You would
hardly believe me, if I were to tell how quickly the baby prince got rid
of his ailments, and grew fat, and rosy, and strong, and how he had two
rows of ivory teeth in less time than any other little fellow, before or
since. Instead of the palest, and wretchedest, and puniest imp in the
world (as his own mother confessed him to be when Ceres first took him
in charge), he was now a strapping baby, crowing, laughing, kicking up
his heels, and rolling from one end of the room to the other. All the
good women of the neighbourhood crowded to the palace, and held up their
hands, in unutterable amazement, at the beauty and wholesomeness of this
darling little prince. Their wonder was the greater, because he was
never seen to taste any food; not even so much as a cup of milk.
"Pray, nurse," the queen kept saying, "how is it that you make the child
thrive so?"
"I was a mother once," Ceres always replied; "and having nursed my own
child, I know what other children need."
But Queen Metanira, as was very natural, had a great curiosity to know
precisely what the nurse did to her child. One night, therefore, she hid
herself in the chamber where Ceres and the little prince were accustomed
to sleep. There was a fire in the chimney, and it had now crumbled into
great coals and embers, which lay glowing on the hearth, with a blaze
flickering up now and then, and flinging a warm and ruddy light upon the
walls.
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