The prince told the king all that had happened from beginning to end, and how it really was he who had found the White Bird, the Sword of Brightness, and the Fruit of Happiness.
“Yes, yes,” says the king, “that is all very well, but it is just the tale that your brothers tell; now can you draw the Sword of Brightness from the leathern scabbard?”
“Oh, yes,” said the prince, “I can do that easily enough.” So the sword was brought and—whisk!—he whipped the blade out of the scabbard so that the light of it dazzled the eyes of everybody that looked upon it.
Then the king saw what had happened as plain as the nose on his face, and was for punishing the elder brothers as they deserved, but nobody could find them, for as soon as they heard that the youngest prince had come home again they packed off without waiting to learn more news.
And why do I call this the story of the White Bird? Listen: any Tom or Jake or Harry might have found the Sword of Brightness or the Fruit of Happiness; but you may depend upon it that nobody but a real prince could ever have found the White Bird.
Ten O’clock·
The Children drone |♓︎|
In sing-song tone,
The Master’s shoes creak on the Floor.