Part 3

“Who are you?” the sick man questioned her. “A fairy or just a gypsy?”

“I will tell you after supper,” replied the little Princess. “But isn’t it time that you were getting up?”

The man gave her a strange look, which soon changed to one of puzzlement.

“I do not get up--at least for some weeks,” he told her. “I am sick.”

“And what is _that_?” asked the little Princess. You see now how very little Pom-Pom and Mizzi had taught her, for no sick person had ever been allowed to come into the Royal Rooms occupied by the Princess.

“Sick is to have pain. Something that is with you constantly, either in your body or in your mind--and makes you feel--while it lasts--that you can never laugh again.”

The little Princess’ hand went to her head and then to her feet--just as it had along the road when her feet felt sore from tramping and her head had become dizzy from hunger.

“That’s it!” exclaimed the man on the cot. “You must have had very funny teachers.”

“They taught me a great deal,” said the little Princess, “but it is all very strange----” She broke off suddenly. “When were you first sick?”

“In the war,” he answered her gently, and this was a word the little Princess understood.

“And do wars always make men sick?”

He nodded gravely. At that the little Princess fell to thinking, and she thought so long and so hard that Rollo had to poke her to tell her that supper was ready at last.

That night the little Princess slept but little on the straw provided for her in the tent, for she had a great many things to think about. And in the morning, before the sick man was awake, she took another jewel from her sack--this time a sapphire that sparkled like morning sunlight over a lake--and she slipped it into a coffee cup. Then very quietly she and Rollo started out along the road.

A long, long way they walked--how many days and nights passed the Princess could not remember; and everywhere they stopped people were kind to them and took them in, and everywhere the little Princess learned new words, and every day her sack got lighter and lighter, until there was only one jewel left.

At last one night Rollo found the little Princess so absorbed in thinking over all she had learned that she did not answer him when he spoke to her. He felt of her sack in which the one jewel remained, and he felt afraid for what would become of them. It was a very lonely road and once more the moon was slowly crawling over the end of it. At last the little Princess turned to Rollo.

“Where shall we rest--and eat?” she asked.

“Ah!” cried Rollo, “when you were not hungry I was beginning to think that something was the matter. But, alas! where _shall_ we eat and rest?”

He looked about him sadly. Under a cloudy sky the road stretched before them empty of travellers. It looked as though it led straight into the center of the moon. But in a few minutes the moon lifted itself away from the road and lighted up the whole country with a soft, white light. Then Rollo gave a sudden leap of joy.

“Look there!” he commanded, pointing to a bridge that ran over a tiny stream.

There near the steps of the bridge stood an old man, and nearby stood a youth and a young girl in whose yellow hair the moonbeams were caught and tangled. But as Rollo and the little Princess approached, they could see that she had been weeping.

The Princess held her breath for a moment. Then she went straight up to the old man--he was the sort of old man that one would go straight up to--and she whispered in his ear.

“Why--is she crying?”

He looked at her for a long time and she repeated her question.

“What is the--matter?”

The old man set down his cane and put his hand on the little Princess’ shoulder.

“Is it really true that you do not know?”

Rollo opened his mouth to speak but wisely decided not to.

“I do not know--many things,” said the little Princess, remembering all her other visits.

“She is crying,” explained the old man, “because she loves the boy--and he is going away.”

The Princess looked very grave. She thought that she had asked almost enough questions, and that she had better stop. But finally she got up courage and said:

“What _is_ love?”

If the old man had looked surprised before, he looked as though someone had really puzzled him now. But, glancing at the little Princess, he could not doubt her honesty.

“It is difficult to explain,” he said, “but it is like having everything you want in the world--and then, sometimes, like having nothing at all.”

“Look!” said the little Princess. “She is smiling now--almost laughing. At least her eyes are laughing.”

“Yes,” agreed the old man, “they are both smiling now.”

“And why is she happy now?”

“For everyone we love,” said the old man patiently, “we gain something--and we give up something.”

“Is it wise, then?” asked the little Princess, “to love?”

“What do you think?” said the old man.

And the Princess, looking at the two lovers, sighed and smiled.

“I think it is wise,” she said, which is just what you would have expected of her. “I, too,” said the little Princess, “love.”

The old man nodded, as though she had told him no news.

“Whom do you love?” he asked her.

