No wonder the little lady grew up exceedingly self-willed, and with no thought of any one’s pleasure but her own.

The king hired governesses, it is true, but he strictly forbade them ever to say a harsh word to his darling; and one who had so far transgressed this order as to reprove the princess for some fault, was dismissed in disgrace.  Thus it came about that the child grew daily more and more wilful and capricious.  Do what every one would, it was impossible to please her, and as she was allowed to fly into a rage about the most trifling matters, and as she sulked and scolded, and growled and grumbled for the smallest annoyances, her voice gradually acquired a peculiar snarling tone, which was as painful to listen to as it was unbecoming in a young and pretty princess.

The whole court suffered from the depressing effects of the young lady’s ill-temper.  Behind the king’s back, the courtiers complained pretty freely, but before his face no one dared show his annoyance, and two old court ladies, whose nerves were not so strong as they had been, and who feared to betray themselves, were obliged to employ a celebrated professor of cosmetics to paint smiles on their faces that could not be disturbed by the snarling and grumbling of the princess; but the Lord Chamberlain concealed his feelings by a free use of his gold snuff-box, and snuffed away his annoyance pretty successfully.

As his daughter grew up, the king was not without his share of suffering from her ill-temper.  But he bore it all very patiently,—­“She will be a queen,” said he to himself, “and it is fit that she should have a will of her own.”  The king himself was of an imperious temper, but such was his love for his only child, that he bent it completely to her caprices.

In private, the courtiers were by no means so indulgent in their views, and the future queen was known amongst them, behind her back, as the Snarling Princess.

In spite of her ill-temper and unpleasing voice, however, she was so beautiful, that—­being also heir to the throne of a large kingdom—­many princes sought her hand in marriage.  But the Snarling Princess was resolved to reign alone, and she refused every suitor who appeared.

The princess’s rooms were, of course, the most beautiful in the palace.  One of these, which looked out on to the forest, was her favourite chamber, but it was also the source of her greatest vexation.

Never did she look out of the window towards the wood without snarling in her harshest tone, “Hateful!  Intolerable!”

The source of her annoyance was this: 

On the edge of the forest, clearly to be seen from her window, there stood a tiny cottage, in which lived an aged woman who was known amongst the poor folks of the neighbourhood as the “Three-legged Wood-wife.”  This was because of a wooden staff on which she leaned to eke out the failing strength of her own limbs.  The wood-wife was both feared and hated by the people, amongst whom she bore the character of a very malicious witch.  The king’s daughter hated not only her, but her tumble-down house, and had sent again and again, with large offers of gold, to try and purchase the cottage.  But the wood-wife laughed spitefully at the messengers, and only replied that the cottage suited her, and that for no money would she quit it whilst she lived.