THE TALE OF THE BLUE GLOVE


The King of the South country was not as happy as a king ought to be
whose subjects are both peaceful and industrious. Every night when the
moths were flying and the tall candles were lit in the hall, when the
soft air was musical with the strumming of harps, and the sweet
complaint of violins, he would walk out on the great parapet with one
hand under his chin and his head drooping; then the courtiers would say,
"The King is sad."

If he looked out he could see town after town, like strings of pearls and
corals, with blue smoke coming from the chimneys of red-roofed houses,
and beyond the towns the sea like a green bowl. If he looked straight
down he could see a rush of color, as if the flowers were coming up to
him in billowy waves.

But the King was not happy, for the reason that he wanted to marry his
three sons, and he didn't know of any princesses who would, so to speak,
fill the bill. He had journeyed over the mountains to inspect several
little ladies who were brought to him, in their stiff satin gowns to
make their curtsey and smile their prettiest, but none of them seemed
desirable for a daughter. The King knew, indeed, very much what he
wanted. She mustn't chatter and she mustn't be too fond of chocolates in
gold and enameled boxes; and she mustn't have likes and dislikes; and
she must be patient, for all really royal people know how to wait; and