WICKED UNCLE (_nodding_). In she went--I following. I saw her gather the
stinging nettles that grow there.

GOODY. But they would blister her hands. Did she not cry out?

WICKED UNCLE. Not a sound did she utter! That would prove her a witch, were
there nothing more.

GOODY. Ah, there is something more, then?

WICKED UNCLE (_nodding; mysteriously_). I followed her back to the castle;
through the marble halls and up to the little cave room. I saw her break up
the nettles. Then I saw her spin and weave this flax into a magic coat.

GOODY. Bless me! A magic coat?

WICKED UNCLE (_nodding_). There were ten of them hanging from the ceiling.

GOODY. Of course you told the King?

WICKED UNCLE. Just as soon as I could waken him, but he would not believe
me. He said there was but one coat when they brought her here, and that
there could be but one now.

GOODY. She worked at night, then, while the castle slept.

WICKED UNCLE. True queens do not work--nay, can't be made to work. Every
one knows that.

GOODY. But how did the King find out the truth?