But when the queen went to her daughter’s room to waken her, in place of dark Isolde, there lay a hideous dwarf in the bed.
“Oh, Isolde!” cried the queen, wringing her hands, “what can we do? How was it possible that we both forgot that this is the one morning in the year on which you must resume your own form? Oh, this is terrible! We must put off the wedding, and say that you are ill!”
“No, no,” croaked the misshapen figure; “if we once let Fertram off, I know he will never marry me.”
The queen remained lost in thought for a few minutes. Then she exclaimed—
“I know what we will do! I will get Näfra Kolla, the sewing girl. She is just your height and size. I will dress her as the bride, and under the thickly embroidered veil no one will notice the difference. Then, after the whole party come back from their ride, you will have resumed your own pretty face and figure. You can then change with Näfra Kolla, and none will be any the wiser.”
“But will not Näfra Kolla talk about it or object?” asked the dwarf.
“Neither she herself nor any one else will know anything about it,” replied the queen, “You leave it all to me.”
In a short time the queen went to Näfra Kolla’s room, and brought her a hot cup of coffee.
“Drink this,” she said; “I am sure you must be wearied out with all the work you have done, and this will be a tiring day for you.”
Though Näfra Kolla was not thirsty, she did not like to refuse the queen, thinking she really meant it kindly; but no sooner had she swallowed the coffee than she seemed to fall into a sort of trance. It seemed to her as if she were Isolde again, and that this was her own wedding-day. She was dressed in the bridal garments, and the richly embroidered veil was thrown over her; then, after the wedding ceremony was over, the whole bridal party went for a ride through the forest. It all seemed like a strange dream to the girl.