'I thought at first,' said Sylvia, 'that she must be the happiest
Princess in the world; she had a thousand lovers who vied with one
another in their efforts to please and gratify her. Indeed, I had
nearly decided that I would ask a similar gift.'

'Have you altered your mind, then?' interrupted the Fairy.

'Yes, indeed, madam,' replied Sylvia; 'and I will tell you why.
The longer I stayed the more I saw that Cynthia was not really
happy. In her desire to please everyone she ceased to be sincere,
and degenerated into a mere coquette; and even her lovers felt
that the charms and fascinations which were exercised upon all who
approached her without distinction were valueless, so that in the
end they ceased to care for them, and went away disdainfully.'

'I am pleased with you, child,' said the Fairy; 'enjoy yourself
here for awhile and presently you shall go to Phyllida.'

Sylvia was glad to have leisure to think, for she could not make
up her mind at all what she should ask for herself, and the time
was drawing very near. However, before very long the Fairy sent
her to Phyllida, and waited for her report with unabated interest.

'I reached her court safely,' said Sylvia, 'and she received me
with much kindness, and immediately began to exercise upon me that
brilliant wit which you had bestowed upon her. I confess that I
was fascinated by it, and for a week thought that nothing could be
more desirable; the time passed like magic, so great was the charm
of her society. But I ended by ceasing to covet that gift more
than any of the others I have seen, for, like the gift of