Chapter Eight.
The Summer Princess—continued.
The winter passed and the summer came again—the second summer of the baby’s life. She had grown like the flowers, and was as happy as the butterflies. Never was a sweeter or a merrier child. The Queen idolised her, and the King loved her quite as dearly, though in a wiser way. And that summer passed very happily.
Unfortunately, however, the warm fine days came to an end unusually early that year. Many of the birds took flight for the south sooner than their wont, and the flowers drooped and withered as if afraid of what was coming.
The Queen noticed these signs with a sinking heart. Standing one chilly morning at the palace windows, she watched the grey autumn sky and sighed deeply.
“Alas, alas!” she said. “All the beauty and brightness are going again.”
She did not know that the King had entered the room, and was standing behind her.
“Nay,” he said, cheerfully. “You have no reason to feel so sad. If you have no other flower you have our little Rose, blooming as brightly in the winter as in the warmth.”
He meant it well, but it would have been wiser if he had said nothing. The Queen turned towards him impatiently.
“It is not so,” she said angrily.