So he went to the palace one morning bright and early, much earlier than usual, and there was no jasmine flower. Then he hid behind one of the white velvet window-curtains of the corridor and waited. And, presently, who should come stealing along on the tips of her pink toes—so as to make no noise at all—but the Princess herself, fresh as the morning in a white muslin frock with a silver ribbon round her darling waist, and a bunch of jasmine at her neck. She took one of the jasmine flowers and kissed it and laid it on the white satin seat of the lift, and when she stepped back there was the Lift-man.
'Oh!' said Candida, and blushed like a child that is caught in mischief.
'Oh!' said Florizel, and he picked up the jasmine and kissed it many times.
'Why do you do that?' said the Princess.
'Because you did,' said the Prince. 'I saw you. Do you want to go on pretending any more?'
The Princess did not know what to say, so she said nothing.
Florizel came and stood quite close to her.
'I used to wish I was a Prince,' he said, 'but I don't now. I'd rather be an engineer. If I'd been a Prince I should never have seen you.'
'I don't want you to be a bit different,' said the Princess. And she stooped to smell the jasmine in his buttonhole.
'So we're betrothed,' said Florizel.