and the old wretch turned up at the last moment, and the girl drops toads out of her mouth to this day.”
“Just so. And then there was that business of the mouse and the kitchen-maids,” said the King; “we’ll have no nonsense about it. I’ll be her godfather, and you shall be her godmother, and we won’t ask a single fairy; then none of them can be offended.”
“Unless they all are,” said the Queen.
And that was exactly what happened. When the King and the Queen and the baby got back from the christening the parlourmaid met them at the door, and said—
“Please, your Majesty, several ladies have called. I told them you were not at home, but they all said they’d wait.”
“Are they in the parlour?” asked the Queen.
“I’ve shown them into the Throne Room, your Majesty,” said the parlourmaid. “You see, there are several of them.”
There were about seven hundred. The great Throne Room was crammed with fairies, of all ages and of all degrees of beauty and ugliness—good fairies and bad fairies, flower fairies and moon fairies, fairies like spiders and fairies like butterflies—and as the Queen
