"Oh no, you won't!" returned the prince.

"Yes, I will," she persisted. "What business had you to pull me
down out of the water, and throw me to the bottom of the air? I
never did you any harm."

"Pardon me. I did not mean to hurt you."

"I don't believe you have any brains; and that is a worse loss than
your wretched gravity. I pity you.'

The prince now saw that he had come upon the bewitched princess,
and had already offended her. But before he could think what to say
next, she burst out angrily, giving a stamp with her foot that
would have sent her aloft again but for the hold she had of his
arm,--

"Put me up directly."

"Put you up where, you beauty?" asked the prince.

He had fallen in love with her almost, already; for her anger made
her more charming than any one else had ever beheld her; and, as
far as he could see, which certainly was not far, she had not a
single fault about her, except, of course, that she had not any
gravity. No prince, however, would judge of a princess by weight.
The loveliness of her foot he would hardly estimate by the depth of
the impression it could make in mud.