrida.

"Perhaps he will wed her himself," said Elsa, and they both laughed.

"Nobody else will, for sure," said Elfrida.

The vagabond then turned to the two sisters and said—

"A day will come when you will envy your sister her bridegroom." And he hobbled away.

Elsa and Elfrida burst into a fit of laughter.

"Fancy," said Elsa, "our envying Heartsease!"

"Fancy," said Elfrida, "her ever having a bridegroom!"

Now Heartsease could not understand what they meant, for she did not know she was a fright; but their words made her thoughtful and sad, and she wondered what they were talking about. When she got home, she asked her father whether, when she grew up, she would find a bridegroom, and be married.

"Of course you will, dear little child," he said, and he took her on his knee, but she noticed that his eyes were filled with tears.

From that moment, Heartsease began to suspect that there was something wrong about herself, and that she was not quite the same as other children. One summer night, after she had been put to bed, her nurse and the nurserymaid were sitting by the nursery window darning some stockings. They thought Heartsease was asleep.

"Princess Elsa will be fifteen years old come Michaelmas," said the nurse.

"They'll be looking for a bridegroom for her soon," said the nurserymaid. "She's as tall as a grown-up lass already."

"I pity her husband," said the nurse; "she's a regular cross-patch she is, and as proud as a peacock."

"And as different from the little one as cloth from silk," said the nurserymaid.

"Ah!" sighed the nurse, "poor little lamb! they'll have a hard task to find her a suitor, although she deserves the best in the land."

Heartsease wondered what this could mean, and the more she pondered over it, the sadder she became.

The years passed by, and a great feast was held at Court to celebrate Princess Elsa's seventeenth birthday. All the princes of the land were invited, for the King and the Queen thought that the time had come for Elsa to be married. The three principal suitors were Prince Silvergilt, who possessed immense riches and countless jewels; King Sharpsword, who was a terrible fighter, and had slain two hundred knights in single combat; and Prince Simple Simon, who was the youngest son of a powerful king, and so simple that he was always laughed at by everybody. Besides these there were a number of less important knights and princes. As soon as the Prince Silvergilt set eyes on Princess Elsa, he made up his mind that she would make just the right wife for him, because she was beautiful and haughty, and he was determined that the queen of his country should be the proudest woman in the world, and should always be dressed in gold, and wear a heavy crown.

The King's feast was the most splendid that had ever been known, and it was followed by a display of fireworks and a ball. Prince Silvergilt danced with Princess Elsa, and King Sharpsword danced with Elfrida, and all the other princes and knights chose partners from among the crowd of beautiful princesses who were there; but nobody chose poor Heartsease, who sat lonely and very sad in a corner by herself.

At last, when the ball was nearly over, Prince Simple Simon noticed that Heartsease was all by herself, and he went up to her and asked her why she did not dance.

"Because," said Heartsease, "nobody has asked me to."

"Will you dance with me?" asked Simple Simon.

"Of course I will," said Heartsease, and he led her out. As he did this, Heartsease noticed that the courtiers looked at each other and hid a smile. They danced round the room; but Simple Simon was so awkward that although Heartsease, who danced like the wind, steered him beautifully, he kept on catching his sword in the trains of the princesses, and bumping up against them, so that all the courtiers tittered, although they tried to hide it, and Heartsease was obliged to ask him to go back to the quiet corner where she had been sitting.

"They are laughing because I dance so awkwardly," said Simple Simon. "Everybody laughs at me, except Lizbeth."

"Who is Lizbeth?" asked Heartsease.

"Lizbeth is the goose-girl in our village," he answered. "We are betrothed, and I am to wed her as soon as I have made my fortune."

"It was at me they were smiling," said Heartsease. "They always smile at me, and I do not know why. But perhaps you will tell me."

"I do not know," said Simple Simon.

"You see," said Heartsease, "the courtiers here pay me extravagant compliments. They tell me I am beautiful and clever; but I do not know whether it is true, because I have never seen my own face."

This was true, because there was no such thing as a looking-glass in the whole kingdom, and poor Heartsease had never been allowed to go near a river, a pond, a pool, or any place where she might have seen the reflection of her own face.

"I think," said Simple Simon, "your face is very beautiful. You have such nice, kind eyes. But then everybody says I am a bad judge. But haven't you ever looked at yourself in a mirror?"

"What is a mirror?" asked Heartsease.

"I will show you to-morrow morning," said Simple Simon.

