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“Who taught you to dance so wonderfully, child?” asked the Queen, when she had kissed her little daughter, glad to see her look so unlike the sad, cross, or listless creature she usually found.

“The wind, Lady Queen,” answered Betty, smiling.

“And where did you get the fine tales you tell?”

“From the birds, Lady Queen.”

“And what do you do to have such rosy cheeks?”

“Eat brown bread and milk, Lady Queen.”

“And how is it that a lonely child like you is so happy and good?”

“My father takes care of me, and my mother in heaven keeps me good, Lady Queen.”

When Betty said that, the Queen put out her hand and drew the little girl closer, as if her tender heart pitied the motherless child and longed to help if she only knew how.

Just then the sound of horses’ feet was heard in the great courtyard below, trumpets sounded, and every one knew that the king had come home from hunting. Presently, with a jingling of spurs and trampling of boots, he came along the terrace with some of his lords behind him.

Every one began to bow except the Queen, who sat still with the Princess on her knee, for Bonnibelle did not run to meet her father as Betty always did when he came home. Betty thought she would be afraid of the King, and so she would perhaps, if he had worn his crown and ermine cloak and jewels everywhere; but now he was dressed very like her father, in hunter’s green, with a silver horn over his shoulder, and no sign of splendor about him but the feather in his hat and the great ring that glittered when he pulled off his glove to kiss the Queen’s hand; so Betty smiled and bobbed her little courtesy, looking boldly up in his face.

He liked that, and knew her, for he had often seen her when he rode through the wood.

“Come hither, Brownie, I have a story you will like to hear,” he said, sitting down beside the Queen and beckoning to Betty with a friendly nod.

She went and stood at his knee, eager to hear, while all the lords and ladies bent forward to listen, for it was plain that something had happened beside the killing of a stag that day.

“I was hunting in the great oak wood two hours ago, and had knelt down to aim at a splendid stag,” began the King, stroking Betty’s brown head, “when a wild boar, very fierce and large, burst out of the ferns behind me just as I fired at the deer. I had only my dagger left to use, but I sprang up to face him, when a root tripped my foot, and there I lay quite helpless, as the furious old fellow rushed at me. I think this little maid here would have been Queen Bonnibelle to-morrow if a brave woodman had not darted from behind a tree and with one blow of his axe killed the beast as he bent his head to gore me. It was your father, Brownie, and I owe my life to him.”

As the King ended, a murmur rose, and all the lords and ladies looked as if they would like to give a cheer; but the Queen turned pale and old Nurse ran to fan her, while Bonnibelle put out her arms to her father, crying,–

“No, I will never be a queen if you die, dear papa!”

The King took her on one knee and set Betty on the other, saying gayly,–

“Now what shall we do for this brave man who saved me?”

“Give him a palace to live in, and millions of money,” said the Princess, who could think of nothing better.

“I offered him a house and money, but he wanted neither, for he loved his little cottage and had no need of gold, he said. Think again, little maids, and find something he will like,” said the King, looking at Betty.