He never came to Romalia again, but the Poet Laureate celebrated him in an epic poem, describing the loss of the Princess and the war for her rescue.  The Princess was never stolen again—­indeed the necromancer across the river who had kidnaped her was imprisoned for life on a diet of pop-corn which he popped himself.

The King across the river became tired of pop-corn, as it had caused his defeat, and forbade his people to eat it.  He paid tribute to the King of Romalia as long as he lived; but after his death, when his son, the young prince, came to reign, affairs were on a very pleasant footing between the two kingdoms.  The new King was very different from his father, being generous and amiable, and beloved by every one.  Indeed Rosetta, when she had grown to be a beautiful maiden, married him and went to live as a Queen where she had been a captive.

And when Rosetta went across the river to live, the King, her father, gave her some bee-hives for a wedding present, and the bees thrived equally in both countries.  All the difference in the honey was this:  in Romalia the bees fed more on clover, and the honey tasted of clover:  and in the country across the river on peppermint, and that honey tasted of peppermint.  They always had both kinds at their Bee Festivals.

THE CHRISTMAS MONKS.

All children have wondered unceasingly from their very first Christmas up to their very last Christmas, where the Christmas presents come from.  It is very easy to say that Santa Claus brought them.  All well regulated people know that, of course; but the reindeer, and the sledge, and the pack crammed with toys, the chimney, and all the rest of it—­that is all true, of course, and everybody knows about it; but that is not the question which puzzles.  What children want to know is, where do these Christmas presents come from in the first place?  Where does Santa Claus get them?  Well the answer to that is, In the garden of the Christmas Monks.  This has not been known until very lately; that is, it has not been known till very lately except in the immediate vicinity of the Christmas Monks.  There, of course, it has been known for ages.  It is rather an out-of-the-way place; and that accounts for our never hearing of it before.

The Convent of the Christmas Monks is a most charmingly picturesque pile of old buildings; there are towers and turrets, and peaked roofs and arches, and everything which could possibly be thought of in the architectural line, to make a convent picturesque.  It is built of graystone; but it is only once in a while that you can see the graystone, for the walls are almost completely covered with mistletoe and ivy and evergreen.  There are the most delicious little arched windows with diamond panes peeping out from the mistletoe and evergreen, and always at all times of the year, a little Christmas wreath of ivy and hollyberries is suspended in the center of every window.  Over all the doors, which are likewise arched, are Christmas garlands, and over the main entrance Merry Christmas in evergreen letters.