black dress her hair shone like silver. There was hardly any more
furniture in the room than there might have been in that of the
poorest old woman who made her bread by her spinning. There was no
carpet on the floor - no table anywhere - nothing but the
spinning-wheel and the chair beside it. When she came back, she
sat down and without a word began her spinning once more, while
Irene, who had never seen a spinning-wheel, stood by her side and
looked on. When the old lady had got her thread fairly going
again, she said to the princess, but without looking at her:

'Do you know my name, child?'

'No, I don't know it,' answered the princess.

'my name is Irene.'

'That's my name!' cried the princess.

'I know that. I let you have mine. I haven't got your name.
You've got mine.'

'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.