Part 2

“Sire,” responded Stepan, and his tone was so kindly that the Princess leaned forward eagerly to catch all that he would say, “it is not of myself or of added riches that I would speak, but of the Princess Gloriana.”

It was very quiet in the throne room now. You could hear the great branches of the trees brushing against the window frettings, and the swish and gurgle of waves against the rocks.

“If I restore the sight of the Princess,” continued Stepan, “I would beg of Your Majesty that her hand be given to that man whom she herself shall choose.”

As he finished, no one spoke in all that vast room. The King himself sat there staring, and, as for the Prime Minister, he was so startled that he dropped the parchment roll of names and it went bumping down the steps like a jackstraw. Then arose the sound of voices in all pitches and keys. Each person wanted to tell his particular friend just what he thought of such a piece of impudence. For, you see, this was an unheard of thing at Court, or any other place, at that time. Princesses, as well as other girls, were supposed to be very contented with whatever husbands their fathers should choose for them. How could it be otherwise when such care was taken in the choice of husbands?

You can easily see that Stepan’s request was nothing short of a thunderbolt to them. All sorts of remarks were to be heard.

“The Princess pick out her own husband, indeed!”

“Why, what could she know about the matter?”

“Ridiculous!”

“It isn’t being done!”

In fact, it never had been done! Only the Princess, strange to say, unable to see the expressions of horror on so many faces, sat there smiling serenely and nodding her head in quite the most pleased and friendly manner in the world. To her it did not seem to be so very ridiculous a request and far--yes, really far from annoying or troublesome. Indeed, I really believe that at that moment she thought herself fully capable.

The King found his voice at last.

“Stepan,” he said gravely, “you have o’er-reached yourself. But there is nothing for me to do but to grant your request. Perhaps it is your natural modesty that makes you ask this.”

“Nay, Sire,” replied Stepan quickly, “’tis my pride.”

I do not need to tell you how it was that Stepan cured the Princess; how he worked over her until the long, weary afternoon drew to a close, and the sun hung like a huge, gold clock over the far hills. At last he approached her where she sat with her hands resting along the white arms of the throne, and her eyes covered with a large, black bandage.

“Princess Gloriana,” said Stepan, “are you ready to look out on the world with all that it holds of beauty and of ugliness?”

“He is a conceited fellow,” whispered the queen whose crown had grown so tight for her that she had a headache (though she wouldn’t for the world acknowledge it and go home).

The Princess, merely turning her head upward, smiled trustingly.

“I am ready,” she said softly and Stepan drew the big black bandage from her eyes.

It was a moment never to be forgotten in all the history of the island. Long afterwards would the students and the masters and the two queens in the uncomfortable crowns talk of this! For a moment the Princess sat there puzzled, a little scowl deepening on her forehead. Gradually it disappeared and very slowly she rose from her throne, her dress floating about her like mist. And all the while a little smile was touching her lips and growing. It was a lovely thing to behold that smile--such a smile of joy and wonder as no one had ever seen before or since. Suddenly she put her hands before her eyes as though to brush aside the fog and gave a little sob like the call of a wild bird.

“Oh!” she cried, “it is so wonderful and so strange and so funny! I can see! _I can see!_”

A very happy time followed for the Princess. She ran to the King, her father, stroking his long silky beard, touching the ruby crown, and laughing. She threw kisses to the crowd, utterly forgetting that she was a Princess and should have some dignity, and she laughed at the two queens in their badly fitting crowns until they got very red in the face and a little ashamed of themselves. It was strange, too, that many things that others had found beautiful, such as brilliant reds and oranges, she thought ugly because the glaring colors hurt her eyes, and many things that other people thought ugly, such as the over-grown walks in the gardens and the clovers that grew like weeds, she believed to be very beautiful. And much that was not usually noticed seemed very unusual to the Princess, such as the shadows over the hills and the quick, brown thrushes slipping through the bushes. So you can see that, during her long blindness, she had come to have ideas of her own on many things.

“It is now time,” said the Prime Minister sternly, thinking that she had played long enough, “for you to choose your husband.”

“Why!” exclaimed the Princess, “I had entirely forgotten.”

No one believed that but, since they all loved the little Princess, they merely smiled and said nothing. You can imagine, however, how exciting it was as the Princess passed among them, talking to each in turn, and how everybody held his breath when she came near Stanley, the Stalwart or when she laughed at some brilliant saying of Rupert, the Wise. It took her a long time; and, in fact, the Prime Minister, who was used to having things done with some speed, grew very impatient. It looked almost as if she would have no husband at all.

“It would serve her right if she didn’t,” remarked one of the new queens crossly.

