Once upon a time there were two little Princesses whose names were Violetta and Gambetta; and they lived in Mountainy Castle. They were twins, and they were so like each other that when Violetta came in from a walk with her feet wet, Gambetta was sometimes told to go and change her stockings, because the Queen couldn’t tell which from the other. But that didn’t often happen, because if Princess Violetta was out for a walk, Princess Gambetta was almost sure to be out with her. Indeed they were so fond of one another that you might have thought they were tied together with a piece of string. All the same, the Queen used to be so fussed and worried by the confusion that, what with one thing and another, she persuaded the King to appoint a special Lord to distinguish between them. And he was called the Lord High Teller of the Other from Which. The first thing he did, after he was given this office, was to decree that everyone should call them by shorter names, because, as he said, their names both ended with “etta”, and that made it much harder to tell.

“Why does it make it harder to tell?” said the King. “I don’t see why it should make it harder.”

“Never mind why, Your Majesty,” the Lord High Teller replied firmly, “but it does.”

“Very well,” said His Majesty, “I think you are rather a fool, but I will do as you say, and I will see that my subjects do as you say, because this is your job and not mine.” And he went off hunting.

So after that one of the sisters was called Princess Violet and the other was called Princess Gamboy.

Now, as it happened, the Lord High Teller of the Other from Which was not a fool at all but a very wise man. He had noticed something about the two little Princesses which nobody else had noticed. Moreover he knew a great deal about the magic power of names, for, soon after he had given them these new names, everybody else began to notice the same thing too. And before very long it was the rarest thing in the world for anybody about the Court to mistake one for the other. But first you must know how it came about that these two Princesses were so much alike, even after they were quite tall girls.

Well, the King and Queen had had a party at their christening, and among all the grand people they had asked Miss Thomson to step in. Now Miss Thomson was a relation by marriage of the Queen’s and she was a nobody and she wasn’t of the Blood Royal, or else she wouldn’t have been called Miss Thomson. She lived in a little cottage in Tyttenhanger Lane. But the Queen had heard tell that this Miss Thomson was growing a witchery sort of woman in her old age, and that she knew this and that. So she said to the King: “If we don’t ask her she may turn sour and come in at the window of her own accord on a broomstick and do this and that. But, if we ask her to come, come she will because of the Christening Breakfast, and she may bring the babies a present worth all the golden rattles and silver teaspoons, and mahogany rocking-horses with real hair and eyes that move up and down in the world.” So they sent her an invitation and she came. She was dressed in black and, when she walked, she leaned on a black stick with a silver handle, and of course her hat was narrower at the top than it was at the bottom. Her eyes were black, too, and didn’t they sparkle! Now when she had finished her bacon and toast and marmalade she went up to the cradles, where all the grand people were standing about talking, and leaned over them. And the King and Queen, who had been watching her all the time from the other end of the room, held their breaths very hard and said, “Now it’s coming, now it’s coming,” to themselves, as she leaned over the cradles.

Then the corners of Miss Thomson’s mouth began to go into little creases, and she looked so whimsical and said very solemnly, waving her stick and looking at the King and Queen out of the corner of her eye:

Fumble, Fumble All around tumble, Baby Princesses, Always be As like as one To another pea; This gifty I give For as long as ye live, Fumble, Fumble, All around tumble.

Then she went up to the King and Queen and said politely: “I am afraid I must be going now, Your Majesties; thank you so much!” The Queen said: “Not at all!” and she added, “Thank you very much for your kind present to my daughters.”

“It was magic,” said Miss Thomson.

“I know,” said the Queen, who was really bitterly disappointed that Miss Thomson hadn’t given her babies something nicer.

“It was magic you wanted,” said Miss Thomson sharply. “Yes,” said the Queen humbly.

Now this Miss Thomson was really a kind-hearted old lady and she couldn’t bear to see the Queen look so disappointed, especially after such a lovely breakfast. So she said, “Wait a minute,” and went back to the cradles again. And this time there were no creases round her mouth, and she didn’t wave her stick; but she frowned and looked hard into the little Princesses' eyes and said quietly:

“As long as you both live, you shall love each other more than all else in the world. As long as one of you is living, both shall be.”

Then she went back to the King and Queen and said in a businesslike voice: “Now I really must be going.”

But the Queen, who had heard what she said over the cradles, fell suddenly on her knees and wept tears of joy, thanking dear Miss Thomson over and over again, kissing her hands and saying: “I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve it. I only asked you here because I hoped you would give my daughters a present. I don’t deserve it. Oh, now I know that my daughters will make each other happy.”

“Don’t be too sure about that!” said Miss Thomson, and bowed out of the room backwards, like the little lady she was.

That was how it came about that the two Princesses were so like each other, and that was how it came about that they were so fond of each other. Of course it would have been quite easy to tell them apart by making them dress in different clothes; but unfortunately there was a law in that country that all princesses were to wear the same clothes, until they reached the age of twenty-one, when they might choose for themselves. Indoors they had to wear little sky-blue tunics with silver-grey stockings, and out of doors a little black cloak over it all.

