Once upon a time, which is when most of these things happen, a small country's queen gave birth to a small country prince she named Riquet. The child was truly ugly and strange, homely, twisted stooped and bandy-legged, with a tiny tuft of hair atop his pate. More troll than human, people gasped when they saw him, children stared and dogs sniffed suspiciously.

But never a child is born without the faerie folk in attendance, and the sprite who stood for Riquet's birth hovered over the lad's cradle and smiled. "Never fear," the fairy whispered to the queen. "Your son is ugly, but he will be the most clever boy in the world. And this we give him - whomever he loves will be blessed with wisdom equal only to his own. Call him Riquet with the Tuft, and enjoy his life." And so she did.

In another small kingdom another queen gave birth to another child, a daughter she named Miranda, lovely as a summer day. No one knew, but as she grew, Miranda would prove as foolish as beautiful. Later, when Miranda was nearly grown and her mother realized how sorry was the girl's plight, the queen asked the faeries for help, but it was too late to give her wisdom. "Instead," said the faeries, "we give her this late gift: whomever she loves will become beautiful."

And time passed.

Riquet was an ugly baby, and then an ugly boy, but everyone liked him - once they recovered from their first sight. People came from anywhere that knew his name, bringing gifts in exchange for thoughts. Riquet never lacked companions, and as he had the gift of wisdom, he knew how to choose and keep friends good and true.

One day a visiting merchant offered Riquet a portrait of a princess in exchange for words of wisdom. The merchant learned a lesson about disappointment, for Riquet saw the picture and thought of nothing else. If there is love at first sight, this was it.

"Who is she?" the prince asked. "I've never seen her before but I have looked for her all my life." Disappointed or no, Riquet was a prince, so the merchant pointed him to where he could find the princess in the portrait.

Meanwhile, Miranda grew more foolish each day. When people who didn't know better asked her a question, she stammered and blushed and finally said something that confused everyone, including herself. Her words were so silly that people fled a room when she entered, afraid to laugh in the face of a princess.

Despite her beauty, Miranda was lonely. She rarely spoke, never went to public places, and many feared upsetting her. But she was not so foolish that she did not feel her loneliness. At last, despairing to find anyone who wanted her, even in her own home, she set off into the woods, thinking she might find a friend somewhere in the world. No one saw her go or missed her.

Before the day was done, as you knew they would, Miranda came upon Riquet, who was searching for the beautiful princess of the portrait. When he saw Miranda, he - well, first he stood silent and dreamy for a minute - but then he caught his breath and introduced himself.

"I am Riquet with the Tuft," he said. "I have travelled far in search of you, my princess."

Miranda could think of little to say, and was afraid to say that. Finally she blurted out, "Hello." This exhausted her stock of appropriate words and she fell silent. The two stood there for some minutes, Riquet lost in the beauty of the princess, Miranda confused and scared that this person would disappear like everyone at home. Thinking of her lonely home sent a shimmering tear trickling from the corner of her eye.

"You're so sad," said Riquet in wonder, watching the crystal teardrop slip down her cheek. "I cannot imagine what could make someone as lovely as you so sad."

"Lovely!" Miranda's tears poured out. "I get so tired of being lovely and lonely. Oh, sir, if only I could be clever, if only I could have a friend, or just some one I can talk to. I would give up all this loveliness people tell me about if only I did not have to be lonely."

Riquet moved closer. "Lady, there is no greater proof of wisdom than the belief that one is not clever. The more sense one has, the more one realizes how much more there is to know."

That confused poor Miranda. At the sight of her peering through her tears, confusion writ large in her bright brown eyes, Riquet's poor heart nearly burst with a tenderness and care he had never felt before.

Miranda sobbed, "I know I am foolish and my foolishness makes me unhappy. But I do not know what to do."

Riquet smiled. He knew the cure for this problem. "I can help you," he told her. "I have the power to make you the wisest lady in the world."

"Oh, do! Please!" Miranda begged through the tears. "Right now?! Please!?"

"Marry me," said Riquet.

"Marry you?" Now Miranda was more than puzzled, and the tears took a time out.

"My lady, I would be the happiest creature on the planet if you agreed to marry me one year from today."

"I'll do it!" said Miranda, for besides being foolish, she had no patience at all. She did not understand what Riquet could mean or why marrying him would make any difference at all, but if that was the cost of wisdom...well.... "I'll marry you one year from today!" she announced.

"Splendid!" Riquet crowed, nearly faint from joy at her answer. "And now, now you must sit and tell me of yourself. Tell me of being beautiful and lonely."

