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“We, O King, will be your torch-bearers.”

The King looked greatly pleased as he replied,

“So be it, indeed. Stand here on either hand. And now,” continued the King, “I must have an incense-bearer to swing my censer over the meadows. Who will be my incense-bearer?”

For a moment there was silence again among the lady-grasses, but only for a moment. Then out stepped one of the daintiest of them all. She tripped quickly and quietly down the hill to the King, saying modestly as she approached,

“I will be your incense-bearer.”

“Let it be so,” said the King. “Await my commands. Yet one more servant,” he added. “I need some one to ring the chimes. Who among all these loyal subjects, man or maid, will ring the chimes?”

Scarcely had the King’s words left his lips when one of the noblest grasses of all, her broad green ribbons rustling as she moved, left the crowded ranks of the grasses, and eagerly advanced before the King. “If it please your Majesty, I will ring the chimes,” she said.

Then the King looked around, satisfied, upon his eager and expectant audience, and spoke a few brief words to them. He had come, he said, fearing that the task was almost too great for even a king–to choose among so many and so beautiful subjects. But they had helped him by choosing for themselves, and he had now only to award the honors.

“Keeper of the gate,” he commanded, “stand before the King!”

The keeper of the gate came awkwardly forward, pricking all who brushed against him as he passed.

“Because you have been willing to serve,” said the King, “I reward you with distinguished honor.” Then, taking from the hand of a page a great velvet cap of purplish red, he placed it upon the head of the gatekeeper, saying as he did so, “I dub you: My Lord, the Thistle.

“Let the King’s herald stand forth!”

The little round, happy herald obeyed. The King took a great gold coronet from the hand of a page and placed it upon the herald’s head, saying,

“Because of your readiness to serve the King, I create you a noble of the field, and dub you: My Lord, the Dandelion.

“Let the torch-bearers stand forth!”

Then the two shy grass-maidens bowed before the King. On the head of each the King placed a shining crown, one all gold, and the other of gold rimmed with white, that they might be told apart; and he said to them,

“Because of your generous deed, I dub you: Lady Buttercup and Lady Daisy.

“Now, my incense-bearer!”

The dainty grass-maiden knelt at his feet and bowed her head.

The King beckoned to a page, who brought him a tiny hood of beautiful blue. This the King placed upon her head, saying,

“I am grateful for your service. I dub you: Lady Violet.

“Let the ringer of the royal chimes appear!”

The beautiful grass with the broad, shining ribbons stood proudly before him, and bent her head in salute. The King took a silver bell and gave it to her, saying,

“This shall be the sign of your royal office. I dub you: Lady Lily-of-the-Field.”

Then the King charged his new-made lords and ladies to be faithful to their service, and never cease, year by year, to return and beautify the earth. Then the assembly was dissolved, but not until the whole host of grasses on the hillside had applauded what the King had done. They were disappointed, but they knew that the bravest and truest had been made the most beautiful among them, and crowned with the honor due.