[Illustration: “‘WHO ARE YOU?’ INQUIRED THE OLD WOMAN.”] “Who are you?” inquired the old woman. The Princess explained, and politely asked to be forgiven for trespassing. “Pray don’t apologize,” said the witch, “and do me the favour to give me your arm as far as my castle. I have, as you see, no staff, and I am not so young as I was.” The Princess agreed willingly, and they walked on together. The old woman was wrapped in a trailing black cloak, and her hair hung over her eyes, like the hair of all other witches. She seemed rather a pleasant body, though her nose and chin were certainly a little too near together. When they had climbed as far as the castle gate, she invited her companion to come in and rest, and the Princess, who feared nobody, followed her. They sat down together at a window overlooking the valley; from it she could see the winding water and the clump of irises. “It is the most fortunate thing in the world that I met you,” began the old woman, “for I am much in need of advice from somebody. My difficulty is this: I have grown very tired of being a witch, and I wish to leave my profession and become like other people. I am learning, as you have noticed, to do without my crooked staff. Last week I sold my broomstick and bought a very pretty little brown horse instead, and I have given my black cat to a friend. My appearance is still not quite what I could wish, and I really do not know what kind of clothes to get, nor how to arrange my hair. Other witches can tell me nothing, for they know as little as I do, but your advice would be the greatest help to me.” “I shall be very pleased to do anything I can,” said the Princess. “If you will consent to stay with me for a few days till my wardrobe is complete, I shall be more obliged than I can say,” continued the old woman. “Use my house as your own, and everything in it.” And so it was all arranged in five minutes. The Princess was uncommonly useful. She brushed the witch’s hair and pinned it up tidily, and made her a fine lace head-dress, which gave her a dignified air. She sent to the nearest town for silks and brocades and buckled shoes, and, instead of the crooked staff that her friend missed so much, she bought her a handsome stick with an amber head. The witch was delighted, for she looked both refined and venerable as she stood before her glass. “Here!” she exclaimed, taking up her old black cloak, which lay on the floor, “this must be thrown away.” She was just going to cast it upon the fire when the Princess stopped her. “Oh no, no!” she cried, snatching it from her, “don’t destroy it. Pray, pray give it to me!” “What for?” exclaimed the witch. “A Princess in a witch’s cloak? A pretty idea, indeed!” But the Princess clung to it.