“She was not a silly Princess at all.  She was clever at learning, and liked it, and she was sensible and quick-witted and very brave.  So no one was inclined to laugh at her pretty play, even if they had not been forbidden to do so.  And she was so kind-hearted and merry, that if ever in her rambles she met any little children who stared at her balls with wondering eyes, she would make her ladies stop, while she threw the balls up in the air, higher and yet higher, ever catching them again as they flew back, and laughed with pleasure to see the little creatures’ delight in her skill.

“She was such a happy Princess that the bright balls seemed like herself—­ready to catch every ray of sunshine and make it prisoner.  And till she had reached her sixteenth year no cloud had come over her brightness.  About this time she noticed that the king, her father, began to look anxious and grave, and messengers often came in haste to see him from far-off parts of his kingdom.  And once or twice she overheard words dropped which she could not understand, except that it was evident some misfortune was at hand.  But in their desire to save their daughter all sorrow, the king and queen had given orders that the trouble which had come to the country was not to be told her; so the Princess could find out nothing even by questioning her ladies or her old nurse, who hitherto had never refused to tell her anything she wanted to know.

“One day when she was walking about the gardens, playing as usual with her golden balls, she came upon a young girl half hidden among the shrubs, crying bitterly.  The Princess stopped at once to ask her what was the matter, but the girl only shook her head and went on weeping, refusing to answer.

“‘I dare not tell you, Princess,’ she said.  ’I dare not.  You are good and kind, and I do not blame you for my misfortunes.  If you knew all, you would pity me.’

“And that was all she would say.

“She was a pretty girl, about the same age and height as the Princess, and the Princess, after speaking to her, remembered that she had sometimes seen her before.

“‘You are the daughter of the gardener, are you not?’ she inquired.

“‘Yes,’ said the girl.  ’My father is the king’s gardener.  But I have been away with my grandmother.  They only sent for me yesterday to come home—­and—­and—­oh, I was to have been married next week to a young shepherd, who has loved me since my childhood!’

“And with this the girl burst into fresh weeping, but not another word would she say.

“Just then the Princess’s governess, who had been a little behind—­for sometimes in playing with her balls the Princess ran on faster—­came up to where the two young girls were talking together.  When the governess saw who the Princess’s companion was she seemed uneasy.

“‘What has she been saying to you, Princess?’ she asked eagerly.  ’It is the gardener’s daughter, I see.’