"Why, my dear," said the first, "is it possible you don't know about the
pool where the red berries grow--the pool where the poor, dear Princess
Goldenhair met with her misfortune?"

"Never heard of it," said the second nightingale, rather crossly.

"Well," explained the other, "you have to follow the brook for a day and
three-quarters, and then take all the paths to the left until you come to
the pool. It is very ugly and muddy, and bushes with red berries on them
grow around it."

"Well, what of that?" said her companion; "and what happened to the
Princess Goldenhair?"

"Don't you know that, either?" exclaimed her friend.

"No."

"Ah!" said the first nightingale, "it was very sad. She went out with her
father, the King, who had a hunting party; and she lost her way, and
wandered on until she came to the pool. Her poor little feet were so hot
that she took off her gold-embroidered satin slippers, and put them into
the water--her feet, not the slippers--and the next minute they began to
grow and grow, and to get larger and larger, until they were so immense
she could hardly walk at all; and though all the physicians in the
kingdom have tried to make them smaller, nothing can be done, and she is
perfectly unhappy."

"What a pity she doesn't know about this pool!" said the other bird. "If