One little boy, somewhat in advance of the others, as soon as he caught sight of Charlie and Lily, ran forward to meet them, and Charlie saw that it was his friend, little Frank Grey, the miller’s son.
“O Charlie!” he exclaimed, “are you there already? We were coming to fetch you and Lily. You must come with us.”
“Where are you going to?” said Charlie.
“Don’t you know?” said Frank. “We are all going to meet the Prince, who is coming this morning to live among us.”
“The Prince of Wales, do you mean?” asked Charlie.
“O no!” replied his friend, “a greater Prince than he is. The Prince of the Golden City.”
“Is that the same as ‘Jerusalem the Golden,’ do you think?”
“I daresay it is,” said Frank, “but the Prince has a great many names, each more beautiful than the other. Some call him the ‘Prince of Peace.’”
“I know that name,” said little Lily, softly, “it is very pretty.”
“But,” said Charlie, “you are all so beautifully dressed. Lily and I must run home for our best frocks first.”