Hazen was in the greatest joy. The princess bade him wait where he was, and she ran away and found somewhere a cast-off page boy’s dress and a cap with a plume and a little silver horn and a wallet, with some bread. These she brought to Hazen just as footsteps sounded on the stairs, and nursery governesses and chamberlains and foot-pages and many whose names are as dust came running pell-mell down the stairs, all looking for the princess. “Hide in that alcove,” said the princess, “till I am gone. Then put on this dress and go out at the east gate which no one can lock. And as you go by the east wing, do not look up at my window or I will wave my hand and somebody may see you going. Now good-bye.” But at that Hazen was suddenly wretched. “I can’t leave _you_!” he said. “How can I leave _you_?” “People always leave people,” said the princess, with superiority. “Play that’s one of the things I teached you.” At this Hazen suddenly dropped on one knee--the kings, his fathers, did that for him too--and kissed the princess’s little hand. And as suddenly she wished very much that she had something to give him. “Here,” she said, “here’s my picture-book. Take it with you and learn it through. _Now_ good-bye.” And Hazen had just time to slip in the alcove when all the n. g.’s, c.’s, f. p.’s, and l.’s, whom there wasn’t time to spell out, as well as all those whose names are now dust, burst in the room. “I was just coming,” said the princess, and went. Hazen dressed himself in the foot-page’s livery and fastened the wallet at one side and the little silver horn at the other, and put on the cap with a plume; and he stole into the king’s garden, with the picture-book of the princess fast in his hand. He had not been in a garden since he had left his father’s garden, which he could just remember, and to be outdoors now seemed as wonderful as bathing in the ocean, or standing on a high mountain, or seeing the dawn. He hastened along between the flowering shrubs and hollyhocks; he heard the fountains plashing and the song-sparrows singing and the village bells faintly sounding; he saw the goldfish and the water-lilies gleam in the pool and the horses cantering about the paddock. And all at once it seemed that the day was his, to do with what he would, and he felt as if already that were a kind of fortune in his hand. So he hurried round the east wing of the palace and looked up eagerly toward the princess’s window. And there stood the Princess Vista, watching, with her hair partly brushed. When she saw him, she leaned far out. “I told you not to look,” she said. “Somebody will see you going.” “I don’t care if anyone does,” cried Hazen. “I _had_ to!” “How fine you look now,” the princess could not help saying. “You are beautiful as the whole picture-book!” he could not help saying back. “_Now_, good-bye!” she called softly, and waved her hand. “Good-bye--oh, good-bye!” he cried, and waved his plumed cap.