At length the princess had again grown so angry, frightened, and
miserable, all together, that she jumped up and hurried about the
cottage with outstretched arms, trying to find the wise woman. But
being in a bad temper always makes people stupid, and presently she
struck her forehead such a blow against something--she thought
herself it felt like the old woman's cloak--that she fell back--not
on the floor, though, but on the patch of heather, which felt as
soft and pleasant as any bed in the palace. There, worn out with
weeping and rage, she soon fell fast asleep.

She dreamed that she was the old cold woman up in the sky, with no
home and no friends, and no nothing at all, not even a pocket;
wandering, wandering forever, over a desert of blue sand, never to
get to anywhere, and never to lie down or die. It was no use
stopping to look about her, for what had she to do but forever look
about her as she went on and on and on--never seeing any thing, and
never expecting to see any thing! The only shadow of a hope she had
was, that she might by slow degrees grow thinner and thinner, until
at last she wore away to nothing at all; only alas! she could not
detect the least sign that she had yet begun to grow thinner. The
hopelessness grew at length so unendurable that she woke with a
start. Seeing the face of the wise woman bending over her, she threw
her arms around her neck and held up her mouth to be kissed. And the
kiss of the wise woman was like the rose-gardens of Damascus.