"Oh!" said the sweet Princess. "You have a kind face and most true eyes,
and when I look at you--I do not know why it is, but I feel a little
happier. What is it you would say to me?"

Still kneeling before her, still bending his head modestly, and still
blushing, Fairyfoot told his story. He told her of his own sadness and
loneliness, and of why he was considered so terrible a disgrace to his
family. He told her about the fountain of the nightingales and what he
had heard there and how he had journeyed through the forests, and beyond
it into her own country, to find her. And while he told it, her
beautiful face changed from red to white, and her hands closely clasped
themselves together.

"Oh!" she said, when he had finished, "I know that this is true from the
kind look in your eyes, and I shall be happy again. And how can I thank
you for being so good to a poor little princess whom you had never seen?"

"Only let me see you happy once more, most sweet Princess," answered
Fairyfoot, "and that will be all I desire--only if, perhaps, I might
once--kiss your hand."

She held out her hand to him with so lovely a look in her soft eyes that
he felt happier than he had ever been before, even at the fairy dances.
This was a different kind of happiness. Her hand was as white as a dove's
wing and as soft as a dove's breast. "Come," she said, "let us go at once
to the King."

[Illustration: FAIRYFOOT LOVED HER INA MOMENT, AND HE KNELT ON
ONE KNEE.]