“Madam,” they said to her, “your Majesty has no idea of the intriguing character of your new maid; we can hear the sly creature talking sometimes to her miserable puppet of a dwarf, and we know that she is plotting to become possessed of the King’s affections, and intends to supplant your Majesty in the influence you have always had with him.”
At these words the Queen turned pale. She was furious.
She knew not upon what pretext she could injure Moonflower, for she could find no fault with her sweet temper and modest demeanour. That afternoon, as the whole court was setting out upon a hunting expedition, the Princess was about to mount her horse at the palace-door as the Queen passed by in her carriage.
“Why do you always ride that ugly brute?” called out the Queen crossly, pointing to the strawberry-coloured mare.
“Madam,” replied Moonflower, curtseying, “because his Majesty, the King, presented me with the animal.”
“Little wretch,” hissed the Queen between her teeth, “she would ride a pig if the King asked her to!” And she drove off in a fury.
The King was so much in love with Moonflower that he could neither eat by day, nor sleep by night, and, as soon as they came to that part of the forest where they intended hunting, he rode beside her; he never quitted her all day; he said a thousand tender things to her; in fact, he was so devoted that Grimaçon, who was trotting behind them on his mastiff, was overjoyed, for he felt sure that the King, as well as being an excellent parti, was worthy of her in every respect.
When the Queen-mother heard of this, her rage knew no bounds; she caused her chariot to be turned and went straight home. To add to her troubles, a heavy thunderstorm came on, and the rain drenched her to the skin, so that, by the time she arrived at the palace, she was almost beside herself. On the Princess’s return that afternoon she was summoned to the Queen’s apartments, where she found her Majesty in a towering rage. She stormed and raved, she called her by a thousand bad names, she would not hear a word the poor girl had to say, and, at last, flung herself upon a couch, breathless with anger.
“And what is the reason of your Majesty’s displeasure?” inquired Moonflower, terrified. “May I be informed of my offence?”
“Intriguing hussy!” cried the Queen, “you know too well! But you will never be mistress here—the King has too much sense to stoop to such an alliance!”