He took off one of his red shoes with the pointed toes. “Will you, for a strange thing, put on this shoe and wear it all to-night in your sleep? And in the morning I will ask you for it again.” The Princess promised faithfully that she would do so. Even before he had left the room she had put foot in it, promising that only he should take it off again. Lubin’s eyes were shut down with sleep as he groped his way to bed; he lay down with the other red shoe upon his foot. “Watch for your fellow!” he said to it; and then his senses left him and he was fast asleep. In the middle of the night, while he was deep in slumber, the red shoe caught him by the foot and yanked him out of bed; he woke up to find himself standing in the middle of the room, and there before him stood the two doors of the inner chambers open; through that of the Princess Royal came a light. He heard the Princess Lyneth getting very softly out of her bed, and presently she stood in the doorway, with her hands out and her eyes fast shut; and the red shoe was on one foot, and the white wimple on her head. Little tears were running down from under her closed lids; and she sighed continually in her sleep. “Have pity on me!” she said. She crossed slowly from one door to the other; and Lubin, putting on his invisible cap, crept softly after her. The Princess Royal’s chamber was empty, but her glass was opened away from the wall like a door, and beyond lay a passage and steps. At the top of the steps was another door, and through it light came, and the sound of a soft voice singing. Princess Lyneth, knowing nothing in her sleep, passed along the passage and up the steps till she came to the further doorway. Looking over her shoulder Lubin saw the Princess Royal sitting before a loom. In it lay a great cloth of gold, like a bride’s mantle, into which she was weaving the last threads of her skein. Close to her side lay a pair of great shears that shone like blue fire; and while she sang they opened and snapped, keeping time to the music she made. Without ever turning her head the Princess Royal sat passing her fingers along the woof and crying: “Sister, sister, bring me your hair, Of our Mother’s beauty give me your share. You must grow pale, while I must grow fair!” And while she was so singing, Lyneth drew nearer and nearer, with her eyes fast shut, and the white wimple over her head. “Have pity on me!” she said, speaking in her sleep. As soon as the Princess Royal heard that she laughed for joy, and catching up the great flaming shears, turned herself round to where Lyneth was standing. Then she opened the shears, and took hold of the wimple, and pulled it down. All in a moment she was choking with rage, for horrible was the sight that met her eye. “Ah! cobbler’s son,” cried she, “you shall die for this! To-morrow not only shall you have your two ears cropped, but you shall die: do not be afraid!”