vants to follow her; yet none loved her, and behind her back they made wry faces, and said she looked like one who was tormented by evil fairies.
But, alas for Zora, nothing more was seen of Prince Reginald. She watched the windows day after day, hoping to see him ride by on his coal-black steed; but he never came. Then she grew crosser than ever, and the frown on her brow ploughed deeper still. She dreamed every night of horrible goblins and slender green snakes.
All the while, poor Hildegarde roamed about the park. The other lambs were content to nip the sweet grass, and frisk in the sun; but the princess remembered something better, for her soul did not sleep.
The king himself, in his walks, was struck with the beauty of the lamb; its fleece was far softer, finer, and whiter than was common.
