dungeon as a criminal?" asked Joyeuse, flushing red.

"Nay. Matters have changed, my Lord Prince," answered the Gardener sulkily. "You seem no longer a trespasser, but a suitor. I do not understand how the seesaw has tilted so suddenly. But certainly you are to be lodged in no dungeon cell. My Lady has given orders that you be shown to a chamber as fine as that of the Prince Fortemain himself. Come with me, if it please you."

Joyeuse was then taken to a little chamber, not high, but very pleasant, looking out upon the garden through a window latticed with vines.

"You are free to come and go, Master," said the Gardener, and left him with a low bow.

Now by the time all these things were finished it was late in the day, and Joyeuse said to himself: "I will not search for the precious flower to-night. I know that my dear flower-maiden prefers the early morning garden, and among the freshly opened buds which I have seen her caress so kindly must be the one she loves the best. I will now seek sleep, for I am very weary. But early will I waken to-morrow morning, to seek the flower which is most dear to her."

So Joyeuse lay down on his bed, and was soon asleep, dreaming sweetly of the morrow. For he nothing doubted but that he should find the right and only flower, since he loved the Princess so dearly that he must at last read her secret.

IV

Up and down the flowery paths went Fortemain, in and out among the sleeping blossoms. Most of them had their eyes shut tightly, and he could not see how beautiful they were. At last he came upon a white, heavy-scented tuberose gleaming in the moonlight, and it seemed to him the fairest of all. "Ha!" he said, "this is the sweetest blossom. Surely this must be the favorite of the Princess Fleurette. I will pluck this, and to-morrow I will take it to her and claim her hand."

He gathered the tuberose and took it with him to his chamber. But even then the Prince Fortemain could not rest. The odor of the flower was heavy and sickening, and it gave him troublous dreams. All night wretchedly he tossed and turned, and there was no refreshment in his sleep.

Joyeuse woke in the morning fresh and happy and full of eagerness. He woke very early—earlier even than usual, when he had been wont to join the flower-maiden in her garden. He began to think of her, and how she had looked at different times when he had thus seen her. He remembered her the day before among the lavender; and before that among the roses, with their dangerous thorns; once among the lilies, herself as pure and white. "Surely, surely," he said to himself, "one of these three is her favorite flower." And he lay staring up at the ceiling, trying to remember which of all her posies she had seemed most to love. "Which one of them has her heart? How curiously she said it: 'My heart is with my favorite flower.' Surely, she meant something more by the words than the first thought which they bring. What did she mean?"

At this moment Joyeuse glanced toward the window, where the morning sunlight streamed in gloriously. The vines about the lattice trembled in a passing breeze. One of them, reaching out a slender tendril-finger, seemed to beckon him. He half rose in bed, smiling at the thought. Lo! a little pink and white flower nodded at him over the window sill. It was a morning-glory. How pretty, how fresh, how fairy-like it was, with the dew in its cup, and with its little green leaves so graceful,—like pointed hearts!

Suddenly Joyeuse sat straight up in bed. Those heart-shaped leaves! The heart of the Princess Fleurette! Her favorite flower—was it not the morning-glory? Now he remembered how he had first seen her peering in at the little arbor, herself a pink and white flower on a green stem, with the blossom in her hair. He remembered how she had kissed the little cups and called them her darlings. How could he ever have forgotten! How dull he had been!

He sprang from the bed and ran eagerly to the window. He stretched out his hand to the blossom, not to pick it,—it was too early for that,—but to caress it for his maiden's sake. Leaning out to do so, he heard a little laugh beneath his window, and, looking down, he saw the green flower-maiden with whom he had played in the mornings, standing at the foot of the morning-glory vine, on which her hand rested lovingly. She was looking up, but when she met his eyes she turned and ran away, laughing softly as she disappeared from sight.

The time passed, all too slowly for Joyeuse. But at last came the hour for the trial. The Herald blew his trumpet, "Tan-tara-tara!" and the courtiers flocked to the hall to witness a ceremony the like of which they had seen so many times before that they were bored at the very thought. But because Joyeuse had first come as a prisoner and was now a suitor for their lady's hand, they were somewhat more interested than usual in the day's decision.

Weary with a heavy night and with evil dreams, the Prince Fortemain stood on one side of the throne with his white tuberose in his hand. But alas! The flower was as faded and weary looking as himself. Plucked so early before the trial, all its fragrance and beauty were gone; and Fortemain's heart sank as he looked at it, wondering if, after all, it could be the Princess's favorite flower. But it was now too late to select another. Indeed, he had but just risen when he heard the great bell toll its warning to be ready for the trial. He showed a hasty toilet, and a mind as ill-prepared.

Joyeuse, on the other hand, was as bright and brisk as the sun whose rising he had seen. His suit of green velvet was fair to view, and his eyes shone happily. In his hand he held a few inches of little vine, with leaf and tendril and at the side a single pale pink blossom. The courtiers eyed it curiously. Most of them had never before seen a morning-glory; and they tittered to think one should suppose so simple a flower could be the choice of a royal Princess.

Now the trumpet sounded again, and in came the Princess Fleurette, dressed in a beautiful robe of green silk, in which she looked more than ever like a wonderful flower. She mounted to her throne, looking down kindly upon her people, but merely glancing toward the two suitors who stood on either side of the dais.

"Now to the business of the day," she said. "I will listen to the choice which my two suitors have made. And you first, Prince Fortemain—how have you selected? Have you found the flower of my heart? Have you guessed my secret choice, and are you therefore to be my very ownest Prince?"

Prince Fortemain knelt at the foot of the throne and held out the withered tuberose somewhat ruefully.

"This, my Princess, is your favorite flower, I think. All over the garden I sought, and I deemed it best of all. This queen of the night is less beautiful by day; but in the moonlight it was very fair and