such people as that in the world? It might be
amusing to meet them, or, at least, to study them."

The King glanced at all the other poets and said nothing at all. And
the five-and-forty kings' sons, who, if they were not poets, were at
least gentlemen, rose from their seats with one accord.

"Her royal Highness was quite right," they said. "We are not poets at
all."

Then they took leave of every one present and filed out of the room and
rode away to their respective countries, where, of course, nobody ever
suspected them of being poets; and they just remained Princes of the
royal blood and nothing else to the end of their days.

"And you, little lady?" said the Poet, anxiously.

"It was wonderful," answered the little blind Princess. "But there was
no love in it."

By this time the Queen had ceased to be impressed and had begun to
remember that she was a Queen.

"We are quite sure you are a poet," she said in her most queenly
manner, "because you have told us something that we did not know
before. But we think you are not a fit companion for her royal
Highness, and it is therefore time for you to go."

"No, no!" cried the Princess. "You are not to go. You are my Poet,
and I want you to stay here always."

Matters were becoming serious, and every one set to work to try to turn
the little Princess from her purpose.

"He is shockingly untidy," whispered the ladies in waiting.

"And _so_ ugly," murmured the Queen; "there is nothing distinguished
about him at all."

"He will cost the nation something to keep," added the King, without
lowering his voice at all.

But the little Princess turned a deaf ear to them all and held out her
hand again to the Poet.

"I do not believe a word they say," she cried. "You cannot be ugly,
you with a voice like that! If you are ugly, then ugliness is what I
have wanted all my life. Ugliness is what I love, and you are to stay
here with me."

In the end, it was the Poet himself who came to the rescue.

"I cannot stay with you, little lady," he said gently. "It is true
what they say; I am too ugly to be tolerated, and it has been my good
fortune that you could not see me. I will go away and put some love
into my poetry, and then, perhaps, I shall find some one who will
listen to me."

But the poor little Princess burst out sobbing.

"If I could only see," she wept, "I would prove to you that I do not
think you ugly. Oh, if I could only see! I have never w