[Illustration: The SORCERER AND THE PRINCESSES] The Sorcerer smiled. “It is this little guitar,” he said, holding it up. “It is bewitched. One has only to strike the strings and the song comes out of it. Your ladyships think, no doubt, that it is I who sing, but I have only to open my mouth and the guitar does all the rest.” Now this was a lie, for the Sorcerer’s two sons made all the songs; they were very clever young men. “Sing one more; please sing one more!” cried the Princesses. “Very well,” replied he, “one more, but that must be the last. Here is one which I hope you will like. It is called ‘The Peach Trees in the Valley.’” “What a charming name,” said Anemone, who was fond of flowers. And the Sorcerer sang:— “My Love sits high in a golden chair, And my Love looks softly down; With a golden pin she pins her hair, But it shines like a golden crown. And oh, my Love! look down to me With a smile in your almond eyes, For the blue doves nest in the willow tree And the Spring rides up the skies; Come down, O Love, in the morning glow, For the day mounts high though the hours run slow, And I’ll show you where the lilies grow, And the peach trees blow in the valley! “But my Love looks down from her chair of gold With a smile in her cruel eyes; Her face is fair but her heart is cold As the stars in the winter skies. Give me the pin that pins your hair And stabs like a poisoned blade, Look once, O Love without compare, At the wound the point has made; And come when the morning hours run slow To see the place where I lie low, Where the blue doves nest, and the lilies grow, And the peach trees blow in the valley!” The girls were charmed, and, as for Azalea, she was so much excited she was almost in tears. “If your ladyships like my guitar so much why do you not buy it?” said Badoko. “I am very poor, and I am taking it into the city to sell.” Azalea wrung her hands; she had never been in such a predicament before. “But we have no money,” she exclaimed. It had never entered the Princesses’ minds to think of money. Everything they wanted was always there ready for them, and it had never in their lives occurred to them to ask how it came. The Sorcerer laughed rather slyly. “But surely his Imperial Majesty will not grudge you the money,” said he. “Run, Anemone, run, and ask our father!” cried Azalea. “It would be better for you to look at the guitar before buying it,” remarked the Sorcerer. Anemone was practical, and this idea struck her as being very wise. “Wait,” she said to her sister, “we will go down to the gate and see it.” And the two ran down the stairs with a great rustling of silks and clacking of little heels.