ep!

Two things, in those old days, I held in especial distrust: gamekeepers
and gardeners. Seeing, however, no baleful apparitions of either
quality, I pursued my way between rich flower-beds, in search of the
necessary Princess. Conditions declared her presence patently as
trumpets; without this centre such surroundings could not exist. A
pavilion, gold-topped, wreathed with lush jessamine, beckoned with a
special significance over close-set shrubs. There, if anywhere, She
should be enshrined. Instinct, and some knowledge of the habits of
princesses, triumphed; for (indeed) there She was! In no tranced repose,
however, but laughingly, struggling to disengage her hand from the
grasp of a grown-up man who occupied the marble bench with her. (As to
age, I suppose now that the two swung in respective scales that pivoted
on twenty. But children heed no minor distinctions. To them, the
inhabited world is composed of the two main divisions: children and
upgrown people; the latter in no way superior to the former--only
hopelessly different. These two, then, belonged to the grown-up
section.) I paused, thinking it strange they should prefer seclusion
when there were fish to be caught, and butterflies to hunt in the sun
outside; and as I cogitated thus, the grown-up man caught sight of me.

'Hallo, sprat!' he said with some abruptness; 'Where do you spring
from?'

'I came up the stream,' I explained politely and comprehensively, 'and I
was only looking for the Princess.'

'Then you are a water-baby,' he replied. 'And what do you think of the
Princess, now you've found her?'

'I think she is lovely,' I said (and doubtless I was right, having
never learned to flatter). 'But she's wide-awake, so I suppose somebody
has kissed her!'

This very natural deduction moved the grown-up man to laughter; but the
Princess, turning red and jumping up, declared that it was time for
lunch.

'Come along, then,' said the grown-up man; 'and you too, water-baby.
Come and have something solid. You must want it.'

I accompanied them without any feeling of false delicacy. The world, as
known to me, was spread with food each several mid-day, and the
particular table one sat at seemed a matter of no importance. The palace
was very sumptuous and beautiful, just what a palace ought to be; and we
were met by a stately lady, rather more grown-up than the
Princess--apparently her mother. My friend the Man was very kind, and
introduced me as the Ca