highway, of course, crying all the time so hard that she couldn't see where she was going. And first thing you know, plump-p-p! bump-p-p! she had run into an old lady and tumbled her head over heels in the road.
"Sugar and molasses, my dear!" cried the old lady pleasantly. "I was just hoping something would happen."
At this, Dianidra, who had expected nothing less than a box on the ears, stopped crying and looked at the old lady curiously. Her eyes were brown and dancy, and her cheeks, 'though withered and old, were red as apples. In her shabby bonnet and dress she looked younger than Dianidra herself.
"Well, well!" she chuckled, picking up her things. "Who are you, my pretty?"
"I'm Dianidra, the Princess who cannot dance," the Princess answered, hanging her head.
"Hoity-toity!" exclaimed the old lady. "Is that why you're crying on the King's highway?"
"Oh," sobbed Dianidra, "if I could only learn to dance!"
"Come here, child," said the old lady; and putting her head to Dianidra's heart, she listened long and knowingly.
"Yes, it's there," she muttered to herself. "It's there. All of which was very puzzling to the Princess. "Now, what do you know about dancing?"
"Let me see," said Dianidra, puckering up her brow and counting on her fingers. "Two turns, plus five slides, plus six steps, plus two swings, divided by a curtsey equals—Oh, dear, what does that equal? What does it equal?"
At that, what do you suppose happened? The old lady burst into laughter—and I mean it, really. Her bonnet tumbled off, and she laughed and laughed; and her hair tumbled down, and she laughed and laughed; her cape flew away, and still she kept laughing; till finally, in an awful chuckle, she just disappeared; and out of the laughter stepped the most beautiful fairy that you can imagine—with shimmery wings and smiley eyes. Dianidra was so surprised that she laughed a little bit, herself.
