The Princess of Make-Believe
The Princess was washing dishes. On her feet she would barely have
reached the rim of the great dish-pan, but on the soap-box she did
very well. A grimy calico apron trailed to the floor.
"Now this golden platter I must wash _extry_ clean," the Princess
said. "The Queen is ve-ry particular about her golden platters. Last
time, when I left one o' the corners--it's such a nextremely heavy
platter to hold--she gave me a scold--oh, I mean--I mean she tapped
me a little love pat on my cheek with her golden spoon."
It was a great, brown-veined, stoneware platter, and the arms of the
Princess ached with holding it. Then, in an unwary instant, it
slipped out of her soapsudsy little fingers and crashed to the floor.
Oh! oh! the Queen! the Queen! She was coming! The Princess heard her
shrill, angry voice, and felt the jar of her heavy steps. There was
the space of an instant--an instant is so short!--before the storm
broke.
"You little limb o' Satan! That's my best platter, is it? Broke all
to bits, eh? I'll break--" But there was a flurry of dingy apron and
dingier petticoats, and the little Princess had fled. She did not
stop till she was in her Secret Place among the willows. Her small
lean face was pale but undaunted.
"Th-the Queen isn't feeling very well to-day," she panted. "It's
wash-day up at the Castle. She never enjoys herself on wash-days. And
then that golden platter--I'm sorry I smashed it all to flinders!
When the Prince comes I shall ask him to buy another."
The Prince had never come, but the Princess waited for him patiently.
She sat with her face to the west and looked for him to come through
the willows with the red sunset light filtering across his hair. That
was the way the Prince was coming, though the time was not set. It
might be a good while before he came, and then again--you never could
tell!
"But when he does, and we've had a little while to get acquainted,
then I shall say to him, 'Hear, O Prince, and give ear to my--my
petition! For verily, verily, I have broken many golden platters and
jasper cups and saucers, and the Queen, long live her! is
sore--sore--'"
The Princess pondered for the forgotten word. She put up a little
lean brown hand and rubbed a tingling spot on her temple--ah, not the
Queen! It was the Princess--long live her!--who was "sore."
"'I beseech thee, O Prince,' I shall say, 'buy new golden platters
and jasper cups and saucers for the Queen, and then shall I verily,
verily be--be--'"
Oh, the long words--how they slipped out of reach! The little
Princess sighed rather wearily. She would have to rehearse that
speech so many times before the Prince came. Suppose he came
to-night! Suppose she looked up now, this minute, towards the golden
west and he was there, swinging along through the willow canes
towards her!
But there was no one swinging along through the willows. The yellow
light flickered through--that was all. Somewhere, a long way off,
sounded the monotonous hum of men's voices. Through the lace-work of
willow twigs there showed the faintest possible blur of color. Down
beyond, in the clearing, the Castle Guards in blue jean blouses were
pulling stumps. The Princess could not see their dull, passionless
faces, and she was glad of it. The Castle Guards depressed her. But
they were not as bad as the Castle Guardesses. _They_ were mostly old
women with bleared, dim eyes, and they wore such faded--silks.
"_My_ silk dress is rather faded," murmured the little Princess
wistfully. She smoothed down the scant calico skirt with her brown
little fingers. The patch in it she would not see.
"I shall have to have the Royal Dress-maker make me another one soon.
Let me see,--what color shall I choose? I'd _like_ my gold-colored
velvet made up. I'm tired of wearing royal purple dresses all the
time, though of course I know they're appropriater. I wonder what
color the Prince would like best? I should rather choose that color."
The Princess's little brown hands were clasped about one knee, and
she was rocking herself slowly back and forth, her eyes, wistful and
wide, on the path the Prince would come. She was tired to-day and it
was harder to wait.
"But when he comes I shall say, 'Hear, O Prince. Verily, verily, I
did not know which color you would like to find me dressed--I mean
arrayed--in, and so I beseech thee excuse--_pardon_, I mean--mine
infirmity.'"
The Princess was not sure of "infirmity," but it sounded well. She
could not think of a better word.
