The Prince had never come, but the Princess waited for him patiently. She sat with her face to the west and looked for him to come through the willows with the red sunset light filtering across his hair. That was the way the Prince was coming, though the time was not set. It might be a good while before he came, and then again--you never could tell! "But when he does, and we've had a little while to get acquainted, then I shall say to him, 'Hear, O Prince, and give ear to my--my petition! For verily, verily, I have broken many golden platters and jasper cups and saucers, and the Queen, long live her! is sore--sore--'" The Princess pondered for the forgotten word. She put up a little lean brown hand and rubbed a tingling spot on her temple--ah, not the Queen! It was the Princess--long live her!--who was "sore." "'I beseech thee, O Prince,' I shall say, 'buy new golden platters and jasper cups and saucers for the Queen, and then shall I verily, verily be--be--'" Oh, the long words--how they slipped out of reach! The little Princess sighed rather wearily. She would have to rehearse that speech so many times before the Prince came. Suppose he came to-night! Suppose she looked up now, this minute, towards the golden west and he was there, swinging along through the willow canes towards her! But there was no one swinging along through the willows. The yellow light flickered through--that was all. Somewhere, a long way off, sounded the monotonous hum of men's voices. Through the lace-work of willow twigs there showed the faintest possible blur of color. Down beyond, in the clearing, the Castle Guards in blue jean blouses were pulling stumps. The Princess could not see their dull, passionless faces, and she was glad of it. The Castle Guards depressed her. But they were not as bad as the Castle Guardesses. _They_ were mostly old women with bleared, dim eyes, and they wore such faded--silks. "_My_ silk dress is rather faded," murmured the little Princess wistfully. She smoothed down the scant calico skirt with her brown little fingers. The patch in it she would not see. "I shall have to have the Royal Dress-maker make me another one soon. Let me see,--what color shall I choose? I'd _like_ my gold-colored velvet made up. I'm tired of wearing royal purple dresses all the time, though of course I know they're appropriater. I wonder what color the Prince would like best? I should rather choose that color." The Princess's little brown hands were clasped about one knee, and she was rocking herself slowly back and forth, her eyes, wistful and wide, on the path the Prince would come. She was tired to-day and it was harder to wait. "But when he comes I shall say, 'Hear, O Prince. Verily, verily, I did not know which color you would like to find me dressed--I mean arrayed--in, and so I beseech thee excuse--_pardon_, I mean--mine infirmity.'" The Princess was not sure of "infirmity," but it sounded well. She could not think of a better word.