She looked at the Queen so terribly that her poor Mother-Majesty cried out without meaning to.
“Oh don’t!” she cried, and flung both arms round the cradle. The Prince was quite happy, playing with his new coral and bells, and looking at the Palace cat, who sat at the foot of the cradle washing herself.
“Now listen,” said Malevola, still speaking in the low, even voice that was so terrible. “You did not invite me to the christening. I’ve read my fairy tales, and I know what’s expected of a fairy who is left out on an occasion like this. I intend to curse your son.”
Then all the Kings and Queens who had come to the christening wished they had stayed away, and they and all the Court fell on their knees and begged Malevola for mercy. As for the three good fairies who were left, they hid behind the window-curtains, and the Court ladies, peeping between their fingers, said—
“Fancy deserting their godson like this! How unfairy-like!”
But the Queen and the King only wept, and the Prince played with his rattle and looked at the cat.
Then Malevola said mockingly: “Great King and mighty Sovereign, Malevola was not good enough to be asked to your tea-party. But your family shall come down in the world; your son shall marry a kitchen-maid and marry a lady with four feet and no hands.”
A shiver of horror ran through the room, and Malevola vanished. Then, suddenly, the sun came out, and people lifted up their heads, and dared again to look at each other. And the daisies, too, opened their eyes again.
MALEVOLA’S DRESS WAS NOT AT ALL THE THING FOR A CHRISTENING.