But the Lily Queen, sighing, would murmur softly to herself, “Ah, she is too bright, too lovely a flower for earth!”
As Rosebud grew older, she showed great delight in birds, squirrels, wild flowers, and everything which lived or grew in the woods, and her attendants had plenty to do in following her up and down about the country. The woodmen all knew her, for she was continually dancing along the forest paths, or dropping like a sunbeam into their rude huts. Yes, like a sunbeam, for she brought the light of her bright face and the warmth of her loving heart. She made little children glad, she made the old people glad, and for miles around every one knew and loved the king’s Rosebud.
One day as Rosebud was walking with her sisters along the river’s bank, they heard a noise as of some one calling, “Tirra, Tirra, Tirra, Tirra La!”
It was not a shout, but a faint, mournful cry. Looking up, they saw, at a short distance from the shore, a small boat drifting along with the stream. A pale, ragged child sat leaning his forehead upon the boat’s edge, now and then raising it to call out, in a feeble voice, “Tirra, Tirra, Tirra, Tirra La! Tirra, Tirra, Tirra, Tirra La!”
Seeing the three maidens, he eagerly stretched forth his hands as if asking for assistance.
The eldest princess said: “Pshaw! what do we care for the ugly, dirty fellow?”
And the second princess said: “Stupid, ignorant little wretch! Let him go!”
But the third princess ran for a man and a boat, which were soon in readiness; for every one was eager to obey even the slightest wish of little Rosebud.