"I cannot let my beauty go," thought the Princess, as she looked at her reflection in the clear mantle of the White Witch; "and if I lose my strength I shall never be able to dig potatoes at all. No, it must be my happiness; for, after all, I am very dull, and it will not be a big gift to give."
So she gave the White Witch her happiness; and the wonderful witch-woman laughed like the trickling of water over stones; and her laugh mingled with the rush of the waterfall; and she stepped back into the white mist again and was gone. And Princess Gyldea looked down at her dress, and it was no longer woven of silk and covered with precious jewels, nor was it plain and clean, as she had fancied an old dress would be; but it was soiled and ugly and torn; and she shivered with cold as she stood in it, and put her hands over her eyes to shut out the ugliness of it. And she walked back into her garden very slowly, and went down the path with her head bent, for she felt heavy-hearted and downcast. The little page ran across her path just behind her as she went, and he stopped and stared after her.
"What fun!" he cried. "Here is an old beggar-woman in the Princess's garden!" and he took up a stone and threw it at her. But a red rose bush caught the stone and stopped it, and the little page went singing back to the palace, while the Princess crept sobbing towards the hole in the hedge.
"Look at us, Princess," whispered the flowers, "for we are very beautiful."
And the Princess stooped and picked a handful, and fastened them in her torn, ragged dress.
"Help me over. I'm so unhappy," she said, through the hedge, and stretched out her hands to the tall man. And the tall man dropped his spade and came and lifted her right over; and there she stood before him, a woe-begone, tear-stained little figure in a ragged gown.
"What have you come for?" he asked, and smiled at her.
"I knew you would only laugh," she said, indignantly, "and now I can't get back again."
"So you want to go back again already? I suppose it is a nice new game to wear an old dress and pretend to dig potatoes," said the tall man.
"It is not a game," said the Princess, humbly. "I gave the White Witch my happiness for an old dress so that I might come and dig potatoes and you could go and learn to dance, and now you only laugh at me!"