Flowers, flowers everywhere, of every hue and shade. Canterbury bells
and sunflowers indeed! What should you say to bells of real silver,
glowing and shining? To fair maids blossoming and curtseying in the
flower-beds, fair maids so beautiful that the Knight would fain have
stopped with them all day? To roses flowering everywhere? To lillies
trickling oozy scent into gold bowls laid ready to receive it? To
whole bowers of honeysuckle, and whole beds of lavender? To hedges of
every flowering shrub imaginable? To lofty trees whose leaves
whispered soft invitations to the passers-by to come and sleep beneath
their soothing shade? To fountains plashing and showing a thousand
different colours? To fruit of gold and silver hanging from the
branches of the fruit trees, and to birds of every plumage singing the
sweetest songs imaginable?

Truly there never was such a garden!

"There must be a great many gardeners here!" gasped Sir Hunny Bee.

"Oh, no," answered the old man. "The Princess does it all herself,
with the help of some Bees (cousins of yours by the way), a few of the
Byrdes, and the nymphs Wynde and Worta. Everything looks so beautiful
now, because the Princess is in the garden. If we wait in this arbour
here, she will pass behind it on her way to the palace. But do not go
out until she calls you. For no man is allowed to see her face until
she gives him permission. When she speaks to you, tell her your
business speedily."

They waited in the arbour; the little old man still held Sir Hunny
Bee's silver bell in his hat. Presently soft footsteps were heard
approaching, and a gentle voice said:

"Not to-day,"--and the footsteps passed on behind the arbour.

Then the colour faded from the grass and flowers and shells. The
fountains ceased to play, and the birds to sing; and Sir Hunny Bee was
almost ready to cry with vexation.

"She is gone," he said, "and I have come so far to seek her."

"You must wait till to-morrow now," said the old man.

So Sir Hunny Bee waited till to-morrow, and exactly the same thing
happened. The grass shone, and the flowers glowed. The fair maids
turned and curtseyed on their stems. The fountains splashed, and the
birds sang. The Princess passed behind the arbour and once more said
in her gentle voice, "Not to-day," and then all grew dull and dim and
silent, and Sir Hunny Bee more impatient.

He remained there for seven days--and on the seventh, without waitin