"Orso," she went on half shyly, "you have done what I asked you; through you I have seen the snow," and she held out her hand, which, white though it was, looked pink in comparison with the little flakes which were fluttering down on it.
The Prince was overjoyed but he hesitated.
"I fear," he said, "that in reality you should rather thank the poor little bird, or most of all your own kind heart."
"Poor little bird," she replied, looking at it as it lay in her other hand.
"It is not dead. I will do all I can for it. Let us hasten home, Prince, so that I may bind up its poor wing. My father and mother will be too anxious about me."
And together they returned to the palace. One glance at the Princess as she came in sprinkled over with snow showed the Queen that the spell was at last broken and her joy was past all words.
The little bird spent all the winter in the palace, tenderly cared for by the Princess Rose, only flying away when the warm sunny days returned. He pays them a visit still every summer to show his gratitude, and in all his travels he seldom sees a happier family than his friends in the old palace away up in the far, far, northern land.
MIDSUMMER
Around this lovely valley rise
The purple hills of Paradise.