As for their hair, a princess in that country was banished at once if she was found with her hair plaited, or tied up with a bow, or anything of that sort. “Whereas she shall have her hair to hang loosely down her back, and well keemed.” That was what the law said, meaning “well combed”. It was only in the Royal Nursery or in the West Corner of the Queen’s Garden that Violetta and Gambetta were allowed to wear just what they liked and to do their hair just as they pleased.

What was it that the Lord High Teller of the Other from Which had noticed about the two Princesses, before he had their names altered? One day he was walking in the garden to take the air, when he saw the two sisters playing together near the entrance-gate. Just then a little ragged boy passed along the road outside, crying and crying. Violetta’s eyes filled with tears, and she ran out and gave him an apple she had in her hand and asked him what was the matter. The Lord High Teller couldn’t hear what she said or what the little boy said, but he saw the little boy gradually stop crying as he listened, and go off at last with his face all shining. Then the Princess Violetta came back to her sister, and the Lord High Teller heard them talking to each other.

“What are you crying about?” said Gambetta.

“I can’t help it,” said Violetta, “I am thinking of all the other little ragged boys. Oh dear, I am so miserable.” And she went on crying.

“Don’t be silly,” said Gambetta, “I expect he started crying like that on purpose to make you give him your apple.”

“Why should you think so?” said Violetta. “People are like that,” said Gambetta.

“I don’t believe it,” said Violetta through her tears.

“You’ll learn in time, my dear,” said Gambetta, who was one minute older than her sister.

The Noble Lord didn’t hear any more of their conversation, but he smiled rather sadly to himself as he walked on. And a week later, when the King appointed him Lord High Teller of the Other from Which, he knew quite well, of course, that the Princesses ought to be called Violet and Gamboy. And they were.

From that time on the King and Queen and the whole Court gradually began to see what the Lord High Teller had seen already. It was this: The two little Princesses, who were so much alike on the outside that you couldn’t tell them apart, were as different inside as a Church from a Booking Office. But the two spells which Miss Thomson had laid on them at their christening remained unbroken. When Princess Gamboy had said so many sour things that an ugly wrinkle began to show in her face, the same wrinkle began to show in Princess Violet’s face, whether she liked it or not. But, on the other hand, when Princess Violet had danced and sung so much (for she was very fond of singing and dancing) and made so many people happy that two quite new dimples appeared on both sides of her mouth, the same dimples appeared on both sides of Princess Gamboy’s mouth, whether she liked it or not. Of course the dimples and wrinkles got in each other’s way a good deal, and the dimples were not quite so pretty and the wrinkles not quite so ugly as they might have been. In short, while Princess Gamboy was not nearly so ugly as she would otherwise have been, neither was Princess Violet quite so beautiful. That was what the spell did. As for the other spell, the only thing in the whole world which Princess Gamboy loved was Princess Violet, and, among the hundreds of thousands of things which Princess Violet loved, Princess Gamboy, no matter what she might say or do, was far and away the first. They could not bear to be out of each other’s company for an hour, although, when they were together, they did nothing but argue and have conversations like the one which the Lord High Teller overheard.

So the two Princesses grew up side by side in the Castle until one morning when Princess Violet was dancing, as a leaf dances in the wind, in the West Corner of the Queen’s Garden, and Princess Gamboy was reading in a big black book called Excerpta and continually looking up and saying to Violet, “Keep still, can’t you!” they heard a silver trumpet sounding faintly in the distance. Princess Violet knew it must be a silver one, because the noise it made was like a bell. But Princess Gamboy said rudely:

“Nonsense. I don’t believe you can tell what it’s made of. And if it is, it’s ridiculous to waste so much of the public money on a trumpet. Silver indeed! Tut!”

And she bent her head down over her book again, frowning and mumbling something which sounded to Violet like “Formforze ate Toosten.” Poor Violet felt crushed, but she didn’t say anything, and ran straight off to the gate to see who it was; for she felt quite sure the trumpet had been blown by someone on his way to the Castle. She pressed her forehead against the bars of the gate and made two white marks on it; but there was nothing to be seen yet in the dusty white road leading away up over the hills. Then, suddenly, she heard the trumpet again, and this time it sounded a little nearer:

Rooty tootity tootity tootity tootity too. Too tootity tootity tootity too. Rooty too. Rooty too. Rooty too-oo-oo.

“It is like a bell,” she said to herself; “and I know it’s made of silver.” And she began to feel so happy because it seemed as though there must be a piece of silver somewhere inside her which was still vibrating on and on to the trumpet, till she fell in a dream in which she was listening to church bells across the water on a summer evening. But then, right on top of the hill, where the road vanished into the sky, she saw a little cloud of dust. The cloud grew bigger, and she knew it was made by advancing horsemen. Then the trumpet-call again, ringing out clear and loud and joyous this time, as the sweet waves of sound welled from its mouth and spread out through the air until they lapped smoothly on her ear, unbroken by any wind.

