So the old man took the maid from out of his hat and threw it on to a bed near, and it grew and grew till it was a fair maid, fairer than all the others, and curtseying deeper than any of them.
"The Princess smiles on it," said the old man, "tell her your mission speedily."
"Gracious lady," said Sir Richard Byrde, "the King of a far kingdom has sent me to beg that you will come back with me and smile on his back-yard that it may become a garden—even as when you smiled on my poor maid it grew and blossomed."
"Oh, stranger," answered the Princess, "go home and tell your master that I will never come to him, unless he comes over the sea to fetch me himself. Come forth now and pluck the flower that sprang from your seed, and give it to your master in token that I speak truth."
So Sir Richard Byrde came forth from the arbour to pluck the flower, and he, too, was dazzled by the golden glory of the Princess.
Kneeling, he kissed her hand.
"Pluck your flower and go," she said, "and if your master will fetch me himself, I will come."
So Sir Richard Byrde plucked the flower and flew away the way he had come. But when he stopped to look at the flower he had plucked, he found it was only an ordinary sunflower.
The King was waiting on the steps of the back-yard, watching a dozen gardeners trying to rear the Canterbury bell with patent foods. When he saw Sir Richard Byrde approaching he called out:
"Have you brought her?"