“’Oh, my lord king, make me a shepherdess really.  I don’t deserve to be a queen.  Send me away, and let me knit and spin for my living.  I have plagued you long enough.’

“And suddenly it seemed to the king as if there had been a black speck in the queen’s heart, which had been all washed away by the rain; and he took her hands, and led her home to the palace in joy and gladness.  And so they lived happy ever afterward.”

“Thank you very much, mother,” said Milly, stretching up her arms and drawing down Mrs. Norton’s face to kiss her.  “Do you really think the queen was never discontented any more?”

“I can’t tell you any more than the story does,” said Mrs. Norton.  “You see there would always be that dreadful night to think about, if she ever felt inclined to be; but I daresay the queen didn’t find it very easy at first.”

“I would have made her be a shepherdess,” said Olly, shaking his head gravely.  “She wasn’t nice, not a bit.”

“Little Mr. Severity!” said Aunt Emma, pulling his brown curls.  “It’s your turn next, Olly.”

“Then Milly must kiss me first,” said Olly, looking rather scared, as if something he didn’t quite understand was going to happen to him.

So Milly went through the operation of kissing him three times on the back of the head, and then Olly’s eyes, finding it did no good to stare at Aunt Emma or mother, went wandering all round the room in search of something else to help him.  Suddenly they came to the window, where a brown speck was dancing up and down, and then Olly’s face brightened, and he began in a great hurry: 

“Once upon a time there was a daddy-long-legs—­”

“Well,” said Milly, when they had waited a little while, and nothing more came.

“I don’t know any more,” said Olly.

“Oh, that is silly,” said Milly, “why, that isn’t a story at all.  Shut your eyes tight, that’s much the best way of making a story.”

So Olly shut his eyes, and pressed his two hands tightly over them, and then he began again: 

“Once upon a time there was a daddy-long-legs—­”

Another stop.

“Was it a good daddy-long-legs?” asked Milly, anxious to help him on.

“Yes,” said Olly, “that’s it, Milly.  Once upon a time there was a good daddy-long-legs—­”

“Well, what did he do?” asked Milly, impatiently.

“He—­he—­flewed on to father’s nose!” said Olly, keeping his hands tight over his eyes, while his little white teeth appeared below in a broad grin.

“And father said, ‘Who’s that on my nose?’ and the daddy-long-legs said, ‘It’s me, don’t you know?’ And father said, ’Get away off my nose, I don’t like you a bit.’  And the daddy-long-legs said, ’I shan’t go away.  It’s hot on the window, the sun gets in my eyes.  I like sitting up here best.’  So father took a big sofa-cushion and gave his nose ever such a bang!  And the daddy-long-legs tumbled down dead.  And the cushion tumbled down dead.  And father tumbled down dead.  And that’s all,” said Olly opening his eyes, and looking extremely proud of himself.