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 dressed in the liveries of their masters, and these pages handed the dishes and the wines most politely on their bended knees as they had been taught to do.

So the guests enjoyed themselves, and the fiddlers played, and the King laughed at everything everybody said, because he was in a mighty good humour, and the bright afternoon sun, shining through the western windows, lighted up the rich hangings on the walls, and flashed upon the jewels on fair ladies’ fingers, and fell upon the marble pavement in a pool of gold.

And then, you know, when the merriment was at its height, something happened! There was a sudden cry, and a harsh voice, like the croaking of a raven, sounded through the room.

“Be merry, my lords and ladies,” cried the voice. “Laugh while you may, but remember that tears may follow laughter.”

A hush fell upon all the brilliant assembly. The Queen turned pale and shuddered. The King rose hurriedly from his place, and he and all the guests turned to look at the strange figure that had suddenly appeared in the doorway.

They saw an old woman bent almost double with age, her grey head with matted hair sunk deep between her shoulders, Her face was white and twisted with anger, and her green eyes flashed spitefully.

Slowly she advanced towards the dais, and stretching out her arm, pointed her finger at the gold plates and the gold caskets set before the By godmothers. “There’s one,” said she, with a harsh laugh, “there’s two, there’s twelve! Did you not know, O King, that there were