“What a fine flock of sheep!” cried Hilda, as they were walking in the park. “Such innocent”——
She would have said more, but the words on her tongue were suddenly changed to tender bleatings; and even as Zora stood looking at her, she crouched down on all fours, dwindled in size, was enveloped in white fleece, and became a dumb lamb.
Overwhelmed with horror and surprise, she raised her pleading, tearful eyes to the face of her cousin. But Zora gave a mocking laugh, and said, pointing her finger at her,—
“Who now is the heir of the throne? Will they set the royal crown on a sheep’s head, think you? Bravo, sweet creature! You may stand now between me and Prince Reginald as much as you please. It’s all my work. I tell you once for all, I hate you, Hildegarde.”
Was this Zora’s return for her cousin’s love? The princess would fain have expressed her grief and amazement.
“Pray don’t try to talk, my bonny wee thing! It is not one of your gifts, at present. Your voice has ceased to be musical. I can sing now as well as you. Go to nibbling grass, deary, and a long life to you!”
Then the treacherous Zora turned on her heel, and left her poor cousin to her mute despair.
A search was made far and wide for the missing princess. Forests were hunted, rivers were dragged; but without avail. Deep gloom fell on the people, and the queen nearly died of sorrow. They all believed Hilda dead, all but Zora, who knew too well her cruel fate.
Then Zora was treated like the king’s daughter. Wherever she went, there were servants to follow her; yet none loved her, and behind her back they made wry faces, and said she looked like one who was tormented by evil fairies.
But, alas for Zora, nothing more was seen of Prince Reginald. She watched the windows day after day, hoping to see him ride by on his coal-black steed; but he never came. Then she grew crosser than ever, and the frown on her brow ploughed deeper still. She dreamed every night of horrible goblins and slender green snakes.