"Then, princess," said the man, respectfully taking off his hat, "be graciously pleased to receive this letter, which the king your father has charged me to deliver to you."
Rosette took the letter, opened it, and read the following:
"Rosette: Your sisters are now eighteen years old and it is time they were married. I have invited the princes and princesses of all the kingdoms of the earth to come and assist at a festival which I intend to give in order to choose husbands for Orangine and Roussette. You are now fifteen years old and can properly appear at this festival. You may come and pass three days with me. I will send for you in eight days. I cannot send you any money for your toilet as I am now at great expense for your sisters; besides, no one will look at you. Come, therefore, in any clothes you please.
"The King Your Father."
Rosette ran quickly to show this letter to her nurse.
"Are you pleased, Rosette, to go to this festival?"
"Yes, my good nurse, I am delighted. I will enjoy myself and become acquainted with my father, mother and my sisters and then I will return to you."
"But," said the nurse, shaking her head, "what dress will you wear, my poor child?"
"My beautiful robe of white percale which I always wear on holidays, my dear nurse."
"My poor little one, that robe is indeed very suitable for the country but would appear miserably poor at a party of kings and princes."