“You speak sharply,” said Stepan who had come and stood near them, quite by accident.

At this moment the Princess paused and stood very still with her head just a little to one side. It was in this way that she used to stand in the garden when she first learned to tell the cries of the different birds. Across the huge stone throne room her eyes met those of Stepan and they gazed at each other in silence for a long time. Then the Princess, having, as I have said, no idea at all of beauty, and having during her childhood learned to judge by many signs of which we do not know, walked straight up to Stepan, the Cobbler, and put her hand in his.

“He it is that I choose,” she said gravely, “for to me he is the most beautiful of them all.”

Strange as it may seem, Stepan in his surprise and joy forgot altogether to be awkward and indeed the happiness in his eyes made him almost handsome, and the robe of blue that the Prime Minister threw over his shoulders (in spite of the cross looks of the two queens) gave him quite an air of elegance. At least so thought the Princess, who had ideas of her own on the subject.

Very happily lived the Princess with Stepan, the Cobbler, who ruled wisely, and so greatly was he beloved on the little island, it is said, that long before he died brown clothes and long noses had become very much the fashion and were thought beautiful by all. For who shall say what is beautiful and what is not? Perhaps if anything seems beautiful to us, that makes it so. So thought the Princess Gloriana, who made up her own mind about these things; and I daresay she was right.

LATE FOR THE CORONATION

[Illustration: “HER HEART FULL OF JOY, THE LITTLE PRINCESS CAME AT LAST TO HER CORONATION”]

The little Princess lay on her bed and sobbed. Tomorrow she was to be crowned Queen, and her manners were still far from perfect. In fact Pom-Pom, the Lord High Chamberlain, and Mizzi, the Master-teacher, and Bombo, the Chief Cook, had all gone so far as to say that she had none at all. And they had reason. She cried for buttered crackers and hot milk when Bombo served her with fine salads and roasted pigeons, she never learned her spelling lessons, and she treated Rollo, the Errand Boy, as though he were a Prince. Once they had seen her giggling--yes, actually giggling with him, on the very day on which he had borrowed Pom-Pom’s white wig and his best handkerchief, on which were written all the State Secrets! Pom-Pom did not know what they were laughing at, but he had an idea that it was at _him_ that they were laughing. At any rate the little Princess enjoyed herself so much that she had a very large appetite that night for dinner, which was not considered ladylike in the Royal Palace, and she ate three large bowls of crackers and milk instead of one.

Today three things had happened to spoil her happiness. She had been forbidden by Carla, the Head Nurse, to go into the gardens, she had had to listen to a long talk between Pom-Pom and a stranger about a new war; and, worst of all, Rollo, her only playmate, was to be sent away, far, far away Pom-Pom had said. He had told her in his everyday manner, quite in the same tone of voice that he used in talking about boundary lines and armies; and all the time he kept looking down at her over his rimmed glasses and his bumpy, red nose. It made the Princess very unhappy and angry, and she felt like crying. Of course she did not cry. Princesses do not cry, because crying is even worse than laughing. But oh, how she hated Pom-Pom! He was fat and round, like a stuffed canary, in his yellow velvet coat and breeches. His stomach stuck out like a stuffed canary’s, his feet in the long, pointed shoes stuck out, and then his nose stuck out.

“Your Highness,” he said, “will rest indoors today and retire early, so as to be ready for the Coronation tomorrow.”

“But I don’t want----” began the Princess and stopped. Hadn’t she been told that it is the most unladylike thing in the world to argue? Pom-Pom showed his surprise with a “Tch--Tch” noise in his throat. Then he bowed very low, as though he were a servant.

“For many, many years there have been customs among the Royal House. It is these that you will obey, when you are Queen--and not myself or anyone else.”

He bowed again, and it was so hard for him to do it that the Princess felt like laughing again, because, all tumbled-over like that, he looked like a round, yellow muffin. You and I would have laughed surely, but not the Princess. She bowed too, looking up slyly to see if he _could_ straighten out, and when he _had_, she gave a great sigh of relief. When the door had closed upon him, she sighed again.

It was after that that she threw herself on the bed and wept bitterly. And it was while she was sobbing that a Big Idea came to her. She turned over on the bed, propped herself on her elbows, and blew her nose hard. This helped her a lot. The Big Idea grew bigger and bigger, and the funny thing about it was that Pom-Pom himself had put it into her head. Had he not said that it was a _custom_ she was to obey and not himself or Mizzi, or Carla, the Nurse, or Bombo, the Chief Cook?

“Custom, custom,” repeated the little Princess to herself, “k-u-s-t-u-m--custom.” She had got so into the habit of spelling every word for Carla and Mizzi that she did it without thinking.

