‘He was the father of English poetry,’ the Princess said reproachfully.
‘I should have thought he was a great-great-grandfather when he wrote that.’
‘Why?’ said the Princess in astonishment.
‘It seems uncommonly like the writing of a man in his second childhood. However, that does not matter. About the feather now. What can I do in exchange for it? I will give you anything you want.’
The Princess looked at the Goddess.
‘Why do you want the feather so much?’ she asked. ‘Are you not invisible enough already?’
The Goddess looked at her sneeringly:
‘I am invisible to dull mortals; but we gods can see each other well enough, invisible or not. If I had this feather, though, it would be different, and I should be able to laugh at Venus and that set.’
‘Then I’m sure I won’t give it you, for as Venus is the Goddess of Beauty she might make me ugly, and that would not be nice for me.’
Diana laughed.