“Poor crow, I wonder what name I had better call you?”
“Call me Thalia,” said the crow.
“Thalia,” repeated Isabelle. “What a pretty name, where did you hear it?”
“It is my right name,” answered the crow, “and that wicked old woman calls me a crow.”
“But, Thalia,” said Isabelle, “you look just like a crow.”
“Alas! I know it,” replied the bird; “but I was once a little princess like yourself. That old woman turned me into a crow and kept me in her enchanted castle, until to-day, when she called me here.”
Isabelle was very much surprised to hear Thalia’s story and said, “I wish I could turn you back into a princess again.”
“O, how I wish you could!” exclaimed the crow; “but as there is only one way to do it, I fear that I can never be changed.”
“Tell me,” said Isabelle, “the way that it can be done.”
“If you could get the old woman’s crooked stick you could change me back into my right shape, but you never could get the stick,” said the crow.