tments.

"I can easily imagine," she said to herself, "that the people here
don't understand the world, and that the queen herself doesn't
understand it, either. They make a new world every day, and turn
everything upside down and inside out, and disguise and mask
themselves. How are they ever to get rest and keep their senses? The
queen's right; it's better that I should go home again. I'd go crazy
here."

When Walpurga reached her room, she found a letter from home awaiting
her. She had been joyfully looking forward to this letter for weeks.
She had fancied how delighted her mother and Hansei would be, and
how the villagers would come and admire their new clothes, and
express their astonishment. She had placed a cheerful letter in the
breast-pocket of Hansei's jacket, and this was the answer. Stasi had
written it, but the mother had dictated every word. It read thus:

"Oh, child, I'm sure you meant well enough, but it didn't turn out
well. I and Hansei wore the beautiful clothes when we went to church on
New Year's day. I didn't want to; I felt sure something would happen;
but Hansei said we must put them on, for the king would think ill of
it, if we didn't wear the clothes he sent us, and so, for peace's sake,
I went to church with him. But the people kept looking at us so
strangely, and didn't say a word; and after church, they were standing
together in crowds and we could hear them say, while they pointed their
fingers at us: 'It's all very fine. Such things can be got at the
capital, but every one knows how; not in an honest way, that's certain.
The old fool and that blockhead there are proud of it in the bargain,
and show off their new clothes.' Old Zenza was worse than any of them,
and people who never listen to her at other times, were quite willing
to hear all she had to say, and urged her to go on.

"Oh, my dear child! you don't know how bad people can be. I know that
you're good, but some people are bad and begrudge one everything, and
what they can't take from you they befoul. You meant well enough, I'm
sure, but I won't even venture out of the house in my own clothes now.
The people are so envious, so cunning and so willing to speak evil. As
long as you're poor you know nothing of it, but now I see it. And, dear
child, that's not the worst of it. The worst of all is that they want
to fill one's heart with mistrust, but I have none toward you; I know
you're good. Remain so, and bear in mind, that if you