Rooty tootity tootity tootity tootity too. Too tootity tootity tootity too. Rooty too. Rooty too. Rooty too-oo-oo.

At last the dust began to clear a little, and Princess Violet could distinguish the figure of a tall young man on a white horse at the head of the party. He was clad in glittering silver armour—not that kind which is made in separate stiff pieces and makes a man look like five tin sausages, but the kind which is called “chain-mail”. It is all woven in shining links, so that it looks like a million watch-chains and fits as close as wool.

Violet rushed back to where Gamboy was sitting.

“It’s a Prince,” she shrieked, and she waltzed round Gamboy singing over and over again a little song which meant absolutely nothing at all. It sounded like,

“Create a sensation of glory
All in the land of Judea."

She always sang it when she felt excited.

You see, they hardly ever had a visitor at Mountainy Castle, and Violet, happy as she was, sometimes felt dull and cross and tired of singing and dancing all by herself. But all Princess Gamboy said was:

“Well, don’t get so excited about him; it will only make him more conceited than he is already.”

“How do you know he is conceited already?” said Princess Violet. “I don’t know,” answered Gamboy, “but they nearly always are.”

“But you’ve never met any,” said Princess Violet, “so how do you know?”

“Ah!” said Princess Gamboy, who was one minute older than her sister, and she smiled and wouldn’t say any more.

Meanwhile the party of horsemen, with the Prince at its head, had reached the gate. Violet watched from behind a bush, where she could not be seen. She saw the Prince send forward a herald, who struck thrice on the bell with his riding-crop (for, although the Prince was in chain-mail, none of the party carried swords). Then the Prince himself moved his horse forward a few paces and told it to stand still. But the horse, instead of standing still, kept moving its feet about in a mincing little dance, as horses do. So, without waiting, the Prince stood up in his stirrups and taking a shining silver trumpet from his baldric. (“There, it issilver,” thought Violet, and she nearly went and told Gamboy, but she was too interested) taking a shining silver trumpet from his baldric, he placed it to his lips and calmly blew:

Rooty tootity tootity tootity tootity too. Too tootity tootity tootity too. Rooty too. Rooty too. Rooty too-oo-oo.

Now at the very first note of the trumpet, the Prince’s horse, which had been criss- crossing its feet all this time, and shaking its head and behaving dainty, suddenly stiffened, pricked up both its ears, and stood as stock still as a marble horse. And at the very first note of the trumpet, Princess Violet forgot the Prince and the garden and Princess Gamboy and Mountainy Castle and the sky above her and dreamed she was afloat beneath tons and tons of clear green water near the bottom of the sea, and—oh, yes—far away someone was booming a huge bell. She couldn’t hear it, but she could tell because all that great water shook. And at the very first note of the trumpet Princess Gamboy lost her place in the book where she was reading how “Formforze ate Toosten”, and instead of being angry and shutting it with a bang, as she usually did when she lost the place, she leaned back in her garden-chair and began to think of the time when she was a little baby, before she was called Gamboy and before Violet and she grew so different from one another; and she even wondered for a moment whether she was really so very much wiser than her sister, even though she was a whole minute older. And at the very first note of the trumpet, all the porters and doorkeepers and sweepers and cooks and bakers and pastry-makers in Mountainy Castle stopped carrying and doorkeeping and sweeping and cooking and baking and pastry-making, and looked at each other and listened. And the head-porter didn’t tell the under-porters to get on with their work, and the head-doorkeeper didn’t tell the under- doorkeeper to get on with his work, and the head-sweeper and cook and baker and pastry-maker didn’t tell the under-sweepers, cooks, bakers, and pastry-makers to get on with their work; but they all stood still, staring and listening like so many loons.

Rooty tootity tootity tootity tootity too. Too tootity tootity tootity too. Rooty too. Rooty too. Rooty too-oo-oo.

As the last note died slowly away, everybody in the Castle stirred slowly, like a man waking from sleep, and looked mazedly round him; all were full of wonder, and many opened their mouths to ask their neighbours what had happened. But, just as they were about to speak, they seemed to change their minds; they turned their eyes away from each other and down to the ground, as though they were ashamed of something—as though they all knew something they were all pretending they didn’t know—and went on with their work. Only the head-doorkeeper spoke. He told the under-doorkeeper to go and open the gate. And as the last note died slowly away, Princess Gamboy stirred and shook herself and opened her book again. “Don’t be a fool, Gamboy,” she said to herself (for she had a way of talking to herself). “You are a nice sensible girl. V. is a great silly. Ugh!” And as the last note died slowly away, it seemed to Princess Violet that she was rising slowly through the silent green waters, which still shook all through to the booming of that unseen bell, until at last her head burst up into the open air, and, lo and behold! there was no water at all, and she was back in the Castle gardens looking at the Silver Prince, who had just taken the trumpet from his lips.