The Luck stood up in amazement, never had he conceived of anyone so lovely as Pea-Blossom. Her face, indeed, was the most perfect a painter could have imagined—sparkling almond eyes of a wonderful violet, and a small frolicsome mouth which showed glimpses of bright teeth as white as alabaster. Her short dress, slightly puffed out and brocaded with sweet peas, came just below the knee. She wore tight stockings of white silk; and her adorable little feet—why, one envied the lucky shoemaker who shod them in satin.
“What can you be staring at?” she asked, which shows, by the way, that Luck of the Bean-rows was not making a very brilliant appearance.
The Luck blushed, but quickly recovered himself. “I was wondering,” he said modestly, “how so beautiful a princess, just about my own size too, could possibly find room in a dwarf pea.”
“What a mistake to speak so slightingly of my carriage, Luck of the Bean-rows. It is a most comfortable carriage when it is open. And it is quite by chance that I have not my equerry, my almoner, my tutor, my secretary, and two or three of my ladies-in-waiting with me. But I like driving alone, and this fancy of mine caused the accident that has happened to me to-day.”
“I don’t know whether you have met the king of the crickets in company; no one could mistake his glittering black mask, like Harlequin’s, with two straight movable horns, and his shrill singsong whenever he speaks. The king of the crickets condescended to fall in love with me. He was quite well aware that I come of age to-day, and that it is the custom for the princesses of our house to choose a husband when they are ten years old. So he put himself in my way—that too is the custom—and beset me with a frightful racket of piercing declarations. I answered him—also according to custom—by stopping my ears.”
“Oh, joy!” exclaimed the Luck in rapture. “You are not going to marry the king of the crickets?”
“I am not going to marry him,” Pea-Blossom declared with dignity. “My choice is made. But no sooner had I given my decision than the odious Crik-Crik (that is his name) flung himself on my carriage like a wild monster, and slammed down the hood. ‘Get married now, saucy minx,’ he shrieked, ‘get married if anyone ever comes a-wooing you in this plight. I don’t care a chick pea either for your kingdom or yourself.’”
“But do tell me,” cried Luck of the Bean-rows, indignantly, “in what hole this king of the crickets is skulking. I will quickly hoe him out and fling him bound hand and foot to your mercy. And yet,” he continued, as he rested his head on his hand, “I can understand his desperation. But is it not my duty, princess, to escort you to your realm and protect you from pursuit?”
“That would certainly be advisable if I were far from the frontier,” answered Pea-Blossom, “but yonder is a field of sweet peas which my enemy dare not approach, and where I can count upon my faithful subjects.”