“And what is a custom?” said the Princess to herself. “Why, I suppose it’s a rule--r-o-o-l.”

At that she fell to thinking very hard and this is what she thought:

“It is much easier to disobey a rule than to disobey Pom-Pom or Bombo or Mizzi, because none of them made the rule.” It had been made, you see, many, many years ago. The Princess now sat up very straight and smiled right through her tears.

But someone must have made it at sometime!

“Why,” said the little Princess to herself, “the people that made it aren’t even alive!”

It was perfectly plain to see that, if they weren’t alive, they couldn’t care a bit whether she stayed in her room, whether she ate crackers and milk, whether she laughed with Rollo, or even whether she came to the Coronation at all!

“I will go away,” whispered the little Princess to herself, “where there aren’t so many rules.”

As soon as this Idea came to her, the Princess lost no time. She put her clothes and her jewels into a little sack which she hid carefully under a long, black cape. Then she tied an old shawl of Carla’s over her head and crept carefully, without making the slightest noise, down the back stairs of the castle. It was just twilight and she hid behind the pantry door until it grew dark, and then she slipped out among the thick bushes.

It was some time before she found Rollo, crying near the garden wall, his curly head buried in his arm. She came up to him on tiptoe.

“Rollo,” she whispered. “_Rollo!_”

He turned, startled, but, when he saw who it was a smile spread slowly over his face.

“I’m going with you, Rollo,” said the Princess softly. “Come.”

“But you cannot do that!” cried Rollo. “Think of Pom-Pom, and Mizzi and Bombo. Would you disobey?”

The Princess stood very straight.

“I am a Queen,” she said. “I need never obey Pom-Pom or anyone. Only a rule. Pom-Pom said so himself--and that is easy to break. I shall merely make new rules.”

“But where are you going?” gasped Rollo.

“To see my country,” the little Princess told him.

Hand in hand they sought the long passage beneath the castle, and though it was full of cobwebs and even bats, the little Princess did not complain, but, drawing the hood of her long cape over her head, went forward through the darkness and dust, until at last a little streak of light showed them that they were coming out into the world.

So Rollo and the little Princess went forth to see her own country, and what befell them on the way I will soon tell you.

Now there were some words that Carla, the Royal Nurse, and Pom-Pom had explained to the Princess very fully, such as wars and boundary lines and Court and manners; but there were other words that they had not thought needful to a Princess, so they had not even mentioned them to her. This caused her to make many mistakes as soon as she went outside the castle gardens and to learn much that Pom-Pom had never taught her.

The first of these mistakes occurred very soon after Rollo and the Princess had left the castle. They had gone some distance along a narrow pathway and already the castle looked like a lump of black towers at the top of the hill. It was very dark and they had to stumble over the uneven road as best they could. The Princess’ robe was torn and her face was scratched, but she scarcely noticed it, so happy was she to be able to laugh and talk all she wanted to with Rollo. Now a soft, rounded object like an orange cushion crept from behind the hills.

“The moon!” exclaimed Rollo.

“The moon? Oh, Goodie!” said the Princess, who had always been put to bed by Carla before the moon was up. She began to dance a little dance all her own down the road, when Rollo jerked her by the sleeve.

“Sh-sh-h-h!” he whispered. “They’ll be hunting for you all over soon. And anyhow tonight we’ll be hungry--and then what’ll we do?”

“Oh, what?” gasped the little Princess, forgetting her glee.

Rollo was silent. They walked on so for a moment or two, while the orange moon grew and grew, from a flat cushion into a round balloon, and finally it rose right out of the woods and seemed to balance itself foolishly on the pointed arm of a pine tree. Suddenly Rollo grasped the little Princess roughly by the arm.

“There!” he said. “Did you see that?”

“What?”

He pointed through the bushes to a very faint light that flickered through the leaves; and, going toward it, they soon came to a tiny house and garden. Rollo walked boldly up and knocked. After what seemed a very long wait, they heard footsteps and a pounding that sounded like a cane and then the key turned in the lock.

The little Princess was sure she had never seen anything like the old man that stood in the doorway as it swung open. Had she not seen him with her own eyes, she would never have believed that there could be anything so withered and knotted and bent as he was, or that there could be anything as worn and loose and baggy as his clothes, quite unlike the yellow velvet breeches that Pom-Pom wore. But beneath the soft, silky hair of the old man, a pair of blue eyes twinkled at the Princess and quite charmed her. He invited her to come in so pleasantly and stood aside holding the candle to light the way in so friendly a fashion that the Princess felt more welcome than she ever had in her own castle. The room was certainly more comfortable than the castle. Instead of high windows and carved chairs, there were little cross-barred windows and Grandfathers’-chairs, some flowers, and a low stool before a blazing fire.

