In place of the frog, before him stood a beauteous maiden. She had a dazzlingly clear complexion, big infantile blue eyes, and a wealth of golden hair which she wore so as to conceal her ears. She was dressed simply but charmingly in a sport blouse and skirt, silk stockings and low shoes. “Jumping caterpillars!” ejaculated the Pixie. “I guessed right.” “You are naturally surprised,” said the Beauteous Maiden, in a low melodious voice, “to see me in place of that odious frog. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for giving me back my natural form, though it can be only for a brief time.” “Have a chair,” said Wendell as soon as he could recover from the shock. “Thank you,” said the maiden, seating herself and gracefully crossing one knee over the other. “As the story of my life is a long one and my time is short, I will begin it at once.” “Once upon a time there lived a maiden who was so beautiful and so good that everyone loved her. That maiden, of course, was myself. While I was still an infant, my mother died and my father married again. He chose for his second wife a woman who had a daughter of my own age. For many years we were a happy household, but after a time my stepmother was transformed into a cruel witch by the magic charms of an old Kobold.” “Hold on!” cried the Pixie. “Does he live under Flag Staff Hill on the Common?” “He does,” said the Beauteous Maiden. “There, didn’t I tell you this thing was mixed up with him?” said the Pixie, turning triumphantly to Wendell. “I can always pick out his style.” “The old Kobold,” went on the Beauteous Maiden, “gave my stepmother three magic gifts. The first was a cloak that rendered the wearer invisible. The second was a cap, and whoever put it on could read the thoughts of those about him. The third was a book of spells, containing all the spells and charms ordinarily used by magicians. The old Kobold decreed that my stepmother should remain under his spell as long as she held these gifts in her possession; but if she should be robbed of them, she would lose her base powers as a witch and be restored to her original virtuous self.” “I see your work cut out for you,” said the Pixie in a low aside to Wendell. “I cannot tell you,” continued the Beauteous Maiden, “what a wretched life I led from this time on. I was dressed in rags, had only cold scraps to eat, and was forced to do the most menial work of the house, while my stepsister wore beautiful clothes and went to balls every night.” “Why didn’t your father stop it?” put in Wendell. “I’ve always wondered about that in these stepmother stories--why the father stood for it.” “I was coming to that,” said the Beauteous Maiden graciously. “My father died soon after his second marriage, and my stepmother married again.” “I see,” said the Pixie thoughtfully. “She took a step farther.”