"'Tis Beatrice then who holds your heart in thrall?" bantered the queen, for she was malicious enough to plunge him in further difficulty. Here also was a coil for Beatrice was jealous of Sancie's beauty, and her lover, Charles of Anjou, sat beside her quick to resent any aspersion upon his mistress. Beatrice, like a bacchante, had bound her brows with vine leaves one of which Charles now broke off and handed to the competing minstrel. With a gallant bow and a smile which atoned for the quizzical reservation, Richard sang, "Flower o' the Vine; For you, merry Charles, the chaplet of vine 'T is a guerdon all envy, so pray grant me mine." Laughter resounded from every side of the pleasance mingled with cries, "Your flower! Name your favourite flower." Then Richard knelt before Sancie, who hid her face behind the blossoms which so well matched her blushes, and sang from his heart: "Flower o' the Peach, Flower o' the Peach, dearest Flower o' the Peach, A flower for each fancy--his own love for each." Brief was the consultation between the judges. Queen Eleanor descended from her throne and amid clappings and bravoes gave Richard the stalk of lilies which had served her for sceptre and was now his palm of victory. [Illustration: The Floral Games From the painting by Jacques Wagrez. Permission of Braun, Clement & Co.] Ere he could take it from her hand, however, with a snort and bellow like that of a bull, my lord Aldobrandino faced the Queen. "Gramercy," he cried, "shall so fair a prize be won foully by false plagiarism?" "What charge is this you make," demanded Queen Eleanor. "That yon traitor stole from me that songlet of the peach, and though he has trussed it out of countenance with gawds of his own invention still the root of the matter is mine." "What answer you to this accusation, Richard?" asked the Queen. "That he speaks truly," Richard replied, "mine is indeed a spilling cup." The queen was loth to give judgment against her favourite and there was wrangling between her advisors as to what amount of theft were admissible in literature, but their opinion was stricter than I pray yours may be, most gentle reader, and they gave their verdict, "The prize is to Prince Aldobrandino." At that verdict Sancie fainted in the arms of Queen Marguerite, and Richard hid his face in his hands, crying, "I cannot bear it." Then Prince Aldobrandino spoke and they saw how they had misjudged the man. "You cannot bear this disappointment, say you, Ricciardo? Look you at the device upon my shield, Atlas, and the motto, _Sustino omnes_. I can bear all things, even such loss as this, and, since I see well that the lady loves me not, of my own motive yield I the prize to you, Ricciardo, who well deserve what you have truly won."