'Oh, may I, Prince?' she asked, her face beaming with delight.
'To be sure you may, Winnie. You may always breakfast with the Prince of the Mist if you like.'
'Always? Always?' she repeated.
'Yes, Winnie,' I said, as I handed her some bread and meat, which she devoured ravenously.
'Yes, dear Winnie,' I continued, handing her a foaming horn of Sinfi's ale, to which she did as full justice as she was doing to the bread and meat. 'Yes, I want you to breakfast with me and dine with me always.'
'Do you mean live with you, Prince?' she asked, looking me dreamily in the face—'live with you behind the white mist? Is this our wedding breakfast, Prince?'
'Yes, Winnie.'
Then her eyes wandered down over her dress, and she said, 'Ah! how strange I did not notice my green fairy kirtle before. And I declare I never felt till this moment the wreath of gold leaves round my forehead. Do they shine much in the sun?'
'They quite dazzle me, Winnie,' I said, arching my hand above my eyes, as if to protect them from the glare.
'Do you have a nice fire there when it's very cold?' she said.