said the goblin in delight. "Oh, I must seem cruel to
one who is so gentle and lovely as Hilda!"

"Alas," cried Zora, "I may fail to win Prince Reginald."

"All the better," chuckled the fairy. "When you become a snake, you
and I shall enjoy each other's society, I assure you."

Zora shuddered.

"But it's all one to me," added the goblin, beginning to yawn. "On the
whole, I think you may as well go home."

Zora wrung her hands, and groaned.

"Yes," said the gnome: "go back to the castle. Ugh! I would sooner
trust one of my winking owls to do a daring deed than you! Fie upon
you! Creep back to your bed, and let Hilda marry the prince: a lovely
pair they will make. Off with you, for I have to make up my sleep I
have lost."

But Zora was thinking.

"I am silly indeed!" she said to herself. "Why do I fear that I shall
not win the love of Prince Reginald? Only Hilda stands in my way."
Then she said aloud,--

"Lovely being! sweetest of all the race! Great as is my horror, I will
consent to your will."

Just then was heard a crackling in the dry leaves.

"Only a snake," said the goblin. Zora trembled.

"Will you promise me that Hilda will never trouble me again?"

"I promise," said the goblin, with one of her merriest laughs, as
loud and hoarse as the song of a frog.

Just then a sigh was heard not far from the place where Zora stood.
"There is some one here: we are watched," she whispered. But Gerula
thought it the howling of the wind; for she was busily musing over the
charm she was about to obtain of her cousins, the gnomes, and her eyes
and ears were not as sharp as usual.

She took from the ground her crooked staff.

"Hush," said she; "if the sky were to fall on your head, you are not
to speak; for now begins the charm."

Then she drew a circle three times on the ground, with her staff, and
said in low tones,--

"Hither, ye cousins, that come at my call:
The princess is young and fair;
Mix me a charm that shall bring her to woe
Spin me your vilest snare."

A mist arose, in which Zora could see dim figures, one after another.
Zora held her breath. Gerula muttered again in low tones,--

"Hilda is gentle, and dreams of no guile;
The little gnomes sit and weep;
'Make her,--if _must_ be,--a snowy wee lamb,
In the fold with her father's sheep.'"

Zora clapped her hands in delight. But just then, a faint sound was
heard, as of some one talking between the tee