thick fall of black lace, fastened to a high comb in the back of her
head.

"I hope he will not be long," said she to herself, while her heart beat
high with expectation. "His note says clearly enough on the lake in the
fairy gondola. Well, it will certainly be nice to be a princess, but I
do hope that his highness may prove to be a dashing, handsome youth,
such as a Cinderella might sigh for. Hush, boatman!"

"Lady?"

"Do you hear?"

"Someone singing on the bank yonder? Yes! I hear, lady."

"Row that way."

A voice was heard carolling gently the serenade--"Fair shines the moon
to-night."

The voice meant well, evidently, but something rather spoilt the effect.

It was not altogether in tune, nor had the singer the best idea in the
world of time.

Perhaps his singing was spoilt by excess of love.

Perhaps by liquor.

The latter idea was suggested by a certain unsteadiness that would