Part 17 (1/2)

'I shall have to have the Royal Dressmaker make me another one soon. Let me see--what color shall I choose? I'd _like_ my gold-colored velvet made up. I'm tired of wearing royal purple dresses all the time, though of course I know they're appropriater. I wonder what color the Prince would like best? I should rather choose that color.'

The Princess's little brown hands were clasped about one knee, and she was rocking herself slowly back and forth, her eyes, wistful and wide, on the path the Prince would come. She was tired to-day and it was harder to wait.

'But when he comes I shall say, ”Hear, O Prince. Verily, verily, I did not know which color you would like to find me dressed--I mean arrayed--in, and so I beseech thee excuse--_pardon_, I mean, mine infirmity.”'

The Princess was not sure of 'infirmity,' but it sounded well. She could not think of a better word.

'And then--I _think_ then--he will take me in his arms, and his face will be all sweet and splendid like the Mother o' G.o.d's in the picture, and he will whisper,--I don't think he will say it out loud,--oh, I'd rather not!--”Verily, Princess,” he will whisper, ”oh, verily, _verily_, thou hast found favor in my sight!” And that will mean that he doesn't care what color I am, for he--loves--me.'

Lower and lower sank the solemn voice of the Princess. Slower and slower rocked the little lean body. The birds themselves stopped singing at the end. In the Secret Place it was very still.

'Oh, no, no, no,--not _verily_!' breathed the Princess, in soft awe.

For the wonder of it took her breath away. She had never in her life been loved, and now, at this moment, it seemed so near! She thought she heard the footsteps of the Prince.

They came nearer. The crisp twigs snapped under his feet. He was whistling.

'Oh, I can't look!--I can't!' gasped the little Princess, but she turned her face to the west,--she had always known it would be from the west,--and lifted closed eyes to his coming. When he got to the Twisted Willow she might dare to look--to the Little Willow Twins, anyway.

'And I shall know when he does,' she thought. 'I shall know the minute!'

Her face was rapt and tender. The miracle she had made for herself,--the gold she had coined out of her piteous alloy,--was it not come true at last?--Verily, verily?

Hus.h.!.+ Was the Prince not coming through the willows? And the suns.h.i.+ne was trickling down on his hair! The Princess knew, though she did not look.

'He is at the Twisted Willow,' she thought. '_Now_ he is at the Little Willow Twins.'

But she did not open her eyes. She did not dare. This was a little different, she had never counted on being afraid.

The twigs snapped louder and nearer--now very near. The merry whistle grew clearer, and then it stopped.

'Hullo!'

Did princes say 'Hullo!'

The Princess had little time to wonder, for he was there before her. She could feel his presence in every fibre of her trembling little being, though she would not open her eyes for very fear that it might be somebody else. No, no, it was the Prince! It was his voice, clear and ringing, as she had known it would be. She put up her hands suddenly and covered her eyes with them to make surer. It was not fear now, but a device to put off a little longer the delight of seeing him.

'I say, hullo! Haven't you got any tongue?'

'Oh, verily, verily,--I mean hear, O Prince, I beseech,' she panted.

The boy's merry eyes regarded the shabby small person in puzzled astonishment. He felt an impulse to laugh and run away, but his royal blood forbade either. So he waited.

'You are the Prince,' the little Princess cried. 'I've been waiting the longest time,--but I knew you'd come,' she added simply. 'Have you got your velvet an' gold buckles on? I'm goin' to look in a minute, but I'm waiting to make it spend.'

The Prince whistled softly. 'No,' he said then, 'I didn't wear _them_ clo'es to-day. You see, my mother--'

'The Queen,' she interrupted; 'you mean the Queen?'