Yes, he was the most beautiful Prince that ever was born. Everybody was exceedingly proud of him, especially his father and mother, the King and Queen of Nomansland. The only person who did not love the Prince was the King’s brother, who would have been king one day if the royal baby had not come.
Of course a little Prince must be christened. The day came at last, as lovely as the Prince himself, and they carried the baby, magnificent in his christening robe, to the bedside of the Queen, his mother. She admired him very much. She kissed and blessed him, and then she gave him up with a gentle smile, and turned peacefully over in her bed, saying nothing more to anybody.
It was a wonderful christening procession: dukes and duchesses, princes and princesses, heralds, and ladies in waiting were in line. Every one was so busy shouting out the little Prince’s four and twenty names that they never noticed the accident. It was the Prince’s state nurse maid, an elegant young lady of rank, who let him fall just at the foot of the marble staircase. She had been so busy arranging her train--that was the reason she dropped him--but she contrived to pick him up again the next minute before any one saw. The baby had turned very pale under the heap of lace and muslin, and he had moaned a little, but that was all.
There were pages in crimson and gold, troops of little girls in dazzling white with baskets of flowers, the King and his train on one side--as pretty a sight as ever was seen out of fairyland.
“The only thing the baby wants is a fairy godmother,” said one of the children.
“Does he?” said a shrill, but soft voice behind.
She was no bigger than a child, and certainly had not been invited to the christening. She was a little old woman dressed all in gray; gray gown, gray hooded cloak of a material tinted like the gray of an evening sky, gray hair, and her eyes were gray also. Even her face had a soft gray shadow over it, but she was not unpleasantly old, and her smile was as sweet and childlike as the Prince’s own.
“Take care,” she said. “Don’t let the baby fall again!”
“Who spoke? His Royal Highness is just going to sleep,” she said.
“Nevertheless I must kiss him,” said the little old woman. “I am his godmother.”