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upon a time there was a Queen who had nothing on earth to wish for to complete her happiness, except children. She talked of nothing else, and continually said that the Fairy Fanferluche having attended at her birth, and not being contented with the Queen, her mother, had put herself into a passion, and condemned her in consequence to nothing but misfortune.

One day, when she was sitting sadly and alone by the fireside, she saw come down the chimney a little old woman, about the height of your hand, riding on three bits of rushes. She wore on her head a sprig of hawthorn; her dress was composed of flies' wings; two nut-shells served her for boots; she sailed in the air, and after taking three turns in the room, she stopped before the Queen. "For a long time," said the old woman, "you have been complaining of me, accusing me of all your misfortunes, and making me responsible for all that happens to you. You think, Madam, that I am the cause of your having no children. I come now to announce to you that you will have an Infanta, but I fear she will cost you many tears." "Ah! noble Fanferluche," said the Queen, "do not refuse me your pity and your aid. I will render you all the services in my power, provided the Princess you promise me shall be my comfort and not my affliction." "Destiny is more powerful than I," replied the Fairy. "All I can do, to show my affection for you, is to give you this white hawthorn; fasten it to your child's head