but the prince fortemain had no such peace of mind. he was wounded in his princely pride because of having been defeated by the wandering minstrel. he could not sleep; but, resolving to be beforehand with joyeuse, went out into the garden by night and sought high and low for the flower-favorite of the princess. for he said to himself: "the precious time has been almost spent by that luckless fight. and by the hour when i arise to-morrow it will be time to present myself before the princess." (he was a lazy, loitering prince; which was one reason for his sour temper, i suppose.) "i must, then, find the flower to-night, before that villain minstrel does so."

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,[36] 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,[37] "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[38] 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!"[39] 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[40] 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[41] 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 sweet. i think your heart lies in this flower. give it to me to wear alway, dear princess." he spoke beseechingly, for indeed he loved her very dearly. but the princess shook her head.

"not so, o prince," she said. "this flower of the night is not my dearest one. it is sweet, but its breath is heavy and cloying; it takes away sleep and fills the brain with stupor. nay, you have not chosen wisely, as your own haggard looks show. you are not to be my prince. you know not my heart. farewell, prince fortemain."

then fortemain rose and turned away, as so many princes had done before him. he went out of the palace very sadly, and was nevermore seen in that place.

the princess turned next to joyeuse. "and[42] what has our prince of wanderers chosen?" she asked. "how well does joyeuse know the heart of fleurette?"

"i have chosen thus," said the lad, as he knelt at the feet of the flower-maiden and held out to her the bit of vine, with its frail blossom. "the sweet and simple blossom of early morning; the favorite of the early-riser. this has your heart, o my princess—see, its heart-shaped leaf! have i not guessed aright?"

then the princess went down the steps of the throne and took the vine from the hand of joyeuse and placed its flower in her hair. but her hand holding the heart-shaped leaf she placed within that of joyeuse, and she said: "prince joyeuse, you have chosen well, because you know my heart, and because you love what i love. you have guessed my secret. you found my heart among the morning-glories, and now it is yours forever. take it, prince joyeuse, and with it my hand. i have yet to punish you for your fault in entering my garden at a forbidden hour. your punishment shall be this: you[43] shall without reward for a year and a day be my minstrel, my soldier, my teacher, my doctor. but from thenceforth forever you shall be my very ownest prince, sharer of my kingdom of flowers. this is the doom and the decree which i pronounce."

then she kissed him very sweetly, and, leading him up to the throne, they sat down side by side upon the golden chairs.

"sing to them, my minstrel," said the princess. and he sang as she commanded, until the courtiers hugged one another for joy of his wondrous music. he sang a song of fleurette and her heart like a flower. but he sang not the story of the flower-maiden, for that was a secret between him and the princess, while they lived happily ever after.

from that time forward, each morning joyeuse and fleurette stole down into the garden while the others were yet asleep and enjoyed the flowers at their fairest. and no one, not even the surly gardener, suspected anything about it, which was the greatest fun of all to the merry pair. nor did any one ever hear[44] aught of the tale until this day, when i tell it to you.

but it was a morning-glory which telephoned it to me this morning, very, very early, while lazy folk were abed.