Already afraid her answer was a mistake, Miranda sat beside him. Slowly, she began to speak. At first she mumbled and bumbled and stumbled over her words, and was ready to go back to her silence. But Riquet with the Tuft waited, homely and patient, for her to gather her thoughts. She spoke most of the afternoon and evening, speaking about the pleasures of beauty and the pain of foolishness and of time and tenderness, and when she realized that Riquet did not leave or laugh, the words came freer and easier. Miranda felt different, different from anything she had ever felt before.

Riquet stood open-mouthed, amazed by her insight. To watch her speak was enough for him - the sparkle and flash in her eyes when she described something lovely, the twitch of muscles in her neck when she disapproved, the way her hands could carve an expression from the air that Riquet could never have put in words.

And her words! For all Riquet's wisdom, she told him things he had never known, never thought. Listening to her made him wiser, answering her questions forced him to be wiser. Riquet lost all sense of time and place and wanted nothing more from life than for this evening to last forever.

Miranda surprised herself. She had never thought of such wisdom tumbling and escaping from her lips. But then, no one ever listened before, and certainly not as this malformed creature beside her.

Having talked herself out for the evening, and seeing that it was late, Miranda wanted to return home. "I shall see you one year from today," she told her companion. And giving him a smile that swelled his heart, Miranda turned and stepped lightly back to her palace, briskly rubbing her face to remove any pale or pink traces of spending part of the afternoon crying.

From that day forward, Miranda charmed and amazed the court with her wit. Many the topic on which she had an opinion, but she was clever enough to know the many topics that did not need her views. News of her brilliance spread beyond the borders of her own small kingdom, and princes came from everywhere to meet the lovely and clever princess. Each prince swooned at her wit, her wisdom, her insight, her way with words, and her unmatched beauty. Each prince begged her to marry him. And each prince was refused.

Miranda had a new problem: the wiser a person becomes, the more complex the world becomes. Miranda now thought this way and that about most things. The princes who wanted to marry her were handsome, yes, and rich and powerful, of course. But she did not love any of them, didn't even like most of them, and she told them one and all that she needed time to think things over and make her plans.

Miranda had forgotten her promise to marry Riquet. When she gave that promise she was still a foolish, tongue-tied girl, scatter-brained, forgetful and addle-pated. Afterward, she had little memory of those days and thought about them even less.

One day Miranda walked into the woods to ponder the marriage proposals. As she kicked slowly through the October leaves, she heard a shuffling sound at her feet. She looked down at a mound of earth, and from beneath the earth came voices.

"Bring me wood," said the voices, a silver-thin whispered chorus of tones. "Bring me silver spoons and pots. bring me flowers and fire." As Miranda watched, the earthen mound opened and out trouped a band of tiny fairies preparing a banquet.

"What are you doing?" Miranda asked the fairies.

"Preparing a wedding feast for our friend Riquet with the Tuft," answered the smallest one, it's thin piping voice drifting from beneath the stack of linen table clothes it carried.

"Good 'morrow, dear lady." Riquet's soft voice came from behind the princess. Turning, she saw the poor, misshapen prince step awkwardly from behind a tree. As ugly and deformed as ever, Riquet was dressed in fine leathers, linens and silks. "How happy I am," he continued, "that you remembered to come to marry me today!"

And Miranda remembered her promise (she could hardly forget some one as fantastic as Riquet with the Tuft). She shuffled her feet in the rustling forest litter, kicking a large oak leaf onto a fairy, who grumbled in a tiny way. The princess blushed. "I must tell you the truth," she said. "I have not made up my mind who I shall marry."

Riquet felt his heart fall to the cool earth at his feet. "Good lady," he asked quietly, almost a whisper, "tell me, my love, is there something besides my appearance that you despise?"

Now it is true that Miranda disliked Riquet's looks, but she knew she enjoyed his company. "I like everything else about you!" she said. "I just don't know if I can live the rest of my life with the sight of you each morning and night."

"Then there is no problem," said the prince. "You have given your word, and a part of you loves me. Marry me now. Who knows what life will bring?"

Miranda thought this over for a moment. At last she consented. "You are right. I care for you. I care for you more than those princelings who cared nothing for me before, but seek my hand today. I will keep my promise, and gladly. We shall be wed and my heart shall be happy with you."

As the last letter of the last word floated from her mouth, Riquet with the Tuft began to change. He straightened. His withered and wrinkled skin became tight from the mass of new muscles that rippled beneath it. The tuft of hair on top of his head spread to cover his knotted, mottled pate. Before Miranda could draw her next breath, there stood the most gloriously handsome man she had ever seen or imagined. In the reddened autumn sunlight, the bride and groom embraced with happiness, and the fairies applauded and cried out and danced in delight.

But whether faerie spells or love be a magickal cure, Prince Riquet the Tuft and Princess Miranda Sophia wed and loved and lived as happily as ever a story-book romance told.