surprised, and was continually wondering who it could be that sent her such excellent things. The Queen, one day, was looking out of the window, to ascertain how long the cord should be, by which she intended letting the basket down. She perceived below a little old woman, who was leaning on a stick, and who said to her, "I know your trouble, Madam; if you like, I will serve you." "Alas! my dear friend," said the Queen, "I should be very much obliged to you. Come every evening to the foot of this tower. As soon as my child is born I will let it down to you; you will nurse it, and if I am ever rich, I will handsomely reward you." "I am not covetous," answered the old woman, "but I am dainty in my eating; there is nothing I like so much as a plump and fat mouse. If you find any in your garret, kill them, and throw them to me. I shall not be ungrateful for it, and your baby shall be well taken care of." The Queen, hearing this, began to weep without making any reply, and the old woman, after having waited a little, asked her why she cried. "It is," she said, "because there is but one mouse that comes into my chamber, which is so pretty—such a very pretty little creature—that I cannot make up my mind to kill it." "How!" replied the old woman, angrily, "you love a knavish little mouse that gnaws everything, better than the child you are about to have! Very well, Madam, then you are not to be pitied; remain in such good company; I shall have plenty of mice without yours; I care little about it;" and she went away grumbling and muttering. Although the Queen had a good meal set before her, and the Mouse came to dance to her as usual, she never raised her eyes from the ground on which she fixed them—the tears streaming down her cheeks. That same night she was confined of a Princess, who was wonderfully beautiful; instead of crying, as other children do, she laughed at her dear Mamma, and held out her little hands towards her, as though she was quite sensible. The Queen fondled and kissed her most tenderly, sadly thinking, "Poor little darling! dear child! if thou fallest into the wicked King's hands, thy life will be ended." She covered her up in the basket with a note tied to her dress, upon which was written, "The name of this unfortunate infant is Joliette." And when she had left her a few moments without looking at her, she again opened the basket, and found her still handsomer;
