he hour
for the trial. The Herald blew his trumpet, "Tan-tara-tara!" and the
courtiers flocked to the hall to witness a ceremony the like of which
they had seen so many times before that they were bored at the very
thought. But because Joyeuse had first come as a prisoner and was now a
suitor for their lady's hand, they were somewhat more interested than
usual in the day's decision.

Weary with a heavy night and with evil dreams, the Prince Fortemain
stood on one side of the throne with his white tuberose in his hand. But
alas! The flower was as faded and weary looking as himself. Plucked so
early before the trial, all its fragrance and beauty were gone; and
Fortemain's heart sank as he looked at it, wondering if, after all, it
could be the Princess's favorite flower. But it was now too late to
select another. Indeed, he had but just risen when he heard the great
bell toll its warning to be ready for the trial. He showed a hasty
toilet, and a mind as ill-prepared.

Joyeuse, on the other hand, was as bright and brisk as the sun whose
rising he had seen. His suit of green velvet was fair to view, and his
eyes shone happily. In his hand he held a few inches of little vine,
with leaf and tendril and at the side a single pale pink blossom. The
courtiers eyed it curiously. Most of them had never before seen a
morning-glory; and they tittered to think one should suppose so simple a
flower could be the choice of a royal Princess.

Now the trumpet sounded again, and in came the Princess Fleurette,
dressed in a beautiful robe of green silk, in which she looked more than
ever like a wonderful flower. She mounted to her throne, looking down
kindly upon her people, but merely glancing toward the two suitors who
stood on either side of the dais.

"Now to the business of the day," she said. "I will listen to the choice
which my two suitors have made. And you first, Prince Fortemain--how
have you selected? Have you found the flower of my heart? Have you
guessed my secret choice, and are you therefore to be my very ownest
Prince?"

Prince Fortemain knelt at the foot of the throne and held out the
withered tuberose somewhat ruefully.

"This, my Princess, is your favorite flower, I think. All over the
garden I sought, and I deemed it best of all. This queen of the night is
less beautiful by day; but in the moonlight it was very fair and sweet.
I think your heart lies in this flower. Give it to me to wear alway,
dear Princess." He