f course."

"It is a drop of ditch-water," said Cribbley Crabbley.

[Illustration]

THE SWINEHERD

THERE was once a poor prince who had a kingdom, but it was a very small
one. Still it was quite large enough to admit of his marrying, and he
wished to marry.

It was certainly rather bold of him to say, as he did, to the emperor's
daughter, "Will you have me?" But he was renowned far and wide, and
there were a hundred princesses who would have answered, "Yes," and,
"Thank you kindly." We shall see what this princess said. Listen!

It happened that where the prince's father lay buried there grew a rose
tree, a most beautiful rose tree, which blossomed only once in five
years, and even then bore only one flower. Ah, but that was a rose! It
smelled so sweet that all cares and sorrows were forgotten by those who
inhaled its fragrance!

Moreover, the prince had a nightingale that could sing in such a manner
that it seemed as if all sweet melodies dwelt in her little throat. Now
the princess was to have the rose and the nightingale; and they were
accordingly put into large silver caskets and sent to her.

The emperor had them brought into a large hall, where the princess and
the ladies of the court were playing at "Visiting." When she saw the
caskets with the presents, the princess clapped her hands for joy.

"Ah, if it should be a little pussy cat," exclaimed she. Instead, the
rose tree, with its beautiful rose, came to view.

"Oh, how prettily it is made!" said all the court ladies.

"It is more than pretty," said the emperor; "it is charming."

The princess touched it and was ready to cry. "Fie, papa," said she, "it
is not made at all. It is natural!"

"Fie," said all the court ladies; "it is natural!"

"Let us see what the other casket contains before we get into bad
humor," proposed the emperor. So the nightingale came forth, and sang so
delightfully that at first no one could say anything ill-humored of her.

"_Superbe! charmant!_" exclaimed the ladies, for they all used to
chatter French, and each worse than her neighbor.

"How much the bird reminds me of the musical box that belonged to our
blessed empress!" remarked an old knight. "Oh! yes, these are the same
tunes, the same execution."

"Yes, yes!" said the emperor, and at the remembrance he wept like a
child.

"I still hope it is not a real bird," said the princess.

"Yes, it is a real bird," said those who had brought it.

"Wel