“Well, once upon a time there was a very beautiful princess--” “All stories begin that way,” she interrupted. “Yes; that shows they’re true. Anyway, once upon a time there was a very beautiful princess, whom some people called ‘Shahzadi.’” I waited for the interruption which didn’t come. “Called her ‘Shahzadi.’ And she lived in a very beautiful country, only it was not half as beautiful as she. Then once she ran into a lot of dragons--nasty ones, not the friendly kind--and she looked around for a fairy prince.” “She didn’t. She’d given up all hopes of fairy princes then.” “She must have been right, for no prince came, but a swineherd arrived--” “No! A prince: a real live prince.” “A swineherd disguised as--as--a soldier, turned up in proper ragged clothes, and argued with the dragons, and that was the end of them. Then he took the princess back to her father’s castle, and there was no end of rejoicing. When the swineherd and his friends got to Aryenis’s castle they found that her father had a war on with the dragons, and so they joined in with him, and he lent them clothes to make them look like princes.” “Not true. A fairy godfather gave the prince some clothes such as he ought _always_ to have been wearing instead of ragged disguises.” “So, being rigged out as a prince, the swineherd began to think about the princess. Only she had carefully changed her clothes and done her hair differently, so that she was very hard to recognize, so hard that when the swineherd went off to fight the dragons again he really couldn’t find her at all.” “That was because he was a fool and didn’t look properly. I said all fairy princes were fools.” But she didn’t say it quite so incisively this time. “Then, when he met the dragons, one of them bit him, and he came home on the flat of his back with lots of time to think. While he was lying in the fairy godfather’s house, he thought out a plan for finding out where and who the princess really was. You see the dragon’s bite had quickened up his brain. It’s a way dragon’s teeth have. And that’s the end of part one.” “Go on, Harilek, quickly! Don’t stop at all the best parts.” “That is the real story-teller’s trick to make people pay up. I can’t go on unless I’m paid.” “What is the price, trickster?” “Quite cheap. A seat on my couch here.” “That’s a big price, much too big. I’m very comfy where I am.” She settled back cosily into her seat. “All right, lady. No payment--no story. What shall we talk about now?” Aryenis pondered awhile. Then she got up slowly, and still more slowly came over to sit disdainfully on the extreme corner of the couch, face well averted. “The price is terribly high--but the story _might_ be worth it. You may continue.” “A lady who looked rather like the princess came to stay with the fairy godfather, some one whom the swineherd had met before--in fact, he’d once made a bet with her.” “And lost.”