"If the old, deluded by Fashion, value thee at nothing, then turn thee to the young; truly they are my little favorites. I send to them my loveliest pictures through thy brothers, the Dreams; yes, already I have often hovered over them in person, caressed and kissed them, and played fine games with them. They, also, know me well, though not by name; for I have often observed how in the night they laugh at my stars, and in the morning, when my shining fleeces play over the heavens, how they clap their hands for joy. Moreover, when they grow larger, they love me still; then I help the charming maids to weave variegated garlands, and the wild boys to become still, while I seat myself near them, on the lofty summit of a cliff, steep lofty cities and brilliant palaces in the mist-world of the blue mountains in the distance, and, on the red-tinged clouds of evening, paint brave troops of horsemen, and strange pilgrim processions." "Oh, the dear children!" exclaimed Maerchen, deeply affected. "Yes--be it so! with them I will make one more trial." "Yes, my good child," answered the Queen; "go unto them; but I will attire thee in fine style, that thou mayest please the little ones, and that the old may not drive thee away. See! the dress of an Almanach[B] will I give thee." "An Almanach, mother? Ah!--I will be ashamed to parade, in such a way, before the people." The Queen gave the signal, and the attendants brought in the rich dress of an Almanach. It was inwrought with brilliant colors, and beautiful figures. The waiting-maids plaited the long hair of the fair girl, bound golden sandals on her feet, and arrayed her in the robe. The modest Maerchen dared not look up; her mother, however, beheld her with satisfaction, and clasped her in her arms. "Go forth!" said she unto the little one; "my blessing be with thee. If they despise and scorn thee, turn quickly unto me; perhaps later generations, more true to nature, may again incline to thee their hearts." Thus spoke Queen Phantasie, while Maerchen went down upon the earth. With beating heart she approached the city, in which the cunning watchmen dwelt: she dropped her head towards the earth, wrapped her fine robe closely around her, and with trembling step drew near unto the gate. "Hold!" exclaimed a deep, rough voice. "Look out, there! Here comes a new Almanach!" Maerchen trembled as she heard this; many old men, with gloomy countenances, rushed forth; they had sharp quills in their fists, and held them towards Maerchen. One of the multitude strode up to her, and seized her with rough hand by the chin. "Just lift up your head, Mr. Almanach," he cried, "that one may see in your eyes whether you be right or not." Blushing, Maerchen lifted her little head quite up, and raised her dark eye. "Maerchen!" exclaimed the watchmen, laughing boisterously. "Maerchen! That we should have had any doubt as to who was here! How come you, now, by this dress?" "Mother put it on me," answered Maerchen.