At that moment a herald dressed in gold came into the ballroom, and blew a blast on his silver trumpet which meant that supper was ready. Heartsease would have liked to have gone in to supper with Simple Simon, but the Court etiquette did not allow it, and an old duke who was deaf came up, and gave her his arm.

The next morning Heartsease was feeding her tame birds in the garden when Simple Simon appeared before her.

"I have brought you a mirror," he said. And he gave her a piece of smooth polished steel which he had cut out of his own breastplate.

Heartsease looked at her face, and then two large tears ran down her cheeks.

"Oh!" she said, "it was unkind of you to mock me. I understand everything now. I see why nobody will speak to me. I am a hideous fright; my face is covered with spots and marks."

"But I wasn't mocking you," said Simple Simon. "I don't think those spots matter a bit. You have got such nice, kind eyes."

"No, no," said Heartsease, "I understand everything. Nobody will ever marry me."

"I am sure they will," said honest Simon; "why, I would have married you gladly myself if I had not been betrothed to Lizbeth." And so saying, Simple Simon said good-bye to Heartsease, for it was time for him to start once more on his travels.

Heartsease said good-bye to him and thanked him for his kindness, for she understood now that he had not meant to mock her, but that he spoke the truth, and she told him that she hoped he would make his fortune soon, and marry Lizbeth the goose-girl, and be happy ever afterwards.

When Simple Simon rode off on his old grey mare, Heartsease felt sad and lonely, for the only friend she had ever made was now leaving her for ever. The festivities went on all day long, because the Prince Silvergilt asked Elsa to be his wife, and it was settled that they should be married without any delay. So in the evening there was another great State ball, but Heartsease felt so sad at heart that she said she was not feeling well, and she went up to a little room where she kept her dolls, and all the treasures she had had when she was a child. This little room was in an attic in a side wing of the palace, and it looked over a narrow street, for the palace stood in the middle of the city. Heartsease had made this room a hiding-place for herself as soon as she was big enough to leave the nursery. Nobody knew it existed except her nurse, and she could go and play there when she wanted to be alone. She liked to look out on to the street and see the people coming and going, the horses and the carts clattering over the cobblestones, instead of on to the big empty gardens on which all the state-rooms looked out, and where you saw no one except the sentry walking up and down, and the courtiers, strutting about like peacocks in their wigs and hoops. The room had a little bed in it, and sometimes she slept there; but this evening she was not at all sleepy, and she leant out of her window and watched the evening star shining in the summer twilight, which was still tinged with yellow in the west.

Faintly in the distance she heard the sounds of harps, cymbals, and drums coming from the banqueting-hall, where the King was holding a feast. The little street beneath her was quite empty and silent, the curfew had sounded, and the watchman had blown his horn and told all good people to put out their lights and go to bed, and in the jutting-out casements of the pointed red-gabled houses opposite her, which seemed to lean over the street, there was not a light left.

Suddenly she heard the sound of footsteps tramping on the cobblestones, and round the corner of the street she saw a dark figure coming along, which seemed to her to be a man. It was dark now, and the sky was a deep and wonderful blue. The moon had not risen, and only a few stars twinkled, very large and bright.

The figure walked slowly along, keeping close to the walls of the houses opposite to her. When he was opposite the palace he stopped. She could not distinguish clearly who it was, but she saw at once it was a man. He was carrying something in his hand, and presently she became aware that it was a lute, or a musical instrument of some kind, for he began to play, and a thin thread of sound crept from the darkness and found a way straight into her heart.

Then it all at once came into her mind that she had seen this man before and heard these sounds already, and she remembered the vagabond who played a hurdy-gurdy, and to whom she had given her favourite doll, long ago when she was little. But now his music sounded different. "Perhaps," she thought, "it is because I am older and can understand it." However that may be, never in her life had she heard or imagined anything so melodious and so sweet. For while the vagabond played, he sang, and although the words of his song were in some tongue which was unknown to her, she seemed to understand every word of it. Although she had never heard the vagabond's voice before, it seemed familiar to her as if she had known it all her life. And there was something warm in it which gladdened you, and something soft and lovely like the tender colours of summer dawn. But more than all things Heartsease felt that the voice was the voice of a friend who would be kind to her and comfort her; and Heartsease felt she could listen to it for ever.

"Come away," it seemed to say, "from this palace and these unkind people, and I will give you freedom, and we will roam together over the wide world, and sleep beneath the stars, and drink of the clear brooks and bathe in the streams; in the summer the sky shall be our tent, and the stars shall be our candles, and in the winter we will make ourselves snug and warm in the heart of the woods; we will wander over hill and valley, and will float on a raft down the broad river till we come to the sea; and we will cross the great sea, and I will give you a little cottage of your own, all overgrown with honeysuckle, where the bees hum and boom, and there I will lull you to sleep with a song."