“I love Gamma Turkin and the sick man of the tent. I love Rollo and the beautiful lady with the golden hair and----” the little Princess swung her arms about as though to include the world--“and everybody,” she said. “I love even Pom-Pom and Mizzi and Carla--and Bombo--and----”

“Stop!” cried the old man. “You are going much too fast!”

The little Princess looked at him, her mouth open.

“Only a Queen,” continued the old man “should love so many people.”

And for the last time in her life the little Princess said, “_Why?_”

“Because only she who loves all the people of her country can rule wisely.”

For a moment the little Princess regarded him in silence.

“Ah, then,” she said finally. “I must go back.”

“Where?” demanded the old man.

“Home,” said the little Princess. “For I have learned something.”

“And what is that?”

“To obey a rule,” she answered sadly.

So it was that Rollo and the little Princess of their own accord started on their homeward way. But before they left the Princess took the last jewel from her sack. It was warm with the yellow flame of firelight and it was cool with the clear yellow of moonlight, and for an instant the little Princess gazed at it longingly, then she slipped it into the old man’s hand; and he, being as you have seen a very wise old man, asked no questions but only pointed out the road to them and wished them Godspeed.

They had gone only a very short distance however when Pom-Pom’s army, that had been hunting them high and low, discovered them, torn and bedraggled, and carried them back post-haste to the castle gates.

There a great crowd awaited them. It seemed that all the people of the land, learning that the little Princess had been found, had gathered together to welcome her back. It was very surprising.

Suddenly the little Princess was aware of Pom-Pom in his rimmed spectacles and his velvet suit. One thing was very plain to see and that was that he was exceedingly angry. Once more he bowed low, and once again the little Princess thought of Bombo’s yellow muffins and wondered whether he could straighten out again. He did straighten out, however, at which the little Princess gave a sigh of relief, while Bombo frowned and Carla and Mizzi shook their heads. Something very terrible was in store for the little Princess and they knew it.

“Your Majesty,” said Pom-Pom puffily, “it has long been a custom and a rule in this Court that no Royal Princess shall be crowned Queen who is late to her own Coronation.”

He paused to let his words sink in.

“The crown will go to the next in line.” He closed his mouth tightly and looked down at the Princess over his rimmed glasses and his bumpy, red nose.

The little Princess could hardly restrain her tears. It is a dreadful thing to find out that you cannot do a thing just when you have decided that you must do it. And the Princess had just decided that she wanted to be Queen.

“But what am I to do?” she cried. “What that will become of----”

A great roar from the crowd swallowed up her question. It seemed to come from miles and miles around and to grow louder every instant, until even Pom-Pom had to put his hands over his ears. A man who leaned on a cane came forward, and the Princess saw that it was the sick man of the tent. He looked much stronger and bigger. When he raised his hand the crowd became silent. Then he bowed very low to Pom-Pom.

“The people,” he said, “will have no other Queen.”

Pom-Pom grew red in the face.

“They have nothing to say about it,” he snapped.

The man bowed again.

“Yes,” he agreed. “But they are saying it very loudly.”

Pom-Pom’s face was now purple.

“She cannot reign in this castle!” he shouted angrily.

“Be that as it may,” said the man of the tent, “she will reign in the hearts of her people.”

At that moment, amid the cheers and laughter of the throng, an old lady, in a neat brown dress and the most spotlessly white cap imaginable, came forward; and in her hand she held a crown. It was woven of mistletoe and thistle-down; and in the center, where the great ruby should have been, was instead a large red poppy; and where the yellow topazes shone in the royal crown this one had a cluster of yellow wood-violets; and where the sapphire should have been set, there was a larkspur. Very carefully Gamma Turkin and a beautiful lady, whose golden hair was still more lovely in the morning light, placed the crown on the head of the little Princess. And the sun came out and shone on all its petals, and the wind rustled down, scattering its perfumes among all. It was a very beautiful sight.

Even Pom-Pom took off his rimmed spectacles and blew his nose long and hard on his best silk handkerchief on which were embroidered all the State Secrets of the Kingdom. This caused him to lose several pounds. The Princess could not help laughing; but she was at the same time so sorry for him that she decided, in spite of the protests of the crowd, to keep him at the castle as Lord-High Censor of the Spelling Book, a post that he fulfilled with honor and dignity until he died. As for Rollo, he became her Chief Adviser and wore a white wig that pleased him mightily, although it was not in the least becoming.

So, standing at her castle gates, her ragged cape hanging loosely from her shoulders, her sack empty of jewels but her heart full of joy, the little Princess came at last to her Coronation.

THE END.