was
the space of an instant--an instant is so short!--before the storm
broke.

"You little limb o' Satan! That's my best platter, is it? Broke all
to bits, eh? I'll break--" But there was a flurry of dingy apron and
dingier petticoats, and the little Princess had fled. She did not
stop till she was in her Secret Place among the willows. Her small
lean face was pale but undaunted.

"Th-the Queen isn't feeling very well to-day," she panted. "It's
wash-day up at the Castle. She never enjoys herself on wash-days. And
then that golden platter--I'm sorry I smashed it all to flinders!
When the Prince comes I shall ask him to buy another."

The Prince had never come, but the Princess waited for him patiently.
She sat with her face to the west and looked for him to come through
the willows with the red sunset light filtering across his hair. That
was the way the Prince was coming, though the time was not set. It
might be a good while before he came, and then again--you never could
tell!

"But when he does, and we've had a little while to get acquainted,
then I shall say to him, 'Hear, O Prince, and give ear to my--my
petition! For verily, verily, I have broken many golden platters and
jasper cups and saucers, and the Queen, long live her! is
sore--sore--'"

The Princess pondered for the forgotten word. She put up a little
lean brown hand and rubbed a tingling spot on her temple--ah, not the
Queen! It was the Princess--long live her!--who was "sore."

"'I beseech thee, O Prince,' I shall say, 'buy new golden platters
and jasper cups and saucers for the Queen, and then shall I verily,
verily be--be--'"

Oh, the long words--how they slipped out of reach! The little
Princess sighed rather wearily. She would have to rehearse that
speech so many times before the Prince came. Suppose he came
to-night! Suppose she looked up now, this minute, towards the golden
west and he was there, swinging along through the willow canes
towards her!

But there was no one swinging along through the willows. The yellow
light flickered through--that was all. Somewhere, a long way off,
sounded the monotonous hum of men's voices. Through the lace-work of
willow twigs there showed the faintest possible blur of color. Down
beyond, in the clearing, the Castle Guards in blue jean blouses were
pulling stumps. The Princess could not see their dull, passionless
faces, and she was glad of it. The Castle Guards depressed her. But
they were not as bad a