"Oh, you do, do you?" she answered, laughing her merry little laugh,
and capering up and down the moonbeam. "Oh! quite a modest youth!
Well, I'll make a bargain with you; and if you will do something for
me, you shall have your wish," said the queen.

Nimble Jim was about to pour out his gratitude, when she interrupted
him, saying: "Now, Nimble Jim, listen to me. Your wish is a foolish
one, and I warn you that if you gain it you will be sorry. Why will
you not be content as you are?"

"Your majesty," replied the obstinate youth. "I _cannot_ be content as
I am."

"Well, since you insist on having your own way, we'll make our
bargain. Here,"--and, sitting down on the moonbeam, she pulled off a
shoe,--"here, sir, I want you to mend my shoe. I tripped just now on
a rough place in this moonbeam. Mend the rip; show me you are a good
cobbler, and I promise that you shall have your wish."

"But, your majesty," began Nimble Jim, taking the shoe, which was no
bigger than a bean, "I can't sew such a little shoe; my fingers are
----"

"There, there! Stop! I'm a queen, and people don't say 'can't' or
'wont' to me, sir," interrupted her majesty, with much dignity. "Take
the shoe, and find a way to mend it. I will come for it to-morrow
night at this same place and hour," and off she went up the moonbeam,
half skipping, half flying, while Jim stood stupidly staring until
she had entirely disappeared. Then he began, slowly: "Well,--I--never
--in--all--my--life--saw--such--a----"