"Peek-a-boo!" said a merry voice. And out stepped a lad with a smiling, handsome face. He was dressed all in green. By his side hung a sword, and over his shoulder he bore a little lute, such as minstrels use.
"Good-morning, merry maiden," he said, doffing his cap and bowing very low. "You, too, love flowers in the early morning. We have good taste, we two, alone of all this place, it seems."
"You are not of this place. How came you here?" asked the Princess, stepping back and frowning somewhat. "Do you not know that this is the garden of a Princess, who allows no one to visit it between dusk and the third hour after sunrise?"
"Ah!" cried the youth, with a merry laugh. "That I learned yesterday down below there in the village. And a foolish law it is. If the Princess knows no better than to forbid the sight of her garden when it is most beautiful, then the Princess deserves to be disobeyed. And for that matter, pretty maiden, are not you, too, a trespasser at this early hour? Aha! Oho!" The lad laughed, teasingly, shaking his finger at her.
The Princess bit her lip to keep from laughing. But she said as sternly as she could: "You are rude, Sir Greencoat. I am one of the best friends the Princess has. She allows me to come here at this hour, alone of all the world."
"Ah, share the right with me, dear maiden, share it with me!" exclaimed the Stranger. "Let me play with you here in the garden early in the morning. Do not tell her of my fault; but let me repeat it again, and yet again, while I remain in this land."
The Princess hesitated, then answered him with a question. "You are then of another country? You are soon to go away?"
"Yes, I am of a far country. My name is Joyeuse, and I am a merry fellow,—a traveler, a minstrel, a swordsman, an herb-gatherer. I have earned my bread in many ways. I was passing through this country when the fragrance of this wondrous garden met my flower-loving nose, guiding me hither. Ah, how beautiful it is! Because I wished to see it at its best in early morning I stole through the gates at sundown, and spent the night in yonder little arbor. I have been wandering ever since among the flowers, until I heard your voice singing. Then I stole back here to hide, for I was too happy to risk being discovered and sent away."
"You are a bold, bad fellow, Joyeuse," said Fleurette, laughing; "and I have a mind to tell the Princess about you and your wanderings."
"Would she be so very angry?" asked the Stranger. "I will not pluck a single bud. I love them all too dearly, just as you do, dear maiden, for I have watched you. Ay, I could almost tell which is your favorite flower—"