e? I cannot take you to her without
some promise of your skill, for she is a Princess who cares only for the
best. Come, let us go into the wilder part of the garden, where no one
can hear us, and I will listen to your music."

So they went into a wild part of the garden, and sat down under a tree
beside the little brook. And there he played and sang for her such sweet
and beautiful music that she clapped her hands for joy. And when he had
finished he said,--

"Well, dear maiden, do you think I am worthy to be your lady's minstrel?
Have I the skill to make her happy?"

"Truly, Joyeuse, you have made _me_ very happy, and you are a Prince of
Minstrels," she answered. "Yet--I cannot tell. That is not enough. But
hark! I hear the chapel bell. I must hasten back to the palace.
To-morrow I will come again and listen to another song. Meanwhile do not
try to see the Princess."

"I care not for the Princess, I," he called after her, "so long as I may
see you, little flower!" And for an answer her laughter came back to him
over the flowers.

So that day went by; and early the next morning Joyeuse took his lute
and sought the flower-maiden in the garden. This time he sought her long
and long before he found her among the roses. There was a crimson rose
in her hair, and one upon either cheek when she glanced up, hearing his
footsteps on the grass. There was also a crimson spot upon her white
hand.

"See!" she cried, "a cruel thorn has pricked me. Let me test your skill
in herbs, Sir Doctor."

With a sorry face, for it gave him pain to see her pain, Joyeuse ran to
find the leaf of a certain plant which he knew. Presently he returned,
and, taking a bit of linen from his scrip, tenderly bound the leaf about
the poor wounded finger.

"Now will it be cured," he said. "This is a remedy which never fails."

"How wise you are," murmured Fleurette, "a very Prince of Doctors!"

"Say, may I not then hope to be the doctor of the Princess?" he asked
eagerly.

But Fleurette shook her head. "We must see how the finger is to-morrow
morning. If it is quite healed then, perhaps-- But hark! That is the
Gardener's whistle. It is late, and I must return to the palace, or he
will find us trespassing." And away she ran, before Joyeuse had time to
say another word.

Now when the morrow arrived, Joyeuse sought Fleurette in the garden,
long and long. But at last he found her among the lavender. Her finger
indeed was healed, so that she smile