he cried. At his spell the silken locks began to twist themselves; they rolled into strands and knotted together in meshes until they were a golden net.
Suddenly the princess turned her head and looked behind her. She had heard a sound at the scullery door. The next moment it was thrown open, and there stood the stepmother, peering in with an evil look. Behind her was the king.
"Look," cried the queen, pointing at Goldenhair. "Is it not just as I told you? The girl knows that I hate the very sight of her hair, and that I gave her a hood to wear that I might not see it; yet at every chance she has she slips away to comb her locks and weave her wicked spells."
"Do you indeed dare to weave your spells against the queen?" cried the king angrily,—for he was under the enchantment of the wicked queen, and he believed all that she wished him to.
Goldenhair began to weep. "Alas!" she sobbed, "I know no spells, and I thought that if I came here to comb my hair she would never see it."
Suddenly the stepmother spied the scissors, which Goldenhair had let fall upon the floor. Stooping, she snatched them up. "Since you will heed nothing that I say, there is but one way left; your hair shall be shorn close to your head, even to the last lock."
But at this moment the fairy stepped forward from the shadow in which he had been standing. In the dark scullery he seemed to shine with light. "There is no need of that," he cried. "I know you, wicked enchantress; and the net has already been woven that shall break your evil spells."
The queen gave a hoarse cry and shrank back; but in a moment the fairy had caught up the net from the floor and cast it over her. It was in vain that she struggled; the net only drew closer and closer about her.
"Why, what is this?" cried the king, but the queen only croaked hoarsely in reply.