The shower did not last long, and the warm sun melted the diamonds from the grass, so that it was soon fit for the little girls to go out into the freshness and enjoy the pleasant air.

“Don’t you think this a pretty cottage?” asked Alice, as they stepped outside and stood looking upon her home. “See the moss all over the shingles; how velvety it is! Tabby goes up there to sleep on the soft cushion in the sun. And here’s where I put my convolvuluses, and they climb up and run all over the window and make such a nice curtain, with the pink and blue and white and purple mixed with the green; and they reach up to the very chimney, Maddie, and hug it round, and then trail down upon the roof. Oh, I think it’s elegant! And here’s my flower-bed, right under the window, where mother can smell the blossoms as we sit sewing when she has a day at home. We take real comfort here, mother and I, Maddie.” And so the little blithesome child prattled about her humble home, while her companion looked in astonishment upon her, wondering why it was that Alice always seemed so happy, while she was so miserable.

“We’ll go down by the brook-side now,” said Alice. “There’s my grand palace. Such hangings! all blue and gold and crimson; and carpets that your feet sink into; and a great mirror, such as the richest man couldn’t buy. Don’t you know what I mean, Maddie?” And Alice laughed gleefully as they reached the brook-side, and pointed to the heavens above, so brilliant in the sunny radiance, and down to the green and flowery turf beneath their feet, and to the clear stream that reflected all things, like the purest glass. And she said, “Now, don’t you like my palace, Maddie?”

“Yes, it’s very pretty here,” said Maddie; but she didn’t seem to feel about it as Alice did, who was in such good spirits that she could keep neither her feet nor her tongue still, but frisked about the green like a young deer, and chattered like a magpie, only in far sweeter tones.

“This is my bower,” said she, lifting up the drooping branches of a willow and shutting herself and Maddie within. “Here I come for a nap when I am tired of play; and the leaves rustle in the wind, making a pleasant sound, and the birds sit on the boughs and sing me asleep, and I dream always happy dreams. When awake, I think about the pure river that my Bible speaks of, and the tree of life that is on either side, and the beautiful light that isn’t like the sun, nor the moon, nor the blaze of a candle, but comes from the face of God, and is never hidden from us to leave us in darkness.”

Maddie sat down upon a large stone that Alice called her throne, and looked eagerly up at her companion for more; for Alice’s words seemed to her like some beautiful story out of a book.

“Did you ever go into any great house, Maddie?” asked Alice.

“No, never,” said Maddie. “I passed by Mrs. Cowper’s one day, and looked in at the open door when somebody was coming out, but I couldn’t see much.”

“That’s just where I went with mother,” said Alice; “and little Mary took me into a high room, the walls all velvet and satin and gold, so that my eyes ached for looking; and there were such heaps of pretty things on the tables and all about the place; but it didn’t make me feel glad as I do when I get out here in my grand palace with these living, breathing things around me. O Maddie, there isn’t anything on earth so beautiful as what God has made!”

“Do you stay out here always?” asked Maddie.

“Oh no,” said Alice; “that would be idle. When mother has work I stay at home to help her. I’ve learned to sew nicely now, and can save mother many a stitch. To-day’s my holiday, and I can play with you as long as you please. I’ve brought some dinner, and we’ll set a table in my dining-hall.” And she took from her pocket a little parcel, and led Maddie from the bower to a hollow near the brook, where was a flat rock, and there she spread her frugal fare.

There were two pieces of homemade bread and a small slice of cold bacon, which she put upon leaves in the middle of the rocky table; and gathering some violets, she placed them in bunches here and there, till the table was sweet with their delicious fragrance.

Just as the children were about to help themselves to the food, there came some little tired feet over the grass; and a more forlorn figure than Maddie’s stood a few yards off, looking shyly, but wistfully, at them.

“Now, Lolly, you may just run home again as quick as you can,” said Maddie sharply. “We haven’t enough dinner for Alice and me. Go, now!” And she went towards her and gave her a slight push, at which the child cried, but without turning away or making a step towards home.

“Is that your sister?” asked Alice, going up to Maddie.

“Yes; she’s always running after me,” returned Maddie, with an ill-natured frown.

“Poor little thing!” said Alice. “I wish my sister Nellie had lived. I shouldn’t be cross to her, I know. Come here, Lolly: you shall have some of my dinner.” And she led the little grateful child to the wild table, that seemed to her like a fairy scene, with the fresh leaf-plates, and the pure sweet flowers breathing so delightfully.

“Mother makes capital bread—doesn’t she, Maddie?” said Alice, as she ate her small portion with evident relish, while she shared the remnant with her guests.

“Now, Maddie,” said she, as they finished the repast, “you clear the table and wash the dishes, and Lolly and I’ll go to my mirror to make ourselves nice to sit down, and then I’ll tell you the story my teacher told me the other day, if you would like to hear it.”

Maddie gladly agreed to this; and Lolly gave herself up to the gentle hands of her new friend, who took her to the brook and washed her face until the dirt all vanished and her cheeks were like two red roses. Then she took her pocket-comb, and, dipping it into the water, made the child’s hair so smooth that Lolly didn’t know herself when she looked into the brook, and asked, “What little girl it was with such bright eyes and fresh rosy cheeks?” And when Alice told her that it was herself, she laughed with delight, and said “she would come every day to dress herself by Alice’s mirror if she could look so nice.” And then Alice and Maddie and Lolly went to the bower for the story.

Alice sat down on the grassy bank, and Lolly laid her head upon her friend’s lap, while Maddie crowded close to her to listen.

“I don’t know that I can remember it very well,” said Alice; “but I’ll tell it as nearly as I can like Miss Mason. She called it ‘The Little Exiled Princess,’ and this is it.”