She struggled to her feet, but she was hardly up before the dogs burst through the bushes and threw her to the ground again. And now came the horses and riders; the young prince had almost ridden over Maria before he saw her and could stop his horse. However he managed to draw rein before she was touched, and then he said to his attendants, “Look at this poor old woman. Either the dogs have hurt her or else she has fainted from fear.” And indeed Maria was so frightened that she could neither move nor speak.

The prince was very tender-hearted. He caused his attendants to lift her up and put her on the saddle in front of him. “There, there, mother,” said he; “I believe you are more frightened than hurt. Tell me where you live and I will take you home, for you do not seem able to walk.”

“Alas! I have no home to go to,” answered Maria in a sorrowful voice.

“So old, and homeless, too,” cried the prince. “If that is the case I will even carry you back with me to the palace, for you cannot be left here to die. There must be some work that you can do there in the kitchen or scullery, and you will at least be sure of food and shelter.”

Maria was only too thankful to be taken with him, for she did not dare to brave her father’s anger by returning to his house, and there seemed no other place for her to go. The prince still kept her on his horse in front of him, and rode back with her to the palace, and there she was handed over to the servants. They were ill-pleased enough to see her, too.

“Why is an old crone like this brought here,” they muttered among themselves. “She is too old to work, and yet we will have to share what little we have with her.”

“Never mind,” said the steward. “It is the prince’s pleasure that she should remain here, and we will find something for her to do. If nothing better she can help the scullery maid with the pots and pans.”

So the beautiful Maria di Legno became the servant of servants, and cleaned pots and pans, and was scolded and sent upon errands. Sometimes the maids even struck her, but this they soon learned not to do, for it hurt their hands. “You are a very strange old woman,” they would say. “In spite of your age your flesh is so hard that bone itself could not be harder.”

Now after Maria had been at the palace for a few months the time of the carnival came round. The carnival was to be more magnificent this year than ever before, for the parents of the prince were anxious for him to choose a bride, and it might be that his choice would fall upon someone among the noble guests. Queens and princesses and ladies of rank came from far and near, and such magnificent clothes were hardly ever seen before. The prince was courteous to them all, but he did not seem to distinguish anyone above the others.

For the last three days of this carnival anyone was allowed to appear at it, even the palace servants if they chose. They did choose, and so when the first of these three days arrived there was a great stir and bustling and running to and fro in the kitchen. No one had any thought for the old woman who helped the scullery wench, and so no one noticed when she stole away by herself to the miserable loft where she slept. She took with her a jug of hot water, and after she had fastened the door and made sure she was alone she opened the figure and stepped out. First she washed herself and arranged her beautiful hair. Then she drew from the figure the dress of stars, and after she had put it on she was the most beautiful creature that was ever seen.