"But my ball is the most wonderful ball that was ever made!" cried the little prince; "and it is my favorite plaything. I would not give it away for anything."
And so the old woman had to go home with her jar of rosemary under her shawl.
The next day was the day before Christmas and there was a great stir and bustle in the palace. The queen's physician had said that she might sit up to see the Christmas Tree that night, and have her presents with the rest of the family; and every one was running to and fro to get things in readiness for her.
The queen had so many presents, and very fine they were, too, that the Christmas Tree could not hold them all, so they were put on a table before the throne and wreathed around with holly and with pine. The little prince went in with his nurse to see them, and to put his gift, which was a jewel, among them.
"She wanted a jar of rosemary," he said as he looked at the glittering heap.
"She will never think of it again when she sees these things. You may be sure of that," said the nurse.
But the little prince was not sure. He thought of it himself many times that day, and once, when he was playing with his ball, he said to the nurse:
"If I had a rosemary plant I'd be willing to sell it for a purse full of gold. Wouldn't you?"
"Indeed, yes," said the nurse; "and so would any one else in his right senses. You may be sure of that."
The little boy was not satisfied, though, and presently when he had put his ball up and stood at the window watching the snow which had come to whiten the earth for Christ's birthday, he said to the nurse: