“How can that be?” asked the princess, bewildered. “I’ve always had my name.”
“Your papa, the king, asked me if I had any objection to your having it; and, of course, I hadn’t. I let you have it with pleasure.”
“It was very kind of you to give me your name—and such a pretty one,” said the princess.
“Oh, not so very kind!” said the old lady. “A name is one of those things one can give away and keep all the same. I have a good many such things. Wouldn’t you like to know who I am, child?”
“Yes, that I should—very much.”
“I’m your great-great-grandmother,” said the lady.
“What’s that?” asked the princess.
“I’m your father’s mother’s father’s mother.”
“Oh, dear! I can’t understand that,” said the princess.
“I dare say not. I didn’t expect you would. But that’s no reason why I shouldn’t say it.”
“Oh, no!” answered the princess.
“I will explain it all to you when you are older,” the lady went on. “But you will be able to understand this much now: I came here to take care of you.”
“Is it long since you came? Was it yesterday? Or was it today, because it was so wet that I couldn’t get out?”
“I’ve been here ever since you came yourself.”