and bounded up the stairs to look for her father and mother. As she passed the door of the throne-room she heard an unusual noise in it, and running to the king’s private entrance, over which hung a heavy curtain, she peeped past the edge of it, and saw, to her amazement, the shepherd and shepherdess standing like culprits before the king and queen, and the same moment heard the king say—
“Peasants, where is the princess Rosamond?”
“Truly, sire, we do not know,” answered the shepherd.
“You ought to know,” said the king.
“Sire, we could keep her no longer.”
“You confess, then,” said the king, suppressing the outbreak of the wrath that boiled up in him, “that you turned her out of your house.”
For the king had been informed by a swift messenger of all that had passed long before the arrival of the prisoners.
“We did, sire; but not only could we keep her no longer, but we knew not that she was the princess.”
“You ought to have known, the moment you cast your eyes upon her,” said the king. “Anyone who does not know a princess the moment he sees her, ought to have his eyes put out.”
“Indeed he ought,” said the queen.
To this they returned no answer, for they had none ready.
“Why did you not bring her at once to the palace,” pursued the king, “whether you knew her to be a princess or not? My proclamation left nothing to your judgment. It said every child .”
“We heard nothing of the proclamation, sire.”