"Do you mean she isn't good?" asked Wiggs in awe.
Hyacinth nodded.
"I'm never good," said Wiggs firmly.
"What do you mean, silly? You're the best little girl in Euralia."
"I'm not. I do awful things sometimes. Do you know what I did yesterday?"
"Something terrible!" smiled Hyacinth.
"I tore my apron."
"You baby! That isn't being bad," said Hyacinth absently. She was still thinking of that awful review.
"The Countess says it is."
"The Countess!"
"Do you know why I want to be very good?" said Wiggs, coming up close to the Princess.
"Why, dear?"
"Because then I could dance like a fairy."
"Is that how it's done?" asked the Princess, rather amused. "The Countess must dance very heavily." She suddenly remembered something and added: "Why, of course, child, you were going to tell me about a fairy you met, weren't you? That was weeks ago, though. Tell me now. It will help me to forget things which make me rather angry."
It was a simple little story. There must have been many like it in the books which Wiggs had been dusting; but these were simple times, and the oldest story always seemed new.
Wiggs had been by herself in the forest. A baby rabbit had run past her, terrified; a ferret in pursuit. Wiggs had picked the little fluffy thing up in her arms and comforted it; the ferret had slowed down, walked past very indifferently with its hands, as it were, in its pockets, hesitated a moment, and then remembered an important letter which it had forgotten to post. Wiggs was left alone with the baby rabbit, and before she knew where she was, the rabbit was gone and there was a fairy in front of her.
"You have saved my life," said the fairy. "That was a wicked magician after me, and if he had caught me then, he would have killed me."
"Please, your Fairiness, I didn't know fairies could die," said Wiggs.
"They can when they take on animal shape or human shape. He could not hurt me now, but before―" She shuddered.
"I'm so glad you're all right now," said Wiggs politely.
"Thanks to you, my child. I must reward you. Take this ring. When you have been good for a whole day, you can have one good wish; when you have been bad for a whole day, you can have one bad wish. One good wish and one bad wish—that is all it will allow anybody to have."
With these words she vanished and left Wiggs alone with the ring.
So, ever after that, Wiggs tried desperately hard to be good and have the good wish, but it was difficult work. Something always went wrong; she tore her apron or read books when she ought to have been dusting, or― Well, you or I would probably have given it up at once, and devoted ourselves to earning the bad wish. But Wiggs was a nice little girl.
"And, oh, I do so want to be good," said Wiggs earnestly to the Princess, "so that I could wish to dance like a fairy." She had a sudden anxiety. "That is a good wish, isn't it?"
"It's a lovely wish; but I'm sure you could dance now if you tried."
"I can't," said Wiggs. "I always dance like this."
She jumped up and danced a few steps. Wiggs was a dear little girl, but her dancing reminded you of a very dusty road going up–hill all the way, with nothing but suet–puddings waiting for you on the top. Something like that.
"It isn't really graceful, is it?" she said candidly, as she came to rest.
"Well, I suppose the fairies do dance better than that."
"So that's why I want to be good, so as I can have my wish."
"I really must see this ring," said the Princess. "It sounds fascinating." She looked coldly in front of her and added, "Good–morning, Countess." (How long had the woman been there?)
"Good–morning, your Royal Highness. I ventured to come up unannounced. Ah, sweet child." She waved a caressing hand at Wiggs.
(Even if she had overheard anything, it had only been child's talk.)
"What is it?" asked the Princess. She took a firm hold of the arms of her chair. She would not, not, not give way to the Countess this time.
"The merest matter of business, your Royal Highness. Just this scheme for the Encouragement of Literature. Your Royal Highness very wisely decided that in the absence of the men on the sterner business of fighting it was the part of us women to encourage the gentler arts; and for this purpose … there was some talk of a competition, and—er―"
"Ah, yes," said Hyacinth nervously. "I will look into that to–morrow."
"A competition," said Belvane, gazing vaguely over Hyacinth's head. "Some sort of a money prize," she added, as if in a trance.
"There should certainly be some sort of a prize," agreed the Princess. (Why not, she asked herself, if one is to encourage literature?)
"Bags of gold," murmured Belvane to herself. "Bags and bags of gold. Big bags of silver and little bags of gold." She saw herself tossing them to the crowd.
"Well, we'll go into that to–morrow," said Hyacinth hastily.
"I have it all drawn up here," said Belvane. "Your Royal Highness has only to sign. It saves so much trouble," she added with a disarming smile…. She held the document out—all in the most beautiful colours.
Mechanically the Princess signed.
"Thank you, your Royal Highness." She smiled again, and added, "And now perhaps I had better see about it at once." The Guardian of Literature took a dignified farewell of her Sovereign and withdrew.
Hyacinth looked at Wiggs in despair.
"There!" she said. "That's me. I don't know what it is about that woman, but I feel just a child in front of her. Oh, Wiggs, Wiggs, I feel so lonely sometimes with nothing but women all around me. I wish I had a man here to help me."
"Are all the men fighting in all the countries?"
"Not all the countries. There's—Araby. Don't you remember—oh, but of course you wouldn't know anything about it. But Father was just going to ask Prince Udo of Araby to come here on a visit, when the war broke out. Oh, I wish, I wish Father were back again." She laid her head on her arms; and whether she would have shed a few royal tears or had a good homely cry, I cannot tell you. For at that moment an attendant came in. Hyacinth was herself again at once.
"There is a messenger approaching on a horse, your Royal Highness," she announced. "Doubtless from His Majesty's camp."
With a shriek of delight, and an entire lack of royal dignity, the Princess, followed by the faithful Wiggs, rushed down to receive him.
Meanwhile, what of the Countess? She was still in the Palace, and, more than that, she was in the Throne Room of the Palace, and, more even than that, she was on the Throne, of the Throne Room of the Palace.
She couldn't resist it. The door was open as she came down from her interview with the Princess, and she had to go in. There was a woman in there, tidying up, who looked questioningly at Belvane as she entered.
"You may leave," said the Countess with dignity. "Her Royal Highness sent me in here to wait for her."
The woman curtsied and withdrew.
The Countess then uttered these extraordinary words:
"When I am Queen in Euralia they shall leave me backwards!"
Her subsequent behaviour was even more amazing.
She stood by the side of the door, and putting her hand to her mouth said shrilly, "Ter–rum, ter–rum, terrumty–umty–um." Then she took her hand away and announced loudly, "Her Majesty Queen Belvane the First!" after which she cheered slightly.