Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a beautiful princess. She was blessed with the best of everything. She had all the books she wanted (which were very rare in those days!). She had more crowns and golden necklaces and glittering rings than she had places to wear them. She slept in between sheets of the very finest silk. She ate the best that the kingdom had to offer, off of golden platters and silver forks. She had a gentle dun mare for the times she wished to ride slowly, and a spirited white stallion for the times she wished to go racing through the royal woods. She even had a brightly colored exotic bird who would flutter to perch on her shoulder and sing to her sweet songs when she was sad.

You would wonder why this young lady, who was showered with everything a young lady might want, would be sad at all. The simple fact of the matter was that the princess wished for nothing more than a little baby. Ever since she was a young lass she had dreamed of the face of her girl-child, whose sweet face and sparkling eyes would look at the princess with all the love and trust that an innocent child had to offer.

So it came to pass that the princess reached the age where she must wed. Of all her suitors, she chose carefully the one whose visage most resembled the face of her dream child, that her baby might look just as she had imagined. Her dream grew brighter and brighter every year as her spirits grew dimmer. You see, even after years of wedlock, the princess never quickened with child. At long last she reached the very depths of heartbreak and thought that surely she might dash herself against the rocks at the bottom of the highest castle parapet if she did not have a baby.

One day she overheard her serving-maid speak of the local fair, where there was rumored to be a wise-woman who could see things past the shroud of normal perception. The princess grabbed her terrified maid and demanded more details. Upon finding out the location of the seer, the princess summoned her escort and set off at once upon her white stallion.

As she approached the fortune teller's tent, the stars were beginning to peek out of the dusky orange sky and the shadows were very long indeed. The old woman was behind her tent, roasting a rabbit over the glowing coals of a campfire. The princess, very much accustomed to getting her own way, instructed the chief of her escort to pay the seer a gold coin so that she might tell the princess's fortune at once.

"I'm sorry, my dear. This old woman is tired. Please come back and see me tomorrow," the old woman spoke.

The princess was flabbergasted. Never before had anyone denied her, and this fortune teller certainly was not going to dismiss her as if she were a serving-maid! She insisted that the seer speak to her of her future immediately. Once again the seer demurred, claiming exhaustion. The princess finally opened her eyes and saw the old woman for the first time. She was stooped with years and her skin was so wrinkled it looked, for all the world, like the bark of a tree. The princess began to weep as the old woman turned back to her repast.

The captain of the guard who escorted the princess to the fair had always had a kindly feeling towards the beautiful girl and could not stand to see her in tears. He stepped forward and grabbed the old woman roughly by the shoulder, spinning her around. "Listen here, you crone! You'll tell the princess's fortune now or I'll cleave your withered heart straight out of your bosom!"

The seer sighed. She had dropped her rabbit in the fire when the soldier grabbed her, so her meal was ruined. She nodded her head in acquiescence and led the princess into her tent.

The two women, beauty and crone, sat across from each other at a small table. The air was close and dark and scented with drowsy smoke. The old woman grabbed the princess's soft pink hand with her own gnarled and bony claw. "What is it you wish to ask, my child?"

The princess earnestly asked the fortune teller, "When will I have a child, a baby of my own?"

"Never," replied the old woman, taking a small measure of satisfaction at the look of pain on the royal face.

"What?" asked the princess, broken hearted. "But I don't understand - my dreams... the child..."

Again the old lady said, "Never. You will have a child never." The captain of the guard strode forward to strike down the old woman for her hurtful words, but the princess, sobbing openly, stopped him as she ran out of the tent. Although her white stallion was swift, the ride back to the castle seemed the longest she'd ever taken. She could have anything in the world, it seemed, except for her own heart's desire.

The princess was beset by the dream of her child for many moons afterwards. Each night the dream came, and each night it was more powerful and vivid than the last. In time, half-mad from distraction, she strove to make a mask which encompassed the face of the dream-child, to look at during the day between her dreams at night.

The first mask was close but there was something not quite right. The princess looked at it and could sense that it was fundamentally different from her dream-baby in some manner. Again she tried and again failed. Five times in all she fruitlessly made masks which were as near the countenance of her dream-child as she could fashion but each had some small flaw which caused her to discard it. By now her husband and the rest of the kingdom considered her quite mad and deserted her to her own devices, save her serving maid who felt sorry for the lonely woman despite her abuse and harsh words.

The princess set about to make one final mask and resolved that she would fulfill her appointment with the hard rocks at the bottom of the tallest parapet if she was again unsuccessful. Face pinched in fear, she raised the mask from her workspace and gazed upon it. Her eyes widened as she traced her fingers over the tiny features of the mask. Each small detail was perfect in every way, as perfect as the baby in her dreams. For the first time in years a smile rested upon the princess's lips and the shine returned to her eyes. Within a week she became pregnant, even though she had not so much as seen her husband in several months. Nine moons later, she gave birth to a tiny and perfect daughter, whose face was identical to the child she had been dreaming about for so very many years.

The princess, her life's dream finally satisfied, cried as she held her daughter and said, "Never. I will call you Never." Remembering the tired, hungry old woman who said the princess would have her child never, she swore that from that day forward she would be kinder to others, who might be telling her important information even though she did not realize it. And the princess and Never lived happily ever after.