ments, and she moved across the field bare-footed, with a light, lithe step. And marvellous to behold, wherever her foot pressed the soft earth, a white flower sprang into bloom, marking her course across the meadow in a trail of beauty. While the Prince's son was wondering at this and at the unusual loveliness of the girl, she drew up to the well and lowered her pitcher from her shoulder. He jumped up at once and, taking it from her hand, offered to draw the water for her. She said not a word, but when the pitcher was full, she set forth again across the meadow, leaving him to follow her and carry it. Over the field and into the woods they went, in the deepening twilight. The maiden moved with a sure step, quickly and easily among the trees, but the Prince's son had great trouble in following her, often stumbling in the darkness and finding the pitcher of water ever heavier and harder to carry. At last it grew so dark in the woods that he could see nothing at
