idden
deep within the woods, you must wait patiently, through sunshine and
rain, till some one finds you, and breaks you from the stem. Whoever he
may be, rich or poor, young or old, if he loves the flower well enough
to take it home, and place it carefully in a vase of water, he will have
the power of transforming it into a mortal, and you will be restored to
your home in a world where the sun shines and where flowers grow."

"Dear! dear!" said the princess, "I suppose I must consent, if that is
the only way of making my escape. But what if no one comes into the
woods, and what if no one cares enough for the primrose to pick it?"

"Then it will wither on its stem, and you must come back to us, and be
the Princess Bebe for another year."

The trial which was proposed to her seemed a very hard one, and the year
which followed seemed very long. If it had not been for the kindness of
the gate-keeper, who amused her by showing her all the curiosities which
the kingdom of the mineral-workers contained, and explaining how the
gems were cleaned and polished and cut, I am afraid the poor Princess
Bebe would have died of homesickness long before spring. But at last the
year came to an end, as all years must, and she started on her journey
into the upper world.

Day after day she struggled through the earth, pushing her roots deep
down into the soil, and stretching her slender leaf-like arms up into
the sunlight. The dew came and kissed the little flower-bud with sweet
moist lips, the sunshine warmed it, and the south wind sang to it, until
at last a yellow primrose opened its eyes in the dark woods.

Day after day it lived there, trembling at the sound of every footstep,
and wishing and praying deep down in its flower-heart for a friend.

June days had never seemed so long as these, for, despite her prayers,
no one came, and the lonely primrose grew faint and weary with
disappointment.

At last, however, a party of children playing in the woods caught sight
of her bright face, and one of them--a merry, rosy-cheeked boy--broke
the flower from its stem. He held it up to his companions, and they ran
laughing after him.

"Oh, it's nothing but a yellow primrose," he said, as they tried to
snatch the flower from his hand; and with these words he threw it away.

So it was all in vain that the little flower had lived and died, for the
next day the Princess Bebe found herself back in the kingdom of the
mineral-workers.

Her d