ILL-LUCK AND THE FIDDLER

waves beating and dashing on the rocks. He stood look-
ing and wondering to find himself in such a place, when
all of a sudden something came with a whiz and a rush
and caught him by the belt, and away he flew like a
bullet.

By-and-bye he managed to screw his head around and
look up, and there it was [ll-Luck that had him. “TI
thought so,” said the Fiddler; and then he gave over
kicking.

Well, on and on they flew, over hill and valley, over
moor and mountain, until they came to another garden,
and there. Ill-Luck let the Fiddler drop.

Swash! Down he fell into the top of an apple-tree,
and there he hung in the branches.

It was the garden of a royal castle, and all had been
weeping and woe (though they were beginning now to
pick up their smiles again), and this was the reason
why:

The king of that country had died, and no one was left
behind him but the queen. But she was a prize, for not
only was the kingdom hers, but she was as young as a
spring apple and as pretty as a picture; so that there
was no end of those who would have liked to have had
her, each man for his own. Even that day there were
three princes at the castle, each one wanting the queen
to marry him; and the wrangling and bickering and
squabbling that was going on was enough to deafen a
body. The poor young queen was tired to death with it
all, and so she had come out into the garden for a bit of
rest; and there she sat under the shade of an apple-tree,
fanning herself and crying, when—

Swash! Down fell the Fiddler into the apple-tree and

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