"Very well, madam," said the King, "very well--have your own way. And make the most of your daughter, while she is a child." The Queen did. All the years of her life had never held half so much happiness as now lived in each of the moments when she held her little baby in her arms. And the years went on, and the King grew more and more clever at magic, and more and more disagreeable at home, and the Princess grew more beautiful and more dear every day she lived. The Queen and the Princess were feeding the goldfish in the courtyard fountains with crumbs of the Princess's eighteenth birthday cake, when the King came into the courtyard, looking as black as thunder, with his black raven hopping after him. He shook his fist at his family, as indeed he generally did whenever he met them, for he was not a King with pretty home manners. The raven sat down on the edge of the marble basin and tried to peck the goldfish. It was all he could do to show that he was in the same temper as his master. "A girl indeed!" said the King angrily. "I wonder you can dare to look me in the face, when you remember how your silliness has spoiled everything." "You oughtn't to speak to my mother like that," said the Princess. She was eighteen, and it came to her suddenly and all in a moment that she was a grown-up, so she spoke out. The King could not utter a word for several minutes. He was too angry. But the Queen said, "My dear child, don't interfere," quite crossly, for she was frightened. And to her husband she said, "My dear, why do you go on worrying about it? Our daughter is not a boy, it is true--but she may marry a clever man who could rule your kingdom after you, and learn as much magic as ever you cared to teach him." Then the King found his tongue. "If she does marry," he said, slowly, "her husband will have to be a very clever man--oh, yes, very clever indeed! And he will have to know a very great deal more magic than I shall ever care to teach him." The Queen knew at once by the King's tone that he was going to be disagreeable. "Ah," she said, "don't punish the child because she loves her mother." "I'm not going to punish her for that," said he. "I'm only going to teach her to respect her father." And without another word he went off to his laboratory and worked all night, boiling different-colored things in crucibles, and copying charms in curious twisted letters from old brown books with mold stains on their yellowy pages.