As for the King himself, he wore a thick wreath of cherry and peach-blossoms instead of his crown, and carried a white thorn-branch instead of his scepter.  His green velvet robe was trimmed with a border of blue and white violets instead of ermine.  The Queen wore a garland of violets around her golden head, and the hem of her gown was thickly sown with primroses.

But the little Princess Rosetta surpassed all the rest.  Her little gown was completely woven of violets and other fine flowers.  There was a very skillful seamstress in the court who knew how to do this kind of work, although no one except the Princess Rosetta was allowed to wear a flower-cloth gown to the Bee Festival.  She wore also a little white violet cap, and two of her nurses carried her between them in a little basket lined with rose and apple-leaves.

All the company, as they danced along, sang, or played on flutes, or rang little glass and silver bells.  Nobody except the King and Queen rode.  They rode cream-colored ponies, with silken ropes wound with flowers for bridle-reins.

The Bee Festival was held in a beautiful park a mile distant from the city.  The young grass there was green and velvety, and spangled all over with fallen apple and cherry and peach and plum and pear blossoms; for the park was set with fruit-trees in even rows.  The blue sky showed between the pink and white branches, and the air was very sweet and loud with the humming of bees.  The trees were all full of bees.  There was something peculiar about the bees of this country; none of them had stings.

When the court reached the park, they all tinkled their bells in time, whistled on their flutes, and sang a song which they always sang on these occasions.  Then they played games and enjoyed themselves.  They played hide-and-seek among the trees, and formed rings and danced.  The bees flew around them, and seemed to know them.  The little Princess, lying in her basket, crowed and laughed, and caught at them when they came humming over her face.  Her nurses stood around her, and waved great fans of peacock-feathers, but that did not frighten the bees at all.

The court’s lunch was spread on a damask-cloth, in an open space between the trees.  There were biscuits of wheaten flour, plates of honey-comb, and cream in tall glass ewers.  That was the regulation lunch at the Bee Festival.  The Bee Festival was nearly as old as the kingdom, and there was an ancient legend about it, which the Poet Laureate had put into an epic poem.  The King had it in his royal library, printed in golden letters and bound in old gold plush.

Centuries ago, so the legend ran, in the days of the very first monarch of the royal family of which this king was a member, there were no bees at all in the kingdom.  Not a child in the whole country, not even the little princes and princesses in the palace, had ever tasted a bit of bread and honey.

But, while there were no bees in this kingdom, one just across the river was swarming with them.  That kingdom was governed by a king who was the tenth cousin of the first, and not very well disposed toward him.  He had stationed lines of sentinels with ostrich-feather brooms on his bank of the river to keep the bees from flying over, and he would not export a single bee, nor one ounce of honey, although he had been offered immense sums.