'I should like you to take me to see my great old grandmother.'
The king looked grave And said:
'What does my little daughter mean?'
'I mean the Queen Irene that lives up in the tower - the very old
lady, you know, with the long hair of silver.'
The king only gazed at his little princess with a look which she
could not understand.
'She's got her crown in her bedroom,' she went on; 'but I've not
been in there yet. You know she's there, don't you?'
'No,' said the king, very quietly.
'Then it must all be a dream,' said Irene. 'I half thought it was;
but I couldn't be sure. Now I am sure of it. Besides, I couldn't
find her the next time I went up.'
At that moment a snow-white pigeon flew in at an open window and
settled upon Irene's head. She broke into a merry laugh, cowered
a little, and put up her hands to her head, saying:
'Dear dovey, don't peck me. You'll pull out my hair with your long
claws if you don't mind.'
The king stretched out his hand to take the pigeon, but it spread
its wings and flew again through the open window, when its
Whiteness made one flash in the sun and vanished.
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