Then all at once the music ceased, and Heartsease wanted to call the minstrel, but he had vanished, and although he had sung quite loud, none of the people in the houses seemed to have noticed him.

All night long Heartsease dreamed of the vagabond and of his singing, and the next evening she waited at her window as soon as the sun set.

But the vagabond did not come that evening, nor the next evening either, and weeks and months went by but he did not come again.

A year after this Princess Elsa was married. The King and the Queen gave another great feast in honour of their second daughter, Elfrida, and this time King Sharpsword was betrothed to her, and the wedding was celebrated with pomp and ceremony. As usual there were feasting and dances every night, and although all the princes of the land were there, nobody took any notice of poor Heartsease except the old duke, who was obliged to lead her in to supper according to the etiquette of the Court. And this time Heartsease had no friend to talk to, for Simple Simon was not there, although she had news of him. He had made his fortune, much to everybody's surprise, by capturing a cruel ogre, and he had married Lizbeth the goose-girl, and they were as happy as the day is long. But although Heartsease was lonely and despised, she did not feel lonely any longer, for somewhere she felt she had a friend who would not forget her, and she remembered the marvellous song of the vagabond.

The night Elfrida was married, Heartsease again said she did not feel well, and she went to the little room in the attic, and waited by the window while the light faded from the twilight sky. And as soon as it grew dark, she heard the footsteps on the cobblestones, and soon the piercing notes of the sweet familiar voice echoed in the street, sighing, soothing, and binding her with a spell, healing her heartache and taking away her homesickness, and calling her away to the valleys and the hills. For hours she seemed to listen to the deep, deep tones, and then, as the year before, the sound suddenly ceased and the vagabond had vanished.

The next year Heartsease herself was seventeen years old, the age at which it was the custom for the royal princesses to be married. But although the King and the Queen made a great feast and invited all the princes of the land, not one of them asked the King for the hand of his daughter Heartsease, because they all thought it was impossible to marry a wife who was such a fright.

The King and the Queen were miserable, and they settled to wait another year, in case some kind prince might come who would be willing to marry Heartsease.

As for Heartsease, she begged her father and mother not to worry about her. She told them she did not want to marry any one, and that she was quite happy living at home and taking care of them. And they did not know that she had looked at herself in a mirror and had seen her face. But although she said this, and pretended to be happy and cheerful, she was really sad at heart because she was such a fright, and she was sure nobody could love her, and the only thing which consoled her was the mysterious vagabond who came once a year and sang beneath her window.

Soon after Heartsease's seventeenth birthday, her mother, the Queen, went one day for a ride in the forest by herself, and the wicked Fairy of the Yellow Mines carried her off in her chariot and locked her up in a castle. The people of the city searched for the Queen everywhere, but no trace of her was to be found, so that everybody thought she must have been eaten by wild beasts; but Heartsease knew this was not true, because she saw her mother in her dreams every night. Another year passed, and just before Heartsease's birthday came round, the old King married again. The new Queen was the godchild of the Fairy of the Yellow Mines. She was wicked, and owing to the spells which her godmother had taught her, she could make the King do anything she wished, and she made him believe the Queen had been eaten by wild beasts. No sooner were they married than her wickedness and her cruelty, which she had hidden up to that moment, became plain to everybody. She hated Heartsease, because Heartsease was good and unhappy, and she tormented her in every possible way; and to crown all, on the day before Heartsease's birthday, she said she could not have a lazy, good-for-nothing slut about the house, but that Heartsease must marry at once, and that since nobody would marry her of their own accord, she would find some one who should do so whether he liked it or not.

That very day the new Queen sent a message by a rat to her godmother, and the Fairy of the Yellow Mines arrived in her chariot drawn by two snorting dragons.

"It's about that child," said the Queen, when her godmother had arrived and settled herself comfortably in an arm-chair. "She bothers me. I want you to find her a husband—some one who will keep her in order and not stand any nonsense; at the same time I should like it to be a suitable and proper alliance—suitable for me too, that is to say."

"I quite understand," said the Fairy.

"You see," said the Queen, "the King won't live long, and when he dies I shall be Queen of the country, and I shall not want any of the King's sons-in-law to come bothering or interfering, disputing my right to the kingdom, or any nonsense of that kind. I am quite at my ease about Prince Silvergilt and King Sharpsword; they are so busy beating their wives that they will not bother me."

