“Then you’ve enough to give me a little,” said the bird. “I can’t find anything soft to line my nest with, and some of your hair would do nicely.”
“My hair!” cried the Queen, staring at the bird in astonishment; “my beautiful hair to line your common nest with! You must be mad. Do you know that I’m the Queen, and that I value my hair more than anything on earth?”
“Nevertheless, it would do very nicely for my nest, and I advise you to give me some of it,” croaked the eagle.
“Indeed, I shall do nothing of the kind,” said the Queen, eagerly. “I never heard such impertinence in my life. Fly away immediately, or I will send out some of the soldiers to shoot you.”
“They couldn’t do it,” said the bird, with a low laugh; “and if you tell them to try, you will be sorry for it afterwards. Now, I shall only give you one more chance. Queen, will you give me some of your hair for my nest?”
“No, I shall not,” answered the Queen, half crying with anger; “it is very presumptuous of you to ask for such a thing.”
The bird said no more, but rising into the air began to fly slowly round and round the tree on which he had been perched, and as he flew he sang these words in a low voice—
“As the wind blows this tree’s twigs bare,
So shall the proud Queen lose her hair;
The leaves shall come back with the first spring rain,
But when shall the Queen find her hair again?”
When he had done, the eagle gave a shrill cry and disappeared, leaving the Queen in astonishment at his conduct.
It was autumn, and she heard the wind whistling in the branches, and presently a number of leaves dropped from the cherry-tree, and fluttered to the ground, and, at the same moment, a handful of her curls fell out into her lap.
The Queen started up in alarm, and ran with tears in her eyes to the King to tell him what had happened. The King laughed at her fears, assuring her the bird could do her no harm, and that it was only by chance that her hair fell out just then.
Yet the Queen could not feel comfortable, and that night, when her ladies were brushing her hair, a quantity came out on the brushes and two or three locks fell to the ground. Next morning when she awoke she found some long soft brown tresses lying loose on her pillow, and when she got out of bed, a whole shower fell from her head to the floor.
The Queen wrung her hands in despair, and at once sent for the court hairdresser, who came, bringing with him a number of bottles, all containing lotions to make the hair grow; but all the lotions in the world were of no use. There was no denying the fact that the Queen’s hair was falling out in a most alarming manner. There was scarcely enough for her ladies to plait, and a bald spot was beginning to show on the top of her head. She dared not look at the cherry-tree to see if its branches were beginning to look bare also, but at every gust she heard the leaves falling, and trembled as she thought how soon they would all be gone. At last one morning, after the wind had been very fierce and strong, she ran to the window, and, looking out, saw that the cherry-tree’s branches were quite bare—not a leaf to be seen anywhere. Then she turned to her looking-glass, and, dreadful to behold, she was quite bald also. Her last lock of hair had fallen off and left her head as smooth and white as an egg. At this fearful sight the Queen screamed and fainted, and when her ladies came to help her they were all so shocked that they could scarcely speak. As for the King, his grief was so great that he sobbed aloud.
The Queen was laid on her bed, and the court physicians and hairdressers held a great consultation as to what was to be done to make her hair grow, and it was agreed that her head should go through a regular course of treatment. In the meantime she said she would keep her room, and it was given out that she was very ill, in order that the common people might not know what a dreadful thing had happened. But all the doctors and hairdressers could do nothing. Not a single hair reappeared on the Queen’s bare white head, and it was impossible to conceal the fact any longer. There was great sorrow all over the country when it became known, and a general mourning was proclaimed till the Queen’s hair should have grown again. In the meantime she wore a little lace cap trimmed with jewels. It was a very pretty little cap, and very becoming—so, at least, all the courtiers said. But it was not so beautiful as her own hair, and the Queen felt this so much that the first time she appeared in public in her cap she could scarcely help crying.
So things went on for a little time, and the doctors and hairdressers were all racking their brains to find something to make hair grow. But the Queen fretted so much that she lost her appetite and really fell ill, and was obliged to keep to her bed. The first night after her illness she dreamt a dream, which she thought about all day long. She dreamt that she was sitting in the palace garden, when there came up a little man, who was the strangest object she had ever seen. He was no bigger than a big spider, and all dressed in green. When he saw her he began to dance and sing this rhyme:—
“When the grass is thin, you must mow it, mow it, mow it,
But when
