Children's stories, English; Magic -- Juvenile fiction; Short stories
'Not necessarily,' said the Fairy; 'let me cut them a little shorter.'
She did, with her fairy pocket-knife. 'Now,' she said, 'I'll do what I
can, but I'm afraid it'll be a disappointment to you both. Erinaceus,'
she went on, addressing the unconscious baker's boy with the stumps of
the arrows still sticking in him, 'I command you, as soon as I have
vanished, to assume the form of a hedge-pig. The hedge-pig,' she
exclaimed to the Princess, 'is the only nice person who can live
comfortably with a thousand spikes sticking out of him. Yes, I know
there are porcupines, but porcupines are vicious and ill-mannered.
Good-bye!'
And with that she vanished. So did Erinaceus, and the Princess found
herself alone among the oleanders; and on the green turf was a small and
very prickly brown hedge-pig.
'Oh, dear!' she said, 'now I'm all alone again, and the baker's boy has
given his life for mine, and mine isn't worth having.'
'It's worth more than all the world,' said a sharp little voice at her
feet.
'Oh, can you talk?' she said, quite cheered.
'Why not?' said the hedge-pig sturdily; 'it's only the _form_ of the
hedge-pig I've assumed. I'm Erinaceus inside, all right enough. Pick me
up in a corner of your mantle so as not to prick your darling hands.'
'You mustn't call names, you know,' said the Princess, 'even your
hedge-pigginess can't excuse such liberties.'
'I'm sorry, Princess,' said the hedge-pig, 'but I can't help it. Only
human beings speak lies; all other creatures tell the truth. Now I've
got a hedge-pig's tongue it won't speak anything but the truth. And the
truth is that I love you more than all the world.'
'Well,' said the Princess thoughtfully, 'since you're a hedge-pig I
suppose you may love me, and I may love you. Like pet dogs or gold-fish.
Dear little hedge-pig, then!'
'Don't!' said the hedge-pig, 'remember I'm the baker's boy in my mind
and soul. My hedge-pigginess is only skin-deep. Pick me up, dearest of
Princesses, and let us go to seek our fortunes.'
'I think it's my parents I ought to seek,' said the Princess.
'However...'
She picked up the hedge-pig in the corner of her mantle and they went
away through the wood.
They slept that night at a wood-cutter's cottage. The wood-cutter was
very kind, and made a nice little box of beech-wood for the hedge-pig to
be carried in, and he told the Princess that most of her father's
subjects were still loyal, but that no one could fight for him because
they would be fighting for the Princess too, and however much they might
wish to do this, Malevola's curse assured them that it was impossible.
So the Princess put her hedge-pig in its little box and went on, looking
everywhere for her father and mother, and, after more adventures than I
have time to tell you, she found them at last, living in quite a poor
way in a semi-detached villa at Tooting. They were very glad to see her,
but when they heard that she meant to try to get back the kingdom, the
King said:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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