chest the best gown of his deceased wife, with stockings and shoes, which the Princess put on. Thus, dressed like a peasant, she looked lovely as the day, and Fretillon danced round her to divert her.
The old man saw plainly that Rosette was some lady of rank, for the coverlid of her bed was of gold and silver, and her mattress of satin. He requested her to tell him her history, and assured her that he would keep it a secret if she wished. She recounted the whole of it, weeping very much, for she was still under the belief that it was the King of the Peacocks who had ordered her to be drowned. "What shall we do, my daughter?" said the old man to her: "you are so great a princess, accustomed to dainties, and I have nothing to give you but black bread and radishes. You will fare badly with me; and if you will take my advice you will let me go and tell the King of the Peacocks that you are here. I am sure that if he had seen you he would have married you." "Ah," exclaimed Rosette, "he is a wicked creature, and will put me to death; but if you have a little basket, let us tie it round my dog's neck, and it will be very unlucky if he do not bring back something to eat." The old man gave the Princess a basket; she tied it round Fretillon's neck, and said to him, "Go to the best saucepan in the city and bring me what may be in it." Fretillon ran to the city, and as there were no saucepans better than the king's, he entered the royal kitchen, took the lid off the largest, adroitly possessed himself of its contents, and returned to the hut. Rosette said to him, "Go back to the buttery and bring me the best of everything." Fretillon returned to the buttery and filled his basket with white bread, muscadel wine, and all sorts of fruits and preserves. He was so laden that he could hardly wag.
When the King of the Peacocks called for his dinner there was nothing in the saucepan or in the buttery. The servants all stared at each other, and the king was in a fearful rage. "Very well," said he, "there is no dinner for me. But take care that the spit is put down this evening, and that I have something very good roasted." When evening arrived, the Princess said to Fretillon, "Go to the city, enter the best kitchen, and bring me some nice roast meat." Fretillon did as his mistress ordered him, and knowing no better kitchen than the king's, stole into it softly, while the cooks' backs
