“I have yet to learn that it is my part to take orders from a servant,” said the princess with temper and dignity.
“I beg your pardon, princess,” returned her nurse, politely; “but it is my duty to tell you that your queen-mamma is at this moment engaged. She is alone with her most intimate friend, the Princess of the Frozen Regions.”
“I shall see for myself,” returned the princess, bridling, and walked to the door.
Now little bunny, leap-frogging near the door, happened that moment to get about her feet, just as she was going to open it, so that she tripped and fell against it, striking her forehead a good blow. She caught up the rabbit in a rage, and, crying, “It is all your fault, you ugly old wretch!” threw it with violence in her nurse’s face.
Her nurse caught the rabbit, and held it to her face, as if seeking to sooth its fright. But the rabbit looked very limp and odd, and, to her amazement, Rosamond presently saw that the thing was no rabbit, but a pocket-handkerchief. The next moment she removed it from her face, and Rosamond beheld—not her nurse, but the wise woman—standing on her own hearth, while she herself stood by the door leading from the cottage into the hall.
“First trial a failure,” said the wise woman quietly.
Overcome with shame, Rosamond ran to her, fell down on her knees, and hid her face in her dress.
“Need I say any thing?” said the wise woman, stroking her hair.
“No, no,” cried the princess. “I am horrid.”
“You know now the kind of thing you have to meet: are you ready to try again?”