But can you imagine his joy when he looked into the glass and saw his own face--for his own face was handsomer than the mask! The ugly frown and the wicked, cruel lines were gone, for his face had been molded into the exact likeness of the mask; and when he came into the presence of his wife she saw no difference in him. He was the husband she had always so much honored and loved.
“And they lived happily ever after,” finished the Story Lady. Then after a slight pause, she went on: “Now we will have a little goblin story.”
THERE was once a little girl, who had a dear little room, all her own, which was full of treasures, and was as lovely as love could make it.
You never could imagine, no matter how you tried, a room more beautiful than hers; for it was white and shining from the snowy floor to the ceiling, which looked as if it might have been made of a fleecy cloud. The curtains at the windows were like the petals of a lily, and the little bed was like swan’s down.
There were white pansies, too, that bloomed in the windows, and a dove whose voice was sweet as music; and among her treasures she had a string of pearls which she was to wear about her neck when the king of the country sent for her, as he had promised to do some day.
This string of pearls grew longer and more beautiful as the little girl grew older, for a new pearl was given her as soon as she waked up each morning; and every one was a gift from this king, who bade her keep them fair.
Her mother helped her to take care of them and of all the other beautiful things in her room. Every morning, after the new pearl was slipped on the string, they would set the room in order; and every evening they would look over the treasures and enjoy them together, while they carefully wiped away any specks of dust that had gotten in during the day and made the room less lovely.
There were several doors and windows, which the little girl could open and shut just as she pleased, in this room; but there was one door which was always open, and that was the one which led into her mother’s room.
No matter what Little Daughter was doing, she was happier if her mother was near; and, although she sometimes ran away into her own room and played by herself, she always bounded out at her mother’s first call, and sprang into her mother’s arms, gladder than ever to be with her because she had been away.
