cook replied. "I made it
as a decoration for the shop for Valentine's Day. But I will give it
to you, your Highness."

So the Prince thanked the pastry cook, and started out of the shop
with the great cake in his arms.

"This must surely be the valentine for the little Princess, because I
could not buy it," he thought.

Then the Prince almost dropped the cake. It had suddenly grown too
heavy for him to carry. What was the matter with the rich, huge cake,
he wondered. Then he remembered. It was not the right valentine for
the little Princess because something rich to eat is not beautiful. So
the Prince gave the cake back to the pastry cook, and went on again.

Now he went a long, long way, and he came to a bird seller beside the
road. He had little gold birds, and bright-colored ones in green
basket cages. They were all singing as if their throats would burst,
but the Prince could hear one soft note above the others, because it
was so clear and sweet. It was the cooing of a little dove who sat in
her cage apart from the others. The Prince thought he had never seen
such a beautiful little dove, as white as snow, and with rose red
feet.

"Why does she sing so much more sweetly than the others?" the Prince
asked, pointing to the little white dove.

The bird seller smiled.

"She sings because of her heart," he said. "The other birds sing in
the sunshine, but look"--he held up the dove's cage, and the Prince
saw that the little white dove had closed, blind eyes. "She sings in
the dark because of her happy heart," the bird seller said.

"May I buy her," the Prince asked, "to give as a valentine to a little
Princess?"

"Oh, I will give her to you," the bird seller said. "Very few people
want to take care of a blind bird."

But the little Princess did. She liked the white dove better than any
of her other valentines. She hung her cage in a pink rose tree in the
sunniest part of the garden, and she often invited the Prince to sit
with her under the tree and listen to the dove's sweet song.

WHY THE DOVE IS ON OUR VALENTINES

A long time ago when there were no white men in our country, but only
Indians who lived in the forest, there was a timid little Indian boy.

All the other Indian lads loved the dark, so full of stars, and
moonlight; but this boy was afraid of the dark and did not venture
out of his father's wigwam after the sun had set. The other Indian
lads hunted bears, and sailed the swift rapids i