Children's stories, English; Magic -- Juvenile fiction; Short stories
'How did you become invisible?' she asked one day, and it said, 'I
suppose it was Benevola's doing. Only I think every one gets _one_ wish
granted if they only wish hard enough.'
On the fifty-fifth day the hedge-pig said, 'Now, Princess dear, I'm
going to begin to get you back your kingdom.'
And next morning the King came down to breakfast in a dreadful rage with
his face covered up in bandages.
'This palace is haunted,' he said. 'In the middle of the night a
dreadful spiked ball was thrown in my face. I lighted a match. There was
nothing.'
The Queen said, 'Nonsense! You must have been dreaming.'
But next morning it was her turn to come down with a bandaged face. And
the night after, the King had the spiky ball thrown at him again. And
then the Queen had it. And then they both had it, so that they couldn't
sleep at all, and had to lie awake with nothing to think of but their
wickedness. And every five minutes a very little voice whispered:
'Who stole the kingdom? Who killed the Princess?' till the King and
Queen could have screamed with misery.
And at last the Queen said, 'We needn't have killed the Princess.'
And the King said, 'I've been thinking that, too.'
And next day the King said, 'I don't know that we ought to have taken
this kingdom. We had a really high-class kingdom of our own.'
'I've been thinking that too,' said the Queen.
By this time their hands and arms and necks and faces and ears were very
sore indeed, and they were sick with want of sleep.
'Look here,' said the King, 'let's chuck it. Let's write to Ozymandias
and tell him he can take over his kingdom again. I've had jolly well
enough of this.'
'Let's,' said the Queen, 'but we can't bring the Princess to life again.
I do wish we could,' and she cried a little through her bandages into
her egg, for it was breakfast time.
'Do you mean that,' said a little sharp voice, though there was no one
to be seen in the room. The King and Queen clung to each other in
terror, upsetting the urn over the toast-rack.
'Do you mean it?' said the voice again; 'answer, yes or no.'
'Yes,' said the Queen, 'I don't know who you are, but, yes, yes, yes. I
can't _think_ how we could have been so wicked.'
'Nor I,' said the King.
'Then send for the French governess,' said the voice.
'Ring the bell, dear,' said the Queen. 'I'm sure what it says is right.
It is the voice of conscience. I've often heard _of_ it, but I never
heard it before.'
The King pulled the richly-jewelled bell-rope and ten magnificent green
and gold footmen appeared.
'Please ask Mademoiselle to step this way,' said the Queen.
The ten magnificent green and gold footmen found the governess beside
the marble basin feeding the gold-fish, and, bowing their ten green
backs, they gave the Queen's message. The governess who, every one
agreed, was always most obliging, went at once to the pink satin
breakfast-room where the King and Queen were sitting, almost
unrecognisable in their bandages.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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