"If you can change poor girls to princesses, why don't you do something for yourself?" complained Agnes, giving the fire a vicious poke. "I don't mind being a dragon. Dragons are unusual and interesting, but witches are ugly and out of style. Were you always a witch? Do you always intend to be a witch? Were you never young or pretty at all?" Agnes' question made Tattypoo pause. The hum of the spinning wheel ceased as she tried to recall the past. Had she ever been young or pretty? Letting the silver threads slide through her fingers, she gazed thoughtfully into the fire, but it was all dim and hazy and the good witch could remember nothing of her youth or the days before she had come to the purple forest. She remembered distinctly her first meeting with Mombi. The wicked witch was changing a woodcutter into a tree stump and Tattypoo, running forward, had put a stop to it. Her magic proved stronger than Mombi's so it had not been hard to overpower her. Not only that, but she had driven Mombi out of the forest and taken possession of her hut and magic tools. Later, the Gillikens had come in crowds to thank Tattypoo and beg her to rule over them in Mombi's place. So Tattypoo had stayed on, undoing as much of Mombi's mischief as she could and growing fonder and fonder of the peace loving Gillikens. She had always been so busy helping other people, she had never thought about herself at all, but to-night Agnes' question made her vaguely unhappy and she began to feel really annoyed that she could remember nothing of her own past. "I must have been young, once," murmured Tattypoo, absently leaning down to stroke the cat with two tails. "Even witches are young." "Of course they are," sniffed the dragon impatiently, "and if I had your magic powers, I'd be young again." "It wouldn't be right to practice magic for my own benefit," answered Tattypoo in a shocked voice. "It's against the law." "Is there any law against youth and beauty?" demanded Agnes tartly, but the good witch kept shaking her head and muttering over and over, "It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be right." "Well, at least you could see how you used to look," said Agnes, waving her tail toward the stairway. "Surely there is no law against that?" "How?" asked Tattypoo, leaning back in her chair and fixing her mild blue eyes full upon the amiable dragon. "Why, the witch's window! Let's have a look through the witch's window!" coaxed Agnes, and sliding across the floor she began pulling her silver length up the rickety steps of the cottage. Tattypoo, reaching for her staff, hobbled hurriedly after her.