Now this was quite true, and Elfrida and Elsa were both of them unhappy; because their husbands were unkind, and they were obliged to wear stiff robes all day, and heavy crowns, and they were beaten if they did not look happy and cheerful.

"I have got the very thing," said the Fairy; "my dear nephew Crookedshanks is just what you want. He has been looking for a wife for a long time, but so far nobody has consented to marry him. He's so beautiful, you know"—and here the Fairy chuckled—"he's a dwarf and a hunchback, and he's got such a sweet, sweet temper. He'll keep the minx in order."

"But," said the Queen, "I hope he won't interfere with me."

"Never fear," said the Fairy, "he lives inside the copper mountain, deep down underground, like a mole among the gnomes, and he would not leave the treasures he hoards there for all the kingdoms of the earth."

Thus it was settled that Heartsease should marry Crookedshanks, and the Fairy of the Yellow Mines brought him to the palace the next day, which was Heartsease's birthday.

Crookedshanks was hideous to look at, and he was as spiteful as he was ugly. And when Heartsease was brought to him, and told that this was to be her husband, she could not believe her eyes. She begged her father to save her; but her father was now so completely spellbound by the wicked Queen that he could not do anything, and so all preparations were made for Heartsease's wedding, which was to take place on the morrow.

But in the evening, just before the feast began, Heartsease escaped from the banqueting-hall when no one was looking, and ran up to the little room in the attic. Then she opened the windows wide and leaned out into the street.

It was a lovely evening. There was a smell of sun-dried hay in the air, and the dust of the town made a golden cloud in the west which faded presently, and when the evening star lit its lamp the sky was soft and blue. In the palace everybody was looking for Heartsease. They were searching the halls and the gardens, but nobody thought of looking for her in that out-of-the-way attic, except her nurse, but she did not tell anybody. Presently Heartsease heard the well-known footstep of the vagabond, and her heart gave a great leap for joy.

He walked right up to the house opposite her window, and began to sing. And this time his beautiful voice was louder and stronger than it had ever been. And Heartsease leant out of the window and cried out—

"Come, for I have heard and I am ready!"

The song ceased, but this time the vagabond did not vanish. He crossed the narrow street, and entered at one of the side doors of the palace which was just beneath Heartsease's window. Heartsease heard him walking up the winding wooden stairway, and soon the vagabond entered her room and stood before her in his rags and tatters, poor, pale, ill-kempt, limping and miserable. And Heartsease ran to him and cried out—

"At last you have come, my lover, my lord and my bridegroom!"

"Do you really wish to come with me?" he asked. "My kingdom is the open field, and my palaces are the dark wood and the highway; my brothers and sisters are the cold winds, the rain, the snow, and the hail; my jewels are tears, and my wealth is sorrow."

And Heartsease said: "I will come with you to your kingdom and dwell in your palaces; and your brothers and sisters shall be my brothers and sisters, and I will wear your jewels and share your wealth as long as I live!"

The vagabond gave Heartsease a silver penny, which was all his wealth, and they climbed down the narrow staircase and went out into the night.

In the King's palace on the night of the banquet there was great commotion because Heartsease could not be found anywhere. The courtiers searched high and low, in the palace and in the gardens, but all in vain, until at last they gave it up and the banquet was begun without her.

The Queen was angry, and the old King was sad, and Crookedshanks gnashed his teeth and pinched everything he met, out of spite. The next morning the nurse came to the King and told him Heartsease could not be found anywhere. So the King issued a proclamation which was sent far and wide over the whole kingdom, saying that whoever should find his daughter Heartsease would receive half of his kingdom. But although a great number of people set out to try and find Heartsease, they none of them succeeded, and most of them gave up the quest after a time.

Now Heartsease and the vagabond wandered far over hill and dale, north and south, east and west, earning their bread by songs, until they came to the grim castle in which Heartsease's mother had been imprisoned by the wicked fairy.

The vagabond sang a song outside the castle, so that Heartsease's mother could hear him, and he told her that Heartsease was alive and had not forgotten her, and that one day the wicked fairy's spell would be broken. And Heartsease saw her mother's hand waving through the thick bars of the narrow window of the castle. Then they wandered on till they came to the kingdom of King Silvergilt, and there, in a castle, were Prince Silvergilt and his wife Elsa; and King Sharpsword and his wife Elfrida were staying with him. Elsa and Elfrida were both of them unhappy because their husbands were so unkind.

