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 fairy, and so on until she had nearly all the virtues and accomplishments which even a King might desire for his daughter. But as yet, the spiteful old fairy had not said a word.

At last she rose and cast an evil glance round.

“Have you all finished?” said she. “Hear, then, my wish. On the day when she reaches her fifteenth birthday, the Princess shall prick her finger with the spindle of a spinning-wheel, and shall immediately die!”

This terrible prophecy made the whole company shudder. The Queen gave a cry and hugged the sleeping baby still closer to her breast.

“No, no! Have pity!” she cried. “Call down your dreadful fate on my head if you will, but do not harm this innocent child.”

At this mournful appeal there was hardly one of the guests who could keep from tears, but the old crone only mumbled to herself as though she were uttering a spell. Then the King leapt to his feet, his hand at the jewelled hilt of the dagger that hung at his girdle. In another moment he might have stretched the wicked creature lifeless at his feet, but before he could draw the weapon from its sheath, another voice arrested him.

“Stay your hand, O King, lest even worse befall. No mortal may strike at a fairy and go unpunished. And, for the rest, take comfort, for your daughter shall not die!”

Then the twelfth fairy stepped out from behind the arras where she had been hidden. “My gift is still to come,” she continued. “As far as I can, I will undo the mischief which my sister has done, It is true that I have