The Child Who Came From an Egg · page 21 2101One morning Dotterine was busy scouring a wooden tub, when a noble lady happened to pass through the village.102The girl’s bright face as she stood in the front of the door with her tub attracted the lady, and she stopped and called the girl to come and speak to her.103‘Would you not like to come and enter my service?’ she asked.104‘Very much,’ replied Dotterine, ‘if my present mistress will allow me.’105‘Oh, I will settle that,’ answered the lady; and so she did, and the same day they set out for the lady’s house, Dotterine sitting beside the coachman.106Six months went by, and then came the joyful news that the king’s son had collected an army and had defeated the usurper who had taken his father’s place, but at the same moment Dotterine learned that the old king had died in captivity.107The girl wept bitterly for his loss, but in secrecy, as she had told her mistress nothing about her past life.108At the end of a year of mourning, the young king let it be known that he intended to marry, and commanded all the maidens in the kingdom to come to a feast, so that he might choose a wife from among them.109For weeks all the mothers and all the daughters in the land were busy preparing beautiful dresses and trying new ways of putting up their hair, and the three lovely daughters of Dotterine’s mistress were as much excited as the rest.110The girl was clever with her fingers, and was occupied all day with getting ready their smart clothes, but at night when she went to bed she always dreamed that her godmother bent over her and said, ‘Dress your young ladies for the feast, and when they have started follow them yourself.111Nobody will be so fine as you.’112When the great day came, Dotterine could hardly contain herself, and when she had dressed her young mistresses and seen them depart with their mother she flung herself on her bed, and burst into tears.113Then she seemed to hear a voice whisper to her, ‘Look in your basket, and you will find in it everything that you need.’114Dotterine did not want to be told twice!115Up she jumped, seized her basket, and repeated the magic words, and behold! there lay a dress on the bed, shining as a star.116She put it on with fingers that trembled with joy, and, looking in the glass, was struck dumb at her own beauty.117She went downstairs, and in front of the door stood a fine carriage, into which she stepped and was driven away like the wind.118The king’s palace was a long way off, yet it seemed only a few minutes before Dotterine drew up at the great gates.119She was just going to alight, when she suddenly remembered she had left her basket behind her.120What was she to do?121Go back and fetch it, lest some ill-fortune should befall her, or enter the palace and trust to chance that nothing evil would happen?122But before she could decide, a little swallow flew up with the basket in its beak, and the girl was happy again.123The feast was already at its height, and the hall was brilliant with youth and beauty, when the door was flung wide and Dotterine entered, making all the other maidens look pale and dim beside her.124Their hopes faded as they gazed, but their mothers whispered together, saying, ‘Surely this is our lost princess!’125The young king did not know her again, but he never left her side nor took his eyes from her.126And at midnight a strange thing happened.127A thick cloud suddenly filled the hall, so that for a moment all was dark.128Then the mist suddenly grew bright, and Dotterine’s godmother was seen standing there.129‘This,’ she said, turning to the king, ‘is the girl whom you have always believed to be your sister, and who vanished during the siege.130She is not your sister at all, but the daughter of the king of a neighbouring country, who was given to your mother to bring up, to save her from the hands of a wizard.’131Then she vanished, and was never seen again, nor the wonder-working basket either; but now that Dotterine’s troubles were over she could get on without them, and she and the young king lived happily together till the end of their days.132(Ehstnische Marchen.)1 2← previousThe Grateful Prince, part 3next →Stan Bolovan↑ back to The Violet Fairy BookThis page in Markdown → https://md.mova.elamur.ai/free/en/corpora/tales/pg641/12/page/2/