The vagabond and Heartsease went under Elfrida's window, and the vagabond sang a song, but no sooner had he begun than Prince Silvergilt sent out his soldiers, and told them to drive the vagabonds away. Now Elsa and Elfrida were sad and sorry because the vagabond's song had made them feel happier, but they dared not say a word. Only when it grew dark they crept out of the castle, into the wood, which was next to it, to see if they could find the two vagabonds and give them alms. They wandered about in the forest, and they soon came to a little hut where the vagabond and Heartsease were lying fast asleep on a heap of leaves.

"Here they are, poor, poor people!" said Elsa; "they have got nothing to eat."

"They must be very cold," said Elfrida, and she took off her cloak and laid it over them.

"Do you remember a vagabond telling us we should one day envy Heartsease her husband?" said Elsa.

"Poor Heartsease, she'll never have a husband; but I'm sure we envy her now, wherever she is," said Elfrida.

"I would give worlds to see her again," said Elsa. "Poor, poor Heartsease, to think how unkind we were to her!" And Elsa and Elfrida began to cry bitterly, and their tears fell upon Heartease's face.

Then leaving behind them some bread and wine which they had brought with them, and a purse full of gold, and their cloaks, they went back to the castle; neither of them had recognised Heartsease.

The next morning when the vagabond and Heartsease rose, they found the gifts that the sisters had brought, and the vagabond told Heartsease to go and look at herself in a pool which was hard by. When Heartsease looked into the pool she gave a cry of surprise, because the ugly marks had gone from her face, and she looked like what she had been when she was a little girl—lovely, and fresh as a rose in the morning dew, and the loveliest princess in the world.

"Now," said the vagabond, "we will go to your father's castle."

So they started for the King's castle, but it was far off, and they had to pass through many cities and villages; and when the people in the cities and the villages heard the vagabond singing in the street, and saw Heartsease, they wondered at her great beauty, and when the vagabond sang they were afraid, and they thought he must be a wizard and that Heartsease was a witch, and they often drove them away from their doors; so that Heartsease and the vagabond with difficulty earned enough bread to keep them alive.

At last they reached the city of the King, and there they read the King's proclamation, which said that whoever should find Heartsease would receive half the kingdom. The vagabond went straight to the King's palace, and asked to see the King; but the soldiers stopped him at the gate and said that beggars were not allowed to go into the palace. But when the vagabond said he had found Princess Heartsease they durst not forbid him to enter. So the vagabond was led to the King, and he told him that he had found his daughter.

The King was overjoyed, but Heartsease's stepmother said it was not true, and the King told the vagabond to bring Heartsease to the palace. He went to fetch her, and when he brought her to the palace everybody was dazzled by her beauty, but nobody recognised her, not even the King, for he could not understand how the Heartsease whom he remembered could have turned into such a vision of beauty. But there were two people in the castle who said that they recognised her: one was her old nurse, and the other was Simple Simon, who happened to be there. Simple Simon said he saw no difference in her at all: that she was now just as she had always been, with the same kind eyes and lovely smile. And when he said this, the whole Court laughed, and they said that Simple Simon would never cease to be a ninny. And as for the nurse, the Queen said she must be locked up in the dungeon at once for telling lies. Then the wicked Queen said that the vagabond was a wizard, and that Heartsease was a witch, and that they had killed the real Heartsease, and that they must both be burnt alive in the public square. And owing to her magic everybody believed this, and the vagabond and Heartsease were thrown into prison.

But the King, who did not want them to be burnt, sent for his daughters Elsa and Elfrida, to see if they recognised Heartsease. Elfrida and Elsa arrived with their husbands, and Heartsease was brought before them, but she was not allowed to speak; and owing to the wicked Queen's spells, neither Elfrida nor Elsa recognised their sister. After this it was settled that the vagabond and Heartsease should be burnt in the public square.

On the day this was to happen the whole town gathered together to see the wizard; and the vagabond and Heartsease were driven from the prison to the square, where a large pile of fagots had been prepared, in a cart. And when the people saw Heartsease, a wave of pity went through the crowd, so lovely and so innocent was her face. The King and the Queen, his daughters, and all the Court were there, and when the vagabond got out of the cart he asked the King to grant him one last favour: and this was to allow him to sing a song before he died. And the King granted it him.

The vagabond began to sing, and he sang the sweetest and most wonderful song that had ever been heard; he sang of the love that never dies, and the love which is stronger than death; and as he sang, the evil spells of the wicked Queen died in the King's heart, and he remembered his true wife, and the great love he bore her; and Elsa and Elfrida recognised the voice, and they cried out—

"It is the vagabond we heard when we were children, and it is Heartsease after all!"