“‘I beseech thee, O Prince,’ I shall say, ‘buy new golden platters and jasper cups and saucers for the Queen, and then shall I verily, verily be—be—’”
Oh, the long words—how they slipped out of reach! The little Princess sighed rather wearily. She would have to rehearse that speech so many times before the Prince came. Suppose he came to-night! Suppose she looked up now, this minute, towards the golden west and he was there, swinging along through the willow canes towards her!
But there was no one swinging along through the willows. The yellow light flickered through—that was all. Somewhere, a long way off, sounded the monotonous hum of men’s voices. Through the lace-work of willow twigs there showed the faintest possible blur of color. Down beyond, in the clearing, the Castle Guards in blue jean blouses were pulling stumps. The Princess could not see their dull, passionless faces, and she was glad of it. The Castle Guards depressed her. But they were not as bad as the Castle Guardesses. They were mostly old women with bleared, dim eyes, and they wore such faded—silks.
“My silk dress is rather faded,” murmured the little Princess wistfully. She smoothed down the scant calico skirt with her brown little fingers. The patch in it she would not see.
“I shall have to have the Royal Dress-maker make me another one soon. Let me see,—what color shall I choose? I’d like my gold-colored velvet made up. I’m tired of wearing royal purple dresses all the time, though of course I know they’re appropriater. I wonder what color the Prince would like best? I should rather choose that color.”
The Princess’s little brown hands were clasped about one knee, and she was rocking herself slowly back and forth, her eyes, wistful and wide, on the path the Prince would come. She was tired to-day and it was harder to wait.
“But when he comes I shall say, ‘Hear, O Prince. Verily, verily, I did not know which color you would like to find me dressed—I mean arrayed—in, and so I beseech thee excuse—pardon, I mean—mine infirmity.’”
The Princess was not sure of “infirmity,” but it sounded well. She could not think of a better word.
“And then—I think then—he will take me in his arms, and his face will be all sweet and splendid like the Mother o’ God’s in the picture, and he will whisper,—I don’t think he will say it out loud,—oh, I’d rather not!—‘Verily, Princess,’ he will whisper, ‘Oh, verily, verily, thou hast found favor in my sight!’ And that will mean that he doesn’t care what color I am, for he—loves—me.”
Lower and lower sank the solemn voice of the Princess. Slower and slower rocked the little, lean body. The birds themselves stopped singing at the end. In the Secret Place it was very still.