When the queen heard what Marigold had come for, she smiled and shook her head, for how could a little country girl hope to do what so many wise men had been unable to accomplish? But Marigold was so earnest and so sure that she could make the princess cry that at last the queen promised to let her attempt it. “You won’t hurt her?” she said. But she smiled as she said it. Marigold had such a kind little face; she did not look as if she could hurt any one. She was taken to the princess’s apartments, and the queen went with her into the nursery and introduced her to the princess and explained why she had come. The princess was delighted to see a nice little rosy-cheeked girl instead of the dull old men who so often came to visit her. The queen shut the door and left them alone together. By this time the news of the little village girl who had come to make the princess cry, had spread all over the palace; and presently a whole crowd of people were standing anxiously waiting outside the nursery door. “It’s such nonsense,” said the Chamberlain to the Prime Minister. “A village child. I don’t suppose she’s ever been outside the village.” “Quite ridiculous,” whispered the ladies-in-waiting to the court pages. “Do you think she knows how to make a correct curtsey?” At last the king and queen could stand the suspense no longer. They quietly opened the door and peeped in. And what do you think they saw? The princess, standing at the table in the middle of the room with Marigold’s basket in front of her, busily peeling onions as hard as she could go, while the tears streamed down her face all the while. She was crying at last! The king and queen rushed in and clasped her in their arms, onions and all. The ladies-in-waiting stood with their perfumed handkerchiefs pressed to their noses, the pages tittered, and the cook, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs, muttered to himself when he heard the news, “Well, _I_ could have done that,” while the Prime Minister rushed about the room with his wig on one side and shook everybody violently by the hand, exclaiming, “Wonderful, wonderful! And so simple! We must get out a proclamation at once. Where are my spectacles? Where is my pen?” And so the princess was cured, and from that time she became like everybody else and cried when she was unhappy and laughed when she was glad, though I am pleased to say that she always laughed a great deal more than she cried. As for Marigold, she got her five hundred crowns, of course, and was able to give her mother everything she needed, so that she was soon quite well. The king and queen were most grateful, and often invited her up to the palace to play with their little daughter, and loaded her with presents. Because she was sweet and modest she didn’t get spoiled, but grew up charming, kind and beautiful. I did hear that in the end she married a king’s son and that they had an onion for their crest, but I’m not at all sure about that. THREE