They often went sailing in the little boat, that they might talk together of Rosebud’s parents, and the palace, and Rupert. Myrtle said that Rupert’s coming should no longer be looked for, and that, if Rosebud’s father was a king, why, then, she was a princess. Did any one ever hear of a princess picking up drift-wood, or going barefoot, or living in a hut? It was quite time they set forth upon their travels in search of her home. Couldn’t she tell in what direction to go? or how far? or anything at all about it?
No, Rosebud only knew that they travelled fast, and for many, many days, and not always in one direction; for one very bright star which she came to know, and to watch for, on the journey, shone some nights on her right, and at others on her left.
But however that might be, she said, they must go. “Yes,” said Myrtle, “that certainly is quite plain. And we will go as little pedlers, selling our shell-work; or perhaps as little singers, singing our songs. And at every great town we will ask, ‘Who is the king of this country?’ ‘Can you tell us any news of the Good King Brondé?’ We will begin at once to collect the shells. And as we journey along we shall rest often in the shade of the trees, by the wayside, or on some flowery bank, and there make our shell-work.”
Thus all was well arranged.
But before they were quite ready to begin this pleasant journey, something very unexpected happened to Rosebud; very unexpected, but very good. Indeed, had she been allowed her choice of all the delightful things that might happen, she could have chosen nothing more delightful than this.
But now, while Myrtle and Rosebud are so busy with their shells and with their wise plans, it will, perhaps, be well to inquire concerning the Good King Brondé and his Lily Queen, and whether they reached home in safety.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE WHITE LAMB.
KING BRONDÉ and his court reached the end of their homeward journey in safety.
They arrived safely, but to find their palace in disorder, its beauty spoiled, its treasures stolen, its walks, gardens, statues, fountains destroyed.
The good king and queen, however, thought only of Rosebud. Their well-beloved child,—was she living? And, if yet alive, into whose hands had she fallen? Messengers were sent far and near throughout the kingdom. Large rewards were offered, but all in vain. And at the approach of winter they gladly removed to their city palace, away from all which so sadly reminded them of that unhappy day on which she was taken from them.