At the king’s castle they hunted for the queen high, and they hunted for the queen low, but could find neither thread nor hair of her. As for the white dove, it had flown in at a window, and there the little cook-boy found it, and caught it and sold it to the cook for a penny. So the beautiful white dove sat over the kitchen window, and did nothing but mourn from the dawn to the gloaming. One day the folk in the kitchen were talking together. The king was lying sick abed and dying of a broken heart because his beautiful young queen was nowhere to be found. That was what they said, and the white bird heard every word of it. The next morning when they came to the kitchen there was a beautiful sweet cake lying upon a white napkin, and on the cake were written these words: “Break this, my king, and ease thy sorrow.” They took the sweet cake to the king where he lay, and he broke it as the words told him to. Within it he found the ring which he had given to the queen, inside of which were written words which no one but he and she knew. “Where did this come from?” said he; but nobody could tell him. “Where the ring came from,” said he, “there will the queen be found.” And up he got from his bed and dressed himself, and ate his breakfast with a cheerful face. They talked about what had happened down in the kitchen, and the white dove heard it all. Next morning there, on a fine linen napkin, lay another cake like the first, and on it was written: “Break this, my king, and be comforted.” They took it up to the king as they had done the first. And the king snatched it like a hungry man. He broke the cake, and there was the necklace and the locket that he had given the queen. “Where did this come from?” said he. But they could tell him no more about that than about the other. All the same, they talked about it down in the kitchen, and the white dove heard what was said. But that night the little cook-boy hid in the closet to watch, for he wanted to see who it was that brought the cakes that they took up-stairs to the king. So he watched and watched, and by and by the clock struck twelve. And when the last stroke sounded the dove flew down from over the window, and as soon as it lit upon the floor it was the white dove no longer, but the queen herself. She made a sweet cake of sugar and of flour, and in it she put a feather as white as silver. Then she became the white dove again, and flew back over the window where she had sat before. [Illustration: The Young King caresses y^e white dove.] The next morning they found the third cake lying upon a white napkin, and on the cake was written: “Break this, my king, for the time has come.” They took it up to the king and he broke it, and there was the white feather. Then the king called everybody that was in the castle, and asked each one in turn if he or she could tell where the sweet cake had come from. But no; nobody knew, until last of all they questioned the kitchen-boy.