"But my eyes--"

"They are a sort of dirty gray; but that would be nothing if you had not
such an outrageous squint!"

"My complexion--"

"It looks as if you had rubbed coal-dust on your forehead and cheeks."

"My mouth--"

"It is pale and withered, like a faded flower."

"My teeth--"

"If the beauty of teeth is to be large and yellow, I never saw any so
beautiful as yours."

"But, at least, my ears--"

"They are so big, so red, and so misshapen, under your coarse elf-locks,
that they are revolting. I am not pretty myself, but I should die of shame
if mine were like them." After this last blow, the old witch, having
repeated what the queen had taught her, hobbled off, with a harsh croak of
laughter, leaving poor Jacinta dissolved in tears, prone on the ground
beneath the apple-trees.

* * * * *