"I am a suitor who asks to be your husband, Princess," answered Gervaise, "but still I say I have seen a woman who was fairer than you." "Who is she--where is she?" cried Fiorimonde, who could scarcely contain her anger. "Bring her here at once that I may see if you speak the truth." "What will you give me to bring her to you?" said Gervaise. "Give me that necklace you wear on your neck, and then I will summon her in an instant;" but Fiorimonde shook her head. "You have asked," said she, "for the only thing from which I cannot part," and then she bade her maids bring her her jewel-casket, and she drew out diamonds, and rubies, and pearls, and offered them, all or any, to Gervaise. The lightning shone on them and made them shine and flash, but he shook his head. "No, none of these will do," quoth he. "You can see her for the necklace, but for nothing else." "Take it off for yourself then," cried Fiorimonde, who now was so angry that she only wished to be rid of Gervaise in any way. "No, indeed," said Gervaise, "I am no tire-woman, and should not know how to clasp and unclasp it;" and in spite of all Fiorimonde could say or do, he would not touch either her or the magic chain. At night the storm grew even fiercer, but it did not trouble the Princess. She waited till all were asleep, and then she opened her bedroom window and chirruped softly to the little brown bird, who flew down from the roof at her call. Then she gave him a handful of seeds as before, and he grew and grew and grew till he was as large as an ostrich, and she sat upon his back and flew out through the air, laughing at the lightning and thunder which flashed and roared around her. Away they flew till they came to the old witch's cave, and here they found the witch sitting at her open door catching the lightning to make charms with. "Welcome, my dear," croaked she, as Fiorimonde stepped from the bird; "here is a night we both love well. And how goes the necklace?--right merrily I see. Twelve beads already--but what is that twelfth?" and she looked at it closely. "Nay, that is one thing I want you to tell me," said Fiorimonde, drying the rain from her golden hair. "Last night when I slept there were eleven, and this morning there are twelve; and I know not from whence comes the twelfth." "It is no suitor," said the witch, "but from some young maid, that that bead is made. But why should you mind? It looks well with the others." "Some young maid," said the Princess. "Then, it must be Cicely or Marybel, or Yolande, who would have robbed me of my necklace as I slept. But what care I? The silly wench is punished now, and so may all others be, who would do the same." "And when will you get the thirteenth bead, and where will he come from?" asked the witch.