‘I have,’ said she, ‘the unhappiness of loving a Prince who is fickle,
frivolous, proud, incapable of caring for anyone but himself, who has
been spoilt by flattery, and, to crown all, who does not love me.’
‘But,’ cried Prince Featherhead, ‘surely you cannot care for so
contemptible and worthless a creature as that.’
‘Alas! but I do care,’ answered the Princess, weeping.
‘But where can his eyes be,’ said the Prince, ‘that your beauty makes no
impression upon him? As for me, since I have possessed your portrait I
have wandered over the whole world to find you, and, now we have met,
I see that you are ten times lovelier than I could have imagined, and I
would give all I own to win your love.’
‘My portrait?’ cried Celandine with sudden interest. ‘Is it possible
that Prince Featherhead can have parted with it?’
‘He would part with his life sooner, lovely Princess,’ answered he; ‘I
can assure you of that, for I am Prince Featherhead.’
At the same moment the Fairy of the Beech-Woods took away the
enchantment, and the happy Princess recognised her lover, now truly
hers, for the trials they had both undergone had so changed and improved
them that they were capable of a real love for each other. You may
imagine how perfectly happy they were, and how much they had to hear and
to tell. But at length it was time to go back to the little house, and
as they went along Celandine remembered for the first time what a ragged
old dress she was wearing, and what an odd appearance she must present.
But the Prince declared that it became her vastly, and that he thought
it most picturesque. When they reached the house the old woman received
them very crossly.
‘I declare,’ said she, ‘that it’s perfectly true: wherever there is a
girl you may be sure that a young man will appear before long! But don’t
imagine that I’m going to have you here--not a bit of it, be off with
you, my fine fellow!’
Prince Featherhead was inclined to be angry at this uncivil reception,
but he was really too happy to care much, so he only demanded, on
Celandine’s behalf, that the old dame should give her back her own
attire, that she might go away suitably dressed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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