"Will you allow me to make a wedding-cake for Prince Milan?"
The proud and self-sufficient cook was not in the least disposed to accept such a proposal; but when he saw how pretty and graceful this young peasant girl was, he replied to her politely:
"Yes, my pretty one, you wish it: make a wedding-cake. I'll present it myself to the Prince."
All the guests were seated at table. The head cook advanced with a solemn air, bearing upon a silver dish a cake made in the form of a crown. Everybody admired this piece of pastry, its elegant form, and its golden crust. The Prince, before whom the cook had placed it, cut off a piece, and, from the opening, flew out a pair of turtle-doves, which wheeled in flight about the table, the female dove crying to her companion:
"Don't leave me! don't leave me! or you will forget me, as Prince Milan has forgotten his Wellena!"
At those words the Prince recovered his memory.
He rose from his seat and hastened to the door, where he found his betrothed awaiting him.
Under the balcony of the palace stood his faithful horse, pawing the ground with impatience. He leaped into the saddle with his own true bride, and they soon reached the kingdom of Kojata. The King and the Queen received them with tears of joy, and their marriage was celebrated with a splendour never before seen.