"And then--I _think_ then--he will take me in his arms, and his face
will be all sweet and splendid like the Mother o' God's in the
picture, and he will whisper,--I don't think he will say it out
loud,--oh, I'd rather not!--'Verily, Princess,' he will whisper, 'Oh,
verily, _verily_, thou hast found favor in my sight!' And that will
mean that he doesn't care what color I am, for he--loves--me."
Lower and lower sank the solemn voice of the Princess. Slower and
slower rocked the little, lean body. The birds themselves stopped
singing at the end. In the Secret Place it was very still.
"Oh no, no, no,--not _verily!_" breathed the Princess, in soft awe.
For the wonder of it took her breath away. She had never in her life
been loved, and now, at this moment, it seemed so near! She thought
she heard the footsteps of the Prince.
They came nearer. The crisp twigs snapped under his feet. He was
whistling.
"Oh, I can't look!--I can't!" gasped the little Princess, but she
turned her face to the west,--she had always known it would be from
the west, and lifted closed eyes to his coming. When he got to the
Twisted Willow she might dare to look,--to the Little Willow Twins,
anyway.
"And I shall know when he does," she thought. "I shall know the
minute!"
Her face was rapt and tender. The miracle she had made for
herself,--the gold she had coined out of her piteous alloy,--was it
not come true at last?--Verily, verily?
Hush! Was the Prince not coming through the willows? And the sunshine
was trickling down on his hair! The Princess knew, though she did not
look.
"He is at the Twisted Willow," she thought. "_Now_ he is at the
Little Willow Twins." But she did not open her eyes. She did not
dare. This was a little different, she had never counted on being
afraid.
The twigs snapped louder and nearer--now very near. The merry whistle
grew clearer, and then it stopped.
"Hullo!"
Did princes say "hullo!" The Princess had little time to wonder, for
he was there before her. She could feel his presence in every fibre
of her trembling little being, though she would not open her eyes for
very fear that it might be somebody else. No, no, it was the Prince!
It was his voice, clear and ringing, as she had known it would be.
She put up her hands suddenly and covered her eyes with them to make
surer. It was not fear now, but a device to put off a little longer
the delight of seeing him.
"I say, hullo! Haven't you got any tongue?"
"Oh, verily, verily,--I mean hear, O Prince, I beseech," she panted.
The boy's merry eyes regarded the shabby small person in puzzled
astonishment. He felt an impulse to laugh and run away, but his royal
blood forbade either. So he waited.
"You are the Prince," the little Princess cried. "I've been waiting
the longest time,--but I knew you'd come," she added, simply. "Have
you got your velvet an' gold buckles on? I'm goin' to look in a
minute, but I'm waiting to make it spend."
The Prince whistled softly. "No," he said then, "I didn't wear _them_
clo'es to-day. You see, my mother--"
"The Queen," she interrupted, "you mean the Queen?"
"You bet I do! She's a reg'lar-builter! Well, she don't like to have
me wearin' out my best clo'es every day," he said, gravely.
"No," eagerly, "nor mine don't. Queen, I mean,--but she isn't a
mother, mercy, no! I only wear silk dresses every day, not my velvet
ones. This silk one is getting a little faded." She released one
hand to smooth the dress wistfully. Then she remembered her painfully
practised little speech and launched into it hurriedly.
"Hear, O Prince. Verily, verily, I did not know which color you'd
like to find me dressed in--I mean _arrayed_. I beseech thee to
excuse--oh, _pardon_, I mean--"
But she got no further. She could endure the delay no longer, and her
eyes flew open.
She had known his step; she had known his voice. She knew his face.
It was terribly freckled, and she had not expected freckles on the
face of the Prince. But the merry, honest eyes were the Prince's
eyes. Her gaze wandered downward to the home-made clothes and bare,
brown legs, but without uneasiness. The Prince had explained about
his clothes. Suddenly, with a shy, glad little cry, the Princess held
out her hands to him.
The royal blood flooded the face of the Prince and filled in all the
spaces between its little, gold-brown freckles. But the Prince held
out his hand to her. His lips formed for words and she thought he was
going to say, "Verily, Princess, thou hast found favor--"
"Le' 's go fishin'," the Prince said.