“Are you not the Rose-Princess?” she asked, for of course she recognised the King’s daughter at once by her crown. “Yes,” answered the Rose-Princess quickly; “but how did I get here? The last thing I remember before I went to sleep, was standing in Ardram’s room.” “You must have walked here in your sleep, then,” said the sick woman, looking at her, “because he has been searching for you everywhere.” “Oh, I’m so sorry!” said the Rose-Princess, rising. “I would not like him to think I’d run away, because I am so fond of him.” “Are you fond enough of him to marry him?” asked the mother sadly. “Yes, I am,” answered the Princess, blushing; “but I’m afraid he would not marry me. Besides, you know, I am to marry the exiled Prince of the old royal family, as soon as he is found.” “He is found,” said the sick woman quietly. “Ardram is my son, and the great-grandson of the King who was driven from the throne, so, if you marry him, he will be able to regain his throne again.” “And my father and mother?” asked the Princess in a faltering voice. “I’m afraid they’re not fit to reign, if all I have heard is true,” said the mother in a melancholy tone; “and if you and my son, Prince Ardram, ascend the throne, I hope you will govern more wisely. Now, to prove the truth of what I say, pull out that wooden box from under my bed.” The Rose-Princess did as she was told, and, on lifting up the lid, saw a most beautiful crown, all over diamonds, and rubies, and great blue sapphires, sparkling like the stars. “That is the old royal crown,” said the sick woman, as the Princess put it on her head, “and Ardram will be crowned with it.” “But if your son is the Prince, why did you not send him to the palace to marry me?” asked the Rose-Princess, who looked truly royal, as she stood in the room with the great crown on her golden head. “Because I wanted him to see the misery of the people, before ruling over them,” said the mother quickly. “Now he knows what poor people endure, he will be a wise king, and govern well. Now, I will sleep until my son comes back, then we will see about getting you married.” So she turned her face away, in order to sleep, and the Princess put away the royal crown, and began to sing to the sick woman in a low, sweet voice. This is what she sang: “Roses red, in the red, red dawn, Open your hearts to the sun, I pray; The dew lies heavy upon the lawn, Westward rises the golden day. Roses, droop in the hot noon-tide, Scatter your petals of red and white, Far in the depths of your green leaves hide, Till to the eastward the sun takes flight. Roses white, at the shut of day, Close your blossoms thro’ sunless hours; The moon rides high in the sky so grey. Night brings sleep to the weary flowers.”