“Here,” she said, giving them into his hands again, “because thou wast persevering and fearless in setting me free, these shall win for thee thy heart’s desire.  But remember that thou canst not keep them sharp and shining unless they are used at least once each day in some unselfish service.”  After that he had only to utter his request in rhyme, and immediately they would shoot out to an enormous size that could cut down forests for him, bridge chasms, and reap whole wheat fields at a single stroke.

Many a peasant he befriended, shepherds and high-born dames, lords and lowly beggars; and at the last, when he stood up before the Ogre to fight for the beautiful princess kept captive in the tower, it was their voices, shouting out their tale of gratitude to him for all these unselfish services, that made the scissors grow long enough and strong enough to cut the ugly old Ogre’s head off.

“So he married the princess,” concluded Betty at last, “and came into the kingdom that was his heart’s desire.  There was feasting and merrymaking for seventy days and seventy nights, and they all lived happily ever after.  On each gable of the house he fastened a pair of shining scissors to remind himself that only through unselfish service to others comes the happiness that is highest and best.  Over the great entrance gate he hung the ones that served him so valiantly, saying, ’Only those who belong to the kingdom of loving hearts can ever enter here’; and to this day they guard the portal of Ethelried, and only those who belong to the kingdom of loving hearts may enter the Gate of the Giant Scissors.”

“Go on,” said Mr. Forbes, as Betty stopped.  “What happened next?  I want to hear some more.”

“So did Joyce,” said Betty.  “She used to climb up in the pear-tree and watch the gate, wishing she knew what lay behind it, and one day she found out.  A poor little boy lived there with only the care-taker and another servant.  The care-taker beat him and half starved him.  His uncle didn’t know how he was treated, for he was away in Algiers.  Joyce found this little Jules out in the fields one day, tending the goats, and they got to be great friends She told him this story, and they played that he was the prince and she was the Giant Scissors who was to rescue him from the clutches of the Ogre.  She made up a rhyme for him to say.  He had only to whisper: 

    “’Giant Scissors, fearless friend,
      Hasten, pray, thy aid to lend,’

and she would fly to help him.  She really did, too, for she played ghost one night to frighten the old care-taker, and she told Jules’s uncle, when he came back, how cruelly the poor little thing had been treated.

“Then the little prince really did come into his kingdom, for all sorts of lovely things happened after that.  The gate had been closed for years on account of a terrible quarrel in the Ciseaux family, but at last something Joyce did helped to make it up.  The gate swung open, and the old white-haired brother and sister went back to the home of their childhood together, and it was Christmas Day in the morning.  They had been kept from going through the gate all those years, because the Giant Scissors wouldn’t let them pass.  Only those who belong to the kingdom of loving hearts can enter in.”