Алан Милн - Once on a Time

But Wiggs had let go her hand and was running back to the Palace. She wanted to be alone to think this out.

What had happened? That it was truly a magic ring, as the fairy had told her, she had no doubt; that her wish was a bad one, that she had been bad enough to earn it, she was equally certain. What then had happened? There was only one answer to her question. The bad wish had been granted to someone else.

To whom? She had lent the ring to nobody. True, she had told the Princess all about it, but―

Suddenly she remembered. The Countess had had it in her hands for a moment. Yes, and she had sent her out of the room, and—

So many thoughts crowded into Wiggs's mind at this moment that she felt she must share them with somebody. She ran off to find the Princess.

Hyacinth was with Udo in the library. Udo spent much of his time in the library nowadays; for surely in one of those many books was to be found some Advice to a Gentleman in Temporary Difficulties suitable to a case like his. Hyacinth kept him company sadly. It had been such a brilliant idea inviting him to Euralia; how she wished now that she had never done it.

"Well, Wiggs," she said, with a gentle smile, "what have you been doing with yourself all the morning?"

Udo looked up from his mat and nodded to her.

"I've found out," said Wiggs excitedly; "it was the Countess who did it."

Udo surveyed her with amazement.

"The Princess Hyacinth," he said, "has golden hair. One discovers these things gradually." And he returned to his book.

Wiggs looked bewildered.

"He means, dear," said Hyacinth, "that it is quite obvious that the Countess did it, and we have known about it for days."

Udo wore, as far as his face would permit, the slightly puffy expression of one who has just said something profoundly ironical and is feeling self–conscious about it.

"Oh—h," said Wiggs in such a disappointed voice that it seemed as if she were going to cry.

Hyacinth, like the dear that she was, made haste to comfort her.

"We didn't really know ," she said; "we only guessed it. But now that you have found out, I shall be able to punish her properly. No, don't come with me," she said, as she rose and moved towards the door; "stay here and help his Royal Highness. Perhaps you can find the book that he wants; you've read more of them than I have, I expect."

Left alone with the Prince, Wiggs was silent for a little, looking at him rather anxiously.

"Do you know all about the Countess?" she asked at last.

"If there's anything I don't know, it must be very bad."

"Then you know that it's all my fault that you are like this? Oh, dear Prince Udo, I am so dreadfully sorry."

"What do you mean— your fault?"

"Because it was my ring that did it."

Udo scratched his head in a slightly puzzled but quite a nice way.

"Tell me all about it from the beginning," he said. "You have found out something after all, I believe."

So Wiggs told her story from the beginning. How the fairy had given her a ring; how the Countess had taken it from her for five minutes and had a bad wish on it; and how Wiggs had found her out that very morning.

Udo was intensely excited by the story. He trotted up and down the library, muttering to himself. He stopped in front of Wiggs as soon as she had finished.

"Is the ring still going?" he asked. "I mean, can you have another wish on it?"

"Yes, just one."

"Then wish her to be turned into a―" He tried to think of something that would meet the case. "What about a spider?" he said thoughtfully.

"But that's a bad wish," said Wiggs.

"Yes, but it's her turn."

"Oh, but I'm only allowed a good wish now." She added rapturously, "And I know what it's going to be."

So did Udo. At least he thought he did.

"Oh, you dear," he said, casting an affectionate look on her.

"Yes, that's it. That I might be able to dance like a fairy."

Udo could hardly believe his ears, and they were adequate enough for most emergencies.

"But how is that going to help me? " he said, tapping his chest with his paw.

"But it's my ring," said Wiggs. "And so of course I'm going to wish that I can dance like a fairy. I've always meant to, as soon as I've been good for a day first."

The child was absurdly selfish. Udo saw that he would have to appeal to her in another way.

"Of course," he began, "I've nothing to say against dancing as dancing, but I think you'll get tired of it. Just as I shall get tired of—lettuce."

Wiggs understood now.

"You mean that I might wish you to be a Prince again?"

"Well," said Udo casually, "it just occurred to me as an example of what might be called the Good Wish."

"Then I shall never be able to dance like a fairy?"

"Neither shall I, if it comes to that," said Udo. Really, the child was very stupid.

"Oh, it's too cruel," said Wiggs, stamping her foot. "I did so want to be able to dance."

Udo glanced gloomily into the future.

"To live for ever behind wire netting," he mused; "to be eternally frightened by pink–eyed ferrets; to be offered bran–mash—bran–mash—bran–mash wherever one visited week after week, month after month, year after year, century after—how long do rabbits live?"

But Wiggs was not to be moved.

"I won't give up my wish," she said passionately.

Udo got on to his four legs with dignity.

"Keep your wish," he said. "There are plenty of other ways of getting out of enchantments. I'll learn up a piece of poetry by our Court Poet Sacharino, and recite it backwards when the moon is new. Something like that. I can do this quite easily by myself. Keep your wish."

He went slowly out. His tail (looking more like a bell–rope than ever) followed him solemnly. The fluffy part that you pull was for a moment left behind; then with a jerk it was gone, and Wiggs was left alone.

"I won't give up my wish," cried Wiggs again. "I'll wish it now before I'm sorry." She held the ring up. "I wish that―" She stopped suddenly. "Poor Prince Udo he seems very unhappy. I wonder if it is a good wish to wish to dance when people are unhappy." She thought this out for a little, and then made her great resolve. "Yes," she said, "I'll wish him well again."

Once more she held the ring up in her two hands.

"I wish," she said, "that Prince Udo―"

I know what you're going to say. It was no good her wishing her good wish, because she had been a bad girl the day before—making the Countess an apple–pie bed and all—disgraceful! How could she possibly suppose―

She didn't. She remembered just in time.

"Oh, bother," said Wiggs, standing in the middle of the room with the ring held above her head. "I've got to be good for a day first. Bother! "

So the next day was Wiggs's Good Day. The legend of it was handed down for years afterwards in Euralia. It got into all the Calendars—July 20th it was—marked with a red star; in Roger's portentous volumes it had a chapter devoted to it. There was some talk about it being made into a public holiday, he tells us, but this fell through. Euralian mothers used to scold their naughty children with the words, "Why can't you be like Wiggs?" and the children used to tell each other that there never was a real Wiggs, and that it was only a made–up story for parents. However, you have my word for it that it was true.

She began by getting up at five o'clock in the morning, and after dressing herself very neatly (and being particularly careful to wring out her sponge) she made her own bed and tidied up the room. For a moment she thought of waking the grown–ups in the Palace and letting them enjoy the beautiful morning too, but a little reflection showed her that this would not be at all a kindly act; so, having dusted the Throne Room and performed a few simple physical exercises, she went outside and attended to the smaller domestic animals.