“Oh, my dear Prince,” cried Melisande, falling into his arms, “you have saved me. I am my proper size again.” So they went home and told the King and Queen. Both were very, very happy, but the King rubbed his chin with his hand, and said— “You’ve certainly had some fun for your money, young man, but don’t you see that we’re just where we were before? Why, the child’s hair is growing already.” And indeed it was. Then once more the King sent a letter to his godmother. He sent it by a flying-fish, and by return of fish come the answer— “Just back from my holidays. Sorry for your troubles. Why not try scales?” And on this message the whole Court pondered for weeks. But the Prince caused a pair of gold scales to be made, and hung them up in the palace gardens under a big oak tree. And one morning he said to the Princess— “My darling Melisande, I must really speak seriously to you. We are getting on in life. I am nearly twenty: it is time that we thought of being settled. Will you trust me entirely and get into one of those gold scales?” So he took her down into the garden, and helped her into the scale, and she curled up in it in her green and gold gown, like a little grass mound with buttercups on it. “And what is going into the other scale?” asked Melisande. “Your hair,” said Florizel. “You see, when your hair is cut off you it grows, and when you are cut off your hair you grow—oh, my heart’s delight, I can never forget how you grew, never! But if, when your hair is no more than you, and you are no more than your hair, I snip the scissors between you and it, then neither you nor your hair can possibly decide which ought to go on growing.” “Suppose _both_ did,” said the poor Princess, humbly. “Impossible,” said the Prince, with a shudder; “there are limits even to Malevola’s malevolence. And, besides, Fortuna said ‘Scales.’ Will you try it?” “I will do whatever you wish,” said the poor Princess, “but let me kiss my father and mother once, and Nurse, and you, too, my dear, in case I grow large again and can kiss nobody any more.” So they came one by one and kissed the Princess. Then the nurse cut off the Princess’s hair, and at once it began to grow at a frightful rate. The King and Queen and nurse busily packed it, as it grew, into the other scale, and gradually the scale went down a little. The Prince stood waiting between the scales with his drawn sword, and just before the two were equal he struck. But during the time his sword took to flash through the air the Princess’s hair grew a yard or two, so that at the instant when he struck the balance was true. “You are a young man of sound judgment,” said the King, embracing him, while the Queen and the nurse ran to help the Princess out of the gold scale.