power of the Blue Flower, of which the King had spoken, was beginning to
work. The children had grown gay and rosy, and the boy who was clever
and all his companions had found time to earn themselves new clothes,
because they had never forgotten their passwords. All the farmers wanted
them to work in their fields because they said there was no time to
idle, no time to fight, no time to play evil tricks.

On the King rode, and on and on and on, and the farther he went the more
splendid and joyous his smile grew.

But at no time during the day was it more beautiful than when he met the
little cripple who had sat on the outside of the crowd on the first
feast day, not expecting to see or hear anything.

The cripple lived in a tiny hovel on the edge of the city, and when the
glittering procession drew near it the small patch of garden was quite
bare and had not a Blue Flower in it. And the little cripple was sitting
huddled upon his broken door-step, sobbing softly with his face hidden
in his arms.

King Amor drew up his white horse and looked at him and looked at his
bare garden.

"What has happened here?" he said. "This garden has not been neglected.
It has been dug and kept free of weeds, but my Law has been broken.
There is no Blue Flower."

Then the little cripple got up trembling and hobbled through his rickety
gate and threw himself down upon the earth before the King's white
horse, sobbing hopelessly and heart-brokenly.