THE BIRTHDAY OF THE INFANTA




[TO MRS. WILLIAM H. GRENFELL OF TAPLOW COURT--LADY DESBOROUGH]


It was the birthday of the Infanta. She was just twelve years of
age, and the sun was shining brightly in the gardens of the palace.

Although she was a real Princess and the Infanta of Spain, she had
only one birthday every year, just like the children of quite poor
people, so it was naturally a matter of great importance to the
whole country that she should have a really fine day for the
occasion. And a really fine day it certainly was. The tall
striped tulips stood straight up upon their stalks, like long rows
of soldiers, and looked defiantly across the grass at the roses,
and said: 'We are quite as splendid as you are now.' The purple
butterflies fluttered about with gold dust on their wings, visiting
each flower in turn; the little lizards crept out of the crevices
of the wall, and lay basking in the white glare; and the
pomegranates split and cracked with the heat, and showed their
bleeding red hearts. Even the pale yellow lemons, that hung in
such profusion from the mouldering trellis and along the dim
arcades, seemed to have caught a richer colour from the wonderful
sunlight, and the magnolia trees opened their great globe-like
blossoms of folded ivory, and filled the air with a sweet heavy