“Oh, I can be any size I please,” said the Faery Rosina, with a laugh, and, stepping down from the rose, she alighted on the ground, and instantly grew as tall as the Queen herself. [Illustration] “Oh, you are a real, real faery!” cried Flora in delight. “But why do the faeries not appear now?” “Because the land is so badly governed,” said Rosina in a severe tone. “Yourself and the King only think of luxury, and never of assisting the poor people; but I am going to cure you both of such neglect.” “But how?” asked the Queen, trembling. “By giving you your wish,” said the faery, plucking a white rosebud off the tree. “Lay this bud beside your bed to-night, and at the dawn of day it will change into a beautiful little baby Princess, which is what you want.” “Oh yes, yes!” cried the Queen; “I do want a Princess.” “Every night at sundown,” said the faery slowly, “the Princess will once more change into a flower, and become a human being again at sunrise.” “But will she change like this all her life?” asked the Queen, in great dismay, for she did not like to have such a curious baby. “She will be a Princess by day and a rosebud by night,” said Rosina, smiling, “until she marries the great-grandson of the King whom your husband’s grandfather deposed from the throne.” “And where is this Prince to be found?” demanded the Queen breathlessly. “I’ll marry my Princess to him at once.” “You can’t do that,” said the faery, shaking her head. “The exiled Prince does not know who he is, and the Princess herself will have to tell him he is of the royal blood. When she does that, and you marry them to one another, the spell will be removed, and she will be a Princess both by day and by night.” “I don’t see how she’s ever going to find this lost Prince!” said the Queen angrily. “I shall certainly not let my child run about the world looking for him.” “Fate is stronger than you are,” replied the faery, “and you will see what you will see.” So saying, she suddenly disappeared, and, as the white rose slowly curled up its petals, the Queen knew the Faery Rosina was inside. The ladies-in-waiting, who had seen the Queen talking to a strange lady, dared not approach before, but now they saw their royal mistress was alone, they ventured to come near, and one of them offered to take the white rosebud which the Queen held. “Oh no!” cried Flora, hastily drawing back her hand; “I am going to keep this rosebud. It is my”— She was going to say Princess, but, thinking it wiser to keep her own counsel, she held her tongue, and, on returning to the palace, told no one but the King about the faery’s promise. The King laughed at her, and said he did not believe her story—that she must be dreaming; but the Queen persisted in her tale, that the rosebud would become a Princess, and placed it on a velvet cushion by the side of her bed.