“You must be contented with what you have.”
“We are,” said all twelve of them, “but what about our parents?”
“They must put up with your choice,” said the old woman, “it’s the common lot of parents.”
“I think you ought to sort yourselves out properly,” said Denis; “I’m the only one who’s got his right Princess—because I wasn’t greedy. I took the smallest.”
The tallest Princess showed him a red mark on her arm, where his little teeth had been two nights before, and everybody laughed.
But the old woman said—
“They can’t change, my dear. When a Prince has picked a gold apple that has a Princess in it, and has kissed it till she comes out, no other Princess will ever do for him, any more than any other Prince will ever do for her.”
While she was speaking the old woman got younger and younger and younger, till as she spoke the last words she was quite young, not more than fifty-five. And it was Miss Fitzroy Robinson!
Her pupils stepped forward one by one with
