The goblins in question had been soaring about on their broomsticks, bumping into things and each other in the dark when the light of the moon had returned to the forest. At first, as a result of their bumblings, their vision was still blurry and they all saw the Queen at the same time, but they all saw three or four versions of her and all were running in different directions. They finally got their senses, such as they were, about them enough to decide conclusively that there was but one actual Queen, and to hightail after her rapidly escaping form.
They drew up to her just as she was near the wall, just as her heart had begun to beat normally, just as she had decided that, perhaps, she was not going to die here. They flew in tight circles about her head, the five of them, and filled her with a fear that drew all color from her face and stopped her blood cold as she took in their vile appearance.
They were small, knobby-headed creatures, with slick black-green skin and large, rounded ears. Their stubby little fingers clutched their broomsticks and their dull eyes followed her as they went around and around, as she stayed in place.
"What have we here, darlings? Looks it to you as if we've caught…" Here, the leader of the goblins leaned in and sniffed. The pause in the whirlwind caused her brother to crash into her, and he fell from his broom. The others stopped their careering in order to laugh at the fallen brethren. The laughing caused another one to fall of its broom and the Queen began to think maybe she could get out of this situation alive after all.
"Fools! Menace! Menace! Back on brooms, now!" She shook her head, sadly, feeling once more the burden of being The Smart One.
"She smells human- that's what I was saying. Smells human, this one…"
Her attention returned to the Queen, and she reached a hand toward Beatrix. Before Beatrix could duck or move away, the Goblin Queen ripped the black scarf from her head, and a multitude of rumpled red curls spilled over the Queen's shoulders and toward her back. She felt horribly exposed, and also wondered if, to look at her, her hair would blend into the forest around her.
"Well, are you human? Or have you just eaten one recently and taken on their ugly look and smell?"
"Oh, gracious Goblin Queen- yes, yes, I am a human. Oh, please grant me safe passage from your glorious kingdom!"
"No! You are here and we have caught you- belong to us, you do. Ours, now."
One of the other goblins spoke up, revealing a very high-pitched, squeaky voice- "But humans smell foul, sister! We don't want the human! She's ugly, this one."
"No- I say we take the human! We need a maid! She will work for us and clean!"
"But dirty is better- smells better than clean," yet another sibling spoke up. "We just got our home to smell nice and foul. This thing… ugh- we'd lose her in the forest everyday! Her hair is the color of the trees!"
"Oh, no!" Interjected Beatrix. "I shall clean for you- I can clean better than anything. I'm a washerwoman for the queen and king and no one can make the palace sparkle and shine like I can. I clean with lemon and salt and everything smells fresh and sweet when I am done!"
At this, one of the goblins was so repulsed that they quickly turned and flew away, hiding themselves in trees in order to become sick in private.
"Lemon! Lemon! Lemon is poison to goblins! She is very stupid, sister. I want her to go now! No, wait- I want to go now! Yes, that was it! Come, brother!"
And so only two goblins remained before the Queen. The leader continued to look at her, to sniff the air near her, questioningly, and giving her a knowing look that made Beatrix quite scared. All of the goblins seemed quite foolish, but this goblin in particular seemed an odd combination of foolishness and some sort of insight.
"You know, don't you, washerwoman, that if goblins find something here, it belongs to them. These are the laws."
"Yes, I had heard that."
"So, you know, no doubt, that you belong to me now, don't you?"
Beatrix cast her eyes downward, fearful at this turn of discussion. "I know that you speak troth."
At this point the goblin who was not speaking began to snore, and the Goblin Queen realized that her last brother had remained at her side not from loyalty and steadfastness, but because he'd fallen asleep before the others had left.
"My brothers and sisters are not keen on you. And you carry children within you- I've no patience with young ones. They are too, too loud. But, hear me, woman. I will take time, I will convince my brothers and sisters that you need serve us and us alone. I will give you time to birth your children and let them stop being those loud, screaming things your kind bear. Ten years from now, I will come claim you. You will be ours from then forward. Understand?"
"Ten years."
"And if you come not willingly then- I will take your children in your stead. I take this… head covering as a token. It is you, giving word. Be gone now!"
And the queen of goblins flew away, taking the black scarf, leaving her still-sleeping brother, and leaving Beatrix with nothing to do but gather her wits and run, panting, back to the palace.
Beatrix spoke to no one of what she had done, what she had seen, of the threat hanging over her head. Part of her quietness was do to feeling foolish for her deeds, part of it was her fervent hope that the Goblin Queen would forget her promise to come in ten years, and part of it was the ecstasy that was hers, her king's, and the entire kingdom's when it was announced far and wide that the beloved queen was, at last, with child.
It soon became apparent that not only was the Queen to bear one child, but another was on its way as well, and the kingdom rejoiced doubly at the good fortune of its beloved leaders. Everywhere were banners of gold and purple, celebrating the continuing good health of Queen Beatrix, King Hal, and their impending brood. Every evening fireworks were shot into the sky, reminding the citizens to pray for the well-being of the Queen (though none needed reminding).
Nine months after her fateful visit to the forest, nine months after an hour of sheer terror beside a river of blood, the Queen came to her lying in. The midwife remarked that it was the easiest birth she'd ever attended, that God must be blessing the Queen for her goodness. Queen Beatrix responded that it seemed not so simple and straightforward to her, and as if to emphasize the point, from within her spring the oddest sight any held ever beheld: a girl, with red hair that could only be called crazy and wild (the hair, not the girl, although doubt regarding the matter of her sanity was a close companion for her entire life), carrying a wooden spoon, wearing a tattered cloak with a hood that failed to subdue her masses of hair, and riding on a goat. The goat bleated, the spoon was raised in triumph and the creature before her spoke a single word, "Mamma!" as she looked, exultingly, at the Queen.
"If I be your mother, child, God give me grace to mend my ways!"
The girl laughed and her freckled nose wrinkled with joy as she threw back her head and rode a triumphant lap about the dark room. "Fear not, Mamma. Another is coming after me, and she is as golden, lovely, perfect, and delicious as any child born to this Earth. Perhaps she'll please you more…"
And it happened just as the first girl said- after her came a tiny, perfect, pink, golden, dimpled, blue-eyed angel who had the decency to be born naked, squirming; who smiled a perfectly normal and content smile upon her rosebud lips which would not learn to speak for a decent amount of time.
Queen Beatrix and King Hal attempted to name their older daughter something good and decent, to give her a good start in the world, but the laughing child refused to answer any name but Tatterhood. Indeed, she refused to change her ratty vestments for those more befitting a princess. Never mind getting her to surrender her wooden spoon; and the goat was soon a ready and welcome site in the palace, at the dinner table, and everywhere Tatterhood went.
They succeeded in naming their second daughter, who took to her name, Cassandra, most readily. She proved to have a disposition as lovely and angelic as her face, and brought great joy to all her encountered her. She seemed the very soul of love and goodness personified in a single body- and many questioned how she could be related to her indomitable disgrace of a sister.
But just let someone call Tatterhood a disgrace within earshot of Cassandra! Just let them try to mock her beloved, wonderful sister, of whom she thought the entire world, and they would meet her less divine nature. Indeed, though seemingly so unlike in every way- appearance, temperament, etc.- the sisters were passionately devoted to and adored one another unreservedly. One grew in strangeness and a particularly fierce quality, and never stopped being precocious in a way that tired and sometimes scared the adults around her; the other grew in loveliness, sweetness, and a desire to do only good and right in the world.