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 the name you said you had for me—once?" she asked, shyly.

"Yes," he answered. "That was the name I gave you the very first moment I saw you here among the apple blossoms with the sunlight on your hair."

"Really?" she asked, looking wonderingly into his face. Then, "I don't think I could have looked much like a princess," she said, regretfully, "with an old white dress on."

"Ah, but you did," he answered, stoutly. "The dearest, fairest, most beautiful princess in all the world; my Orchard Princess!"

Stooping, he kissed her smiling mouth. Then, side by side, with the little brook singing a happy pæan to their ears, they passed down the sunlit glade.

So did Bistre.