The princess. It is always fun,

Now, is it not, to try things on,

The very thought is one that pleases!

Besides, by none can she be seen,

And, what is of no smaller matter,

There is no hat that will not flatter

A girl who's only seventeen!

And so the wicked midget's hat

Ludmila turns this way and that;

Straight, then askew she makes it sit,

Down on her eyebrows pushes it,

Claps it on front-to-back.... Behold!

A miracle!-In times of old

They happened often, it appears-

Ludmila's image disappears,

Gone is she from the glass completely;

But in a moment, as she neatly

Turns the hat round, she's there again!

Once, twice she tries it, and the same

Thing happens. Cries the princess: "Splendid!

My troubles now are all but ended.

So much for you, vile dwarf, your hunt

For me is over!" And, cheeks glowing,

Herself to be in safety knowing,

She puts the hat on back-to-front.

For shame! Too long has our attention

Been claimed bv beard and hat of late;

Our hero giving up to fate,

Of him-alack!-we made no mention.

His duel with Rogdai behind him,

He passes through a lonely wood,

And in a sunlit dale we find him

His stallion reining in. A mood

Of sudden, awful dread comes o'er him: