By and by she came close up to the back of her chair, and said,
“Rosamond!”
But the princess had fallen into one of her sulky moods, and shut herself up with her own ugly Somebody; so she never looked round or even answered the wise woman.
“Rosamond,” she repeated, “I am going out. If you are a good girl, that is, if you do as I tell you, I will carry you back to your father and mother the moment I return.”
The princess did not take the least notice.
“Look at me, Rosamond,” said the wise woman.
But Rosamond never moved—never even shrugged her shoulders—perhaps because they were already up to her ears, and could go no farther.
“I want to help you to do what I tell you,” said the wise woman. “Look at me.”
Still Rosamond was motionless and silent, saying only to herself,
“I know what she’s after! She wants to show me her horrid teeth. But I won’t look. I’m not going to be frightened out of my senses to please her.”
“You had better look, Rosamond. Have you forgotten how you kissed me this morning?”
But Rosamond now regarded that little throb of affection as a momentary weakness into which the deceitful ogress had betrayed her, and almost despised herself for it. She was one of those who the more