by which the copper emptied itself into the palace moat--for of
course there was a copper in one of the palace cellars as there always
is in cellars in the North Country.

Now this copper had been a great trial to the decorators. If there is
anything you don't like about your house, you can either try to conceal
it or 'make a feature of it.' And as concealment of the copper was
impossible, it was decided to 'make it a feature' by covering it with
green moss and planting a tree in it, a little apple tree all in bloom.
It had been very much admired.

Malevola, hastily altering her disguise to that of a mole, dug her way
through the earth that the copper was full of, got to the top and put
out a sharp nose just as Benevola was saying in that soft voice which
Malevola always thought so affected,--

'The Princess shall love and be loved all her life long.'

'So she shall,' said the wicked fairy, assuming her own shape amid the
screams of the audience. 'Be quiet, you silly cuckoo,' she said to the
Lord Chamberlain, whose screams were specially piercing, 'or I'll give
_you_ a christening present too.'

Instantly there was a dreadful silence. Only Queen Eliza, who had caught
up the baby at Malevola's first word, said feebly,--

'Oh, _don't_, dear Malevola.'

And the King said, 'It isn't exactly a party, don't you know. Quite
informal. Just a few friends dropped in, eh, what?'

'So I perceive,' said Malevola, laughing that dreadful laugh of hers
which makes other people feel as though they would never be able to
laugh any more. 'Well, I've dropped in too. Let's have a look at the
child.'

The poor Queen dared not refuse. She tottered forward with the baby in
her arms.

'Humph!' said Malevola, 'your precious daughter will have beauty and
grace and all the rest of the tuppenny halfpenny rubbish those
niminy-piminy minxes have given her. But she will be turned out of her
kingdom. She will have to face her enemies without a single human being
to stand by her, and she shall never come to her own again until she
finds----' Malevola hesitated. She could not think of anything
sufficiently unlikely--'until she finds,' she repeated----

'A thousand spears to follow her to battle,' said a new voice, 'a
thousand spears devoted to her and to her alone.'

A very young fairy fluttered down from the little apple tree where she
had been hiding among the pink and white blossom.

'I am very young, I know,' she said apologetically,