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This story was written from the Photoplay of WILLIAM H. CLIFFORD
The garden was a-dazzle with the summer sunshine. Reflecting its radiance in her eager face, the little princess of LongAgo country came laughing down the winding path. She was just sixteen, and her dark eyes signaled coming laughter.
"Oh ! it's so good to be alive in the sunshine," she said, stretching out her arms to it all, "and it is good to be young and to be a princess.
Annette "
Annette, the tire-woman, looked with admiration at the lissom shape and clear, white flesh of her mistress.
"Mon Dicu! Yes, my princess?" she encouraged, smiling.
"I was wondering — all this strange, sweet air and — and — everything— makes me wonder if some day — oh ! a long way off — somebody might — might love me, Annette. Tell ine quickly, right away, do you think that, really and truly, there will be some one, some time, who will love me?"
"Love you?" smiled Annette, see
ing that the little princess was blushing furiously. "Why, ccrt<s, there will. How could men help it?"
"Will he be tall, Annette?"
" Oh ! six feet or more. ' '
"Will he have black, black hair and kind, brown eyes?"
"Oh! hair as black as night and eyes that shine with goodness."
The princess gave a deep sigh.
"I have dreamed of him. Annette," she confessed, "here in this garden. And now to have you say that it will come true — I am so happy."
"The king will select a great noble for you," reminded the tire-woman, "and nobles are always grand."
"Not — always." demurred the little princess, knowingly ; ' 1 but never mind — mine will be; he'd have to be, or I'd never marry him."
But when the king made his selection for the princess, he did not know of the sunlit garden nor of the dreams that had grown there. Around the great banquet-table in the king's castle sat sumptuously