Coccodé was sitting on a pile of eggs that reached almost up to the ceiling, and even as she clucked she was laying more. The Signora drew close to her, and listened with all her ears, for she had distinguished words amidst her cluckings, and immediately jumped to the conclusion that Coccodé believed herself to be addressing her mistress. This is what she heard: 'Coccodé! now there are nine! Bring me quickly the warm red wine. Coccodé! take them away Many more for thee will I lay. And thou shalt be a lady grand, As fine as any in the land, And should it happen that any one Drinks of the wine as I have done, Eggs like me she shall surely lay; This is the secret, this is the way, Coccodé! Coccodé!'[4] [Footnote 4: Leyland's 'Legends of Florence'] 'Aha!' said the Signora joyfully, 'now I have it!' And running back to the outer room, she lifted the wine off the fire and drank it, every drop, though it scalded her throat and made her choke. As it coursed through her veins she felt a most extraordinary sensation, and hurried home as quickly as she could. A meal was laid on the table, but she found great difficulty in taking her usual place, and could eat nothing but some brown bread, which she pecked at in a most curious manner. As the charm began to work, her legs grew thinner and thinner, and her feet so large that she had to cut off her boots. Next, her brown silk dress became a bundle of draggled feathers, while her nose turned into a beak, and her voice into a discordant cluck; in short, she was just a scraggy brown hen, and her friends held up their hands in horror. Eggs she laid by the score, but before she could sit on them they turned to mice and ran away. So she had nothing for all her trouble; and though she possessed a handsome house, she could only perch in a barn. This is what comes of greed and envy, and of meddling with other people's business." Just at this moment a girl darted out of a doorway opposite, followed by an elderly woman who loudly reproved her for refusing to do her share in some household task. Shrugging her shoulders, she came to a sudden end, as if she knew that her breath was wasted, and the girl disappeared with a peal of laughter. "She is off to gossip instead of work," said the Fairy Godmother disapprovingly. "She will pay for it later, will pretty Ursula, for the Fates are not likely to interfere on her behalf as they did for Pepita." I had to coax her to tell me this story, for she said she had much to do, and could not stay. But when she heard that the very next day Father and I were leaving Italy, she refused no more. We sat down on the step of a splendid church, and no one seemed to notice us. [Illustration] The Favourite of the Fates.