after her. She had to run till, from very fatigue, her rudeness
ceased. Her heart gave way; she burst into tears, and ran on
silently weeping.

A minute more and the wise woman stooped, and lifting her in her
arms, folded her cloak around her. Instantly she fell asleep, and
slept as soft and as soundly as if she had been in her own bed. She
slept till the moon went down; she slept till the sun rose up; she
slept till he climbed the topmost sky; she slept till he went down
again, and the poor old moon came peaking and peering out once more:
and all that time the wise woman went walking on and on very fast.
And now they had reached a spot where a few fir-trees came to meet
them through the moonlight.

At the same time the princess awaked, and popping her head out
between the folds of the wise woman's cloak--a very ugly little
owlet she looked--saw that they were entering the wood. Now there is
something awful about every wood, especially in the moonlight; and
perhaps a fir-wood is more awful than other woods. For one thing, it
lets a little more light through, rendering the darkness a little
more visible, as it were; and then the trees go stretching away up
towards the moon, and look as if they cared nothing about the
creatures below them--not like the broad trees with soft wide leaves
that, in the darkness even, look sheltering. So the princess is not
to be blamed that she was very much frightened. She is hardly to be
blamed either that, assured the wise woman was an ogress carrying
her to her castle to eat her up, she began again to kick and scream
violently, as those of my readers who are of the same sort as
herself will consider the right and natural thing to do. The wrong
in her was this--that she had led such a bad life, that she did not