"And you, little lady?" said the Poet, anxiously.
"It was wonderful," answered the little blind Princess. "But there was no love in it."
By this time the Queen had ceased to be impressed and had begun to remember that she was a Queen.
"We are quite sure you are a poet," she said in her most queenly manner, "because you have told us something that we did not know before. But we think you are not a fit companion for her royal Highness, and it is therefore time for you to go."
"No, no!" cried the Princess. "You are not to go. You are my Poet, and I want you to stay here always."
Matters were becoming serious, and every one set to work to try to turn the little Princess from her purpose.
"He is shockingly untidy," whispered the ladies in waiting.
"And so ugly," murmured the Queen; "there is nothing distinguished about him at all."
"He will cost the nation something to keep," added the King, without lowering his voice at all.
But the little Princess turned a deaf ear to them all and held out her hand again to the Poet.