After the rejoicing, the happy weeping, the embracing, and all the deep excitement caused by the old woman’s story, had somewhat abated, orders were given to bring forth the jewels, which were brought from the hut, that she might declare who were their rightful owners.
And among these was the king’s signet ring, which he had heedlessly given his boy to play with on the morning of the day when he was stolen. This signet ring the old woman had never dared offer for sale.
CHAPTER XVII.
KING MYRTLE AND QUEEN ROSEBUD.
THUS it came about that Myrtle was, after all, a true prince; and his now happy father, having passed so many childless years, begged that the young couple might spend at least one half the time at his court. This request was cheerfully granted.
And after the death of King Brondé and his Lily Queen, which was not until they had reached a good old age, Rosebud gave up her share of the kingdom to her two sisters, that she might dwell always with Myrtle in his own country.
Thus the two sisters reigned together. The eldest, with her beauty and her grace, was an ornament to the court, and drew together the lively and the gay; while the second, with her great wisdom, sat in council with the nobles and managed with rigor the affairs of state; and their reign was called ever after “The Reign of the Two Queens.”
The old woman died, soon after telling her story, at the house of Bess and Judy, and was buried, as she herself had requested, with the blue blanket upon her head, and her staff beside her.
After the father of Myrtle died, he and Rosebud became king and queen, and reigned in his stead.
Their first act was to purchase from the king of the country adjoining their own the tract of land which contained the little fishing-hamlet by the sea; and there, by the side of the old hut, they reared a splendid palace. The hut was preserved, standing exactly as it stood in their childhood; and the little garden-spot behind—the grave of their short-lived flowers—was planted with lilies, an affectionate tribute to the memory of the Lily Queen.
The waters of the spring where Myrtle, with fear and trembling, once dared to wash his face were made to gush up through a marble fountain, around which the rose and the myrtle grew well together.