Each
child knew that he or she must appear in the best that they had to
wear.
Well, that was easily arranged. They nearly all had ribbons, and there
were bits of fine lace laid away in the home chests that could trim
their frocks. Pieces of velvet were to be had and the village tailor
was busy, night and day, making ruffled shirts and fine suits for the
boys, while the mothers stitched and embroidered for the girls.
But when their party clothes were made, another thought came to the
children. They should, themselves, carry gifts to the Prince.
This, also, was arranged. A bit of old carving from this cottage, an
old silver cup from that shelf, a basket of rare fruits from this
fertile orchard. These were good gifts.
So, at last, the children started up the hill to the castle. All were
ready to meet the Prince, they felt sure, except Primrose; she walked
apart from the others for she had no party dress, and no gift to
carry.
She was named Primrose because she made a poor, bare little hut on the
edge of the forest bright, just as a wild flower makes a waste spot
beautiful. In all her life Primrose had never been to a party, and now
she was invited with the others. But her feet were bare, and her
little brown dress was torn, and she had no hat to cover her
wind-blown, yellow hair.
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