But the more she refused him the sweeter the pipe played, and the deeper the young man fell in love; till at last he begged her to come that night at twelve to the King’s ball, just as she was, with the gooseherd and his geese, in her torn petticoat and bare feet, and see if he wouldn’t dance with her before the King and the lords and ladies, and present her to them all, as his dear and honoured bride.

[Illustration:  Tattercoats dancing while the gooseherd pipes]

Now at first Tattercoats said she would not; but the gooseherd said, “Take fortune when it comes, little one.”

So when night came, and the hall in the castle was full of light and music, and the lords and ladies were dancing before the King, just as the clock struck twelve, Tattercoats and the gooseherd, followed by his flock of noisy geese, hissing and swaying their heads, entered at the great doors, and walked straight up the ball-room, while on either side the ladies whispered, the lords laughed, and the King seated at the far end stared in amazement.

But as they came in front of the throne Tattercoats’ lover rose from beside the King, and came to meet her.  Taking her by the hand, he kissed her thrice before them all, and turned to the King.

“Father!” he said—­for it was the Prince himself—­“I have made my choice, and here is my bride, the loveliest girl in all the land, and the sweetest as well!”

Before he had finished speaking, the gooseherd had put his pipe to his lips and played a few notes that sounded like a bird singing far off in the woods; and as he played Tattercoats’ rags were changed to shining robes sewn with glittering jewels, a golden crown lay upon her golden hair, and the flock of geese behind her became a crowd of dainty pages, bearing her long train.

And as the King rose to greet her as his daughter the trumpets sounded loudly in honour of the new Princess, and the people outside in the street said to each other: 

“Ah! now the Prince has chosen for his wife the loveliest girl in all the land!”

But the gooseherd was never seen again, and no one knew what became of him; while the old lord went home once more to his Palace by the sea, for he could not stay at Court, when he had sworn never to look on his granddaughter’s face.

So there he still sits by his window,—­if you could only see him, as you may some day—­weeping more bitterly than ever.  And his white hair has bound him to the stones, and the river of his tears runs away to the great sea.

THE THREE FEATHERS

Once upon a time there lived a girl who was wooed and married by a man she never saw; for he came a-courting her after nightfall, and when they were married he never came home till it was dark, and always left before dawn.

Still he was good and kind to her, giving her everything her heart could desire, so she was well content for a while.  But, after a bit, some of her friends, doubtless full of envy for her good luck, began to whisper that the unseen husband must have something dreadful the matter with him which made him averse to being seen.