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along the young branches, diamonds—faintly blue or crystal-white—scintillated from fairy webs. The morning was aglitter and agleam, musical with the songs of birds and bees and heady with the fragrance of spring.
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"The gold of the April sunshine,
The sweet of the April breeze,
The bluebird's note in yonder wood,
The droning of the bees,"
quoted Miles under his breath. "And there is the Princess," he went on, with a throb at his heart, "the Orchard Princess, with cheeks like the apple-tree blooms, eyes like the blue sky, and hair that is golden sunlight And I—heigho! I might as well have fallen in love with nature herself; she would have proved kinder, I fear, than the Princess!"
