in a flower is to watch and help it
grow from a funny little seed into a leaf, then a tall green stalk, then
a waking bud, until finally it keeps the promise of its first sprouting,
and becomes a blossom. They did not guess that the happiest hours of the
Princess's life were those which she spent in the early morning tending
her flower-babies, while her fond courtiers, and even the curious
princes on their way to woo her, were still wasting the best part of the
day on lazy pillows. Many a time the Gardener declared that a fairy must
tend the royal flowers, so wonderfully did they flourish, free from
weed or worm or withering leaf. It even seemed to him sometimes that he
could trace a delicate perfumed touch which had blessed their leaves
before his coming. When he told this to Fleurette she only smiled
sweetly at him. But in her heart she laughed; for she was a merry
Princess.

One beautiful morning the Princess arose as usual, soon after sunrise,
and, putting on her green flower-gown, stole down the secret staircase
into the garden. There it lay, all fresh and wonderful, sparkling with
diamond dewdrops. The Princess Fleurette walked up and down the paths,
smiling at the blossoms, which held up their pretty faces and seemed to
smile back at her, as if she were another flower. Sometimes she kneeled
down on her royal knees in the gravel, bending over to kiss the flowers
with her red lips. Sometimes she paused to punish a greedy worm, or a
rude weed which had crowded in among the precious roots. Sometimes with
her little golden scissors she snipped off a withered leaf or a faded
flower of yesterday. Up and down the paths she passed, singing happily
under her breath, but seldom plucking a flower; for she loved best to
see them growing on their green stalks.

[Illustration: THE PRINCESS FLEURETTE]

She came at last to a little summer-house, up which climbed
morning-glories, blue and pink and white--fairy flowers of early
morning, which few of her people ever saw, because they rose so late.
For by the time those lazy folk were abroad, the best part of the day
was spent; and the little morning-glories, having lived it happily, were
ready for their rest. They drowsed and nodded and curled up tight into a
long sleep, in which they missed nothing at all of the later day.

When Fleurette spied the morning-glories she clapped her little hands,
and, running up to the arbor, danced about on her tiptoes, whispering,--

"Good-morn