The tall man was digging busily when she looked through the hole in the hedge, and now that the full light of day was on him she saw that he was very, very ugly, and had the wrinkled, tired face of an old man, although he was as straight and vigorous as a youth.
"I have come back," said the Princess, for she could not think of anything wiser to say. The tall man glanced round at her, and then went on digging.
"That doesn't make any difference to anybody," he said.
"Why," she exclaimed, "do you know who I am?"
"Not in the least," said the tall man. "Who are you?"
She drew a long breath of astonishment. "I am the Princess," she said.
The man stopped digging, and looked at her for a moment.
"Is that all? No name?" he asked.
"Of course there's a name!" said the Princess, almost crying. "My real name is Gyldea, but Princess is enough for most people. Is it possible that you did not know who I was? Can't you see I am standing in my own garden?"
"Oh yes," said the tall man. "But you might have been the gardener's daughter, or one of the ladies-in-waiting, mightn't you?" And he returned to his digging.