In time there came a third baby, but still the princess could not soften her heart, and Mother Hildegarde took it away as she had done the others. This time the king could do nothing to save the princess, for every one cried out upon her that she was a wicked witch who killed her children, and that she should be burned at the stake, as was fitting for such a one. So a great pile of fagots was built out in the castle court-yard, and the princess was brought out and tied to a stake that stood in the midst. Then they lit the pile of fagots, and it began to crackle and burn around her where she stood. Then suddenly, Mother Hildegarde stood beside her in the midst of the fire. In her arms she held the princess’s youngest baby, and the others stood, one upon one side and the other upon the other, and held on to her skirts. She gave the princess her speech again, and then she said, “Now, tell me, did you go into the little room?” Even yet the princess would have answered “No;” but when she saw her children standing in the midst of the fire with her, her heart melted away within her. “Yes!” she cried, “I went in and I saw.” “And how came your hair to be like that?” said Mother Hildegarde. “Alas!” said the princess, “I gazed upon that which I should not have gazed upon, and looked into that which I should not have looked into, and one hair touched the water and all was turned to gold.” Then Mother Hildegarde smiled till her face shone as white as the moon. “The truth is better late than not at all,” said she; “and if you had but spoken in the first place, I would have freely forgiven you.” As she spoke a shower of rain fell down from the sky, and the fire of the fagots was quenched. And now you can guess what joy there was in the king’s castle when every one knew all that had happened, and it was seen how the right thing had come about at last, though it was the toss of a farthing betwixt this and that. Even the king’s mother was glad enough when she came to know that it was a real princess whom her son had married after all. And now listen to what happened in the end. They gave a great feast, and everybody was asked to come from far and near. Then who should come travelling along with the others, as grand as you please, but the wicked step-mother and step-sister of the princess. Dear, dear, how they stared and goggled when they saw who the young queen really was, and that the poor princess had married the richest and greatest king in all of the land! Their hearts were so filled with envy that they swelled and swelled until they burst within them, and they fell down dead, and there was an end of them. Thus it is that everything turns out right in the long run—that is in fairy tales. But, after all, if the princess had only told the truth in the first place, she would never have gotten in all this peck of trouble. And then who knows what Mother Hildegarde would have done for her, for she is a strange woman, is Mother Hildegarde.