And when she answered thus on the seventh day, the Fairy saw that there was no help for it.
The Fairy went down the Mountain; she sat down on the last, lowest stone, shook down her hair and cried bitterly, so great was her desire for the Golden Girdle of the princess.
XII
Meantime the good and noble princess was not dead, but had lived for many a year in a far country with her son, the prince.
The princess never told anybody how high-born a lady she was, and her son was too young at the time of their flight for him to remember.
And so in that country not a soul knew—not even the prince—that they came of royal blood. But how could anybody tell that she was a princess, when she had neither crown nor Golden Girdle? And though she was good, gentle, and noble, that did not prove that she was a princess.
The princess lived in the house of a worthy peasant, and there she span and wove for his household.
In this way she earned enough to keep herself and her son.
The boy had grown up into a tall and handsome youth of unusual strength and power, and the princess taught him nothing that was not good and right.
But one thing was bad. The prince had a very hasty and fierce temper. So the people called him Rowfoot Relya, because he was so rough and strong—and so poor withal.