"And, if you would like to be Princess, you can be,
and also marry the Prince of Egypt."
But Drusilla threw her arms around her father's neck. "No; your
Majesty," she said timidly, "I had rather stay with my father, if you
please, than be a Princess, and I rather live here and tend my dear
cow, than marry the Prince of Egypt."
The King sighed, and so did the Queen; they knew they never should
find another such beautiful Princess. But, then, the King had not kept
his part of the contract and found the gold-horned cow, and he could
not compel her to be a Princess without breaking the royal word.
So the cow was again led out to pasture in the little meadow of
blue-eyed grasses, and Drusilla, though she was very rich now, used to
find no greater happiness than to sit on the banks of the silvery pool
where the yellow lilies grew, and watch her.
They had their poor little cottage torn down and a grand castle built
instead: but the roof of that was thatched and over-grown with moss,
and pink and white roses clustered thickly around the walls. It was
just as much like their old home as a castle can be like a cottage.
The gold-horned cow had, also, a magnificent new stable. Her
eating-trough was the finest moss rose-bud china, she had dried rose
leaves instead of hay to eat, and there were real lace curtains at all
the stable windows, and a lace _portiere_ over her stall.
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