they were, and how much they had to hear and
to tell. But at length it was time to go back to the little house, and
as they went along Celandine remembered for the first time what a ragged
old dress she was wearing, and what an odd appearance she must present.
But the Prince declared that it became her vastly, and that he thought
it most picturesque. When they reached the house the old woman received
them very crossly.

'I declare,' said she, 'that it's perfectly true: wherever there is a
girl you may be sure that a young man will appear before long! But don't
imagine that I'm going to have you here--not a bit of it, be off with
you, my fine fellow!'

Prince Featherhead was inclined to be angry at this uncivil reception,
but he was really too happy to care much, so he only demanded, on
Celandine's behalf, that the old dame should give her back her own
attire, that she might go away suitably dressed.

This request roused her to fury, since she had counted upon the
Princess's fine robes to clothe her for the rest of her life, so that it
was some time before the Prince could make himself heard to explain that
he was willing to pay for them. The sight of a handful of gold pieces
somewhat mollified her, however, and after making them both promise
faithfully that on no consideration would they ask for the gold back
again, she took the Princess into the house and grudgingly doled out
to her just enough of her gay attire to make her presentable, while the
rest she pretended to have lost. After this they found that they were
very hungry, for one cannot live on love, any more than on air, and then
the old woman's lamentations were louder than before. 'What!' she cried,
'feed people who were as happy as all that! Why, it was simply ruinous!'

But as the Prince began to look angry, she, with many sighs and
mutterings, brought out a morsel of bread, a bowl of milk, and six
plums, with which the lovers were well content: for as long as they
could look at one another they really did not know what they
were eating. It seemed as if they would go on for ever with their
reminiscences, the Prince telling how he had wandered all over the world
from beauty to beauty, always to be disappointed when he found that no
one resembled the portrait; the Princess wondering how it was he could
have been so long with her and yet never have recognised her, and over
and over again pardoning him for his cold and haughty behaviour to her.

'For,' she