THE WHITH DOVE WITH THE GOLD RING. 183

‘No, you won’t, Buttercup—I know that fact already by the look
on your face: you are not quite, quite happy even now. You are not
like me—you want something more—something better even than this.”

“Well, of course I want my father and mother, and Primrose,
and Clover, and Cowslip. They are my very own people, so of course
I want them; but if they were to come here I should be perfectly,
perfectly happy.”

“No, you wouldn't, Buttercup ; ; you wouldn’t be quite happy
even then, for when once you had seen the Prince you would have no
rest in your heart until you went to live with him altogether. There
are some children like that, and I am greatly, greatly afraid that you
are one of them. It is very sad for me, for I never had a playmate I
loved so well.”

The tears sprang to Sweet-Content’s blue eyes as she spoke.

Buttercup put his arm round her neck and kissed her.

“Don’t cry, darling,” he said. “ Even if I do want to go, I can’t
go. I have got to live here, whether I like it or not; and I can
assure you that I do like it awfully, and I am going to be just as
happy as the day is long.”

“You will be until the Prince comes,” replied Sweet-Content. ‘“ But
we won’t talk of sad things to-day—it is very wrong of me, for you
have come over the river, and I am so awfully happy to have you with
me. Do you know that you andI are to live in the same house ?
Such a kind lady takes care of our house. She is called Mrs. Myrtle,
after that darling tree you have just been admiring, and she’s ever so
dear and kind. I told her how fond I was of you, Buttercup, and she
said you should have a little bower to sleep in close to mine. We are
scarcely ever in the house, except just when we are in bed, for the
weather is always fine in Summer Land, and the days are always long.
We have all our meals out of doors, but at night we are tired from
play and from happiness, and we are glad to creep into our white beds
and go to sleep. Then Mrs. Myrtle comes herself and kisses us, and
tucks us up. Oh! she is so nice—she is like mother.”

“Tell me more about the Prince,” said Buttercup. ‘“ What day is
he really coming ? and where does he come from?”