"Nay, that you cannot do," said the Princess hastily. "No one knows that."
"Aha!" cried the lad. "You make a secret of it, even as does your mistress, the Princess Fleurette. I have heard how she will choose for her Prince only him who finds the flower which holds her heart. I had thought one time to find that flower, and become her Prince."
"You!" cried the Princess, starting with surprise.
"Ay, why not? I could fight for her, and defend her with my life, if need be. I could sing and play to make her merry. I could teach her many things to make her wise. I am skilled in herbs and lotions, and I could keep her people in health and happiness. Moreover, I love flowers as well as she,—better, since I love them at their best in this early morning: even as you love them, fair maiden. I should not make so poor a prince for this garden. But now that I have seen you, little flower, I have no longing to be a prince. I would not win the Princess if I might. For you must be fairer than she—as you are fairer even than the flowers, your sisters. Ah, I have an idea! I believe that you are that very flower, the fairest one, whereon the Princess has set her heart. Tell me, is it not so?"
"Indeed no!" cried the Princess, turning very pink at his flattery. "How foolishly you speak! But I must hasten back to the palace, or we shall be discovered and some one will be punished."
"And shall I see you among the maidens of the Princess when I present myself before her?" asked Joyeuse eagerly.
"Oh, you must not do that!" exclaimed Fleurette. "You must not try to see the Princess to-day. This is a bad time. Perhaps to-morrow—" She hesitated.
"But you will come again to the garden?" he begged.
She shook her head. "No, not to-day, Joyeuse."
"Then to-morrow you will come? Promise that you will be here to-morrow morning early, to play with me for a little while?" he persisted.