“At last, by the time the sun was setting, the poor queen was so tired that she could walk no longer. Down she sat, and the ungrateful sheep kicked up their little hind legs and trotted away out of sight as fast as they could trot. There she was left on the hillside all alone. It began to get dark, and the sky, instead of being blue and clear as it had been, filled with black clouds.
“‘Oh dear! oh dear!’ sighed the queen, ‘here is a storm coming. If I could only find my way down the hill, if I could only see the town!’
“But there were trees all about her, which hid the view, and soon it was so dark there was nothing to be seen, not even the stars. And presently, crash came the thunder, and after the thunder the rain—such rain! It soaked the queen’s golden cap till it was so heavy with water she was obliged to throw it away, and her silk petticoat was as wet as if she had been taking a bath in it. In vain she ran hither and thither, trying to find a way through the trees, while the rain blinded her, and the thunder deafened her, till at last she was forced to sink down on the ground, feeling more wretched and frightened and cold than any queen ever felt before. Oh, if she were only safe back in her beautiful palace! If only she had the tent the king wanted to send with her! But there all night she had to stay, and all night the storm went on, till the queen was lying in a flood, and the owls and bats, startled out of their holes, went flying past her in the dark, and frightening her out of her senses. When the morning came there was such a shivering, crumpled up queen sitting on the grass, that even her own ladies would scarcely have known her.
“‘Oh, husband! husband!’ she cried, getting up and wringing her cold little hands. ‘You will never find me, and your poor wicked wife will die of cold and hunger.’
“Tirra-lirra! tirra-lirra! What was that sounding in the forest? Surely—surely—it was a hunting horn. But who could be blowing it so early in the cold gray morning, when it was scarcely light? On ran the queen toward where the sound came from. Over rocks and grass she ran, till, all of a sudden, stepping out from behind a tree, came the king himself, who had been looking for her for hours. And then what do you think the discontented queen did? She folded her hands, and hung her head, and said, quite sadly and simply:
“‘Oh, my lord king, make me a shepherdess really. I don’t deserve to be a queen. Send me away, and let me knit and spin for my living. I have plagued you long enough.’
“And suddenly it seemed to the king as if there had been a black speck in the queen’s heart, which had been all washed away by the rain; and he took her hands, and led her home to the palace in joy and gladness. And so they lived happy ever afterward.”
“Thank you very much, mother,” said Milly, stretching up her arms and drawing down Mrs. Norton’s face to kiss her. “Do you really think the queen was never discontented any more?”
“I can’t tell you any more than the story does,” said Mrs. Norton. “You see there would always be that dreadful night to think about, if she ever felt inclined to be; but I daresay the queen didn’t find it very easy at first.”
“I would have made her be a shepherdess,” said Olly, shaking his head gravely. “She wasn’t nice, not a bit.”