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"Yes," says the Fairy Blackstick, who had come to see the young people, and who had very likely certain plans regarding them "that ring I gave the Queen, Giglio's mother, who was not, saving your presence, a very wise woman: it is enchanted, and whoever wears it looks beautiful in the eyes of the world.
"Phoo!" says the Lord Chancellor, "the signature is not in his Majesty's handwriting." Indeed, since his studies at Bosforo, Giglio had made an immense improvement in caligraphy. "Is it your handwriting, Giglio?" cries the Fairy Blackstick, with an awful severity of countenance. "Y y y es," poor Giglio gasps out, "I had quite forgotten the confounded paper: she can't mean to hold me by it.
Here, for instance, is what happened to a porter for being rude to the fairy Blackstick. After saying many other rude things, he asked if she thought he was going to stay at the door all day.
They used actually to patronise me when I went to pay them a visit ME, the Fairy Blackstick, who knows all the wisdom of the necromancers, and could have turned them into baboons, and all their diamonds into strings of onions, by a single wave of my rod! So she locked up her books in her cupboard, declined further magical performances, and scarcely used her wand at all except as a cane to walk about with.
A splendid luncheon was served to the Royal party, of which the Archbishop, the Chancellor, Duke Hedzoff, Countess Gruffanuff, and all our friends partook, the Fairy Blackstick being seated on the left of King Giglio, with Bulbo and Angelica beside her. You could hear the joy-bells ringing in the capital, and the guns which the citizens were firing off in honour of their Majesties.
She had scores of royal godchildren; turned numberless wicked people into beasts, birds, millstones, clocks, pumps, boot jacks, umbrellas, or other absurd shapes; and, in a word, was one of the most active and officious of the whole college of fairies. But after two or three thousand years of this sport, I suppose Blackstick grew tired of it.
Gruffanuff," cries the Fairy, with awful severity. "I speak for the last time." "No!" shrieks Gruffanuff, stamping with her foot. "I'll have my husband, my husband, my husband!" "YOU SHALL HAVE YOUR HUSBAND!" the Fairy Blackstick cried; and advancing a step, laid her hand upon the nose of the KNOCKER.
"Get out of the way, pray," says Gruffanuff haughtily. "I wonder why you are always poking your nose into other people's affairs?" "Are you determined to make this poor young man unhappy?" says Blackstick. "To marry him, yes! What business is it of yours? Pray, madam, don't say 'you' to a Queen," cries Gruffanuff. "You won't take the money he offered you?" "No."
'Yes, says the Fairy Blackstick, who had come to see the young people, and who had very likely certain plans regarding them.
'What lady? says the man; 'there has been no lady in this coach, except the old woman, who got out at the last stage. And Giglio thought he had been dreaming. But there was the bag which Blackstick had given him lying on his lap; and when he came to the town he took it in his hand and went into the inn.
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