The King looked pleased enough as he replied, “So be it, indeed. Stand here on either hand.”
“And now,” continued the King, “I must have an incense bearer, to swing my censer over the meadows. Who will be my incense bearer?”
For a moment there was silence again among the lady-grasses, but only a moment, for out stepped one of the daintiest of them all. She tripped quickly and quietly down the hill to the King, saying modestly as she approached, “I will be your incense bearer.”
“Let it be so,” said the King. “Await my commands.”
“Yet one more willing servant,” said the King; “one more. Who will ring the chimes? Man or maid, who among all these loyal subjects will ring the chimes?”
Scarcely had the King’s words left his lips, when one of the noblest grasses of all, her broad green ribbons rustling as she moved, left the crowded ranks of the ladies and eagerly advanced before the King. “If it please Your Majesty, I will ring the chimes.”
Then the King looked around satisfied upon his eager and expectant audience, and spoke a few brief words to them. He had come, he said, fearing that the task was almost too great even for a king—to choose among so many and so beautiful subjects. But they had chosen for themselves, and he had now only to award the honours.
“Keeper of the gate,” he commanded, “stand before the King!”
The keeper of the gate came awkwardly forward, pricking all who brushed against him as he passed.