One afternoon, a number of little girls were sitting on the piazza at the Cleverton, and their merry voices attracted Jack Tiverton, who glanced up from the book that he was reading, and then, because he was curious to know what so interested them, crossed the piazza, and joined the group. Dorothy and Nancy, in the big hammock, held the book of fairy tales, Flossie Barnet sat near them, while the others, all little guests at the hotel, sat upon the railing, or in the large rockers that stood near. Jack joined the row perched upon the railing. "Tell a fellow what you are all talking about, will you? Will you, _please_, I mean?" he asked. "Dorothy Dainty has been reading us a lovely story," said a little girl, whose merry eyes showed that she had enjoyed it. "What's it about?" Jack asked, and then, "Oh, _fairy_ tales!" he said. "Don't you like fairy tales?" Flossie questioned, looking up at him. No one liked to differ with dear little Flossie, least of all, Jack Tiverton. "Oh, I like them _some_," he said, awkwardly, "but,--are there any stories about bandits or pirates in that book?" "Oh, no," they cried, in a laughing chorus, "and there aren't any wild Indians in it, either." "I don't care much about Indian stories," Jack replied, "but I do like to read about pirates." "But just hear what this one was about," said Nancy. "The wandering prince had, for years, been searching for a lovely princess, who should look like a beautiful picture that hung in his father's palace. One day he came to a castle where the people told him a handsome princess was imprisoned, and he asked why she was kept there. They told him that she was enchanted, and that some day, a wandering prince would sing beneath her window, and then the spell would be broken, and she would be free." Jack was interested. "But s'posing he couldn't sing?" he asked. "Oh, a prince could surely sing!" said Flossie. "And p'raps he could sing under her window, if he couldn't anywhere else," ventured a dreamy-eyed little girl who sat near Dorothy. "And how would he know _what_ to sing?" a cheery voice questioned, and a pair of merry eyes peered over the piazza railing. "Oh, Uncle Harry!" cried Flossie, "what difference would it make?" "All the difference in the world," declared Uncle Harry, "for while the proper melody would set the princess free, how are we to know that the wrong melody might not chain her closer than before!" "Why, the story doesn't say that," said Nancy. "Perhaps not, but the prince took an _awful_ risk when he chose what to sing," declared Uncle Harry. "You're laughing when you say it," said Dorothy. "He is," agreed Flossie, "and what he says is funny, but I know this: I'd love to hear some one singing under _my_ window!" Some ladies, who sat near enough to hear the conversation, were amused at the children's enthusiasm, and at Uncle Harry's evident interest.