“Yes,” assented the Beauteous Maiden, “and he was a horrible giant whose favorite diet was little boys. In addition, my stepmother made life a burden to me by her magic arts. She spied upon all my actions with the Cloak of Darkness, and she spied upon all my thoughts with the Cap of Thought, and she was constantly using her Book of Spells to annoy me. When I was making doughnuts, she would change the rolling pin into an eel which would wriggle away from me, and annoying things of that kind. My stepsister, too, once as dear to me as my own sister could have been, seemed to come gradually under the Kobold’s spell. While every one admired and loved me for my youth, innocence, and beauty, she was so jealous that she constantly sought to do me an injury. At length, matters came to a climax. One of the Boston papers held a beauty contest, and, all unknown to me, a good neighbor sent in my photograph in competition. It had been advertised that the winner of the contest would be offered a contract with one of the moving-picture companies as a prize, but I knew nothing of it. Judge, then, of my surprise and delight, when a reporter for the paper called to say that I had won the competition and with it the contract as a movie star. But my joy was equalled only by the rage of my cruel stepmother and the jealousy of my ugly stepsister. They resolved that I should never sign that contract, and my stepmother sent me at once with a letter to be delivered to the old Kobold, requesting him to put the bearer to death. “This horrible design would doubtless have been carried out, but on the way to Boston I sat down to rest for a few moments in the Fenway and fell asleep. While I was asleep, a Metropolitan Park policeman happened that way, and stood transfixed at the sight of my beauty. Noticing the letter, which I held in my hand, he took it, opened and read it, and was shocked beyond measure at the dreadful fate designed for me. He cast about for means to avert it, and at length wrote another letter, requesting the Kobold to change the bearer into a fairy, and substituted this letter for the original one. Soon after, I awoke and went on my way, all unconscious of these events. I presented the letter to the Kobold, who immediately used his magic charm to transform me. Unfortunately, the policeman did not write a very legible hand. The Kobold read _frog_ for _fairy_ and changed me to the horrible form in which you first beheld me.” “There’s a lesson for you, young man,” said the Pixie severely. “You don’t write any too good a hand yourself.” “My time is short,” went on the Beauteous Maiden. “The courage and devotion of my rescuer,” she turned a sad little smile on Wendell, who wriggled uncomfortably, “has made it possible for me to resume my natural form for a short time, in order to tell my story, but soon I must return to the shape of a frog. So I will tell you of the further task that lies before you.