never allowed that it was his own fault, if he could possibly help it.

At last the end of the year came, and still no signs of the
gold-horned cow. Then the King became convinced that Drusilla had
cheated him, that there never had been any such wonderful cow, and
that she had used this trick in order to become a Princess. Of course,
the King felt more comfortable to believe this, for it accounted
satisfactorily for his own failure to find her, and it is extremely
mortifying for a King to be unable to do anything he sets out to.

So Drusilla was dismissed from the seminary in disgrace, and sent
home. Her jewels and fine clothes were all taken away from her, even
her rick-rack dress, and she put on her blue petticoat and short gown,
and straw flat again. Still, she was so happy at the prospect of
seeing her dear old father again, that she did not mind the loss of
all her fine things much. She did not ride the white palfrey now, but
went home on foot, in the dewy morning, as fast as she could trip.

When she came in sight of the cottage, there was her father sitting in
his old place at the window. When he saw his beloved daughter coming,
he ran out to meet her as fast as he could hobble, and they tenderly
embraced each other.

The King had provided liberally for the old man while Drusilla was in
the seminary, but now that he was so angry at her alleged deception,
his support would probably cease, and, since the gold-horned cow was
lost, it was a question how they would live. The father and daughter
sat talking it over after they had entered the cottage. It was a
puzzling question, and Drusilla was weeping a little, when her father
gave a joyful cry: