will be very easy to deceive everybody till then." In short, they contrived so well, that the same night, Carpillon had a dress and a cow.
All the goddesses that ever descended from the summit of Olympus, those who sought the shepherd Paris, and a hundred dozen of others, would have appeared less beautiful than Carpillon in this rustic attire. She set out alone, by moonlight, sometimes leading her cow with a cord, sometimes making it carry her; she proceeded at random half dead with fear. If a breath of wind rustled through the bushes,—if a bird flew from its nest, or a hare started from its form, she thought thieves or wolves were about to attack her. She walked all night, and would have walked all day, but her cow stopped to feed in a meadow, and the Princess, fatigued with her thick wooden shoes, and the weight of her coarse grey cloth dress, sat down upon the grass by the side of a stream, where she took off her yellow linen cap, to arrange her fair hair, which had escaped from all sides, and fell in curls down to her feet. She looked about to see if any one was near her, that she might conceal herself quickly; but, notwithstanding the precaution she took, she was surprised by a lady in complete armour, excepting her head, from which she had taken a golden helmet covered with diamonds. "Shepherdess," said she, "I am fatigued; will you give me some milk from your cow to quench my thirst?" "Willingly, Madam," replied Carpillon, "if I had something to put it into." "Here is a cup," said the warrior lady, presenting her a very handsome china one; but the Princess knew not how to milk her cow. "How is this?" said the lady; "does your cow give no milk, or do you not know how to milk her?" The Princess began to cry, being quite ashamed of appearing so awkward before so extraordinary a person. "I confess, Madam," said she to her, "I have only been a short time a shepherdess; all my business is to take my cow out to feed—my mother does the rest." "You have, then, a mother," continued the lady, "and what may she be?" "She keeps a farm," said Carpillon. "Near here?" inquired the lady. "Yes," replied the Princess. "Really I feel an affection for her, and am obliged to her for having given birth to so beautiful a daughter. I should like to see her; take me to her." Carpillon did not know how to answer—she was unaccus-
