'Oh yes; _so_ hungry!' said she, shaking her head in a sad meditative
way. 'Poor Winifred is so hungry and cold and lonely!'
'Will you breakfast with the Prince of the Mist, Winifred?'
'Oh, may I, Prince?' she asked, her face beaming with delight.
'To be sure you may, Winnie. You may always breakfast with the Prince
of the Mist if you like.'
'Always? Always?' she repeated.
'Yes, Winnie,' I said, as I handed her some bread and meat, which she
devoured ravenously.
'Yes, dear Winnie,' I continued, handing her a foaming horn of
Sinfi's ale, to which she did as full justice as she was doing to the
bread and meat. 'Yes, I want you to breakfast with me and dine with
me always.'
'Do you mean _live_ with you, Prince?' she asked, looking me dreamily
in the face--'live with you behind the white mist? Is this our
wedding breakfast, Prince?'
'Yes, Winnie.'
Then her eyes wandered down over her dress, and she said, 'Ah! how
strange I did not notice my green fairy kirtle before. And I declare
I never felt till this moment the wreath of gold leaves round my
forehead.
Pages:
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304