She was opening her lips to tell what her mother did over her spinning, but all at once she felt strangely ill at ease, and realised how angrily every one would look at her if the maidens knew that all kinds of sorrow was spun for them into their bridal veils. And here they were all looking so happy and so kind, these bad people, against whom her mother had warned her! They seemed far better, indeed, than that mother herself, of whom the mountain-dwarfs were always so horribly afraid.
She was relieved of her perplexity by hearing one of the maidens whisper: “Her dress is velvet—real white velvet!”
“And the jewels—from whom did she get her jewels?” said another, rather louder.
“From my friends,” answered Alba. “Would you like them? I have many more such playthings at home.” And taking the emeralds from her neck, she gave each of the girls one.
She would have done the same with her strings of pearls, had not the Queen prevented her.
“Are thy friends so rich, then?” inquired the latter.
“I do not know. What is ‘rich’? They bring it all up out of the earth in sacks; and when they do not bring enough, they are punished.”
Then the Queen’s face darkened; she drew her son aside and said: “This maiden is none other than the daughter of the abominable witch, Baba Coaja. Take her back as quickly as possible to the spot where thou didst find her. She will only bring trouble upon our house.”
“Ask anything of me but that, mother,” replied the young King, turning pale. “I love this sweet and innocent maid with my every thought, with my every breath, with all the blood in my veins, and though she were Baba Coaja her very self, I could not give her up!”