The Story Girl finished her turnover, and stretched herself out
on the grasses, pillowing her chin in her hands and looking at
the sky. She was bare headed, as usual, and her scarlet ribbon
was bound filletwise about her head. She had twined freshly
plucked dandelions around it and the effect was that of a crown
of brilliant golden stars on her sleek, brown curls.

"Look at that long, thin, lacy cloud up there," she said. "What
does it make you think of, girls?"

"A wedding veil," said Cecily.

"That is just what it is--the Wedding Veil of the Proud Princess.
I know a story about it. I read it in a book. Once upon a
time"--the Story Girl's eyes grew dreamy, and her accents floated
away on the summer air like wind-blown rose petals--"there was a
princess who was the most beautiful princess in the world, and
kings from all lands came to woo her for a bride. But she was as
proud as she was beautiful. She laughed all her suitors to
scorn. And when her father urged her to choose one of them as
her husband she drew herself up haughtily--so--"

The Story Girl sprang to her feet and for a moment we saw the
proud princess of the old tale in all her scornful loveliness--

"and she said,

"'I will not wed until a king comes who can conquer all kings.
Then I shall be the wife of the king of the world and no one can
hold herself higher than I.'