"Pray," said the fairy Trip to the fairy Nip, "what is all this talk
about Prince Fayzenheim? Excuse my ignorance; I am only just out, you
know."

"Why," answered Nip, a young courtier, not a marrying fairy, but very
seductive, "the story runs thus: Last summer a foreigner visited us,
calling himself Prince Fayzenheim: one of your German fairies, I fancy;
no great things, but an excellent waltzer. He wore long spurs, made out
of the stings of the horse-flies in the Black Forest; his cap sat on one
side, and his mustachios curled like the lip of the dragon-flower. He
was on his travels, and amused himself by making love to the queen. You
can't fancy, dear Trip, how fond she was of hearing him tell stories
about the strange creatures of Germany,--about wild huntsmen,
water-sprites, and a pack of such stuff," added Nip, contemptuously, for
Nip was a freethinker.

"In short?" said Trip.

"In short, she loved," cried Nip, with a theatrical air.

"And the prince?"

"Packed up his clothes, and sent on his travelling-carriage, in order
that he might go at his ease on the top of a stage-pigeon; in short--as
you say--in short, he deserted the queen, and ever since she has set the
fashion of yawning."

"It was very naughty in him," said the gentle Trip.