ing,
and imagining that she did not really know the value of the jewels,
Truitonne allowed her sister every liberty in the palace. She could go
where she would, unquestioned, and do what she pleased.

Florine took every advantage of this, and, mixing freely among the
attendants, she soon learned many things about Prince Charming. Among
other pieces of news was this important item: the Prince, being unable
to sleep, was in the habit of taking a sleeping-draught every night.

On hearing this she sought the Prince's head valet, and made herself so
charming to him that he lost his head altogether, and was more than
willing to fulfil her lightest wish.

'Tell me,' said she at last, 'why does the Prince take
sleeping-draughts?'

'Ah!' replied he, looking very wise, 'it is because the Princess is so
ugly.'

'Because she is so ugly? I--I don't understand.'

'What! From the very first the Prince's waking hours have been one long,
frightful dream; and he can only banish it by night by taking the
sleeping-draught. The Prince is deeply in love with the Princess's
sister, but no one but myself knows that. Every night, when he sinks to
sleep under the draught, he smiles, and his face looks so very happy,
and he whispers one name again and again: "Florine! Florine!"'

The peasant girl's heart beat hard, and a plan shot like lightning
through her mind. She would tell this man everything and he would help
her. She knew he would, and she knew also that he would not be blind to
his own advantage. Her mind was quickly made up. The four little eggs
the Good Fairy had given her were packed in a little box. Taking this
from the folds of her dress she took one of them and threw it on the
floor.

'I _am_ Florine!' she said. 'And I want your willing help.'

The head valet stared at her in dismay. Then his face changed. He bowed
to her with the utmost respect, and said: 'Princess, I am your faithful
slave; command me and I will obey.'

'First, then,' said Florine, 'do not give the Prince the draught
to-night; and find me an apartment next to his.'

'It shall be done,' replied the valet, and with a low bow he withdrew to
make the arrangement.

'Stay!' cried Florine as he was going. 'I forbid you to tell the Prince
a word of this. You understand?'

'And obey,' he replied, bowing again and again as he left her presence,
walking backwards in respect to high royalty.

That night the Prince, impatient to forget the face of Truitonne,