s only
daughter. She had hair made of sunshine, and her eyes were stars.

"What an exquisite creature!" cried the farmer. "What would not one
give to possess her?"

"She has as many suitors as hairs on her head," replied the bystander.
"She wants to marry the Prince of Moonshine, but he only dresses in
silver, and the King thinks he might find a richer son-in-law. The
Princess will go to the highest bidder."

"And I have Good Luck for my godfather, and am not even at court!"
cried the farmer; and he put spurs to his horse, and rode home.

Good Luck was taking care of the farm.

"Listen, Godfather!" cried the young man. "I am in love with the
King's daughter, and want her to wife."

"It is not an easy matter," replied Good Luck, "but I will do what I
can for you. Say that by good luck you saved the Princess's life, or
perhaps better the King's--for they say he is selfish--"

"Tush!" cried the farmer. "The King is covetous, and wants a rich
son-in-law."

"A wise man may bring wealth to a kingdom with his head, if not with
his hands," said Good Luck, "and I can show you a district where the
earth only wants mining to be flooded with wealth. Besides, there are
a thousand opportunities that can be turned to account and influence.
By wits and work, and with Good Luck to help him, many a poorer man
than you has risen to greatness."

"Wits and work!" cried the indignant godson. "You speak well--truly! A
hillman would have made a better godfather. Give me as much gold as
will fill three meal-bins, and you may keep the rest of your help for
those who want it."

Now at this moment by Good Luck stood Dame Fortune. She likes handsome
young men, and there was some little jealousy between her and the
godfather so she smiled at the quarrel.

"You would rather have had me for your gossip?" said she.

"If you would give me three wishes, I would," replied the farmer
boldly, "and I would trouble you no more."

"Will you make him over to me?" said Dame Fortune to the godfather.

"If he wishes it," replied Good Luck. "But if he accepts your gifts he
has no further claim on me."

"Nor on me either," said the Dame. "Hark ye, young man, you mortals
are apt to make a hobble of your three wishes, and you may end with a
sausage at your nose, like your betters."

"I have thought of it too often," replied the farmer, "and I know what
I want. For my first wish I desire imperishable beauty."

"It is yours," said Dame Fortune, smi