'Oh!' cried Fantosina, smiling very brightly, 'my prince is on his way.
He lives a long distance off, but he has set forth on his journey to
fetch me. And though I have never seen him, I know he is very good and
very handsome, and that I shall love him very dearly.' Whilst Fantosina
was speaking a dove flew by. 'Oh!' she cried, 'how delightful it must be
to fly!'

'So you shall,' said the little old woman. 'How should you like to be
able to turn into a dove whenever you wished.'

'I should like it very much,' answered Fantosina, 'only a dove cannot
sing--it can only coo, you know.'

'Then,' said the old woman, 'you shall have the power to take the form
of a bird that sings more sweetly than the nightingale. It shall have a
bright blue body and scarlet wings, and the loveliest song in the world.
Now,' the little old woman continued, 'you must listen carefully to what
I am going to say. If you pluck a primrose and hold the petals to your
lips you will at once change into this bird, and a bird you will remain
until you fly to a cowslip field and take a portion of the flower in
your beak, then you will become a princess again just as you are now.'

With this the old woman hobbled away, and although the Princess
Fantosina called to her several times she did not even glance back. So
the princess returned to the palace wondering whether she should ever
find the courage to pluck a primrose. Ever since she had been a small
child she had thought how delightful it must be to fly through the air;
to rest on the topmost branch of a tree in the sunshine and sing and
sing to her heart's content.

And yet now Fantosina had the power to do what she had always longed to
do, she did not feel at all sure she should do it. The reason was, that
she feared lest any accident should prevent her from reaching a cowslip
field and so becoming a princess again. For although she thought it
would be very nice to be a bird for a few hours now and then, she would
have been sorry to remain a bird always, especially as the prince was on
his way to make her his bride.

But presently Fantosina went into the gardens again, and then she walked
to a meadow where the grass beside the hedges was yellow with primroses.
She looked around to make sure that nobody was in sight, and stooping
she plucked a primrose. She did not put it at once to her lips, but
carried it in her hand until she had crossed three fields and come to a
standstill by a cowslip bank.