She threw him one of three white roses she held in her hand. Then he said— “White rose trees are strong. May I climb up to you?” “Surely,” said the Princess. So he climbed up to the window. “Now,” said he, “if I can do what your father asks, will you marry me?” “My father has promised that I shall,” said Melisande, playing with the white roses in her hand. “Dear Princess,” said he, “your father’s promise is nothing to me. I want yours. Will you give it to me?” “Yes,” said she, and gave him the second rose. “I want your hand.” “Yes,” she said. “And your heart with it.” “Yes,” said the Princess, and she gave him the third rose. “And a kiss to seal the promise.” “Yes,” said she. “And a kiss to go with the hand.” “Yes,” she said. “And a kiss to bring the heart.” “Yes,” said the Princess, and she gave him the three kisses. “Now,” said he, when he had given them back to her, “to-night do not go to bed. Stay by your window, and I will stay down here in the garden and watch. And when your hair has grown to the filling of your room call to me, and then do as I tell you.” “I will,” said the Princess. So at dewy sunrise the Prince, lying on the turf beside the sun-dial, heard her voice— “Florizel! Florizel! My hair has grown so long that it is pushing me out of the window.” “Get out on to the window-sill,” said he, “and twist your hair three times round the great iron hook that is there.” And she did. Then the Prince climbed up the rose bush with his naked sword in his teeth, and he took the Princess’s hair in his hand about a yard from her head and said— “Jump!” The Princess jumped, and screamed, for there she was hanging from the hook by a yard and a half of her bright hair; the Prince tightened his grasp of the hair and drew his sword across it. Then he let her down gently by her hair till her feet were on the grass, and jumped down after her. They stayed talking in the garden till all the shadows had crept under their proper trees and the sun-dial said it was breakfast time. Then they went in to breakfast, and all the Court crowded round to wonder and admire. For the Princess’s hair had not grown. “How did you do it?” asked the King, shaking Florizel warmly by the hand. “The simplest thing in the world,” said Florizel, modestly. “You have always cut the hair off the Princess. _I_ just cut the Princess off the hair.” “Humph!” said the King, who had a logical mind. And during breakfast he more than once looked anxiously at his daughter. When they got up from breakfast the Princess rose with the rest, but she rose and rose and rose, till it seemed as though there would never be an end of it. The Princess was nine feet high. “I feared as much,” said the King, sadly. “I wonder what will be the rate of progression. You see,” he said to poor Florizel, “when we cut the hair off _it_ grows—when we cut the Princess off _she_ grows. I wish you had happened to think of that!”