The entertaining story of King Brondé, his Lily and his Rosebud

THE ENTERTAINING STORY OF KING BRONDÉ, His Lily and his Rosebud.
By ANNA M. DIAZ.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. L. SHEPPARD.
BOSTON: TICKNOR AND FIELDS. 1869.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by TICKNOR AND FIELDS, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., Cambridge.
THE KING’S LILY AND ROSEBUD.
IF anybody had happened to be walking along what was called the Robbers’ Road, in Long Forest, a part of the possessions of good King Brondé, who lived many, many hundred years ago, he would have perceived that the road was continually curving towards the right. He would also soon have grown weary, for this winding road led, by degrees, to the top of a mountain. But if he had kept on and on, and did not give up for weariness, he would at length have come to the palace of the very king himself. A magnificent palace it was, too, and a sight of it well worth the long journey.
If you could but have seen how the gilded roof shone in the sunlight! and the white marble statues in the gardens! and the fountains and the round ponds filled with gold and silver fishes! and the flocks of lambs with blue and pink ribbons around their necks! and the shepherdesses all dressed in white, each with her crook and her wreath of flowers!—if you could but have seen all these beautiful things, then would the weary journey have been soon forgotten.
And could you have entered the palace itself, and have kept your eyes from being blinded by the bright colors, the sparkling ornaments, and all the splendor of this wonderful place, and have wandered on and on, through the spacious apartments, you would at last have come to an ivory door, over which was perched a red-and-green parrot. This parrot was fed upon flowers made from crystals of white sugar; and had you given him one of these he would have told you a riddle. But this, of course, you could not know. And indeed, when the door was once open, you would have forgotten parrots and everything else in gazing at the beautiful lady within,—the beautiful pale lady, King Brondé’s queen.