The Faery Tales of Weir | Page 4

were
like long plumes. She stooped to caress them, and to hide her tears, for
Prince Hugh and Prince Richard were coming towards her, and she did
not wish them to know she was sad.
They stood like twin trees regarding her, then Prince Richard spoke.
"Will you sell your glove, beggar-maid?" and he drew a piece of gold
from his purse.
She replied: "I have more need of my glove than of your gold."
"If you were a court lady," said Prince Hugh, "you would know that
one glove is of no use to anyone."
"If you were a beggar, Sir," she replied, "you would be glad to have
one hand warm."
"I shall never be a beggar," returned the Prince proudly.
"Yet you begged your father for a cloth-of-silver falcon hood this
morning."
Prince Richard laughed and his brother stared. "Are you a witch?"
asked the latter.
"No, I am not a witch. I lost my way in the gardens before I found the
right path. You were talking in the arbor by the edge of the lake, and
you implored your father, the King, like a beggar on the street corner."

Prince Hugh's cheeks were red as peonies. "Your words are too bold,
beggar-maid. If you will not sell your glove, I will take it."
She stretched out her arm. "You will not be able to take what is not
yours!"
"Will I not!" and he rushed at her and began to tug at the glove. His
face grew redder and redder, but he could not strip off the glove, which
seemed to have grown to the maid's arm. Suddenly he caught sight of
his fiery countenance in the little round mirror, and he left off pulling at
the glove, but his failure aroused emulation in the heart of Prince
Richard, who now began to tug at the glove as if it were heavy armor.
The Princess Myrtle grew as white as a snow-drop in pale wintry
sunshine, for it seemed to her that all three of the princes were of base
metal beneath their noble bearing. "Look in the mirror," she said
pitifully, "and tell me what you see!"
"His own red face, I warrant, as I saw mine," cried Prince Hugh; then
Prince Richard seeing how flushed his face was, drew away sulkily;
and the Princess walked from them up and up through the parterres of
flowers to the terrace where the King stood in the evening light, his
cloak blown out, so that the satin lining showed like a great magnolia
petal. His long fingers rested on the marble balustrade, and the royal
rings winked wickedly at the Princess.
The King said to her, "What did my sons say and do to you?"
Then she related everything.
The King frowned. "But how do I know whether you are really the
Princess Myrtle? You may for all that be but a goose-girl or a
beggar-maid."
She replied, "Let me remain in your court three days as a beggar-maid.
If at the end of that time you are not sure, turn me out. I, too, will be
sure of something at the end of three days."

"Of what will you be sure?" asked the King.
"Which of you is the real king here."
Then King Cuthbert grew red like old leather, and laughed and sighed
and frowned. "God knows, I should myself like that knowledge." Then
he signed to a court lady, who was looking on with proud eyes. "Come,
Dame Caecilia, take this beggar-maid to one of the suites in the palace,
and put fair clothes on her, and conduct her to the dining-hall when the
hour strikes."
The court lady smiled to hide her anger, for she dared not disobey, and
she beckoned the Princess Myrtle to follow her. They went through a
vast door into a corridor that ran beneath heavy arches, and the walls of
this passage moved as if alive, but it was only the draught swaying the
tapestries with their gray trees and knights who rode among the trees
like heavy shadows, and long-haired women who watched the knights
ride while they wove flower-wreaths.
Then the proud court lady took the Princess up a winding stair, like the
twisted ways of life, down more corridors, then into a room, through
whose windows high cypresses looked, and upon whose ceiling little
cupids flew about.
"Now, beggar," she said angrily, throwing open the door of a wardrobe
where hung silken things, "make the most of your luck. What will you
wear? Here is mallow satin sewn with pearls, and with a running border
of jasmine flowers done in sweet embroidery silks. Will it please you?
Here is a silver cloth, studded with little coral beads over a petticoat of
ancient lace. Here is black