nd child--finally the
four-and-twenty godfathers and godmothers, as proud as possible, and so
splendid to look at that they would have quite extinguished their small
godson--merely a heap of lace and muslin with a baby face inside--had it
not been for a canopy of white satin and ostrich feathers which was held
over him wherever he was carried.

Thus, with the sun shining on them through the painted windows, they
stood; the king and his train on one side, the Prince and his attendants
on the other, as pretty a sight as ever was seen out of fairyland.

"It's just like fairyland," whispered the eldest little girl to the next
eldest, as she shook the last rose out of her basket; "and I think the
only thing the Prince wants now is a fairy god-mother."

"Does he?" said a shrill but soft and not unpleasant voice behind; and
there was seen among the group of children somebody,--not a child, yet
no bigger than a child,--somebody whom nobody had seen before, and who
certainly had not been invited, for she had no christening clothes on.

She was a little old woman dressed all in gray: gray gown; gray
hooded cloak, of a material excessively fine, and a tint that seemed
perpetually changing, like the gray of an evening sky. Her hair was
gray, and her eyes also--even her complexion had a soft gray shadow over
it. But there was nothing unpleasantly old about her, and her smile was
as sweet and childlike as the Prince's own, which stole over his pale
little face the instant she came near enough to touch him.

"Take care! Don't let the baby fall again."

The grand young lady nurse started, flushing angrily.

"Who spoke to me? How did anybody know?--I mean, what business has
anybody----" Then frightened, but still speaking in a much sharper tone
than I hope young ladies of rank are in the habit of speaking--"Old
woman, you will be kind enough not to say 'the baby,' but 'the Prince.'
Keep away; his Royal Highness is just going to sleep."

"Nevertheless I must kiss him. I am his god-mother."

"You!" cried the elegant lady nurse.

"You!" repeated all the gentlemen and ladies-in-waiting.

"You!" echoed the heralds and pages--and they began to blow the silver
trumpets in order to stop all further conversation.

The Prince's procession formed itself for returning,--the King and his
train having already moved off toward the palace,--but on the top-most
step of the marble stairs stood, right in front of all, the little old
woman clo