ast you have come; I
have been waiting for you all my life! At last I have found a real
Poet, and the Queen-mother will see now that all those people in there,
who say the same things over and over again in their small, thin
voices, are not poets at all. Come in, Poet; why do you stay so long
outside?"

So the drawbridge was let down, and the sentinels saw what a mistake
they had made and did their best to pretend that they had not made it
at all; and for the first time in his life the Poet felt that he was
not in anybody's way.

"Come with me, Poet," said the little Princess, holding out her small
white hand to him. "If you will take my hand, I shall feel quite sure
you are there."

So the little blind Princess and the Poet went into the palace, hand in
hand.

"I have found a Poet," she announced to the whole court, just as it was
sitting down to luncheon.

"What! Another?" groaned the King from the top of the table. "I
should have thought five-and-forty were quite enough, considering the
demand."

"This is a _real_ Poet," continued the little Princess, still holding
the Poet's hand. "I knew him by his wonderful voice. I am so glad he
has come; and now, we can send away all the others, who are not poets
at all."

Now, this was a little awkward, for the five-and-forty poets were all
present; and being mostly the younger sons of kings, who had only taken
up poetry as an accomplishment, they were also suitors for the
Princess's hand, which made it more awkward still. So the Queen
coughed uncomfortably, and all the ladies in waiting blushed
uncomfortably, and the five-and-forty poets naturally looked
uncomfortable into the bargain. But the little Princess, who could see
nothing and never had been able to see anything, neither blushed nor
felt uncomfortable.

"Will some one give place to the Poet?" she asked with a smile.

The Queen, who was generally full of resources, felt that it was time
to interfere.

"Do not listen to Her Royal Highness," she said, soothingly, to the
five-and-forty poets. "She is so terribly truthful that she does not
know what she is saying. I have tried in vain to break her of it."

"Don't know where she gets it from," growled the old King, who had a
great dislike to scenes at meal times.

The five-and-forty poets recovered their composure, when they heard
that the Princess was rather to be pitied than blamed; and the Queen
was able to turn to the cause of the disturbanc