The ash-trees rustled and rustled as if a wind were blowing through them, and at last she felt she must wait no longer.
“Will you tell me,” she said softly, “what it is that you most desire in a wife?”
The prince was perplexed; truly he had never thought about the matter. He looked down at the ground and then he looked up at the trees, and as he did so they all began to whisper softly. “Gentle, Gentle, Gentle,” they said.
“Why, of course,” said the prince, and he looked again at the princess and smiled. “There is one thing I desire above all else in a wife. She must be Gentle.”
And what better answer could he have given? For Gentle indeed she was.
The princess stood up and held out her hands to him. Her embroidery fell to the ground.
“He’ll do, he’ll do,” rustled the ash-trees.
But the princess didn’t even hear them. She had already made up her mind.