Now this was a trial to Mrs. Weston’s patience. She had glanced hastily at a few pages of the fairy book and had declared it to be “clear foolishness,” adding, “if it amuses Randy and Prue, I do’no as I care; but it puzzles me how they can enjoy it.”
But, thinking to please her little daughter and make her willing to sit still, she promised to listen attentively to Prue’s narrative, adding under her breath, “I guess I can stand it for once, if it is foolish.” So she handed the book to Prue, who declared that, although she couldn’t read, she could tell the story better by looking at the pictures.
Mrs. Weston brought her sewing to the window nearest the lounge where Prue sat as if enthroned, and the youthful entertainer commenced at once to tell the story as she remembered it. As Randy afterward said with stifled laughter, “If that is the best Prue could tell the story with the pictures to help her, how much more could she have twisted it without the book?”
“Once upon a time (they all commence that way),” said Prue, “there was a little girl so be-autiful that folks ’most went crazy who saw her, an’ her father was tickled to see how handsome she was when she was a baby; an’ one time when she was fifteen (that’s what Randy is)—no, I forgot, when the baby, that’s the princess, you know, was a bein’ chris-chris-chris-tened, there was a lot of fairies that bringed her presents, and one was mad because she didn’t be invited, and she did something awful, but I’ve forgot what.
“Then the beautiful princess went to sleep a hun-dred years” (here Prue’s eyes grew round with excitement), “and she grew older and older every minute—no, no, she didn’t. I mean she didn’t grow older a’ tall.”
Here Randy turned hastily to gaze out of the window, and Prue, fortunately, failed to notice her sister’s very evident effort to conceal her amusement.
“Then everybody in the house—no, palace—went sound asleep and snored, and they never waked up ’til the prince kissed them—oh, no, he only kissed the princess. Mother, why do you s’pose he didn’t kiss anybody but the princess? Shouldn’t you a thought he would?”
Without waiting for an answer, however, Prue babbled on.
“They was married and lived happy ever after, and all the folks waked up, and the horses, and cows, and cats, and dogs, all wagged their tails ’cause they was awake too. Isn’t that a wonderful story?”
“I should say it was,” ejaculated practical Mrs. Weston. “Nothing less than wonderful.”