“Step right in,” said the old man, “step right in and warm yourselves. And perhaps,” he added, his little eyes sparkling merrily, “perhaps you’ll have a cup of tea with Gamma Turkin and myself.”

The little Princess laughed and clapped her hands.

“We’d love it, wouldn’t we, Rollo? Tea--and cookies?”

“Cookies of course,” replied the old fellow, and he shouted to someone in the other room, then turned and looked at the little Princess as though he thought her the loveliest creature in all the world.

At the sound of the voices an old woman appeared at the door, as wrinkled and bent as himself, and dressed in a rough brown dress and the whitest, cleanest cap imaginable.

“What, tea at this time!” she exclaimed. Then, catching sight of the little Princess, “Wherever did you come from, child? Sit right down and Gamma Turkin will bring you tea.”

“And cookies,” the little Princess reminded her. (You see Bombo had never been allowed to feed the little Princess more than one cooky a week, because cookies were much too common for a Princess.)

It was a feast and the little Princess, munching greedily, asked as many questions as she liked, and you can see from what she asked how many things Mizzi and Pom-Pom and Carla had forgotten to teach her.

It was in the midst of the fifth cooky that the little Princess paused for breath and asked the first question.

“What is _that_ for?” she said, trailing her finger around a large patch on the old man’s knee. Gamma Turkin gave an angry snort, but, seeing the sweet expression on the little Princess’ face, smiled instead.

“That is a patch,” the old man explained gently. “Have you never seen one?”

The little Princess shook her head.

“What is it _for_?” she asked again.

“Why!” said Gamma Turkin, “to cover a hole, of course!”

“But----” began the little Princess, and just then Rollo kicked her.

“Sh-h-h!” he whispered.

“Let her ask what questions she chooses,” said the old man much puzzled, but looking at the Princess affectionately.

“Then--why not wear another coat?” said the Princess.

“Because I have no other.”

“Couldn’t you get one?”

“Don’t you see?” Rollo interrupted.

“Let her be!” cried the old man. Then, turning to the little Princess, “I am too poor.”

For sometime the little Princess stared at him in silence, while a strange frightened feeling grew about her heart.

“What--is poor?” she asked finally.

“Poor,” said the old man, “is always to live in hope. To have few things--but to prize them highly.”

And the Princess, seeing tears in Gamma Turkin’s eyes, threw her arms about her.

“I, too, have been poor!” she cried. “But, oh, so differently!”

So saying she drew from her sack one of the crown jewels, a rare and lovely ruby, and slipped it in the pocket of Gamma Turkin’s worn dress. But Gamma Turkin did not see her, and it was only long afterwards that she found the ruby. But that I will have to tell you a little later.

In the morning, rested by a good night’s sleep in a high feathered bed, the little Princess and Rollo set out again on their journey. It was a hot, dusty road and the little Princess shared her cookies with all who passed, so that by noon none were left. But she had had a very happy time, talking to all whom she met, and learning all about their lives, which seemed very strange to the Princess.

By nightfall they were both hot and dirty and hungry, but this time there was no house in sight. On all sides a thick forest stood about them, with fearful shadows and rustling noises. It grew darker. A star glimmered to the north, but there was as yet no moon. The little Princess felt like crying, but Princesses do not cry. So she grasped Rollo even tighter by the hand and they trudged on.

“You must rest soon,” said Rollo finally.

The little Princess shook her head. But she put her hand to her head and to her foot. “Though I feel something here,” she said, “and here.”

Just at that moment they heard a low groan that seemed to come from the woods, so close that the little Princess jumped and her heart beat strangely. Sounds of music and soldiers marching and even guns the little Princess had heard before, but never a noise like that! She would have hung back, had not Rollo seized her by the hand. Quickly parting the bushes, they came upon a little twisting path that after a few turns led them to a white tent from which the groans still issued. Rollo lifted the flap of the tent and peered in. Then he beckoned to the Princess. There on a straw mattress in the corner lay a very thin young man, who looked at them crossly at first; but, upon seeing the face of the little Princess, he smiled.

“Come in,” he said in a high voice. The Princess did so, very quietly, and it was only then that she noticed that the young man’s face was drawn about the lips and eyes in a way that she had never seen before. He held out his hand to her.

“Perhaps you will stay for supper--though it isn’t much that I have to offer you. Only crackers and milk, which an old peasant woman brings me every morning.”

The Princess jumped up and down for joy.

“Oh, I hoped that you would ask us to supper!” she cried. “And I think crackers and milk the best thing on earth. You see, Pom-Pom----”

Here Rollo coughed to remind her that she must not give her secret away.