She had soon learned from the talk around her the reason of the proclamation which had brought her hither.
“Was the lost princess so very beautiful?” she said one day to the youngest of her fellow-servants.
“Beautiful!” screamed the maid; “she was just the ugliest little toad you ever set eyes upon.”
“What was she like?” asked Agnes.
“She was about your size, and quite as ugly, only not in the same way; for she had red cheeks, and a cocked little nose, and the biggest, ugliest mouth you ever saw.”
Agnes fell a-thinking.
“Is there a picture of her anywhere in the palace?” she asked.
“How should I know? You can ask a housemaid.”
Agnes soon learned that there was one, and contrived to get a peep of it. Then she was certain of what she had suspected from the description given of her, namely, that she was the same she had seen in the picture at the wise woman’s house. The conclusion followed, that the lost princess must be staying with her father and mother, for assuredly in the picture she wore one of her frocks.
She went to the head scullion, and with humble manner, but proud heart, begged her to procure for her the favor of a word with the queen.
“A likely thing indeed!” was the answer, accompanied by a resounding box on the ear.
She tried the head cook next, but with no better success, and so was driven to her meditations again, the result of which was that she began to