"My godfathers thought otherwise. In a fit of generosity they gave me my
name and a pint pot, which the more credulous declared to be silver, but
whose hallmark persistently defied detection. Then the fount dried up.
And now let me read your hand. Or would you rather I taught you the
three-card trick?"

"It's too dark," I protested. "Besides, she's going to sing."

"Who said so?" said Adèle. "I was going to suggest that you told us a
fairy tale."

"A song for a tale," said I.

"Done."

"There was once a princess," said I, "with eyes like brown stars and a
voice like the song of a silver brook. One day she was sitting all alone
by the side of a shady trout-stream, when she heard a bell. For a moment
she thought she was dreaming, for she was rather tired. Then she heard
it again--a clear tinkle, which seemed to arise from the heart of the
stream itself. This surprised the princess very much, because no bells
were allowed in her father's kingdom. The old man was a bit of an
autocrat, and one morning, when he had been rung up seven times running
by subjects who wanted quite a different number, he just passed a law
prohibiting bells, and that was that. Well, while she was wondering what
to do the bell rang again rather angrily, and, before she knew where she
was, she had said 'Come in.'

"'At last,' said a voice, and a large frog heaved himself out of the
water and sat down on a tuft of grass on the opposite bank. 'I shan't