He satisfied his hunger and thirst, but resolved that come what might, even though he had to crawl home for weakness, he would not cut the third lemon until he reached there. Nor did he, for his strength lasted him until next day when he saw the walls of his city before him. Already outside he was recognized; the news spread, and the aged king sent out an escort to meet him and conduct him into his presence. When the two had embraced, the Prince told his wondrous story. A banquet was prepared for the following day, to which many guests were invited. Costly raiment, too, was made, and brought into the palace walls. When the guests had assembled conscious that some surprise was in store for them, the Prince cut the third and last lemon. A maiden of beauty so great that it surpassed the dazzling beauty of both of the others, leaped lightly out of it and, courtesying to the Prince, inquired: "Have you food for me? Have you drink for me? Have you fine clothing for me to wear?" "I have all of these," said the Prince happily, presenting her with the costly gowns. She put on the most elegant of these, and, so much did it still further enhance her beauty, that the Prince could not take his eyes from her as he led her into the Banquet Hall. "Will you marry me?" he whispered. And when she smilingly nodded consent, he announced the betrothal amid congratulations and cheering. Shortly after the wedding feast followed. The young people were very happy until the old king died and the Prince, having taken his place, had to lead an army to War. Before they parted, that harm might not come to his Queen, a platform for her was erected high in the air. No one could get on it unless the Queen let down a silken cord. Now, an ambitious gypsy maid begged the Queen so hard to let her come up to comb and braid her hair, that the Queen consented. The gypsy talked and flattered as she combed, until the Queen fell asleep, and then the girl killed her by plunging a sharp pin into her head. As the pin sank in, a snow-white dove flew out. Nothing remained of the Queen except her beautiful clothes, which the gypsy donned and sat down on the throne. When the King returned, he thought his wife terribly changed and would have nothing to do with her. He mourned incessantly for what she once had been. One day, as he walked sorrowing in the garden, a snow-white dove lit on his hand. He stroked its pretty feathers and as he did so, felt a pin head on the top of its head. "What is this!" he exclaimed, and drew it forth. No sooner had he done so, than his wife of old stood before him just as he had first seen her in her wondrous charm and beauty. She told him all that had occurred. The wicked gypsy was put to death and nothing further ever came to mar the happiness of the heaven married pair. CHAPTER IV THE VOICE OF THE WOOD