‘That’s the cottage where they live,’ said the old Man.
And no sooner did the Princess hear his words than she started off at a run towards it.
‘I must get there before him,’ she said; and so she went as fast as she could over the soft cheese. She really needn’t have hurried so much, for Wopole and the old man had stopped, and it might have saved her a world of trouble if she had listened to what they said; but she didn’t.
When she reached the cottage she stopped a moment to gain breath; but that was soon done, and she went to the door and tapped. No answer came; so she lifted the latch gently and walked in as quietly as she could.
‘There goes that door,’ she heard an ill-tempered voice say.
‘I shouldn’t take the trouble to close it again if I were you. It’s the fifth time it’s blown open to-day.’ This was in another voice.
It was impossible for the Princess to see where the voice came from, for the cottage was so dark after the light outside that for some moments it was quite as black as night. However, gradually her eyes became accustomed to the twilight, for the open door did let in a good deal of light.
What she did see, however, did not please her eyes much, for the three sisters, to whom Wopole gave the name of Parker—they are called the Parcae generally—were about as ugly as they make them; and as they were twins—that is, triplets—there was not much to choose between them.
The room in the cottage was very large, and at the wall at one end a large number of frames stood on which were nailed reels, and from every reel came a silver thread, and over every reel a small placard was placed on which was written a name—the name of the owner of the thread.
Behind the frames stood one of the Fates, who took off used-up reels and placed new ones in their stead; though how she did it the Princess could not tell, for the Fates, as well as Love, are blind. Yet she did it.